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Come fly with me


Diary of a Homebird
Ciara Galvin

So poor Pops was meant to have major knee surgery earlier this month, but unfortunately it was postponed, indefinitely.
With time on his hands and a daughter that’s still unemployed (yep, no change there) he’s decided to embark on some IT training, courtesy of yours truly.
Email was his first port of call. Our last tutorial consisted of me informing him that he can access emails not just from his own laptop at home, but from any device around the world. Mind blowing.
Thankfully, he had memorised his password, which cut out half the hassle.
Next he set about sending an email. To who, you may ask? To me, his daughter, sitting right beside him. The subject line read: ‘paim how is the pain in your tummy’. No message in the body of the email; he’s a minimalist and got straight to the point in the subject line. (That reminds me, I must email him back to let him know my tummy is better.)
The second very important email he sent was to the female roomie, who was in the kitchen watching Emmerdale. ‘I hear you’re playing good golf these days’, he typed, again into the subject bar, and chuckled as he clicked send. I assume the female roomie could actually hear him talking about the email that was whizzing its way to her.
Next it was time for something new, something he had been building up to for a while now: booking flights on the internet.
‘Hypothetically, if I was going to book a flight how, would I go about it?’ he asked. Clicking into the Ryanair site I asked him where he wanted to go and clicked into the list of destinations he could fly to. For some unknown reason he chose five days in Leeds. (God only knows what you’d need five days in Leeds for.)
I then told him how to navigate past all Michaeleen O’Leary’s extras, fearing that if Pops ever did book a flight, he might land in some airport no one has ever heard of, to be met with a stretch hummer that he accidentally booked.
All was going well until he was asked to create a password after going through the entire process. It got the better of poor Pops and he unknowingly exited the site completely. ‘What happened there now?’. Like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster, Dad was Keanu Reeves, and he had just snipped the red wire. I said nothing and kept smiling.
We started again. This time he wanted to hypothetically go to Pisa, and we went through the various steps once more.
I then made the mistake of mentioning Skyscanner, the flight comparison site. The whole world opened up. Gathering confidence, this time the male roomie clicked on Toronto, and for three weeks if you don’t mind.
After 45 minutes of ‘virtual travel’, Pops had his fill. ‘Okay little pet, I just wanted to know how people do it’. Translation: ‘You, daughter, will book all my flights in future, but at least I’ll know how you’re doing it’.
Next on the agenda is setting up Madré’s Fitbit activity tracker. I guess I could say my current job is IT Support.

> In her fortnightly Diary of a Home Bird column, Ciara Galvin reveals the trials and tribulations of a twenty-something year old still living with her parents.