Isabel Hayes is A Native Once Again
I think I’m going to have to shut down my Facebook account. Either that or delete all my Australian friends.
As I look out the window at the rain that has been lashing down for three days straight, I’m bombarded with online photos of sunny beaches, barbecues and recently – my erstwhile favourite event of the year – the Spring Carnival.
I used to be one of those annoying people drinking sparkling wine in a big, posh hat in the sun and boasting about it on Facebook. So I guess I had it coming to me.
But, man, I had forgotten how grim November is in Ireland.
I haven’t been home at this time of year in seven years so it was easy to forget how rain can just lash down non-stop for days on end.
We arrived home at the start of February which should have been shock to the system enough. But whether it was the novelty of being home or the fact that being pregnant physically keeps you warmer, I don’t remember being bothered by the bad weather. I think it was relatively mild and soon enough the clocks went forward and sure then there was a grand stretch in the evenings.
These days it’s dark by 4.30pm on a rainy day (ie, every day), which is pretty depressing. And it doesn’t get light until after 7am, so it feels like we’re constantly in the dark.
It takes some getting used to after the Sydney winters which were deemed “THE COLDEST IN 20 YEARS” after it went below five degrees for longer than 10 minutes. The mornings were always lovely and bright – I used to run at 6.30am – and the whole season lasted about 10 weeks anyway.
But however bad the endless rain in Dublin is, the real deal is yet to come.
You can read Isabel Hayes latest column in the print edition of the Irish Echo, available at your newsagent.
Irish newspapers are full of dire predictions for a snowy winter that will surpass the big freeze of 2010. Apart from a weekend in the Snowy Mountains (where half the snow came from a machine) I haven’t seen snow in well over a decade.
I have to admit that I’m pretty excited about this. I mean I’m ridiculously excited.
Rain is one thing but snow is amazing!
I have fantastic visions of making snowmen and snow angels and having snow fights and every day being a magic winter wonderland. Basically I’m acting like I’m 10 years old again, which could well be the last time I experienced a heavy snow in Ireland.
But whenever I share these snowy fantasies, the other person looks at me like I’m off my head. Then the look of realization comes: “Oh, you weren’t here in 2010.”
Next come the dire predictions.
“You may not have to travel to work every day but you could still break your ankle just walking down the road”. (That’s my sister, broken ankle survivor).
“Snow might be fine for a few days but what happens when your heating breaks down and you nearly freeze to death?” (That’s my cousin).
“The baby will love snow for a nanosecond until he realises it is FREEZING and won’t stop crying when you bring him outside”. (That’s my friend who also has a young baby).
“It might look pretty from your living room window but just try driving in it for five minutes!” (That’s my mother).
Humph. The anti-snow sentiment over here is nearly as strong as the opposition to water charges.
They might be right but I still can’t wait for that first heavy snowfall.
Meanwhile, being housebound with a six-month-old baby is not an option, so I’ve equipped myself and Henry for the weather.
He needs fresh air and I need the exercise. And the Irish winter is part of what we signed up for.
I have the obligatory coat-that-is-actually-a-waterproof-duvet and wellies. Henry gets rugged up and tucked into his pram under a waterproof cover. It takes about 20 minutes to get us out the door but finally we do it and I’m out walking. In the lashing rain. Feeling cold. Looking like a crazy person.
Henry certainly seems to think so. He gives me a look of sheer disbelief from under his 20 layers. I guess it’s only a matter of time before he’s saying, “So I hear I’m entitled to an Australian passport?”
