This year, however, was chaotic, you might say. Aside from anything else that might be causing this, let me concentrate on The Dinner. We hate to cook. We always book our Christmas dinner way back in September, in a local hotel. Problem is, the range of hotels that do a Christmas lunch without accommodation is limited, and changes each year. We generally end up with a choice of three. Thus it was that we chose to go to the Oakwood Arms this year - they were by far the cheapest of the three, besides being a little closer, in Shannon, than the others, which were in Limerick. With a choice of buffet or sit-down, we chose the sit-down meal, and that was sorted.
Kind of. The first problem was when they rang me last Monday, wanting the balance of payment, which, technically, should have been paid by the 20th. I'd been too busy to keep track. Well, no problem - I told them to take the balance from the same credit card - mine - that I'd used for the deposit. Ok great, and they hung up. Only to ring back a few minutes later, to say the card had been declined. Which was how I found out my card had been maxed, as I discovered when I then checked my online account. Ah, the U2 tickets and associated travel expenses. I knew it would take time to clear, and asked them whether they had a deadline. The guy on the other end hummed and hahed and said, well yes, technically - but.. Very obliging of him.
So I immediately transferred enough from my Irish current account into my (Irish) credit card account to cover the bill. Considering that I didn't have enough in my Irish account to cover the full bill, I also transferred funds from my UK account (when I finally got their extremely slow-loading login page to work). I didn't have the IBAN for my credit card account, so transferred it into my deposit account, for which I did have the number. I knew nothing would be done on Monday though, as we were already past business hours.
On Tuesday, I was pleased to see that my funds had already transferred from London. However, although the payments from my Irish current account were recorded, nothing had yet been credited to my credit card. (Fume.) Nothing on Wednesday either. Since the lunch was the next day, I decided I'd have to pay in cash, and rang to ask whether it'd be ok to pay on the day. They were, again, very obliging, and agreed. (The funds have now, finally, gone into my credit card, BTW. Gee, thanks, Bank of Ireland!)
With that finally sorted, I could concentrate on getting there. I have been to the Oakwood Arms before, but only once, with someone else giving directions. So I consulted Google Maps as usual, found the swiftest way - via the motorway. On the day itself, after a five-minute battle with the zip of something I haven't worn since last Christmas Day (no, not weight gain, it's an awkward zip!), I was ready to go. Nearly. First, I had to walk the dog, then we had to drop some dinner down to my uncle, who lives alone a mile or so from my mother's, and can't really fend for himself.
When we got there, my mother wondered aloud where the battery-operated candle was. See, my uncle likes to light candles at Christmas - prefers the red ones. But we worry about him with naked flames - so I bought a pair of battery-operated candles (red). We kept one and took one down to him on Christmas Eve. Showed him how to work it, had him try it for himself. Emphasised that he should NOT take a match to it.
My mother spotted it first..
Actually, this is what it looked like AFTER I extracted it from the candlestick. So, the object on the left is the base of the candle, containing one of the two batteries that I put in there before we dropped it down to him. The object on the right is the other battery.
Considering that the candle we have has been lit happily and safely every night since we got it, and is still working perfectly, I suspect this is not a technical fault. So, I guess now we know what happens if you set fire to a battery-operated candle. Curiosity satisfied. I'm pleasantly surprised that the batteries didn't explode! We're leaving him with ordinary candles from now on.
Right - off to dinner then! We made it just in time. Parking was a problem - despite the fact that we'd arrived for the last sitting of the day, people didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave. I dropped my mother off at the entrance and set off to find a space - ended up parking right around the back. Then we went in, and made our way to the main reception.
The place was heaving. At main reception, we found the mulled wine we'd been promised - but we don't really like mulled wine. And we were told to head back where we'd come from - to "the other lobby", where a staff member would help us. Off we went again - no mulled wine back here. Not much seating either, but I moved some stuff off an ornamental chair so my mother could sit. Which she needed to, because our table wasn't ready. From now on, we felt like we were on the set of Fawlty Towers.
We found ourselves at the door of a surprisingly small room - well, of course, they did have the buffet too, back where the mulled wine was (I guess). I grabbed a passing waiter, who said she'd have a table for us "in two minutes". She had a frantic look about her. Finally, we spotted a guy in a pink shirt, with an even more frantic look about him - and a seating plan. With lots of scribbles on it. We cornered him, and to his credit, it wasn't very long before he said he said he had a table for us.
Except he didn't, and now my mother had stood up and an elderly gent had taken her seat (and looked like he needed it more). She begged the guy in the pink shirt to please let her sit down somewhere, at least! We didn't care whether the table was ready, as long as it had chairs.. He relented, and led us through a packed dining room to a table that was being cleared. Where an argument ensued between him and the waiter we'd originally spoken to, because that was a table that could seat four, although it was only set for two - and there was another table beside it, for two. Fine! We took the table for two. It still needed clearing, and the tablecloth was very grubby, but what the hey.
They never did replace the tablecloth. But that was the least of our worries. The theme music from Fawlty Towers played loudly in my head as the fun continued. The tables were so close together that we were literally side-by-side with other diners facing the other way. Someone came to take our order, but we didn't have menus. Or cutlery. She brought menus, and sent someone with cutlery. A nice woman we got talking to, and who was staying there, had mentioned that they had brought in new staff for the day, who didn't know what they were doing. This occurred to me as the cutlery guy pondered which of the knives and forks on his tray to give us.
We chose what to have, and the lady with the order pad came back. She did seem to have some head for what she was doing, which was reassuring. She sent the wine waiter separately to take our drinks order - we ordered a half-bottle. And to be fair, our food arrived promptly. Technically a six-course meal, but we didn't have the mince pies that always constitute the final course. I started with salmon, my mother with a chicken-and-mushroom vol-au-vent. Both acceptable. Next, we both had lemon sorbets (she had to make a special run to the kitchen to get us teaspoons to eat them). These were the highlight of the meal - lovely. For main, we sort of swapped from our starters - my mother had salmon, I had chicken. She found her salmon tasteless, without the sauce that they tend to drench it in - she always has it without sauce. My chicken was tasty, but frankly.. it was packed into a kind of sausage, studded with mushrooms, and wrapped in ham. It was an extremely heavy meal, and I couldn't finish it. We both found the mashed potato that accompanied the meal lumpy. For dessert, I had profiteroles, which were nice - my mother had trifle, which, again, was lumpy.
We fled the dining room. By the end, the final tables had been filled, the whole atmosphere was manic, and it was a relief to get out into the relative peace of the lobby, which had emptied out somewhat by now. We agreed that they'd taken on too much - my mother found out that the manager was on holiday, and whoever was responsible for taking bookings had simply booked too many people in, and not considered that they wouldn't want to eat and run, on Christmas Day of all days. So the bookings were overlapping, and the poor waiting staff were tearing their hair out. To their credit, they were moving like greased lightning, and apart from the cramped conditions and the delay in getting seated, the service was quite professional.
I had to go back to the main lobby to pay, and she took forever to find me change - but, to her credit, didn't bother to charge me for the wine, which should have been extra. Still, I think we'll avoid this place for Christmas in future, if at all possible.
Taking the motorway back meant good signposting, and it wasn't hard to find the route. Not being in any hurry, before we went home we took a detour and stopped outside a house - "The Willows", just outside Broadford - that's known for its extravagant Christmas lights, decorating the long garden at the front:
And my wish for the rest of Christmas? As much peace and quiet as possible!
Thinking ahead to when I'm back in London, I'm delighted with what I came across for Monday, 5th January - it's the very last night of Winter's Tales, a series of readings, by famous actors, of short stories by famous authors. Candlelit, with live musical accompaniment. That night is a reading by Harriet Walter, of short stories by Daphne du Maurier. But what I'm especially excited about is it's in the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse - which is on the same site as the Globe, but although I've been to the Globe many times, I've never yet been inside the Playhouse. Good start to the New Year!
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