The Kerryman (South Kerry Edition)
End is in sight for COVID diary. And not before time. I CAN’T IMAGINE THAT DRI VING SLEA HEAD, IRELAND’S MOST BEAUTIFUL ROAD, IN THE DA RK OF NIGHT IS SOMETHING A LOT OF PEOPLE DO.
THIS WEEK’S DIARY WILL BE THE PENULTIMATE IN THE SERIES, TADHG EVANS REVEALS. SOON, HE’LL BE BACK TO A PROPER ROUTINE – AND NORMALITY WON’T MAKE FOR A GOOD DIARY.
Wednesday, July 1
DEAR Diary – I finish off another COVID day by finishing off another pizza.
I’ve eaten a lot of pizza during lock-down – I’d say about three or four a week, which works out at roughly 50 pizzas in total. And it’s always Goodfella’s stone-baked thin, pepperoni: not exciting, but affordable.
And I like affordable.
Am I proud of depending on pizza for most of my nutrients during this global pandemic? No, but I’m hardly ashamed of it either. I like pepperoni, I like ketchup, I like melted cheese, and I love saving money.
It’s also easy to cook; I’ve only burned one this whole time, so I reckon I’ve a 98-per-cent success rate in preparing meals nowadays – a marked and impressive improvement on my TY home-ec struggles in Pobalscoil Chorca Dhuibhne.
I remember cooking a useless bolognese on one of those days. Everyone was put into groups of two, but one group ended up with three people – my group – so we doubled the mix, and it duly became the worst thing I’ve tasted since I ate márla (play dough) in play-school.
My pizza is edible. Other things I cooked ten years ago weren’t – so why roll the dice and risk returning to that darkness?
Thursday, July 2
DEAR Diary – I’m off today, but word has filtered back to me that we’ve been given a return-to-office date, and it’s quite soon. That means a couple of things. Firstly, my life is about to get mildly exciting again.
Secondly – and this is intrinsically linked with the first point – the end of my weekly COVID diary is nigh. The July 15 Kerryman will probably be the last to carry this ‘column’.
Having re-read my diaries today, they’re exactly as I remember them: mundane, dispiriting. But judging from the feedback I’ve received from you, my readers, you like reading about how mundane and dispiriting another person’s life is – because I have received far more reaction to these diaries than anything else I’ve written and, odder still, that reaction has been universally positive. Genuinely. At least to my face.
I think that reflects poorly on all of you, but thanks anyway.
So with an actual routine about to return to my life, I’ll have a much thinner supply of the kind of mundane, dispiriting content that you enjoy so much. And I’ve no intention of seeking it out, either, because I don’t care about keeping you happy.
Time to pull the plug.
Friday, July 3
DEAR Diary – I’ve found the weekends harder than any other point during lock-down. I still get excited for Friday evening, but once it hits 5.30pm, I’m stumped.
So after a few hours of nothing, I go for a drive around Slea Head. It’s 11.20pm, and it’s very, very dark. The grotto, glittering in brilliant white facing my headlights, is the only traditional Slea Head sight I can make out during the entire loop.
I can’t imagine that driving Ireland’s most beautiful road in the dark of night is something a lot of people do – it’s like going to Nando’s and ordering something that’s not made of chicken. But it still clears my head, and there’s nobody driving the route anti-clockwise. Fire on the tunes, keep moving, and the boredom melts away.
By the time I get home – around midnight – I feel like a new man, confident almost. So confident that I’ve decided to type out – for the county to read – that I sometimes drive around West Kerry in the dark of night for no reason.
I’ve now realised that most of the events I’ve just written about took place in the early hours of July 4, not July 3. But I can’t be bothered re-typing this. Happy Independence Day.
The weekend
DEAR Diary – I’ve started wearing a mask when I go to the shop. I can’t pretend it’s enjoyable. Most of the people around me are still not wearing masks, and you can see the curiosity in their eyes as they pass me. One person even asked me today why I was wearing one.
I don’t blame them for that. We’ve heard so many differing instructions on mask-wearing that even now, when we’ve been instructed to use one, you doubt yourself. But I have the equipment, the guidance is finally clear – I think – so why wouldn’t I do it, odd looks from the rest of the public aside?
My sister works in a shop, and my mother has had the fabric out over the last few days, making masks that are far more stylish than mine. Some of them are glittery, others have floral designs, and they’re not the kind of thing that would altogether appeal to me.
But one of them is just plain green. I like green. It’s my favourite colour. So I might nick one of them. If I’m going to be stared out of it by the general public, I may as well feel stylish in the process.