So it's, like, Saturday morning and I'm strolling down Grafton Street with Honor when I notice – right in our path – a woman taking a photograph of her kids in front of the Disney store. Of course, the polite thing to do in this case is to stop walking and wait until they've got the shot, then roll your eyes and continue about your day. Or just walk around them – yeah, no, that's the other option.
Except Honor does neither.
She walks between them – at the exact moment when the mother is pressing the button. The woman's like, "Oh, for heaven's sakes!" and Honor – I swear to God – turns around to her and goes, "What's your problem? Aport from the fact that you dress about 20 years too young for your age?"
I laugh – no choice in the matter.
The woman goes, “You saw that I was taking a photograph and you deliberately walked into the shot.”
Honor’s there, “Sorry, what am I, a focking extra in the movie of your life or something?” then she carries on walking.
I just give the woman a shrug, as if to say, “Hey – welcome to big school!”
Five minutes later, we’re standing at an ATM at the bottom of Grafton Street and I’m like, “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, Honor, but I really admire the way you handled that situation.”
She goes, “Excuse me?”
“People with their phones, making you feel like a nuisance just for walking down the street. I’m sick of it . . . Hey, Honor, look!”
The reason I tell her to look is that I spot a girl walking past carrying a snooker cue case, which almost certainly doesn't contain a snooker cue, but which in fact she's using as a handbag. It's a new fashion – I suppose – trend that Honor storted on her fashion vlog, as an experiment to see how many gullible people there are out there. Quite a few seems to be the answer. That's the fifteenth snooker cue case I've seen in Dublin since Christmas and there's a rumour that Saoirse Ronan is considering taking one to the Oscars.
I put my cord in the ATM and – I swear to God – I hear the dude in the queue behind us tut to himself. I have to say, I absolutely hate people who do that in queues – even though I always do it myself.
I’m keying in my PIN when Honor all of a sudden turns around to the dude and goes, “What are you focking tutting for?”
My dad has 14 bank cords in here. Do you know what I'm going to do if you stay standing there? I'm going to use them, one by one, to withdraw €10 each time
The dude’s there, “Excuse me?” obviously not used to being called out – especially by a 12-year-old girl.
“You keep tutting,” Honor goes. “And it’s focking annoying.”
The dude’s like, “It’s just I’m waiting to use the ATM here – and you two are having a grand old chat.”
“So go and find another ATM.”
“No, I want to use this one.”
Honor suddenly takes my wallet out of my hand and goes, “My dad has 14 bank cords in here. Do you know what I’m going to do if you stay standing there? I’m going to use them, one by one, to withdraw €10 each time. Then I’ll do it again and again and again.”
The dude takes the hint and walks off, shaking his head.
Honor looks at me and goes, "Tutting. So irritating."
I just give her a little round of applause. I’m there, “That’s what I would call Vintage Honor! I just love the way you refuse to take S. H. 1. T from people.”
Anyway, an hour later, we're back home. Honor troops upstairs to her room to record herself – her words – "unboxing her purchases", while Sorcha tells me she wants a quick word with me in the kitchen.
She goes, “Have you noticed anything different about Honor in the last few days?”
I’m there, “It’s funny you should mention that, Sorcha, but no. As a matter of fact, I was just patting myself on the back for the way I raised her to be just like me in terms of not taking bullshit from people.”
“You don’t think she’s been moody and irritable lately?”
“Honor came out of the womb moody and irritable, Sorcha.”
“But I think she’s getting worse. At first, I thought it was, well, you know – the obvious.”
“Okay, help me out here?”
“Hormones, Ross. She’s going to be a teenager soon.”
“Well, I’m actually loving her at this age. She’s horrible to everyone and not just us.”
"I've been a bit concerned about it, Ross. So I checked her Facebook page and her Twitter feed."
“And?”
“Well, you know she’s been talking about going to England next month for London Fashion Week?”
“No – but continue.”
“She’s been writing to hotels over there, saying, you know, she was considering staying with them and what could they do in terms of offering her a complimentary room in return for a mention on her vlog, which has however many million followers.”
I just laugh.
We're from South Dublin, Sorcha – none of us want to work for anything. I mean, that's the dream, isn't it?
I’m there, “Young people these days – they have necks like Barry Geraghty’s undercrackers. I’m saying that as a compliment to them.”
“Anyway, Ross, the manager of this hotel in Covent Gorden responded by saying no, she couldn’t have a complimentary room, then he called her a freeloader who didn’t want to work for anything.”
“We’re from South Dublin, Sorcha – none of us want to work for anything. I mean, that’s the dream, isn’t it?”
"He said she was everything that was wrong with young people today. And then, Ross – this is, like, the worst bit? – he posted her letter and his response on social media. They've gone, like, viral?"
All of a sudden, the kitchen door opens and in she walks. She doesn’t say anything, just goes to the fridge and takes out a Diet Coke.
Sorcha goes, “Honor, I just want you to know that we’re aware of what’s happened and that, as your parents, we . . .”
Honor’s there, “Are you talking about the manager of that hotel in Covent Gorden?”
Sorcha's like, "What he said was so mean, Honor. But we don't want you to think that the entire world is full of dream-stealers like him."
“Oh, don’t worry,” Honor goes, in a tone of voice that gives me literally chills. “I’ll fix him.”
