Ireland’s Call - dimanche, 11.02.07

dimanche 11.02.07 Ireland’s Call

Argggh. Who the hell is calling me at this time of the morning? Its 12, 50 but I feel like I’ve only been to bed an hour. I see No.106 flashing on the screen and it takes a minute to register who is ringing. Our neighbours at No.106 invited us to theirs for drinks at midday. Oopsie. It has rung out by the time I come to. I step into the living room and call softly to Nicola. She responds with a muffled mumble. She tells me she did wake up earlier but she didn’t feel so chirpy and just dozed off again. I can’t believe I completely forgot but the fact that I slept through my alarm tells me it was probably for the best. I call back No.106. The lady of the house answers and I immediately launch into a profound, but succinctly executed, apology; Nicola later tells me I feigned worry and concern so well that I could get an Oscar. I tell our neighbour that my friend, Nicole, was sick all morning. She was vomiting in fact. She has a wheat allergy. I completely forgot about our arrangements. The lady tells me it’s probably a gastric such-and-such and she advices me on how to help Nicole. Drink plenty of water. And eat a bit of rice but avoid milk. I’m stupefied at her sound suggestions but gracious all the same for her understanding, counsel and gullibility.

So we missed a round of drinks and the rugby. France won 20-17. They snuck in a try within the last two minutes. Fergal texts to say he’s been tackling angry texts from friends all afternoon. I miss a call from Guelph to say that he won the bet and will expect a drink next time we’re in the Mayflower; a drink of water perhaps. Another voicemail lays waiting for me. It’s Will. He sounds irritated but slightly fretful that I haven’t called him. Me!? It’s Nicola he’s after. Poor divil. David texts to ask if we want to join K.P and him at Anse Couvelure tomorrow. Some of us have to work. Nic texts back saying we’ll soon meet up.

I try to get back to sleep but someone is making a holy racket on this holy day; I can hear a chainsaw. I don’t get much kip so I translate the menu for La Croisière as I haven’t got round to finishing it.

I prepare pancakes and cut-outs for my class. I’m sure there are some assistants who use, or rely on, photocopies a lot. I don’t like to take that path too often but this week I have a sheet with information on pancakes and Shrove Tuesday on one side and St. Valentine’s Day on the other. Valentine’s Day is on Wednesday and Pancake Tuesday is tomorrow week and since Chandeleur was celebrated here last week I reckon some of the kids know how to make crêpes and this information, even in English, will be easily assimilated. Plus, they can make pancakes for their loved ones instead of dishing out the usual commercial garbage. Yum, yum. Crêpes. Sweet and savoury: inexpensive yet impressionable – just like my dreams…