Cultural Differences...

A person from Canada wrote to me and said, basically; thought there was no divorce in Ireland? Is this a new thing? And other stuff about pigs in the parlour.. My teeth will be ground to nothing if this continues.Yes, I replied,  there has been divorce in Ireland for the last twenty years. No, it's not what you would want, but what can you say, stuff happens.I hope your life is good. But I don't think there will be a romance between us. We are too far apart geographically and I don't know how far I am from a  relationship with men-or the right man.

Hand me the bricks...or whatever else is to hand...

Sorry. I am having extreme difficulty handling the rage...I WILL calm down, even  if I have to literally chew thousands of camomile teabags and inhale enough lavender oil to give me asthma.

The story is coming...

I'm writing it. I will post as soon as I have finished. I'm trying not to edit the rage.

Things fall apart...even more than they have so far...

So...goodbye to two solicitors, goodbye to large amounts of money - hard earned, goodbye to progress (or lack of progress so far)...full story posted tomorrow

Relaxation Day...

Relaxation…

Morning snow caped the Wicklow mountains as I drove south  My best friend was taking herself and January Girl away to a 5 star hotel for an overnight spa-and-dinner break.  Like the ENT in Lord of the Rings, I love heading south.  As he says, “Somehow it always feels like heading home”.

The hotel was wall to wall marble and staff.  Checked in to our lovely double bedded marble room, we headed straight for the spa centre. Wall to wall marble, Swarovski crystals and lighting as soft and gentle as a peach. I could feel that cruel master Tension uncurl his talons from my shoulders as I changed into a peach robe... Lunch was a bento box, every  bit of it delicious. Next, two hours of aromatic massage, facial, the lot. When it ended I had practically melted, ready to flow out of the therapy room under the door in a river of peach.

To complete the day of relaxation, I was led to the Serenity Room to relax until dinner. The Serenity Room had a sign on the door requesting Silence. Inside, a table bearing a selection of herbal teas and juices, a water cooler.  Two rows of loungers piled with white blankets, all facing the ceiling-to-floor windows and the panoramic views of the mountains.  White dividers separated the couches, gave privacy. Heaps of magazines lay beside each lounger; I selected my couch, filled a beaker with water, and poured myself a cup of orange blossom tea. Selected a few magazines and climbed onto my plinth.  The backrest was at 90 degrees. Totally upright and uptight. No good -it was time to lay back, kick back. I pulled the lever to adjust the backrest. RAK RAK RAK went the hydraulics. The backrest went back a few degrees then stopped. Kept trying to go further. Kept failing. The backrest was trying its best to lie down. But it couldn’t. I tjust kept going RAK RAK RAK like a demented crow and didn’t move an inch. The noise in the silent room was deafening No matter how I pulled and pushed the lever back, RAK RAK RAK. I couldn’t shut it up. I ran out and called a member of staff. “We’ll get an engineer up straight away” she said. Right enough, five minutes later, he arrived. Silenced the crow. Suggested in a whisper that I choose another bed. So I did. Picked up my magazine, my water, my herbal tea.  Chose a new couch. Settled in.  Draped a white fluffy blanket across my legs. Leaned over to reach the lever and adjust the backrest - and knocked the cup of orange blossom tea and the glass of water over. In unison, half spilled all over the bed and floor and the other half emptied itself into the mechanism of the bed, poured down the little hydraulic hole. I leapt from the thing, afraid I’d be electrocuted. Ran into the Ladies Room, where I grabbed every bit of tissue and every paper towel I could find and raced back to the Serenity Room, where I set about mopping the floor and the bed of the plinth and tried to stuff tissues down into the mechanism to absorb the spill. Unfortunately all of the above entailed some noise. There was some movement from the other occupied beds, some rustling of magazines, some deep breathing…

Back into the Ladies to dispose of the sodden tissues and paper towels. Back onto my plinth. Fluffy white blanket draped over my legs, backrest at 45 degree angle.  Settled. Fresh glass of water beside me. I relaxed. Lay down. Turned over and pulled the blankets with me to settle down for a nice cosy nap. Unfortunately my right elbow caught the stand alone divider which must have been made of Japanese rice paper, very delicate, because it toppled over. Onto the bed next to mine. Luckily it was unoccupied. However it caught the next divider which went over onto the next bed and…It was like a game of dominoes and not in a good way. The second glass of water and cup of orange blossom tea…how can such small receptacles hold so much liquid? Is there a separate law of physics that governs spills? There’s always a spilt amount at least double the quantity the container held, I swear it.

Bottom line; I’ve trashed the “Serenity Room” in a five star hotel. I left before I got thrown out, went back to our room and ate the complimentary chocolates they’d left to say “Happy Birthday Gráinneog”.  Well if you’d had a shock, you need sugar.

We had a lovely dinner. Afterwards, we spent our joint annual income on a few gins and tonics in the bar. Fell into bed. Sleep eventually came to me as light crept in under the damask curtains and most especially, when my companion finally stopped snoring. If I’d realized at the time that the marble bathroom had under floor heating, I’d have slept there. Wrapped up in fluffy white blankets and peach towels.

Awake and in a gin induced depression, or maybe because we had to leave this marble palace, we headed to the self service breakfast buffet.  The staff were enquiring of us and many others if we were on “the package”. Yes, of course we were, otherwise we wouldn’t be here. Most of the other clientele were on “the package” as well it seemed.

Having placed my orange juice and omelette on our table I went off to make toast. Inserted two pieces of bread and changed the setting on the 6-slice toaster to “maximum”, same as my own little toaster. One minute later   two charred, blackened slices popped up –and  a fire alarm went off.   WHEE WHEE WHEE it went, deafeningly, as an electronic voice calmly exhorted us all to please leave the building quietly by the nearest exit... God now I’ve set off the alarm. The bloody noise wasn’t going to help the hangovers either.

“No, no”” said the staff reassuringly as they moved among guests now standing at their tables in uncertainty, ready to abandon the fried eggs and muesli. “No need to go outside. It was just the toaster. The fire alarm system is very sensitive. “

First I’ve trashed the place now I’ve set off the fire alarm… Of course none of this was my actual fault.

We left and drove back to Dublin, back to January blues, back to reality.

“Well, do you feel the better of that?” asked my kind, good friend. “Oh yes, thank you, it was all lovely. Very relaxing” I said.  “Let’s do it again soon. Only...can we try  somewhere else for your birthday- it’s nice to see new places”.