My son’s school had a visiting schoolboy rugby team from England. We, as parents, were asked to take in a boy or two for the duration of their stay; two nights. I bit the bullet and offered to take two: in for a penny, in for a pound. As requested we turned up at the school on Tuesday at 5pm to collect our boys, Max and Matthew. My two younger boys were mesmerised by their accents as I asked them about themselves. I was surprised to learn that they had been in the country since the previous Friday and that Cork was their third stop, they had stayed with other families in Dublin and Limerick. Matthew told us that the boys in Dublin warned them that Limerick was known as Stab City and they wouldn’t be able to understand anyone in Cork. I commented that it must be hard moving from city to city to which Max drily informed me that as his parents were divorced, he was used to living out of a suitcase and shuttling between two houses. Seeing as the trip was of a rugby nature, I made a detour to pass Musgrave Park, the home of Munster in Cork and that Ronan O’Gara, Rua Tipoki and Anthony Horgan lived nearly to which Max drawled, “Quite the star studded neighbourhood then!” I found his cynicism hilarious and had to keep reminding myself that he was only 14. As we crawled through Douglas in rush hour traffic, Max asked, “What do you do for excitement around here then?” I pointed to the library building passing on our left and my nine year old excitedly shouted, “And over there is McDonalds!” The following evening, I joined forces with another ‘rugby mum’ and took six of them to Mahonpoint for excitement. The car could barely take the weight of six burly boys as I struggled up Maryborough Hill in first gear to join the Link. The boys fought to sit behind me: I shove the driver’s seat right up so that my legs can reach the pedals thus creating ample leg room. My husband warned me that a 14 year old’s idea of excitement was sneaking into a pub and getting access to drink. I reassured him that I would accompany the boys at all times but when I went to queue up for tickets to How to Lose Friends and Alienate People (their choice), my 14 year old son whispered to me, “You’re not coming in with us, are you?” I respected his space and bowed out without a murmur. I spent the time mooching around the shops which is hard to do on a Wednesday evening as most of them are shut by 7 o’clock. They emerged from the cinema present, correct and sober and then they swarmed as one over to McDonalds as they were ‘starving.’ As much as I enjoyed their company and the noble feeling I get when ‘I’m doing my bit’, it’s always a relief to see them off.

Geraldine Blake