Verbum Domini Manet in Aeternum is a phrase that won't mean much to most people. But anyone who has ever passed through the French-polished, lavender-smelling hallways of Mount Anville Secondary School will recognise it as the motto of the Mount Anville Peace and Justice Commission, which – roughly translated – means, "You want to see stubborn? I'll show you focking stubborn!"
My wife – the commission's founder and Honorary Life President – quotes it to me on a regular basis. Like last summer, when she stayed up for four days and nights to make 1,600 cupcakes for a bake sale in aid of the Foxrock Children Without Skis Foundation, fuelled by caffeine suppositories and licking the top of a nine-volt battery to shock herself awake every time she felt her eyes close.
And like now, sitting in the Corca Something or Other Guesthouse in Dingle, where we've been told we have to quarantine for a fortnight because the natives – including the local Feds – heard our accents and mistook us for Americans.
There's a squad cor at the gate out there. I think you may have unnecessarily escalated the situation by threatening to report them to Gsoc
The sensible thing to do at this point would be to follow the advice of the King’s Hospital motto, which is to accept defeat early and try to get back on the road before the traffic gets bad. Except Sorcha is having none of it.
"Ross," she goes, not even looking up from her iPad, "I am going back to A Fishy Business and I am having their world famous barramundi thermidor – even if I have to sit in this room for two weeks."
I'm there, "Sorcha, we will have to sit in this room for two weeks. There's a squad cor at the gate out there. I think you may have unnecessarily escalated the situation by threatening to report them to Gsoc."
"I will be reporting them to Gsoc," she goes, looking up from whatever it is she's reading. "The Gords are supposed to be, like, a highly sophisticated crime detection agency? Those two out there can't tell the difference between, like, an American accent and, like, a South Dublin accent – that's like, er, hello?"
I'm there, "I know it's like, er, hello? But are we not, like, cutting off our noses to, like, spite our faces here?"
“As in?”
"As in, why don't we just accept the dude's offer of a Gorda escort back to Farranfore? We could be in DeVille's tonight, enjoying a Sheelin Rib Eye among people who get where we're coming from. Literally the Vico Road."
"Ross, we said we were staycationing in Ireland and that is what we're doing."
I look out the window. Through the grey mist and horizontal rain, I can see that a second squad cor has arrived.
There's a rumour on the Dalkey Open Forum that The Queens is going to be turned into a massive Dealz
“They’re doing a shift change,” I go.
Sorcha's like, "They're about to find out the meaning of the words, Verbum Domini Manet in Aeternum."
I’m there, “Sorcha, you won’t last. You’ll go absolutely bonkers stuck in this room for two weeks.”
"Oh, I've got plenty to keep me occupied," she goes, her nose back in her iPad. "There's a rumour on the Dalkey Open Forum that The Queens is going to be turned into a massive Dealz and – oh my God – you can imagine how that's going down?"
I’m there, “You can’t spend two weeks of your life on the Dalkey Open Forum,” but, even as I’m saying it, I know how crazy I sound.
There's suddenly a loud knock on the door. It ends up being Maidhc, the fear an tí, with our breakfast.
“I ordered it to the room,” Sorcha goes. “I thought it might be nice to have it in bed.”
“I’m about to come in,” Maidhc goes. “Can yee put on yeer masks and stand against the far wall?”
Sorcha’s like, “Come on, Ross – it’s just social distancing. It’s the same everywhere.”
So we end up doing what we’re told.
I hear Maidhc shout over his shoulder at his wife, “I’m giving the Yanks their breakfast – I’ve only the one pair of hands!” and then into the room he walks.
I can't actually believe what I'm suddenly seeing? Maidhc is wearing, quite literally, painting overalls on top of his clothes and – I shit you not – a motorcycle helmet, a sort of makeshift hazmat suit to protect himself from the alien invaders.
"Turn around and face the wall!" he shouts. "You're not in California now!"
So we turn and we face the wall.
“Answering only yes or no,” he goes, “do yee want me to pour the tea for yee?”
“Er, no,” Sorcha goes, “I’ll do that.”
God, can you believe your old dear wants us to stay here for two weeks?
He's like, "When yee're finished the breakfast, knock twice on the door, then put yeer masks on and stand facing the wall until I come to collect the tray. See, that's how we do things in this country," and then he focks off.
Sorcha goes, “Oh my God, the kippers smell amazing – although they’re probably going to stink up the room.”
I’m just there, “I’m going next door and see how the kids are getting on.”
I’m expecting them to be absolutely murdering each other, but I end up being surprised. They’re all just, like, sitting up in their beds, staring at their devices, to the point where they don’t even notice me come into the room.
I’m there, “God, can you believe your old dear wants us to stay here for two weeks?”
“I don’t mind,” Honor goes. “I’m actually enjoying myself.”
I'm like, "Okay, how could you be enjoying yourself?"
She looks up from her iPhone. “I storted a rumour on the Dalkey Open Forum,” she goes, “that The Queens is going to be turned into a massive Dealz. I’ve been up all night debating the issue with your wife.”
That ends up being the last straw. Out to the kitchen I morch. Maidhc – I swear to fock – dives for cover behind the table when he sees me. He’s like, “Jesus, Mary and the understanding husband, you’ll kill us all, Yank!”
I’m just there, “Where’s your modem?”
He goes, “It’s on the counter there,” and he points at it.
I walk over to the box and I flick the switch to Off.
Maidhc goes, “What in the name of God are you doing?”
I’m like, “Wait,” and we stand there for, like, 60 seconds, just listening.
All of a sudden, I hear it. Honor goes, “The focking WiFi is gone!”
And then 20 seconds after that, Sorcha’s like, “Ross, bring the cor around. We’re going home.”