Irony alert!

Remember Alanis Morissette, the Canuck chanteuse who sang emotively about irony?

It’s like raa-ainnn on your wedding day,
It’s a free ride when you’ve already paid,
It’s the good advice that you just didn’t take,
And who would have thought? It figures.

Now many have pointed out that most of Alanis’ examples aren’t irony at all, but mere unfortunate coincidences. While that may be technically correct, this is a common understanding of irony which we use loosely and often. And I don’t think Alanis, who sold 30 million copies of the album this song appeared on, could care less.

So whether it’s ironic or just an unfortunate coincidence, let me tell you about what happened to us in Bali, mere minutes (or so it seemed) after the post I made about the magic of that island. Not to put too fine a point on it, having exiled ourselves to Braidwood two years ago as a result of the Covid-19 pandemic breaking out all over, there to remain safe and uninfected, soon after setting forth into the world again we both came down with the dread disease.

It’s not uncommon for the pampered Western tourist to experience the attentions of a virus — usually of a gastrointestinal persuasion — when exposed to the rugged realities of Bali’s water supply, but this latest Omicron variant, BA.5, was somewhat unexpected. Even on Day One, when I awoke with a cracking headache and painful joints, the penny didn’t drop. Just good ol’ Bali Belly, we concluded.

But by Day Two, it was clear what was afoot — and poor Daniela inevitably fell victim to my unclean emissions. I’ll draw a veil over the next week of self-isolation, boredom, coughing, and self-pity — suffice to say that any musings about irony, apparent or real, had long been done to death. We found ourselves, thwarted of the sunny, boozy, foodie holiday we’d anticipated, rather wishing we could be back in Braidwood again. At least there we hadn’t fallen victim to the pandemic, right?

So here we are, back again and on the mend. It seems as if we’ve been away for much longer than two weeks — and if a change is as good as a rest, we’ve had a thorough rest. Now it’s all about recovering from that rest.

Archie has been liberated from his doggie boarding school, returning a more sober and responsible individual. He seems to have mightily enjoyed his holiday, running about every day with a pack of mates and rendering his coat a stylish muddy brown.

When your Jack Russell has a better vacay than you do, there’s something not quite right about things. We flew 4,600-odd km to be poleaxed by the very bug we have hidden away from for so long — it’s almost (if not technically) ironic, don’t you think? Someone should write a song about it.