‘Fifteen rooms is a lot to put down.’ Ross O’Carroll-Kelly and family fill out their census form

“Okay,” Sorcha goes, with a big, happy head on her, “it’s Sunday night, everyone!”

Honor's like, "And?" and she makes a pretty good point.

Sorcha’s there, “It’s Census Night!” in a sort of, like, sing-song voice, then she claps her two hands together. “Isn’t it exciting?”

I'm like, "Er, in terms of?" because we're trying to watch Bridgerton here and I'm struggling to keep track of who's who anyway.

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“Well,” she goes, “it’s like when you were at school – do you remember? Sunday night, you’d have all that exciting homework to look forward to, while your mom and dad watched Glenroe. Then, at the same time, you’d have butterflies in your stomach thinking about going back to school the next day for the stort of another amazing, amazing week of learning!”

I’m there, “Yeah, I think you were a very unusual child, Sorcha – and that’s no offence to you. So what’s Sensuous Night? Am I saying that right?”

"It's Census Night, Ross! It's a count – an account, actually – of everyone in the country at a particular moment in time. It's, like, a snapshot of our population that provides vital information that will help plan our accommodation, education, health, transport and other needs into the future."

Seriously, Bridgerton is easier to follow than my wife sometimes.

I’ve never seen you go to Mass, Sorcha, except for weddings, funerals and the other biggies. I’ve never even seen you pray – presumably because we’re good for everything

Honor goes, “Mom, is this one of those times when you’re just going to keep going on and on and on about something until you finally get your way?”

“Don’t be like that,” Sorcha goes, sitting down next to us, then pausing the TV, “it’ll be fun!” Then she holds the census form up to her nose and – I shit you not – sniffs it and goes, “Oh my God, it smells of history!”

It amazes me sometimes that her old pair think she married beneath herself.

“Er, can we just get on with it?” Honor goes. “What do you want to know?”

Sorcha's there, "Okay, I'll find a nice one to stort us off. What language, other than English, do you speak at home? Okay, I'm going to put definitely Irish."

I’m like, “We don’t speak Irish – do we?”

Sorcha’s there, “Oh my God – yes, we do, Ross!”

Honor goes, "That was, like, some new year's resolution of yours from about five years ago, that we'd make Irish the first language of the home. It lasted, like, one day? "

“That’s right,” I go, “because I was getting migraines listening to it.”

Sorcha's there, "But I still sometimes call you Onóra, don't I, Honor? I'm going to put down Irish, because it's technically true. Religion? Catholic… obviously."

Honor goes, “Er, I’m not a Catholic. I’m an atheist?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sorcha goes. “That’s just a phase you’re going through. Being difficult.”

I’m there, “In fairness, I’ve never seen you go to Mass, Sorcha, except for weddings, funerals and the other biggies. I’ve never even seen you pray – presumably because we’re good for everything.”

She goes, "I'm putting Catholic and that's that. Oh my God, I've missed this whole other page. Okay, when was the house built? I can ask my dad that one . . . Own or rent . . . Blah, blah, blah . . . Here's one. How many working smoke alorms do you have?"

Yes, I know how many bedrooms we have. It just seems like a lot to put down – especially given that most of them are empty and there’s, like, a homelessness crisis?

I'm like, "Working ones? Er, that'd be none."

“What? Ross, there are smoke alorms all over this house.”

“Yeah, no, I’ve disconnected them all over the years because they get really annoying when the batteries run down.”

“Well, I’m not putting none. I’m going to put eight. Okay, how many rooms do we have, not including hallways, utility rooms and bathrooms?”

“Fifteen,” Honor goes.

And I’m there, “Er, yeah, no, that’s the figure I came up with as well.”

Sorcha’s like, “Fifteen? Oh my God, does that not sound like a lot?”

“Eight bedrooms,” Honor goes, “three living rooms . . .”

Sorcha's like, "Yes, I know how many bedrooms we have, Honor. It just seems like a lot to put down on the form – especially given that most of them are empty and there's, like, a homelessness crisis? I'm going to put six rooms altogether."

“But that’s a lie,” Honor goes.

"Honor, I'm putting six, okay! Now, what type of fuel you use?"

I’m there, “All types. We use gas for cooking. Oil for heating. Coals on the borbie. We use logs and briquettes in those four wood-burning stoves you bought when you said you missed the smell of a real fire-”

“Okay, don’t rub it in, Ross. Do you remember we were talking about having the house converted to, like, solar energy?”

“Yeah, you’ve been talking about that for, like, 25 years.”

"But do you not remember when I said that 2022 was going to be the year when we finally did it?"

“You said that about 2021 as well. And 2020. And 2019.”

"Mom," Honor suddenly goes, "it's, like, a census? You're supposed to write down the actual truth – you're not trying to be the best version of yourself that you can possibly be."

Sorcha’s there, “I’m just saying, there’s no point in mentioning all the types of fuel we use because the information will be out of date within a few months. I’m going to put solar. Now, how many cors do we own?”

I was actually going to write a hortfelt apology to the next generation for the state of the planet that we’ve, like, bequeathed to them?

I’m like, “Six.”

"I think I'm going to put one. Are you engaged in voluntary work? Well, I did say that 2022 was also going to be the year that I got involved with the Killiney Tidy Towns group."

Honor stands up. She’s like, “Okay, I’m out of here.”

But Sorcha's there, "Honor, we haven't even filled in the Time Capsule section yet! It's, like, a message to be buried in time for our future descendants – so they can discover what kind of people their ancestors were? I was actually going to write a hortfelt apology to the next generation for the state of the planet that we've, like, bequeathed to them?"

I stand up. I’m like, “I’m out of here too.”

And Sorcha just goes, “Goys! Goys? Goys!”