Lots of things
Wow. I’ve been busy.
So busy, that I completely failed to pass on the very exciting news that Stoolball has been officially recognised as a sport.
I’m from Sussex, where Stoolball is from, and played. I learned it at school, and it was one of the very, very few sports that I enjoyed and didn’t completely suck was ok at. So, I was very happy to see it getting proper sport status. Very exciting.
We’ve had visitors for the last 3 weekends, which has been lots of fun.
There have been walks in the mountains (both ones we hadn’t tried before - one good, one not so good), visits to the park to wander and look at the deer, the pope’s cross, and the enormous and prominently situated American ambassador’s residence.
Plus food and drink and chats of course. Lovely.
And, I passed a milestone. A very important one.
My first home in Ireland (once I moved out from living with my lovely relatives to whom I am eternally grateful for putting me up for so long) was an absolute kip. Seriously. It was a horrible flat with a crappy landlord, and I don’t know how I lasted there for the 4 months or so that I did. (Also, D - thank you for rescuing me). I still shudder to think of it.
Anyway, so I’m living there, and staggering home with friends one night from the pub, with chips (it wasn’t the nicest place to cook, or, come to think of it, eat in), when I mention that I don’t have any salt. I don’t use salt a lot, hadn’t bought many kitchen cupboard type items (which was a good thing the day I got home from work to discover that the landlord’s builder had been in and had demolished the kitchen leaving rubble everywhere).
So anyway, back to the story. We stopped off at the 24 hour shop to buy salt for P’s chips. My housewarming gift. A tub of saxa salt. Now I’ve been baking bread regularly I’ve been using more salt, and, seven years after I received it as a gift, I’ve finished the salt. I was kind of sad. That salt held fond memories for me. It was my welcome to Ireland salt. Does this make me a local now?
yep, i think it does, which means you are. have fun!
17 Apr 2008 at 2:16 am
I like salt.
17 Apr 2008 at 3:04 am
Too funny. We recently threw out the sealed box of haggis that has moved with us from house to house since coming home with us from Scotland…in 2000!!!
17 Apr 2008 at 4:25 am
Oh, wow! I’m thinking that it’s not that you’re a local - but that you must have the lowest blood pressure on the planet! I go through salt like … well, crazy.
17 Apr 2008 at 7:54 am
Oh noes the magic salt! It twas the source of all me powers.
17 Apr 2008 at 9:43 am
That’s a funny story about the salt. It takes me ages to go through it as well. I had a little nostalgia the other day when I dug deep into my cupboard and found some boxes of rice I had bought when I first moved into the apartment.
17 Apr 2008 at 2:22 pm
You lot must just not cook or something.
Going to start your own stoolball league?
19 Apr 2008 at 9:39 am
Naaaah, takes generations to become a native, have had the title of honorary Irishwoman bestowed upon me, it only took 14 years… ;-)
07 May 2008 at 11:05 pm
Oh. Cockle-warming post. Thanks.
09 May 2008 at 1:40 am
My light bulb went yesterday morning, and I thought of this post. My uncle gave me a desk lamp for my 13th birthday. It was nothing special, just a smallish, neat white one from Ikea. I thought it was a pretty boring present, but there was something quite pleasing about its shape, and I liked the bright soft clean white light it threw over my desk. After a while, I noticed that I hadn’t changed the light bulb. I took the lamp with me wherever I lived, valuing its constancy, its neatness and efficiency, and I started to think the light bulb was magic. Yesterday morning, after twelve years going strong, the bulb went, gently, just like that. I know it’s a light bulb, but in a very small way, I feel bereft.
12 May 2008 at 11:45 pm