The Social Whirl

It’s been a mad week.

Well, in fairness, that’s probably not true, if I was in my twenties, and a city slicker still, it would probably have been a very ordinary week. 
But for those of us who have had our fortieth, and live in the country, and become alarmed when the phone rings after 9pm and jumpy when the doorbell rings unexpectedly, it’s been quite an adventure, since last weekend.

On Monday I went to see my friend and her children.  Because I’m such a country mouse these days, my visit necessitated an overnight stay.  I arrived armed with wine, and toys to bribe her children into liking me, and had a lovely time with them all. 

But wine on a Monday night is a bit of a treat, and I have to say, part of me was glad when she said at eleven o’clock that she had to go to bed, since her new little son would have her awake for most of the night. 
I’d already had three glasses, which is about six times more than I should have on a week night.

We had a lovely time on Tuesday morning.  I’ve finally reached an age when I don’t get panicky when a baby roars.  Obviously, if he’d needed winding or feeding or changing or something I would have done my best, but he had a pain, the poor little pet, and I couldn’t help him. 

Just a couple of years ago I would simply have thrown him at his mother and found a way to make it look like I was doing something productive, and so couldn’t mind the baby. Surely it’s a sign that I’ve grown up, that I insisted that his mother bring her little girl off to crèche, that he’d be fine with me?

And in fairness he only cried for a couple of minutes, he was very good.

I had a half day off that morning, and had a great time with my friend, who I don't see enough of recently.

On Wednesday night I was meeting my lovely niece, and an also lovely friend of hers.  I always have a good time with my niece, she’s fun and funny, and the best of company. 

We met in a wine bar.  I’d say it’s probably a very cool wine bar, but frankly I wasn’t impressed.  It works like this.  You go in, and give the man some money, and he gives you a plastic card, much like a hotel room key card.  You put this card in a slot in the wall, it tells you how much credit you have, and you choose a wine from the display behind a glass door.

Then you press a button to determine whether you want a taste, a half glass, or a full glass.  The wine is dispensed in a not dissimilar way to how the fizzy drinks are served in McDonalds.

This caper is referred to as their “specialist Enomatic serving system” and their website boasts “We afford wine enthusiasts a rare opportunity in Dublin to explore their passion, not only in an efficient, but also in a thoroughly enjoyable fashion.”

A right load of cockology if you ask me.

I realise I’m getting old and grumpy, but I don’t like this carry on one bit.  I thought it very much had an “Emperors New Clothes” feel about it.  They have a nice four word name for it, but it amounts to their not having to pay a student to work in their bar at night, and the customers having to pour their own drinks.  And I may as well say it,  the wine wasn't any cheaper for having to do it yourself.

The illusion of “exploring your passion in an efficient and enjoyable fashion” was completely ruined when one of the bottles of wine ran out.  The one I was drinking from, incidentally, but that was just a coincidence, I’m sure.

The single staff member in the place came along and opened the glass door, pulled a tube out of the empty bottle, a rosé, put it into a bottle of white, without even the pretence of any sort of rinsing or wiping, and wandered off again.

Now, my lack of approval of their system didn’t for a minute detract from how much I drank.  But the less said about that the better.  Suffice it to say that it was well after midnight when we got our midnight chips, and I was working again on Thursday.

Then on Friday night we had a work night.  That was great fun.  I had unhealthy food and started drinking pints rather earlier in the day than I usually would.

And last night I was at a play, being all cultured and grown up.

The social whirl, my darlings.  I was exhausted, I swear.  It’s just as well that I won’t be going anywhere for ages again.  That was probably my socialising for the whole winter, all done and dusted in a week.