The Kerryman (South Kerry Edition)
Life in the times of Corona: Trump, Ronaldinho, kettles
IN THIS WEEK’S DIARY ENTRIES, TADHGEVANS TALKS ABOUT TRUMP’S HANDLING OF THE CORONAVIRUS PANDEMIC, AND CELEBRATES GETTING A NEW KETTLE
April Fool’s Day
DEAR Diary – It’s almost four years since ‘The Greatest Nation on Earth©’ decided one Donald J Trump should be President.
Look it, having a novelty President is fine sometimes. It can almost feel like a refreshing change from your ‘typical’ politician – if that’s what you’re into, and I’m not.
But there’s always the risk that, at some point or other, a disaster will hit, and your country will need to respond ‘bigly’ or ‘toughly’, as the man himself might say.
Now, Leo Varadkar gets called stupid every day, primarily online I’d imagine. But whether he’s a good leader or not, he isn’t actually stupid. For one, he’s a doctor, and doctors don’t tend to be stupid. There are exceptions, but I don’t believe our Taoiseach is one of them.
On the other hand, Donald J Trump... he’s not a doctor.
“The 15 [cases of COVD-19 in the US] within a couple of days is going to be down to close to zero,” he said 34 days ago. “That’s a pretty good job we’ve done.”
Today, the number of cases in the US passed 200,000. More than 4,500 people have died – and this terrible virus hasn’t even bedded in properly beyond the east coast just yet.
Thursday, April 2
DEAR Diary – The back of my hands feel like sandpaper. I wash them so often now that I reckon I’ll be down to the marrow by Sunday.
Today is also the day that I twig quite a few people actually read this thing. A few have offered to patch the hole in my sock I wrote about last week. Sorry, the sock is gone. I’ve moved on. You need to as well.
My editor told me I shouldn’t be starting Giggs in my Championship Manager 01/02 team. I always listen to my boss, so I sold Giggsy and used the money to buy Ronaldinho.
A few people have asked if I’m still bored as I hadn’t specified last week, the first time I hadn’t expressed boredom since I started writing a diary. So to clarify, yes, I remain bored.
Thankfully, one of my friends – I do have friends – rings me a lot of nights, tonight being one of them. We mainly talk about Coronavirus and we’re relatively upbeat about things; “every day is a day closer to the finish line”.
Having a chat is good. If you’re bored – and I’ll assume you are if you’re reading my diary – I’d recommend calling a friend.
It really does help.
NB: I forgot the oven was on and burned my pizza while writing this. I ate it regardless.
Friday, April 3
DEAR Diary – One of the few benefits of this lock-down period is it helps you reconnect with the simpler things in life.
Take my new kettle, for example. A few days ago, the filament in our old Russell Hobbs met its end, thus giving rise to a few distressing tea-free hours.
But we must be resilient and plough on. My mother bought a new kettle, and after scraping the yard and cow shed for my father this morning, I went home and prepared a cup of coffee before starting my work day.
And as I waited for the water to hit the hundred degrees, I stood back and admired this feat of engineering.
It’s a gorgeous kettle. This black Russell Hobbs model combines your classic cylindrical shape with something of a subtle ‘cone’ effect; in other words, it’s slightly wider at the base than at the top.
Its handle is chunky without being overbearing, and its warm blue light illuminates the water-level window when you switch it on.
As it nears boiling point and starts to rock a little, I vow to myself: “I will never overfill you.”
A nice kettle is worth looking after.
The weekend
DEAR Diary – After hearing I’d devoted an entire diary entry to a kettle, my colleague Sinead Kelleher told me I needed to use my isolation time more fruitfully.
She may have a point.
So this weekend, instead of cheating my way to the top at Championship Manager, I’ve decided to do actual stuff.
I watched a film. Fair enough, it’s my third time watching The Godfather, but I enjoyed it as much this time as every other time as I’d been putting this viewing off for too long. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of Marlon Brando’s portrayal of an ageing mafia don, or of Al Pacino’s transformation from a decent fella to a gurrier.
Also, as my over-washed hands feel like steel wool, I swallowed my pride and decided to use moisturiser. And I’ve no regrets. Aveeno is expensive, my sisters tell me, but I now have the kind of silky smooth skin every Lios Póil man deserves.
I also tried a new Guinness-pouring technique that’s been doing the rounds.
I had one can on Saturday night, one on Sunday, and on both occasions I ditched the classic 45-degree pour. We’ve been doing it all wrong. Purists, look away now.
The videos have shown fellas opening a can, then dumping said can head-down into the glass.
Only the bottom third of the glass will fill with Guinness, up to the head of the can, and then you leave that much settle.
Then pull the can up slowly, and once it’s out, give the now-full glass another minute to settle.
It’ll sound strange – but I’ve tried it, and it works. By far the cleanest pour I’ve had from a can.
Still doesn’t beat a pint in Flaherty’s or Garraí, though.
IT’ S A GORGEOUS KETTLE. THIS BLACK RUSSELL HO BBS MODEL COMBINES YOUR CLASSIC CYLINDRICAL SHAPE WITH A SUBTLE CONE EFFECT ... IT’ S SLIGHTLY WIDE RAT THE BASE THAN AT THE TOP