Cavan Calling: The weather in this corner of west Co Cavan has been dank and drear for days. The funereal sky is reluctant to let any light penetrate the grey. The mountains are almost hidden in the mist, resembling a grieving widow pulling a veil over her face.
It seems the mountains mourn the loss of joyful sunlight. I can quite understand why the ancients decided a cheerful midwinter feast was a good way to lighten the darkest days of winter.
I love Christmas. After all my years of parenthood the preparation has become a series of rituals, although when my sons were small I did have to be very organised. Christmas is a mammoth undertaking when you have children. It is one of the ironies of parenthood: the years when Christmas is the hardest work are also the years when it is most magical. I was always very grateful, however, that none of my children was too keen on being taken to meet Father Christmas. I hate masks and painted faces - they make my stomach flip-flop. I have a particular loathing of clowns.
Of course, now the boys are young adults, issues such as where to hide Christmas presents from inquisitive fingers are no longer pressing. Certainly, this year I feel much more relaxed about everything. Living in Ireland has helped me lose the sense of urgency that propelled my life when I lived in England. One reason I know this is that I've suddenly realised how close Christmas is. I have a lot to organise, but I'm just not getting stressed about it - a unique experience for me.
I have done the most important thing: book the flights from England for my two younger sons, Sam and Will, as they will be home for Christmas. While I was doing this I noticed that both Flybe and Ryanair hit the customer with extra charges at the last minute. I understood the web page showing flight times and costs was final, so how is it that when it comes to handing over your credit-card information you suddenly find there is a new charge? I think this is not only unfair but also very sneaky.
Sam's girlfriend, Sonja, will also be spending Christmas with us. She will be flying in from Munich. This means I will have to travel to Dublin three times in the week before Christmas, as it was impossible for them all to arrive on the same day.
This made me think again about something I noticed soon after Tony and I moved here: the absence of a comprehensive rail system. I know there are trains around Dublin, but where are they in the rest of the country? I suppose there must be historical and economic reasons for this, and I'm curious.
Although it is a bit of a bind to have to travel to Dublin three times in a week I am now used to the road, having learned to deal with the twin hazards of livestock and the protocol of roadworks. Cows are less of a problem than sheep, as they are usually only on the road when they have someone with them looking out for cars. Cows are also far sweeter natured and do not have the malevolent intent of sheep, who wander the countryside like rural guerrillas.
As for roadworks, the closer you get to Dublin or big towns the more notice you must take of red lights. There is a certain logic in deciding not to wait on an empty country road for a red light to change, so, if you can see the road ahead is clear and there's nobody around to catch you out, then the practice is to ignore it.
The trips to Dublin will also be a good opportunity to indulge in a nice lunch and do some last-minute Christmas shopping. I also have a good excuse to browse in dress shops, as Tony and I have been invited to a very smart wedding in a Scottish castle next summer. I have been advised to try the Design Centre, at the Powerscourt Centre, for something more unusual.
Tony will be perfectly happy with this, as it will allow him to find a corner where he can sit down and read the newspaper. He will only get grumpy if he gets hungry, hence the need for a good lunch.
