Investigate all Dublin shops for the best bargains. Practice elbowing through the crowds and grunting rudely at fellow shoppers.
Charm the parking mafia in preparation for green van arrival. Break into cold sweat at €90 a day clamping fee warnings. Cross all fingers and toes for a week in hope that van is allowed in snobby parking area.
Scrub, hoover and polish flat until very shiny and sanitized. Hide all clutter and mess. Aim to ensure visitors think holidays at Sheena’s created terrible need for showcase style house.
Snigger to self at thought of tut tutting about crumbs.
Scrub Pedro until very shiny and sanitized; cook a Spanish Mammy dinner so that he is distracted from girly carry-on in the flat.
Bake a cake to reinforce desperate housewife image.
Get into Christmassy vibe with fairy lights and cinnamon candles.
Hang out best towels – the ones with lace edgings, crocheted by Pedro’s mammy.
Ponder whether to use lacy tablecloth from Prague but decide that tiny coffee table doesn’t deserve such luxury.
Spend long hours at mirror perfecting a disdaining look whilst sniffing: “Ooooh ya, but the cultural offerings in Budapest by far outshine Dublin’s little gatherings” in preparation for couth night time entertainment.
Write up long list of present possibilities. Lose list and start again with a whole new assortment of possibilities.
Send Pedro to the shops for wine. Hope that Zoe doesn’t notice it’s the same wine Pedro always gives Spike when he pretends to be couth and wine savvy.
Go back to shops following exciting discovery of a EuroSpar newly opened in Malahide. Visit several times for freebies: smoothie tasters, chicken wings, chocolate scones and bits of posh cheese. Wonder whether this beats mince pies in Donegal town.
Realise that soggy bottom girls might not be able to handle the couthness of Malahide, decide not to bring them to new EuroSpar in case they break into the bottles of port on show.
2 comments:
Point me in the direction of that eurospar when I get to Malahide.
Sybil.
ps That lacy table cloth came from Budapest. One day we walked and walked and found a paddy, or was he just a paddy lover, playing Irish music.
Ooooohhhh the uncouthness, not remembering where the lace came from!! In my defence, I did spend a second or two weighing up whether it was from Budapest or Prague. I'll have to cram some lace knowlege into me before hitting the Leuven christmas markets next week.
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