Surprise Surprise

Huggy Man at the Farmgate,Midleton

Life is full of surprises; Ireland is full of surprises. The village of Castlemartyr is where Sir Walter Raleigh once shopped, now it has many boarded up village buildings, once mercantile, no doubt, butchers, drapers, candlestick makers. I thought nearby Midleton was one long street with not a lot going on but I discovered the Farmgate on Saturday night. I wish we had one of those in D.4 plus ten and it has been there since 1983. Even a farmer's market around here would be good. You enter the restaurant through their farm shop, purveyors of all that is fresh and good from the hinterland and further afield. 
 

At our hotel they recommended more than once we visit Sage as well. Apparently it's in the top 100 in the country and has the nine mile rule. Only produce from within a nine mile radius is used. So, there're two tips for your next trip to east Cork, which I completely missed last time I was there. 

We went to Farmgate with Annie Oakley, my gun-totin' friend from Virginia, who has fallen for Kinsale as her next place of residence. The steaks were to die for and happily we three girls were not only on budget but on our fainthearted diets. No starters or desserts, but digestifs in Pat Shortt's pub were allowed. Saturday night and the youf of Castlemartyr are out for the music and craic, we repaired to the garden seats overlooking a babbling brook, enchanting but for the sub-zero temperatures. What we do for a cigarette. As we were about to leave I realised my bag was a lot lighter, and my inner bag of cards, money, make up was missing. Our taxi was waiting, yes, for the long drive up the avenue. Nobody had handed it in, I was looking at a real catastrophe with it going missing, it was bought pre-celtic tiger, a splurge I'd made in Paris, so a little sentimental too. Abandoning decorum, I interrupted a group of ladies and asked if anyone had seen it. Blank faces, friends waiting at door, taxi meter running. Next I spot a buxom young lass holding it aloft, walking around asking if anyone owned it.

I hugged her ample charms, or thereabouts. There is goodwill yet.

Mariella and I enjoyed the epitome of lazy Sundays, two tired mothers, just read, took the country air and were rewarded with a massage. The spa at the hotel is world class, the staff were friendly and mainly local, full of charm. It was a thoroughly successful little respite, so much so I forgot to check into landlady house and hoped the Cost Centres would forgive my lapse. Better that I hadn't or otherwise all would not have been so blissful.

Lodger No.1 apparently invoked the Overnight Guest pass. I'd sort of thought the idea would be overnight in one's room, no impact on the sons, the kitchen, the dining room, the bathroom, that kind of thing, discreet and subtle. After all, it's a room rental not a house share. It's our home. As I write, all I know is that Cost Centre No. 2 couldn't use the bathroom it was so in demand, and the overnight guest was here all weekend.

I wasn't prepared for my reaction, but it feels a bit creepy, not as bad as being burgled, but a stranger has been in my house all weekend, not at my invitation, it's hard. This is all new to me, and who can you ask for advice?

As this is Diary of a Dublin Landlady, I don't know what's going to happen next. We shall have to wait and see. I know someone is bound to say 'lighten up'!

Celebs

My new tenant is due to move in today. I think I went a bit overboard with the bleach in his shower room in a bid to hasten the pristine effect. A chambermaid I’m not and I’m retiring from cleaning duties now, it’s been far too vigorous a morning for someone who’s been out late. Midnight on a Wednesday is the new late; I think some of you might agree.

At least it was a sort of cerebral-oriented evening with a modicum of drinking and a lot of thinking. My friend from Virginia, whom we’ll call Annie as in Get Your Gun, because she shoots, invited me to The Picture of Dorian Gray at the Stephen’s Green Club. Only it was cancelled last minute due to poor booking, now that’s a shame for the actors. I was in my LBD ready for town when I got the message, followed by another message from Blonde Racquel asking if I could take a spare table at a fundraising Quiz in the Four Seasons. Trivia Heaven, Annie and her husband joined me. She and I pooled our American and European trivia and managed to finish ahead of some tech companies, while the big law firms topped the polls most of the evening, until finally the bragging rights went to Racquel’s table, with a trophy and an incomprehensible smart phone each. She’d been hoping to come 2^nd for the Brown Thomas vouchers, suffice to say the modicum of wine transmuted into celebratory drinks.

Back in landladyland, I’ve just shown the bedroom to the acupuncturist/cranial sacral therapist, and I am mighty intrigued about his work. Whatever about him moving in if friend moves back to city life soon, I think I’d book in for a treatment, though I don’t think I was delivered  by forceps (you can have cranial issues if you had a traumatic birth), it’s all about getting your body back in line, your organs in balance, that sort of thing. He was very convincing.

My Queen of Hearts Cake by Clarice (not her real name!)

I need to plan a lunch for tomorrow afternoon. The sodden weather we’re having has put me right off doing any actual shopping for it today and I‘m hoping for a Nigella moment tomorrow. It’s an early birthday lunch, there are two birthdays in the house in March and then there’s Mother’s Day, we’re going to have to assess the hierarchical options. Chronologically, Mother’s Day and mine come first; cost centre #2 was due on my birthday. Gratifyingly, he did me the favour of arriving nine days late and has taken his leisure with everything since, waiting until his leaving cert before becoming remotely punctual and communicable.

I have to admit to being a birthday diva, as many of my friends will testify. It is one day when you can be cheered up unconditionally. Mine is a bit of a non-event this year, not ending in a zero or a five, but still I want to see friends for lunch and not put any of us to a restaurant expense.

I thought I might have dinner with Absentee BF on the day. The permutations of flights and effort didn’t do it for me. Instead, I’m going to go out next week with the girls who can’t get play dates for tomorrow. Yes, most of my friends have small children, while mine are like bodyguards. Thankfully, those coming only need play-dates for themselves.

So cost centre #2 will be twenty-one on the 21^st. Another cause for celebration, and being the stoic philosopher he is, wants nothing to do with it. Mother still has to celebrate the day she gave birth to him. You may have guessed by now that I live alone with my sons. And that is for the last fifteen years. Their dad has been living abroad all that time. So, better get my own out of the way and plan the big one.