The Sheila Variations

Diary Friday

So last week's Diary Friday was a mortifying entry from my journal during the O'Malley Ireland trip when I was 14. I am going to continue in that theme of Embarrassment, and post yet another entry from that journal.

I went out last night with my great friend David, who loved last week's entry, but he, as a father of two, was a bit in awe of my parents taking 4 small children to Ireland for a month. I am a bit in awe of it, too, although, in memory, they were very matter-of-fact. They took us out of school, we ranged in age from 14 to 4 - and we lived in B&Bs across Ireland, traveling around in a teeny car, Siobhan (the 4 year old) sitting on my mother's lap in the front seat. Completely dangerously, but whatever - It was the tenor of the times. I know we all used to roll around in the back seat during family trips, absolutely no seat belts on, nothing. Or we would literally STAND in the front seat, our 3 foot tall bodies erect and unafraid, inches away from the windshield. Hilarious.

Anyway - I have no idea how my parents did it, how they got up the gumption to do this - It's really quite amazing to me.

By the end of the trip, I was so damn sick of looking at old monasteries that I would sit in the car, and refuse to move.

The following entry is very very very embarrassing. There I am, in Ireland, and all I can talk about is the TV shows I watch, the stars I love, Gregory freakin' Harrison of all people ... It's so funny.

And yet also kind of sad.

It's a typical adolescent girl's journal entry, with a complete overuse of italics.

April 20, 1982

We left bright and early for Cork. I was so exhausted I slept the whole way.

Today is sort of grey but not bad. We are staying in the St. Kilda's B&B, a huge brick house in town. Cork - oh, I have been waiting to be in a really big city for a long time. The bustle -- the drive -- I love it. Our rooms are really large and I have a double bed all to myself. To be truthful, though, the view from the window stinks. An alley with clothes hanging out on lines. Oh, well. I love the city.

After we settled down and I relaxed, we walked into town to find a coffee shop. I watched all the kids in uniforms come flooding out of the schools for lunch. It took us a while to find a place but we spotted a cafe in this huge internal mall that sold sugar doughnuts. The stools were really high. The doughnuts were all right, to say the most. Since it was lunch hour, 1000s of kids were in every coffee shop we passed and sitting out on steps and benches. They practically take over Cork for an hour.

After a while, we got up and started to look around the mall. They had a great bookstore and a great poster store with posters of Humphrey Bogart, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, and ... drumroll ... HARRISON FORD!!! Oh, I wanted it so much, and I still can't figure out why I didn't ask Mum. Probably because she would have said, "Well, we don't have to get that in Ireland." But that's why it would have been so special.

We went outside and while Mum and Jean went to the Tourist Office, me, Dad, Bren, and Siobhan sat down beside the river (very polluted). It was so so sunny and bright. Everything glared and we had to squint. The park was quiet, in great contrast to the mad rush of millions of kids a quarter of an hour ago. Siobhan got big thrills by throwing rocks in the water and all that sun on my back was starting to make me drowsy. I put my head down and dozed off until Mum and Jean came back. They had a few pamphlets on tourist things in Cork. Dad wanted to go back to some bookstores and Jean and Siobhan were dying to go on a double-decker bus.

And so we went back to the Tourist Office, a cool soft place with no blaring lights to find out where to get on the bus. So we went back out. Oh, I love the city. There was a big fountain and everything on the go. Stripes is playing at the cinema. Bill Murray's face makes me laugh. We found the bus stop and just in time. A big shiny green double-decker was waiting. We ran on, went up the stairway, and sat down up front. I wasn't really sweating in the thrill of it all, but it was neat to be so high.

But we had to get off two bus-stops later, right after the conductor collected our fare.

We came back up to our rooms and I studied English for a while, so I could watch Trapper John, M.D., with gorgeous Gregory Harrison. I really got a lot done, so I drew for a while while Mum and Dad went out to supper. When it was 7:55 (TV shows are always on at the strangest times here), we all trooped down the stairs to the lounge, a nice comfy room with a big heater. A girl, Paula (13) was there doing her homework. I liked the look of her at first, but then when Gregory came on and I said, "Oh, I like him", she snorted and covered her mouth. And through the whole show, she kept groaning and flipping through all her school books, wanting us to think, "Oh, my, what a lot of hard work she has. Irish kids have so much homework." We didn't say a word.

Dad found a bookstore with all these second-hand Enid Blyton's for only 35p each. So he's going to let me buy them all!! YAY!

Comments on the above from my present-day self:

-- Notice how I absolutely scorn the doughnuts. "They were all right, to say the MOST." Sheila - why are you judging the doughnuts so contemptuously?

-- I am absolutely mortified that I felt the name Harrison Ford deserved a "drumroll". That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.

-- Oh, and "Jean and Siobhan couldn't wait to go on a double-decker" - I was above such simple pleasures, I say "I wasn't really sweating in the thrill of it all.." GOD! That is SO OBNOXIOUS! Jean, Siobhan - I apologize. I'm sure I was just as thrilled as they were, but I acted all nonchalant and over it. "Yeah, whatever, I'm just goin' on a double-decker ... No big deal ... But what REALLY excites me is ... drumroll, please ... a poster of Harrison Ford..."

-- And I completely remember the heavy annoyed sighs of Paula, the irritable Irish girl. I set my jaw, in true American fashion, and REFUSED to be impressed with how much homework she had. It was the least I could do for my country.

-- Oh, and the detail of Siobhan, 4 year old Siobhan, throwing rocks into the polluted river running through Cork ... It just cracks my heart.

-- Enid Blyton's! HA HA Her name just came up recently on my blog, during the discussion of favorite childhood books. But what is so amusing is that I am in IRELAND and I am dying to buy things I just as easily could buy at the Midland Mall. But I knew in my heart that it would be DIFFERENT, and more "special" if I bought an Enid Blyton book in Ireland - It would be very very very different.

Posted by sheila