Childless and hitting rock-bottom
‘I intended to cook a steak — but ended up with a crisp sandwich’
IAM childless this week. Womanless too. Girlless. The three of them are gone and I am alone, which can very quickly turn into a lunatic man chasing flies around the kitchen. It did in fact. We imagine there are more flies that usual in my neck of the woods right now. People are blaming the incinerator. It sounds like the people in the incinerator said initially that the plague of flies around D4 were nothing to do with them, but then it emerged that the incinerator had in fact had the exterminators in, because of flies.
People love to say the phrase ‘this wouldn’t happen in Dublin 4’. Like recently, when the people around Croke Park were talking about demonstrating before concerts about the brothels in their area, they said: “This wouldn’t happen in Dublin 4.” They have a point. Things are not the same in Dublin 4 as they are up and around Croke Park. People in Dublin 4 are generally too posh to give out about matches and crowds for one thing. I haven’t noticed myself being bought off recently for having to put up with first Robbie Williams and then Phil Collins polluting the night air around my place.
Anyway, the point is, this is happening in Dublin 4, the fly plague. And the incinerator, which is perfectly safe but which has already, even though it’s barely open, caused a number of people to be hospitalised and possibly a plague of flies, is happening in Dublin 4. So it does happen in Dublin 4 sometimes.
But back to the point. I am childless and womanless, on my own, living the dream. And it has its moments, like when you’re out for a few pints and you’re in no hurry home. But you can’t go out every night when they are away or you’d end up very depressed. So some nights you stay in, and somehow, when there is no one else there, some of the things you do can feel ridiculous, like a grown man chasing flies around the kitchen on a summer evening. Cooking seems a bit pointless, too. I came home the other night intending to have a steak, but even the 10 minutes of frying the steak seemed pointless. I had crisp sandwiches instead, albeit on multigrain spelt sourdough bread, but still crisp sandwiches. And then you eat them, and then they are done, and you think, ‘OK, what now?’ So you eat a bit more and watch one of those documentaries on Netflix you’re never normally allowed to watch. I eventually finished up by putting a hot dog sausage in the microwave as a final snack before bed. I then rolled it up in buttered multigrain spelt sourdough bread, put some ketchup on it and ate it there standing by the microwave, with melted butter dribbling down my arms. It was, I now believe, some kind of rock-bottom. I took a look in the mirror then — metaphorically — and realised I needed to pull myself together. So I tidied up and went to bed.
Anyway, the point of all this is that I think I am a better man with kids, and I resent slightly too that they are on holiday without me. Though to listen to my wife’s dispatches, she would prefer to be at home watching Netflix eating two Cornettos in a row. (They were after the crisp sandwiches but before the hot dog. Just to be clear: The hot dog was supper. Whereas the crisp sandwiches were dinner and the two Cornettos were dessert). There is nothing I like more in the summer than doing stuff with the kids. It’s an excuse to do things you mightn’t do otherwise, and it makes things fresh and new to see it all afresh through their allegedly excited little eyes. So this week, for our It’s a Great Little Country series, we are putting out the call for the best things to do with children in Ireland. Ideally we don’t want you to tell us about a load of play places on the outskirts of large towns. We want to hear about the best places to bring them in the great outdoors, the best experiences to have with them, the best places to give them a glimpse through the windows of wonder, the best places to bring them to eat, the best places to wear them out. The thing is, when mine come back they’ll annoy me and I’ll be wishing I could just go in and sit in front of the TV at some point. But somehow, when they’re not there and I can sit in front of the TV all I want, it’s not the same. OK. Maybe I miss them. Anyway send us your suggestions to greatlittlecountry@ independent.ie for things to do with kids that we can pretend not to be really enjoying, but secretly, there’s nothing better really is there?