I am grateful for everything 2025 has brought to us! It was a relatively quiet year, with less travel, but nevertheless busy. Between lacemaking classes, creative writing, swimming, aquarobics and becoming a student of UL’s Age Friendly University, there was no chance of getting bored.
And I finally managed to learn to swim free-style. It has been on my list for ages!
I only had one strange encounter with the health system: on Easter Monday, I called an ambulance for the first time in my life, assuming I was having a heart attack. The ambulance experience was great: the paramedics couldn’t have been more helpful, but they advised me to go with them to A&E to get a full check. I was there for 30 hours – first on a chair and then on a trolley. I was seen by a cardiology resident that evening, and by an endocrinologist the next day. In the afternoon of day 2, with no doctor in sight, I discharged myself against medical advice. I felt that another night on the trolley wasn’t going to help. The cardiologist I saw afterwards couldn’t find anything wrong with me. So maybe it was a false alarm.
We travelled to Porto in May (for pleasure) and to Madrid in October (for work). I graduated from the Patient Education course with EUPATI at the final ceremony in Madrid.
Ray and I volunteered again with West Cork Chamber Music Festival, and we had a great time. The festival is the highlight of our year and we are looking forward to the summer of 2026.
There was less time spent gardening this year. Things just grew without too much effort. And less kayaking. I was too busy finalising the Síolta Glasa and Laces of Ireland projects with Friends of Lace Limerick.
I also spent a lot more time on Patient Advocacy – giving talks, participating in panels and working groups.
I took many kinds of Creative Writing classes, listened to writing podcasts and read a big pile of books. It helped a lot with motivation, self-confidence and writing things down. I finally finished that messy first draft of my memoir that I was at for years.
For the New Year, I’ll try not to cram so many activities in my week, and to put aside more time for writing. None of us can know how much time we have left, and writing my story about living with acromegaly has been on my mind for a long time.
I also wish we could become kinder, and more open to listen to those around us. I’m not sure I like where the world seems to be going at the moment. Here’s to a good and peaceful 2026!
2024 was my first year as a retiree, and I must say I fully enjoyed it!
2023 saw me getting a new hip and a new knee, so with the big issues sorted, I went on to enjoy life.
I spent my time reading, making lace, gardening, becoming a patient advocate, and paddling.
A few highlights:
I graduated from the IPPOSI Patient Education programme in April. I joined the Rare Disease Patient Forum, joined a HIQA-led project as patient partner and participated in a Patient Dragon Den.
I signed up for the EUPATI patient education programme this autumn.
I attended the whole Kinsale International Lace Festival in March and learned a bit of Youghal Lace
a trip to Timișoara in April, getting to spend time with my children and good friends
a visit to Culloville in N. Ireland in June, followed by the Clones Lace Summer School
I volunteered again at the West Cork Chamber Music Festival in Bantry
I took a needle lace class online with Maggie Hensel Brown, as part of the OIDFA virtual congress
I attended all kind of events where I showcased lace (Bloom, the Ploughing Championship and Knitting and Stitching in Belfast)
we went to Bologna for a week in September. I was dreaming to go to Italy in the autumn for a long time!
I read 70 books in 2024 – although my target 100. These were physical books, Kindle books, audiobooks- everything I came across. There were long periods with no reading – I was too busy. But I listened to books while gardening, sowing, ironing – and I loved every minute. I didn’t manage to finish Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain despite my best efforts. Finished Middlemarch though!
I had a hip replacement in January this year, and I was in line for a knee replacement as it was obvious that this was the joint that was most damaged. However, after the hip surgery, the knee pain decreased and I felt a lot better, up to the point where I questioned the need for a knee replacement. Following the discussions on three different patient groups on Facebook didn’t help: gory photos of horrible scars and complaints about terrible pain and mobility problems several month/years after the surgery. I was still able to walk distances, climb stairs and do most of the yoga postures.
View from the wardEverything dangling…
Finally, I decided to go for it. I knew I would have obsessed about it forever. The orthopaedic surgeon who did my hip surgery was not available, so I had to start from 0. I got a referral, and finally I got an appointment about two months later. While waiting to go in, I got the date of Ray’s hip replacement surgery via text, and I was able to give my surgeon a date in November when I was available for surgery.
As luck had it, I had retired and I was able to focus on my recovery without any other worries. I had wonderful care in Bonsecours Limerick, and everything went better than I expected. I had more mobility than after the hip operation, and the pain was continuous, but bearable.
As I rejected opioids, I was getting just 2-3 hours of sleep every night – for the rest of the time, I was walking around the room.
It seemed to get better after the second week, but then the pain got worse again. Stitches came out after two weeks and the wound healed nicely
My kneecap still feels like it doesn’t belong to me. According to my discharge letter, my patella was “resurfaced”. That means that the ligament that holds it in place was detached, the patella was cleaned, a piece of plastic added to make it fit perfectly with the joint, and then the ligament was reattached. For a long time, I couldn’t feel the area at the front of my knee. But I am happy I went through this. I have more mobility than before, and the pain is bearable. And I’m thinking forward to gardening and swimming next spring!
I managed to poison myself. I woke up with tummy pain. I had a light breakfast that included cheese and cucumbers, hoping it would go away. At lunch, I ate a banana – I wasn’t hungry at all.
Then I started thinking about what I had eaten yesterday. I had cheese, bread, tomatoes and cucumbers from our own garden, and then new potatoes with a cucumber salad. The only thing I might have had too much of were cucumbers. I grow them in the greenhouse and I eat most of them. I had a least one big cucumber every day since they started producing about 10 days ago. I gift them to neighbours and friends. But I love my cucumbers and they are mostly water anyhow, isn’t it?!
And then I decided to ask “doctor” Google. I landed on Quora:
“Too many cucumbers is detrimental to the renal system. It produces too much blood which is bad for blood vessels and heart. It produces too much water which overworks kidneys. The vitamin C is good but in large doses it promotes growth of free radicals. Potassium is good but large doses will overwork kidneys. Just keep with a daily recommended serving. I love cucumbers as well but too much of a bad thing is always harmful. Stay in moderation.”
“Excessive intake of cucumbers may trigger Hyperkalemia, which is a rare medical condition caused due to the presence of high potassium content in the body. Excessive intake of potassium rich cucumber may lead to flatulence, abdominal cramps and in some cases it can affect the renal system and kidneys.”
Hyperkalemia landed me in hospital in January 2021, when I needed a cardioversion to get back on my feet. And I added a banana to the mix – talk about the body’s wisdom… Mine is a perfect idiot!
No more cucumbers for me for at least a week – until I detox!
In December 2021, we had booked a trip to Antwerp to go and see the much-advertised P.LACE.S – Looking through Antwerp Lace exhibition. Unfortunately, we had to cancel at the last minute, as another wave of COVID had reached The Netherlands and Belgium. I bought the exhibition catalogue, and followed Elena Kanagyi-Loux on social media (see her videos from Antwerp here, here, here, and here).
So this spring we naively planned a trip to Europe in May around the Vermeer exhibition at the Rijksmuseum. We didn’t manage to get tickets- didn’t even get close! But we had an enjoyable trip to Leiden and Antwerp, with stops in Rotterdam and Brussels.
In Antwerp, we went to see some of the places where the P.LACE.S exhibition happened: the Snijders & Rockox House, the Charles Borromeo Church, the Plantin Moretus Museum and the MoMu-Fashion Museum Antwerp. There was no lace to be seen anywhere. As in a previous visit in 2016, I was told that the lace collection in the Borromeus Church was open by appointment only on Wednesdays.
So my only excitement was reserved for the lace shop found opposite the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekathedraal, Antwerps Kantwinkeltje, at Handschoenmarkt 12, 2000 Antwerpen, Belgium. I had come across the shop on a previous trip to Antwerp, and I wanted to go back ever since.
There’s a lot of machine made stuff in the shop window – a lot of tourists are buying souvenirs and don’t care much. But there are some really beautiful pieces inside. I bought a little Duchesse lace doily – it was €37.50 and the lady said she made it herself. There must have been more than 10 h of work to produce such a piece – if it was truly handmade, she was selling it for nothing!
I have been following the Textile Research Centre on social media for a while. When we decided to go on a trip to The Netherlands and spend a few days in Leiden, I contacted dr. Gillian Vogelsang-Eastwood and organised a visit.
Dr. Vogelsang is working on an Encyclopaedia of Embroidery, and several of the Irish laces will be included in an upcoming volume.
I wanted to look at the collection of Irish Crochet Lace, as there were a lot of interesting pieces represented in the online catalogue.
Last year was my 12th time attending the West Cork Chamber Music Festival in Bantry. It all started in 2009, when I realised how close I was to the magnificent Bantry House from where the concerts were broadcast. Then it became an annual highlight – visiting my friend in Kealties, going for long walks, nice meals out, and going to as many concerts as I could fit in. In 2019, I told my friend Jean that I was tempted to volunteer. I was getting so much joy from the magic atmosphere around the festival in Bantry, that I felt I had to give something back. So when the call for volunteers came that autumn, I replied.
During the COVID pandemic in 2020 and 2021, the Festival moved online, but we continued going to Bantry each summer. My friend Jean passed away in 2021 and she is terribly missed.
In 2022, although in a less than perfect shape, I answered enthusiastically to the volunteers appeal, and one day I opened an email to find out I had been appointed Lead Usher in Bantry House. Never felt more honoured by an appointment in my whole life! That meant I had to be there for all the concerts over the 10 days – not an easy feast! Ray, my better half, got sucked in as well, as we were staying up in the hills and we had a 15min drive to get to Bantry. Covid was still taking a toll, and people were testing positive, concerts had to be cancelled, replaced, moved around. In order to deal with the situation and cater for smaller audiences, there were afternoon, evening and late night concerts scheduled in both Bantry House and St. Brendan’s Church – a really difficult enterprise. It was an amazing experience, being immersed in chamber music all day long, but when we got home after 10 days, we almost needed another holiday!
This year, I felt a lot more mobile after getting a new hip, so we volunteered again! This time, we chose to put ourselves forward for a week of Coffee Concerts (11am) and a few Late Night ones (10pm). And we booked all the concerts we really wanted to enjoy early in March, so that we could sit in the audience with no worry in the whole world!
Having all the concert and masterclass venues within a short walking distance transforms the whole town into an event venue, familiar strangers start saluting each other, and the last two days are difficult as we know the better the music gets, the closer the end.
One of the most spectacular events was a fringe event in St. Barrahane’s Church, Castletownshend, near Skibbereen. In fairness, we only went out there to see the Harry Clarke’s stained glass windows. We had no idea where this choir- Tiffin’s Boys Choir– was coming from and we had no expectations. What an amazing surprise! And St. Barrahane’s Church has its own music festival, happening every year! A pity it’s so far way for us!
Honestly, this is an old draft that I didn’t manage to post last year, otherwise I would give you hundreds of other details! Its purpose is to recommend volunteering with the festival. It is a fabulous experience to contribute a bit of time to this huge effort which takes a year – but sometimes more than a year – to make it happen. I am a great chamber music lover, but nowhere else I have seen such an innovative programme, such a juxtaposition of old and new, such a high quality audience experience year after year. The soul and the brain of West Cork Music is Francis Humphrys, the festival director, supported by a fantastic team with an exquisite attention to detail.
Thanks to their bold initiative, there’s a plan for creating a Music Centre in Bantry, as a venue for the three festivals taking place here, but also as a venue for all year round community events. I don’t know if it will happen during our life time, but I am delighted to be able to support it.
And guess what? We booked our tickets and we are already looking forward to this year’s edition! And of course, you’ll find us volunteering!
Those who have seen me in the last year or two know that I had difficulty walking because of the terrible effects of arthritis (which is one of the blessings acromegaly bestowed upon me) in my left hip and knee. The right hip is not far behind, but it had the advantage of a supportive knee. It got to the point where pain kept me awake at night and prevented me from taking long walks or gardening. In 2021 I had physiotherapy for an extensive period of time. In 2022, I tried acupuncture and after many sessions, the pain diminished. I finally managed to persuade my doctor that I need to see an orthopaedic surgeon who confirmed my guess that my hip and knee were beyond any non-surgical options. This was in June last year. By August I had a plan: to get my hip replaced at the end of the autumn semester, recover at home while marking, and then take an extended Christmas break.
I joined not one, but two patient groups on Facebook talking about hip and knee replacements. It was a whole new education: I found out that Amazon has a hip replacement kit for sale, and that the best place to rest after surgery is not one’s bed, but a recliner. I heard horror stories and miraculous recovery ones.
Unfortunately, a tooth infection that started bothering me a week before the surgery date led to a major change of plans. Surgery had to be postponed until we were sure that the infection was gone. In a way, it was a fantastic present to get to spend the holiday season with my family before having surgery, but I was terribly worried about my capacity to go back teaching after the surgery.
When I finally got my new surgery date, it was the Friday before the start of the semester. The book says recovery takes 6-8 weeks. That meant that my teaching would be completely messed up. I pre-recorded lectures and tutorials for two weeks, marked interim reports of final year students, finished all my cooperative education “visits” (on line meetings with students who are working mostly online and with their employers), and put on an out-of-office.
Friday
Ray drove me to Bon Secours in Galway, and put me in the skilled hands of the medical staff there. Paperwork, XRays, ECG, and then I was off to the theatre. I was a bit worried about the epidural injection (never had one before) and the sedation. I asked the anaesthesiologist to make sure I’ll be asleep – people were talking about hearing hammering and sawing, and I didn’t want this to happen to me. I spoke about my previous bad reaction to morphine, and I was given a red hair net (as opposed to the ordinary blue ones) to signal the team I had an allergy of some sort.
I woke up in the recovery hall approximately 3h later. Someone was speaking Romanian to me, and I thought I was dreaming. No – my nurse’s name was Mihai , and he was indeed Romanian. On my other side was Catalina, another Romanian nurse. I couldn’t feel my legs nor wiggle my toes – actually I felt nothing at all, but this was all normal. Someone with a mobile X Ray machine showed up, and they took a picture of my new hip. And then “off I went” to the ward, wheeled over with my bed by Catalina. I slept a bit, then it was time for more toe wiggling attempts and a visit of the surgeon, who told me it all went well. I was a bit cold and asked for another blanket, but my lovely nurse brought a Bair Hugger to my bed. What a magic machine! I wish I had one at home to blow warm air under my duvet! In the afternoon I got tea and toast, and I got to choose my dinner from the menu. A pair of booties connected to my bed that were inflating alternatively at regular intervals were another treat – they massaged my feet, and together with the surgical socks, they were working to prevent the formation of blood cloths, which are one of the dangers of this type of surgery.
Before long, I got to stand up on my two legs, and I was told to put my weight on the operated leg. If you’ve never looked up what happens during a hip replacement surgery, I must tell you it’s pretty brutal. The fact that you can stand up immediately after is nothing short of a miracle.
Hospital images
Saturday
On Saturday morning I got to wash myself in a tiny bowl with about 100 ml of water ( I was really grateful after that!) I changed into my own clothes and took another trip to Radiology, being wheeled with my bed by a porter. The XRay technician was Serbian, and he asked the usual: where are you from? On our way back, the porter got new marching orders and I was brought straight to the regular ward, sign that all was going well and they weren’t worried about me anymore. I got a room with a view to the world outside, and my ward mate left on the same afternoon. So I was on my own, watching telly, dozing off, taking pills, getting infusions, chatting to the nurses and eating fabulous food. The caterer had a tablet for reading the menu and ticking my options, which was really impressive. Never got one thing wrong! I was able to use a frame and go to the bathroom on my own, but in the afternoon I got a visit from my physiotherapist who gave me my crutches. I had no difficulty walking, I actually enjoyed it.
Sunday
On Sunday I was feeling a lot better and I got dressed with a bit of help from the nurse. See, I was hoping I could go home. Some of the US patients in my group were sent home on the same day!
Monday
Monday was busy. A new nurse, a bit bossy, saw immediately that I knew far too much and I had “notions”. But she agreed to cooperate and help me have a shower and change into my street clothes again. Without the ton of painkillers from the previous days, I was able to read the novel I had brought with me. I was told to book my lift home for 1pm, and Ray arrived promptly after lunch. I got not one, but two porters to see me off. They waited for Ray to pull the car at the front and helped me into the car. This was the moment I dreaded – some hospitals run short courses for patients before surgery to teach them to get in and out of the bed, in and out of the car… But I made it! A plastic bag on the seat made all the difference! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Facebook buddies!
Looking back at 2022, I realise it was a good year for us. The COVID-19 pandemic slowly became less frightening, as the majority here got vaccinated. I started teaching again face-to-face in January and wore a mask consistently every time I was indoors- and so did my students! There were people testing positive and self-isolating left and right, but we were lucky enough to escape. We had a horrible flu instead, and the jury is still out if that was Covid-related or not. The most difficult thing was the “hybrid” teaching – I had to work with very small groups of students- a few in class, a few online, and simultaneously record both lectures and tutorials for those who couldn’t make it. At the end of the spring semester, I promised myself to never do anything like that again. It was draining, nerve racking and inefficient.
My main professional achievement was keeping my sanity throughout this, and helping my students to do the same as much as possible. Somehow, after a few really chaotic online conferences, I lost the will to attend, as I couldn’t focus. I also wrote less, as I couldn’t find my motivation. Everything else than teaching, supervising students and keeping projects on track went out of focus.
As many of my projects came to an end in 2022, I enjoyed a calmer year. Less firefighting, with the majority of meetings still taking place online meant that I was able to have lunch every day, and spend some of my short breaks out in the garden, doing minor chores. Having lunch every day is a gift the pandemic brought to me – I remember going to a health practitioner in 2018, and leaving with the “prescription” to try and have lunch at least 3 times a week. I had no time to eat, no time for breaks, and I was working 12-14 hours a day, 7 days a week. A miracle I survived!
I took on a reading challenge – to read 70 books this year. I haven’t reached my target – I am at 64, but read a lot more than in other years, and discovered new authors and genres. I signed up for Audible and started listening to audiobooks while gardening – this brought on strange associations between certain plants on my allotment and books or podcasts that seem to jump back at me while I’m harvesting what I sowed then. A bit of allotment psychogeography?
I joined East Clare Paddlers last year, and continued to go out with the club this year. It was wonderful to get out on the water as often as I could, from mid March till the end of October. I always loved being on the water, or in the water, and Scariff is a very special place, with a lot of interesting birds and plants. I was persuaded to do a Level 2 course, and I ended up enjoying it very much. We had two trips with Kayakmor, one on the sea in Galway Bay, and one on the Corrib, starting from Cong, around Ashford Castle. We paddled in the rain and in glorious sunshine, and I have learnt a lot.
I love swimming in the sea, in lakes and rivers, but before the pandemic I have never tried to get into open waters outside the summer months. In 2021, we had an October holiday by the sea and I swam every day, and now I am much more open to the idea of swimming all year-round. I am a good-enough swimmer, but can’t swim very long distances. There’s something special about being immersed in the water, and feeling one with nature! My last swim this year was in Snamh, in West Cork, at the end of October.
Lace making was another thing that brought me joy this year. I took several online classes, which proved quite good. The pandemic pushed the boundaries, and a lot of technical skills had to be acquired on the go, to make teaching possible. Having a peer group and pace helped a lot to get work done and avoid giving up! In the summer, I got to attend classes and events in person and meet other lacemakers – after so much time in isolation!
Travelling abroad wasn’t high on the agenda. I went to Timisoara for a week in March – that’s when my daughter got Covid and she could only join me for the last few days, and then we went to Siegen in June for the 25 years of Socio-Informatics conference – and that’s when we both got Covid. It wasn’t fun! However, we travelled up and down the country, falling in love with new places and going back to our favourite haunts.
Probably the biggest event of the year was volunteering for the West Cork Chamber Music Festival. I had this idea in 2019, when I was younger and had more energy. After attending the festival for 10 years in a row, I wanted to give something back. Then the pandemic came, and the 2020 and 2021 editions moved online. As I was already on the list in 2022, I decided to go ahead. We rented a place for 10 days, and was there from the opening till the closing.
I remember getting the email appointing me “lead usher” for the Bantry House venue – I was so excited! I got to work on 3-4 concerts every day, so there wasn’t time left for anything else. Ray, who worked online from there, “was volunteered” as well for most evenings. We got to listen to some amazing chamber music – many I wouldn’t have chosen to go to if not working. Hopefully I’ll get to write more about this experience – there’s a draft waiting to be finished here somewhere! If I were 5 years younger, I would do it every year. We’ll definitely be back in 2023 as spectators!
It was a good year for me and my dear ones – a more “normal” year than 2021, although nothing is normal when we have a war going on in Europe, and everybody seems to be struggling. Hoping that 2023 will find us a bit wiser, kinder to our fellows and to the planet, and more open to make much-needed changes!
For ten years in a row, I went to a chamber music festival in Bantry and bathed in music every summer. It all started from a low in my life, when my university contract was up and I was unemployed for three months and had decided for a working holiday. Several applications sent out, I got one positive answer and started my woofing the following Thursday. Work was light and included a lot of dog walking over the hills. One evening, listening to the radio, I realised how close I was to the famous Bantry House, from where the concert series were broadcasted. I asked my host if she would drive us to a concert one night if I bought tickets, and this is how it all started. Jean did not match my passion for classical music, but she was curious, alive, and loved putting on a fancy frock and mingling with her snobbish neighbours. Year after year, I stayed with Jean for a few days, cut grass, planted flowers, trimmed bushes, and took her out to chamber music concerts in Bantry House.
In 2019, I wondered if I should volunteer with the festival – I had taken so much! Maybe it was time to give something back. Jean introduced me to one of the volunteers while he was checking our tickets and we had a chat.
With Jean Williams and William on the terraceBantry HouseBantry House
In November, when the call for volunteers came, I dropped my name in. There were some questions- can I read music? No I can’t. Can I play any instrument? Unfortunately I can’t. But I can do a million of other things. Finally, in January 2020, I was accepted. And we all know what happened after that. For two long years, the Chamber Music Festival moved online. My husband and I found a safe way to still go to Bantry every summer. And one time we had a picnic on the lawn of Bantry House with Jean, keeping the necessary distance. In the long winter that followed, Jean made her exit from our world. She didn’t like what the world had become.
Fast forward to January 2022, when I received an email asking me if I was still interested to volunteer. I was walking with difficulty and had been told that month that I needed a hip and a knee replacement. But I couldn’t resist. I said yes. I didn’t ask any questions. I didn’t put any conditions. We booked the same cottage up in the hills, and my husband was going to work from there from 10 days.
Then in June, another emailed arrived. I had been appointed Lead Usher in Bantry House for the 10 days of the festival. This was the proudest moment of my life. Forget academic titles and honours! I was to stand there in Bantry House, let people in and out, and make sure everything was taken care of. I forgot to tell you that in one of the years, when introduced to the owner of the House, I burst into declaring Bantry House was my favourite place in the whole world.
It was a tough job. Concerts at 11am, 4pm, 7pm and 10pm. Keeping an eye on everything. Liaising with the stage manager, the radio crew, the Red Cross volunteers, the festival staff, the house owners, the tea ladies. On my feet, smiling and talking to everyone. But I felt like a queen! I got to sit down for some of the concerts. For others, I had to close the doors and stay outside, minding the old lady who had decided not to risk going in and stopping the latecomers for attempting an assault on the doors.
My stomach was a knot of nerves most of the time. Being on the other side than the regular audience was no easy feat. There was no fainting or severe coughing on my watch, but some of the artists got Covid and concerts had to be cancelled and programmes changed at the very last minute.
By the end, I needed a proper holiday. But I had to go back to work. I knew Jean was watching me from wherever she was and smiling.
And you know what my worst nightmare is? That I won’t be asked to volunteer next year!
