My sister's little heathens are here minus their parents. I thought that my parents and grandparents would keep them in line, quite the opposite has taken place. They have the run of the place and are being spoiled rotten. It has fallen on me to discipline the little buggers which is getting old, but when they get hurt, homesick or frightened it's me they come running to which is kind of nice.
On monday my father decided we should go visit the family, instinctually I reached for the Valium. Any trip taken with my father at the wheel is cause for alarm. Like almost all the other brilliant people I know my father is a bit of a ditz! He has so many things running through his mind at the same time that he sometimes spaces out, especially while driving. An example...in Ireland as in the UK you drive on the left hand side of the road, well sometimes my father spaces out and drives on the right-hand side of the road which I find ironic since he used to space out and drive on the left-hand side of the road in the states.
Anywho, he makes the announcement that we are going to drive up to Killrush in County Claire to visit my aunt CeCe who is in a retirement village, or as she calls it "the boneyard." So my parents, grandparents, niece & nephew and I all get into my grandpa's huge old land rover that I've named Sherman because it is built like a tank and has taken almost as much abuse at the hands of my myopic grandfather. As I'm sitting in the car I notice this smell, at first I thought it was my grandpa because he sometimes neglects to wash, but then I realize it is coming from behind the seat, a quick stop and inspection reveals that it is not gramps but a tiny little monkfish my nephew caught the day before and wanted to take home-TO OKLAHOMA!
I have forgotten how beautiful the western coast of Ireland is, mountains, lush green fields, young farmers with their shirts off working in the sun. The only gripe I have about this trip other than the fish smell and my father swerving and cursing at other drivers (because HE was driving on the wrong side of the road and almost hit them) was granny. The entire trip my granny felt compelled to give us a history of the surroundings. Every house, farm and village we passed she gave us a brief synopsis of it's history, "that house on the right is where my old friend Maebh used to live, she's dead now", or "that pub on the right is where your grandfather and I had our first date, do you remember that love?" I usually don't mind her doing this but after two hours of her, the fish smell and my father's driving I was very glad I had decided to pre-medicate myself.
Long story short! We visited aunt CeCe, who nows calls granny "the burning bush" because of her hair. Then we went home. I'm going to Brighton next week, can't wait! After the last few weeks with my family I need to blow off a little steam.
