Cyprus Avenue

Highlight of last weekend was lunch on Saturday with Ann O'Dwyer, who lives maybe 20 minutes away. She is just returned from a few months in Nicosia, where her partner is working on the Turkish side (it's a divided city and island, with Greece controlling the other half). He's there for two years and she has been going back and forth--I am extremely jealous of her daily swims in the ocean.

Sunday mom went to mass with my neighbour, who sang a solo from the altar. Mom was duly impressed. The late afternoon was sunny so we went for a stroll on Cyprus Avenue. Only now am I realising the connection between Nicosia and Cyprus Avenue. Because in my head I was thinking of Cypress not Cyprus. I've had a cold for a week so I'm blaming a lot of muddled thinking on my congested head.

In case anyone hasn't heard of Belfast resident Van Morrison--he wrote a famous song called Cyprus Avenue about this street. It's a wide, elegant street with stately homes. A thing of aspiration to the young Van, who was from the other side of the tracks (literally, there were tracks on a parallel road).

In non-mom news, I want to the winter league dinner Friday night at Shandon Park. There were seven teams. My team didn't do well as I had one player drop out due to health and another not complete all her cards. The party's theme was Burns Night, in honour of Scottish poet Robbie Burns. Here is the haggis, which was piped in (i.e. a bag piper played as it was brought in).

Would you believe the haggis is actually a chocolate cake? Much better than a sheep's stomach.

Tomorrow morning we head to Tenerife. I've spent a lot of time this weekend getting my ducks in a row. Paddy will have very complicated care arrangements while I'm gone. I have a reservation for a parking space at the airport. I have a converter from UK to European voltage. Mom and I have packed. I've cleaned my golf clubs and they are in their bag with the cover on. There's lots more to do, but also a lot done. Wish me luck.

6 Feb.