Dot writes: I’m tired. I was searching for striking and memorable metaphors to express how tired I am, but I’m too tired to think of one. I’m also too tired to bother recording in detail all the ways Hugh and Frank found to stop us sleeping last night, which is probably fortunate (for you, that is, and possibly for them as I might mention it at their weddings). Ken had arranged to go walking with philosophers today and I had fixed up a trip to the zoo with some friends who live near it and have a pass; the said friends were treated to a rather unedifying spectacle of tantrums and crankiness from the boys and limp, ineffectual parenting from me, but they were very nice about it. We did get excellent views of tigers, giraffes, gorillas, and rhinos, and Hugh revived amazingly when fed summer pudding and (bizarrely) three bowls of cheerios.
I was going to post about how annoyed I was with Roisin Ingle’s column in the Irish Times magazine yesterday and how I’m going to throw a chair through the window of Brown Thomas next time someone comments on the economic crisis by saying “we lost the run of ourselves”. Ken and I lost the run of ourselves to the extent of building up our savings, paying off our student loans and not signing up to a thirty-five year mortgage, but we still get to pay all the tax hikes. I’m also contemplating a chair/plate-glass interface next time someone says that Irish consumers are to blame at the moment for saving too much. However, I am (you guessed it) too tired to do any of these things. This may well be a good thing too.
What a red-hot revolutionary I’d be if it weren’t for motherhood.