Our correspondent survives the mad dog Kelly and howling at the moon

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It was a struggle during the pandemic, however Dr. Garrett Fitzgerald survived with his dog due to the proximity of a rugby club. The old Scrum half still knows their way around a pitch, but is happy to have avoided both backline and frontline tasks

Aaround St. Patrick’s Day last year life as we thought it would come to an abrupt end. Our government has dictated that we put in place a strict lockdown until further notice. Our public health chiefs finally took a no-nonsense approach to the Covid19 pandemic. People – mostly older people – were already dying of the infection and our hospitals were in serious trouble and were on the verge of being overwhelmed.

Elderly citizens were instructed to lock themselves in their homes. We couldn’t leave our home at any time – except for shopping for essentials or urgent health issues. Even walking outside the garden – or the apartment – was forbidden.

The elderly were instructed to let younger relatives or friends do their shopping. Sons, granddaughters, neighbors could be seen throwing their purchases and – if available, toilet paper – in front of the front door, ringing the doorbell and running away like blue jays (safe by flying – Ed). Garda Backup made sure that many people trapped in a cocoon taking a nightly walk were asked to go home.

The first week of that was fine. In our house, we had to review the situation due to our circumstances. In the foreground of our considerations was the need to ensure that we do not come into contact with anyone and thus cannot get the virus. The next step was not to get insane or even more insane. Third, there was a large domestic dog named Kelly who followed the instructions of. had paid little attention Dr. Varadkar and Dr. Holohan.

We could have solved the training problem with the tracker, which converted the bike into an elegant indoor exercise bike. Unfortunately, Kelly hadn’t learned to ride a bike. We realized that if we couldn’t make them active, we could all go crazy. It didn’t help at all that the wailing sound of the tracker made her feel like she was some sort of lonely coyote on the prairie.

The garden was too small to exercise a large dog without causing dizziness and one side like the main street in a legendary Irish town. Said garden was lucky enough to support the grounds of the Waterpark Rugby Club; a five or six hectare site with three playing fields with walkable circumference. So, armed with biodegradable dog bags and a bottle of Dettol spray, every morning we came over our back fence onto the club’s premises.

All sporting and other activities were closed, so Kelly and Co. had the restaurant to themselves every morning from 6.30 a.m. to 7.30 a.m.

We stayed away from the playing area and drove around until the required kilometers were used. We did this from mid-March until the government lifted the curfew.

We had sinned in the letter of the law but kept his spirit by not becoming infected or spreading the virus. Occasionally we spotted another person in the gloomy distance, but did not come into contact. Thanks to Waterpark, we did not get Covid-19 and retained a substantial part of our mental wellbeing and even improved our physical health.

In our minds, prominent and grateful, was the feeling of relief to be retired and not having to face the rigors of the front line in the hospital and community’s fight against the pandemic – as our diary writer Anne Marie points out. In the meantime, our son and daughter and their families did the shopping and delivered the groceries. We were blessed.

Recently retired as Ireland’s worst scrum half ever so unable to provide services to the gaming body I am eternally grateful to Waterpark.

The time passed as usual. The highlight of the cocoon experience was surely our nightly watching CNN’s endless comedy / cartoon show. The main actor (in the role of a – fortunately – fictional President of the United States) has made the greatest portrayal of a very disturbed fellow who has somehow found himself among the best in the world.

Perhaps overdone on the pre-action makeup – hair and blush wildly exaggerated – his portrait of an impossible POTUS turned bananas was utterly captivating.

Fancy lines from the script were performed with buttocks and were reminiscent of the old pantos in the heyday of Dublin’s Gaiety Theater, especially some memorable Ugly Sisters in Cinderella.

The lifting of disbelief increased our enjoyment of the nightly performances, as is essential in many modern comedic science fiction films.

Vignettes with prominent attorneys general, irrational cabinet members and pompous generals underline the sense of the ridiculous. Some of the funnier lines came from a number of increasingly somber spokespeople for the main character. In one hilarious scene, one of them stated in a press interview that there really is an entity called “alternate facts”!

Those of you who have seen these nightly shows will surely remember Dr. Remember Anthony Fauci, a frequent guest from the real world. Reality was also represented by stats on the side of the screen showing devastating stats on rapidly rising Covid deaths.

Apparently, a large number of viewers in the US had the impression that this show was not satire but reality!

If it’s hard to believe, read up on how their great grandparents panicked when the War of the Worlds hit their radios. Same syndrome, I suppose.

What did Netflix need when we had CNN!