Best aunty ever!!

I'm in an airport again.

I'm on my own.  Having travelling with a group last week, it's a very strange experience.  I keep looking beside and behind me to check for my travelling companions.  Also, I checked in a bag! So I have no bag and no people with me, very strange indeed.

I'm off to Spain.  Via London,  where I pick up my 10 year old niece Eliza, and she will be travelling on with me.  Not sure who will be looking after who? We're off to meet up with my other niece Rachel (8years old) who is waiting patiently at the other side for her, with her parents obviously.  I will vaporise on arrival, my job done.  Actually, I think I have already vaporised, the heat in Dublin is great, and they say it will be the hottest day this year today.  I have brought along extra strength ear plugs, as I imagine the noise level will go up considerably in Girona airport when those two girls meet?

My 'Aunty' brownie points are clocking up big time.  I am only doing this so that they will look after me when I'm old, and in the home for the bewildered.  (Some would say that I'm already there, but that's just mean...) They can come and visit me, on a Sunday afternoon, with chocolate, and we can reminisce about all the lively trips we had together when they were young.  

I'm also meeting my Nephew Adrian, in London, armed with millions of birthday cards (full of cash, as he's a poor student) for him from home.  Aunty brownie points will sky rocket!  Although there's not much chance of him coming to visit me in the home, because apparently I'm far too embarrassing.  Funny how the small girls love me and the large lads find me embarrassing?  I'v no idea why.  The girls love when I hug and kiss them ruffle their and tell them they look cute...

Ok, they are calling my flight, better go.  I hope I remember to pick up my bag, with all the flight tickets and birthday cards, at the other side.  Imagine if I forgot!  Now that would be embarrassing.

A sad day.

After a lovely few days in Amsterdam, we came home to sad news.

Dad's brother, Tom, died last night.  I suppose I should say my Uncle Tom died, but I didn't really know him very well.  Chatting to Dad today, he said that he really didn't know him very well either.  Tom left home when they were both very young men, and like many young men of that era that went to the UK, or further afield, he didn't come home or keep in touch very much.  I thought that was a bit sad.  But that was the way of their generation.

When I was growing up I knew my brothers and sisters very well!!  The less said about that the better!  And my generation were (are?) a bit better at keeping in touch.  We had the telephone, which, as my Mother will tell you, I spent hours on concocting up all sorts of schemes and plans.  And when we went away, to live or on holidays, we wrote letters or sent postcards.

And now there is Kevin's generation.  He doesn't have brothers and sisters, but he does have my brothers and sisters and all their siblings as his family.  He is so familiar with my brothers and sister that he doesn't even call them 'Aunt' or 'Uncle'.  But that's they way of his generation.  And as for keeping in touch?  Well, I don't have to tell you how they go about that!

I know I give out about Facebook etc., and Kevin and his generation being constantly connected to their mobile phones, but I suppose at least they are keeping in touch.

When I think about it, I suppose this is my way of keeping in touch now.  Instead of picking up the telephone, I sit here and write...  It saves me repeating myself and it saves on the phone bills!!  It also means that if you don't want to hear from me, you can ignore me, without me knowing!

But what I am really trying to say is, it's good to stay in touch.  Especially with your family.

RIP Tom.

At last!

The last day of the holidays and the famous five set off excitedly on their bicycles (or a Dacia Duster if your reading the 2014 edition) for their last adventure before it was time to go home...

Our first stop today was the lively little fishing village of Volendam, where we ate ice-cream while watching the yachts sail in and out of the harbor, bought tacky souvenirs for our friends, and tried on some shoes!

Next stop, after a row with the satellite navigation system in the car, was Zaanse Schans. And, at last, what I had been waiting for for the whole trip.  A windmill!  Or several.

Obviously I was delighted!  And so were the bus loads of Chinese people who also came to visit the windmills.  I airbrushed them out of this picture.  We had to wait for a gap in the crowd to be able to take this!

Then it was time to go home...

I think we wore him out.  But, at last, we got a reprieve from the terrible jokes.

Although before he dropped of for a snooze, he did say that he wished he had more daughters who would bring him away on trips like this one.  And I'd like to think that that wasn't one of his jokes!!

Ps... Mam never did find that cake shop!

Flower power!

On the fourth day of Christmas...

Well, even though I didn't think it was possible, the jokes are getting worse.  It's like Groundhog Day.  We get up, there's a terrible joke.  We have breakfast, there's a terrible joke.  We get on the tram, there's a terrible joke...

Yesterday we were very cultured and spent the day in the recently refurbished Rijksmuseum.  Apparently it was closed for ten years to allow for the refurbishment to take place.  I'm very glad that it was open for us to visit, as it is a beautiful building to walk around.

And it was very informative.  I brushed up on my Dutch history.  I learned how to import Opium, I learned how to conquer a far away land and create a Colony, and I also got some very useful tips on how to improve my painting skills.  How or where I'm ever going to use these skills is beyond me, but lunch in the building was definitely worth learning about.  I could practice that skill everyday.

Today, we were even more touristy and saw Amsterdam in all it's glory from a riverboat.  Or should that be a canal boat?  We got on a hop on hop off boat, and hopped off at all the best places.  The flower market being the best one! We strolled through oohing and ahing at the variety of bulbs and plants and cut flowers on offer.  We stopped for longer than we should have at the stand with the cannabis seeds and plants.  Did some more doddering, but in the end being the straight laced oldies that we are we opted for some tulip and (a very unusual blue coloured) amaryllis bulbs.  We will have to bury them in our bags to get them through customs.  Perhaps I should have paid more attention yesterday in the museum at the Opium importing exhibit!

We're sitting now as I am writing this, beside the water, having a drink, in the sunshine, after a(nother) great day in this busy city.

Apart from the terrible jokes, and the fact that I haven't seen a windmill yet (unless you count the hundreds of tiny ones that you can stick on your fridge), it's been a lovely few days.  We still have one more day, so I haven't given up on the windmills yet.  And my mother hasn't given up on the cake shops yet either!!

A mad shower!

Day three in the big brother house...

So far I'm loving The Netherlands.  Despite the face that I haven't yet seen seen a windmill or a tulip. Or am I just stereotyping? When people come to Ireland to visit do they really look for Leprechauns or Shamrock?

The people are lovely too.  Very friendly and accommodating.  They even laugh at Dads terrible jokes.  But I am slightly curious about their showering habits.  This sign is hanging over the bath in our hotel room:

It says: We kindly request you to take your shower in the bath.  Eh...?

You know when somebody tells you not to do something...

Tulips...

Tulips...

...from Amsterdam.

Day two of the Brennan road trip.

I forgot to bring the b*****t deflectors!  So my ears are hurting now from Grandads terrible jokes.  I won't tell you any of them, I wouldn't inflict the same pain on you.

We're on the road back to Amsterdam, having spent the night in Maastricht.  Our visit to Maastricht was to bring my parents to see the well oiled machine that is Andre Rieu.  And what a machine it is! He is the 'One Direction' of classical music.  We enjoyed, as the man himself would say, a 'fantastic' evening.  As I am sure any of you who are familiar with what he does knows, he tours the world with this show, so you get exactly as it says on the tin.  It's like the Disney fairy tale for adults.  Mam and Dad really enjoyed the show, as did I and Deirdre and Vincent, despite a drop of rain towards the end, when we all donned the plastic ponchos kindly provided by Andre.  Dad was so delighted with the whole experience that he wrote a poem in Andre's honour:

When Andre Rieu was a young boy

He couldn't play a note.

So, he bought a fiddle with a hole in the middle,

To keep his show afloat!

I can't add to that!   But I can add that Dad mentioned that myself and Deirdre brought the average age of the audience down considerably.  So that makes up for his terrible poetry.  Unless of course, that was another of his terrible jokes...

And can I just say, Maastricht is Andre's home town and he is playing live shows in the Vrijthof Square in the town for two weeks.  That's 14 nights in a row.  No licensing issues here.  The square is surrounded by residential properties.  Nobody objected!  Quite the opposite in fact they open their windows and sit on the sills watching and listening, enjoying the fireworks that close the show.  And this event takes place every year.  People of Drumcondra, are you reading this?  We Irish have a lot to learn.   (And I wrote that paragraph without mentioning Garth Brooks once!  Oh wait...)

So we are on route now to Amsterdam for a few days.  Making a stop off in Hoorn, to visit some extended family on the Fahey (deirdre's husband) side.  I was in Hoorn once before in a former life.  I don't remember much about it but I do have an old photo of myself on a bike to prove that I was there.  I might try to recreate that image today.  I wonder do they still have the same bike?

There's a game of Scrabble going on in the back of the car as I'm writing.  Somebody has invoked a three kilometre rule.  You have to play your turn before three kilometres have been driven.  Jeez! There's always some new rule that has to be adhered to.  I better stop writing and take my turn, or I'll be banished from the game, not that I have much of winning...

The Stewart on the flight on the way over told me to make sure I kept my parents away from the 'cake' shops in Amsterdam.   Hmmm..  You know when somebody tells you not to do something...

Hello Kitty!

I'm off on my travels again.

And it's not just me that's travelling this time.  We are a bunch of Brennan's travelling and for the next few days Holland, or as I should really call it (after the in depth geography lesson I received from my Dutch colleague) The Netherlands, will be treated to an influx of us!

Hmmm...I wonder what the collective noun for a bunch of Brennan's is?  I suppose for now until I come up with something better I'll loosely use the term 'family'.

Kitty's also coming with us.  I like Kitty!

She's very generous and always willing to go along with whatever we want to do.  If you want coffee and cake, she's right there with you.  Lunch?  Dinner?  Taxi?  You name it (eh... within reason) and she always manages to sort everybody out.  On previous trips, she has been more than generous.  She has even been known to visit the bar, and co-incidentally she has the same taste in fizzy wine as I do.  What luck!  Her only downside is that she requires supervision.  Usually Deirdre (the big sister) supervises Kitty, they get on very well together and can adapt quickly when the situation requires it.

But, as usual, when there is a family of Brennan's together, there is always a power struggle.  And I fear on this trip that the struggle will be for supervision of Kitty!

I have no interest in supervising her.  But I think Deirdre's qualifications for being in charge might be brought into question by my Mother, who claims to have much more experience dealing with Kitty over the years.

I'm happy not to get involved, and just sit back and be looked after for this trip.  Of course, if my Mother wins the power struggle, and I find that Kitty is coming back from the bar with red wine, then I will have to step in...