Meathwoman's Diary: Easter was supposed to be the time to recharge the batteries

I spent the best part of Easter Sunday morning trying to establish the source of an alarm that started ringing through my ear drum and nervous system at 10am. It was the type of sound a house alarm makes when it is powered up after an electricity outage but far more annoying.

Plans for Easter eggs and eggs benedict on a rare uneventful long weekend were quickly shelved and replaced by a very different type of Dawn Chorus on a March Sunday morning. What followed was a type of MacGyver style investigation into where this mystery alarm originated with fuses being checked, electricity switched off and Carbon Monoxide detectors given the once over. Smoke alarms were inspected for run down batteries and there was even a call to Gas Networks Ireland to ensure safety. All I was missing was a torch adorned hard hat and pliers as I attempted to get to the bottom of things.

The noise though intolerable was focused on one corner of the house downstairs and I began to imagine that some kind of secret gadget has been placed between the walls, perhaps the electrician living there prior to us has installed some high tech piece of infrastructure or maybe it was a ticking pendulum the good lord himself put there to alert his rising on the third day.

I was about to knock on next door's, erm door to tell them I was looking into the very complicated problem when I decided to follow the noise one last time and discovered that the allusive sound was not some sort of intricate technological conundrum, neither was it Jesus second coming or a calling into another realm. It was, in fact, the batteries dying in my two-year-old's activity table. If this was a text it would be time to insert my monkey covering eyes followed by loudly crying face emojis.

In that moment, never was the idea that the true meaning of Easter was to praise god rather than eat your weight in chocolate more embraced as I nearly fell to my knees and prayed that I hadn't yet called my landlord to alert him to the emergency of the Fisher Price toy. But in my defence, how loud was that thing?!

So alarmgate aside, there have been a number of revelations since moving to my new house in an estate. Like the constant flow of callers. Last week alone, we had an individual carrying out a Nielsen Research Survey, someone offering a free solar panel consultation, a refuse company sales person encouraging a 'switch', a window cleaner , two young chaps offering a lawn mowing service and a local politician looking for a vote.

Not to mention the surge of junk mail through the door from takeaway menu deals, 'handyman' adverts and a Jehovah's Witness pamphlet, a visitor I happily missed or maybe they could have helped with some divine intervention deactivating my toddler's plastic musical table!