First, let me say, I fell in love with Moose, the cat I housesat in Kildare over Christmas. Madam Moose (no real explanation for the name) is 13, and the most affectionate and loving kitty. Best lap cat ever.
I also made an instant connection with Moose’s owners, Jinju and Andy. After I moved on to Dublin, they came into town to join me for a fabulous dinner at Hawksmoor.
We are having dinner again on Sunday, before I leave Ireland.
One of the absolutely best things about housesitting, is that occasionally you instantly connect with people you meet, and you stay dear friends, even when you are not in the same hemisphere. Gives a whole new meaning to ‘long distance relationships’.
I enjoyed being in Kildare too. I won’t go into a lengthy tale of its history, because I know some people find history boring. Nothing of Silken Thomas, and how, when he heard a rumour that his father, the Earl of Kildare, had been executed in the Tower of London by Henry VIII, he rode to St. Mary’s Abbey in Dublin with 140 armoured gallowglasses (elite mercenary warriors) who sported silken fringes on their helmets. I won’t tell you how he publicly renounced his allegiance to the English Crown. I’ll say nothing of how, when the Archbishop urged him against such dangerous acts, the young lord’s harper took up his harp and recited a stirring lay about the daring deeds of Kildare’s ancestors, urging the 24 year old Thomas on to his rebellion.
Nor how treachery brought the young Earl to the headsman’s ax.
Nope, nothing about that and how it all turned out. But if I do a post about my housesit in Maynooth, you’ll see photos of the ruins of Silken Thomas’s castle.
Because history is so very boring.
Instead, I will just show you some or the things I saw in Kildare town, which was about a twenty minute walk from the house.
Kildare is in the heart of horse country. The Irish National Stud, which I visited last time I was here, is just outside town. But there are lots of horsey things in the town as well, like the old Jockey Club.
The old Jockey Club building is now a youth centre, with some intriguing graffiti.
And the pub of course.
The Vet Clinic was in a beauty of an old house, and there were Irish signs everywhere.
This building was named “Santa’s Reindeer Hospital”. Not having a defective reindeer I didn’t try to enter, so I didn’t know what surgeries are performed in there or if they are covered by Sláintecare, the Irish health care system.
There is a small cathedral church in Kildare, St. Brigid’s.
St. Brigid’s is built on the site of a 5th century Celtic abbey, said to have been founded in 480 by St. Brigid herself, one of three patron saints of Ireland. She was a pagan goddess before being appropriated by the christians, like so much else in their mythology. In pagan mythology, priestesses of the goddess Birgit kept a perpetual fire was kept burning on a hilltop in Kildare. In christian mythology, the fire was kept burning in honour of St. Brigid, up until the 16th century. Then it was reignited in 1993 and is still burning.
It being Advent, and the church being otherwise closed whenever I was in town, I decided to attend a service. I’m annoyed at myself for forgetting my camera, because the cathedral, though small, was stunning. I think it was the first time in 25 years I have been in a church. I’m happy to say the roof did not fall in.
The cemetery was unremarkable, but the grounds also included the tallest round tower in Ireland that you can still climb up. I wasn’t tempted even a little.
On my first visit to town, it was windy and rainy and cold. I would have delayed going but the Irish SIM card I had kept since I was last in Ireland in late 2022, would not work so I went in search of a phone store, first thing. I had lunch at the Silken Thomas pub.
And then decided to treat myself to a taxi back.
At Jinju’s suggestion, I had installed the FreeNow app on my phone. I had never heard of this . In fact – and I know anyone who lives in North America or Europe or is under the age of 90 will find this astonishing – but I have never used Uber or any other ride share app except for Azutaxi in Cuenca, but that is a pretty simple deal. In my defence, I did try to download Uber last time I was in Europe and the UK, but my iPhone 6 was apparently too old to manage it.
Who knew tech only lasts a few years? *Bitter laughter* But, having dropped my old phone down and stairwell and killed it dead, my new phone did take the app. So I suppose that is some consolation for the obscene price I paid for it.
I opened my phone, and after a few false starts, figured out how to order a ride. Waited. Waited. And waited. I gave up and walked.
Next day I walked back into town, in pursuance of renewing my Irish passport. It was a ten year passport and I still remember how thrilled I was when it arrived in Canada.
I can’t believe it’s been ten years.
It was valid until Dec. 1, 2025, but since countries usually require you to have six months left on your passport when you enter, and since I am in Ireland, I thought renewing it here was bound to be easier than renewing it abroad.
At first I thought I was bound for failure. I met the criteria for renewing online, but required a photo. I scrolled through the specifications – this many pixels, no selfies, not to be scanned, not to be compressed (not that I know how to compress a photo anyway), with ever waning enthusiasm. Then I saw a reference to something called PhotoMe and IDstation.
Before going in search of a photographer in Kildare, I decided to check those other things out. Yes! There were two PhotoMe places in Kildare. Whatever they might be.
I hied myself back into town and wandered up and down Claregate St. while Google Maps on my newly working phone insisted I was right beside it. I finally deked into an optometrist, and he confirmed as how, no, there was no PhotoMe in his shop, Google notwithstanding. After a staff conference, it was decided that this mythical place I was looking for just might be inside an interior mall back at the corner.
As indeed it was, right inside the door.
I was skeptical, as it looked just like the photo booths we had so much fun in when I was a teenager back in the Stone Age. Closer examination though, gave information proving that photos taken therein were indeed acceptable to the Irish Department of Foreign Affairs.
I entered and followed the instructions.
Even though I tried the allowable three times, I still came out with the ugliest passport photo ever, even by the standards of passport photos.
I paid (8€ I seem to recall) and left the booth to wait for my photos to emerge from the exterior. Which they did, along with a code to be entered in the government website.
I decided to try the taxi app again as it was again raining and windy. This time I got a response right away. I waited on one of the major roads in Kildare, exactly where the map on the app showed me to be. The little car in the app, didn’t move. After a few seconds, I got a message: “I’m in the car park.” Cursing, I took off my gloves and started to type out a question as to where the car park might be, a task I always love so much on the phone, even when my already arthritic fingers aren’t stiff with cold and I’m standing in the rain. I got another message about how it’s a one way street and I need to come to the car park.
This meant nothing to me. I presumed he meant the parking area in the market square, up the street, but I had no idea what he was on about, with it being a one way street. I was staring at cars going in both directions on this street.
Then the phone rang. I hate talking on cell phones at the best of times and with the rain and traffic noise I could barely even tell someone was speaking. I heard ‘car park’ again. I again said that I am a stranger in these here parts and don’t know where the car park is. We went back and forth about this as I tried to describe where I was and kept telling him I don’t know where the car park is. He seemed to be incapable of understanding this and giving me directions. Or he was determined not to drive around the corner to pick me up where I was huddled.
I finally headed to the corner, and looking to the right, saw what seemed to be an outdoor lot down that way. I headed down, still talking to him, and saw a white vehicle with a taxi sign, sitting at the entrance to an indoor lot.
I was not happy.
I got in and we headed out. The meter was showing a 7€ charge already – no doubt he kept it running while he kept me on the phone – and 2€ for ‘extras’. When we got to my door, I said inquiringly, ’10€ right?’ That was the charge without the extra.
Oh no, it’s 12€. I asked what the extra euros were for. This bandit had the nerve to reply that it’s because I called for a ride. If only I had used the app, there would be no extra charge. I pointed out that I did use the app. Oh well, yes, but there was a phone call. Yeah, a phone call he initiated. That was $18 CDN for a five minute drive. I’m not in Cuenca any more. Probably less than a cab from anywhere to anywhere in Canada though.
After I stopped ranting to poor Moose, I went back to wrestle with passport service online. I had a couple of false starts, but did manage to get the site to accept the code for the photo. The photo was acceptable. They would send the passport by mail. That was a Thursday afternoon. Monday at 10:00 a.m. the passport was dropped through the mail slot.
Incredible service – essentially two business days to get it done and delivered. When my eldest son was trying to get a passport for his son in Canada, it took months and four tries, in person.
This will almost certainly be the last passport I have.
I will be 82 when it expires. Now there’s a thought.
I was glad I didn’t have to give up my old passport It has some cool stamps from Egypt and Turkey and lots of South American countries.
One thing about an EU passport that I deplore is that you don’t get stamps from other EU countries.
Jinju and Andy had encouraged me to have friends over, so I invited my friends Sinéad and Kieran and their two teenagers, Abbie Mae and Daniel, over for dinner. This meant cooking and this meant a trip to the craft butcher in town, and to the grocery store.
I was fascinated that the butcher was selling beef drippings in a jar. Before I left Canada, it was becoming increasingly difficult, if not impossible, to get beef fat for Yorkshire pudding. The steaks and roasts arrived at the butchers with very little fat. The butcher would trim off what he could, but Yorkshire is not the same without lots of sizzling beef fat.
I was also amused that some of the prepared frozen food I bought only had instructions for airfrying.
I was carrying heavy bags, so tried the rideshare app again.
This time when I got into the car, there was an ‘extra’ charge of 3€. I asked why. I was told it was a booking charge. I told him about how last time there was a 2€ charge and I was told it was because I didn’t book through the app and when I said I had, he mentioned the phone call. This driver said it was a booking charge and the booking charge just went up to 3€. Which all sounded pretty suspect.
I was a little further out, so this time the seven minute drive cost me 14€, or $20 CDN.
The prospect of company sent me to cleaning and tidying. When I went under the kitchen cupboard to get the bathroom cleaner, the cupboard floor was wet. It wasn’t a flood, just enough to make a very shallow puddle. I mopped up, moved everything under there away from where the water was and ran the tap. Yep, when the water drained from the sink, the pipe leaked.
As it it was not a big flood, I put a bowl under sink and went on preparing dinner. Once, at a housesit in France, the whole tap popped off. I’m proud to say that I managed to fix that one, with some help from a YouTube video. In this case, I was not going to attempt it. I sent Andy and Jinju a message and asked if they wanted me to get a plumber. They did not.
My company came in like a hurricane of happy energy. Daniel at 15 was unrecognizable. His hair seems darker, his face has matured and he is almost as tall as Kieran. He was five when I met him, then 12, and now he has put on that big growth spurt boys get.
I also realised likely the next time I am back, Abbie will no longer live at home. She’s 18 and this is her last year of school. She wants to do aeronautical engineering, but there is only one university here that offers it, so she has to be in like the top 1% of everyone in Ireland who wants to go, which she certainly will be. This is such a small country, that, for example, there is only one college for veterinary degrees, one for aeronautical engineering and one physical therapy degrees.
Very interesting discussion about how Irish kids get university free except for a 2000€ fee. If they decide to change their course, or drop out and go back, they have to pay the full freight. But even then, it’s like $7000 CDN for the full course. And that price is across the EU. So she could go to school abroad reasonably cheaply, but there is the language thing. Sinéad said Poland and maybe some other countries in the Eastern EU are starting to offer parallel programmes in English.
Abbie is a force of nature. I noticed her drive and initiative when I was last here and she was organizing things at their house. When they came in, Sinéad asked if there was anything they could do to help. I said yes, actually, and explained I didn’t know the oven broiler and I had steaks and asked for their advice. The words were not even completely out of my mouth before Abbie was marchnig purposefully towards the counter. Sinéad said that Abbie does all their steaks and knows exactly how everyone likes them. My contribution was to show her where the oil was; she had already grabbed the salt and pepper and was opening cupboard doors looking for pans.
Despite me telling Sinéad not to bring gifts she produced a little bag with a knitted mouse in it, and a jar of honey as she remembered how much I like Kilcullen honey.
The mouse will join my travels with the two wooden cats given to me by my closest friend in Cuenca.
There they are all in Maynooth.
I mentioned the leak and Kieran jumped up to see if he could fix it. Nope. In his very expert opinion, the whole thing needs to be replaced. That, or maybe some judicious application of duct tape. My very INexpert opinion.
Sinéad asked/told Daniel to set the table, which he did without demur. Then all four of them were grabbing serving dishes and finding things to put them on. And before I could say or do anything, we were all sitting around the table.
We talked for hours about everything. Sinéad gardens in a polytunnel. The lady who allows her the space to garden refused payment. When Storm Darragh came through, their polytunnel was more or less destroyed. They were going to replace it at their cost. The lady said she’d pay for it and they ended up splitting the cost. Kieran fixed her roof which was also damaged in the late terrible storm. Sinéad is giving her some of the veggies she’s grown.
We talked about my upcoming French trip, and the kids’ swimming. Sinéad joked about fixing up Abbie with my 20 year old grandson. Predictably, she rolled her eyes.
Afterwards, Kieran, Abbie and Daniel got up and started cleaning up and loading the dishwasher.
I thanked them for coming and for the work they did for dinner and commented that I was a bad hostess who invited people to dinner and let them do all the work. Sinéad said that doing all that was just what anyone would do for their family, and they are my Irish family.
You see why I am always coming back to Ireland.
I went to the grocery store one more time before I left, to replace things I had used, like olive oil and Swiffer pads.
All that was very heavy, so I used the taxi app again. This time, the ’extra’ on the meter was 2€. But I thought it went up to 3€?? I told him my tale and he launched into a big story about how it depends on the time of day as well as the day of the week and so on and so on.
To quote a seasonally appropriate source, “I’ll retire to Bedlam!”
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