belgianwaffle

Archives for October 2004

May I suggest oh dear, rats, darn


Posted in: Princess

Princess: Fuck

Me: Sweetheart please don’t say that.

Princess (hysterical giggle): Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Me : Darling, really, please donÂ’t say that.

Princess: Fuck.

Comments
HJB

on 07 October 2004 at 22:08

but we really need to ask where she got this from?

silveretta

on 07 October 2004 at 23:04

I believe Mr Waffle is in charge of the French words, and Mrs Waffle is in charge of the English ones, which must mean…

Friar Tuck

on 07 October 2004 at 23:15

It’s probably the lack of sleep.

Bobble

on 08 October 2004 at 00:24

It’s the Belgian accent the darling child has got.

belgianwaffle

on 08 October 2004 at 11:10

I think Bobble is right it must be her accent. Silver, you are cunning. Chintzy, you saw an earlier version of this wherein I tried to place the blame on her father’s shoulders. Due to the regime of oppressive censorship which prevails in Waffle Towers I was forced to remove this. Also, it may not be his fault, ref Silver’s comment.

lauren35

on 08 October 2004 at 19:35

I reckon she’s really saying ‘foc’ – a commonly used French word which crops up in everyday language, meaning … “genoa” (y’know, the front sail on a yacht..) worth a try to put the blame on Mr W?

jackdalton

on 09 October 2004 at 09:56

Nah.. it’s to do with table manners. The child wants her ‘fork’, that’s all.
Goodnight……

jackdalton

on 09 October 2004 at 09:57

.. but in any event I blame the mother.

belgianwaffle

on 09 October 2004 at 13:13

Lauren, Jack, good suggestions. We’re doing some good work with darn at the moment…

cha0tic

on 10 October 2004 at 07:55

LOL. Ahhh we reap what we sow 🙂

belgianwaffle

on 11 October 2004 at 13:08

Cha0tic, very biblical.

poggle

on 11 October 2004 at 13:29

Poor waffle. Fab princess. Hee hee.

JoJo

on 11 October 2004 at 13:36

ha ha ha! I laugh now, because this will happen to us.

belgianwaffle

on 11 October 2004 at 13:41

Thank you pog, I think. I certainly hope it happens to you JoJo. I was hoping for a stream of reassuring, oh yeah that happened to us too and so far zilch – Eliott is my only hope.

stroppycow

on 11 October 2004 at 14:25

A great way to difuse this one is to mishear and go “yes dear you are right, it’s a Duck” “muck, where?”. Same with burger, bullocks etc.

poggle

on 11 October 2004 at 14:41

It happened to my sis, if that’s any consolation. Picture sis going to pick up lil niece from kindergarten in the next village. Is wandering up just in time to see nice little old lady bending down to speak to lil niece. Hears ‘Hello little boy'(sic), what’s your name?’ ‘Lil Niece’. ‘That’s a lovely name. And where do you live?’
‘Fuckin’ Faversham …’
Little Old Lady gapes.
Sister turns on heel and hides behind hedge.
Later shouts at partner for telling lil niece what to tell people if is lost when very drunk (partner, not lil niece).

Part the seventh


Posted in: The tale of Lazy Jack Silver

After HJB had instructed her cook and housekeeper about the arrangements for her next soiree she asked Maureen, her personal assistant, to get Waffle on the secure line. “Should I peel you a grape too, your HJBness? Ha ha.” No one other than Maureen could speak to HJB in such a way but they had shared so much; the lonely years, the long nights of torment in empty blogs.

Waffle, darling, it’s H here. We may need to move into another plan fairly quickly”

“You’Â’re telling me, LJS is going to lose the run of himself if weÂ’re not careful.”

“I was thinking about Norah.”

“Norah? You mean Norah the blog assassin?”

“She claims to be a reformed character these days but I think we could persuade her to pick her old habits up again. ItÂ’s merely a question of making the right offer. Heather didn’t feel that she needed to tell Waffle that she had already made the right offer…

“Right H. I’Â’ll give it some thought, and I’Â’ll be seeing you at the soiree this weekend?”

“Of course – We’Â’ve prepared the Jasmine Suite for you and the princess. Ciao”

Waffle sat deep in contemplation, the sunlight flashing off her high, sharp cheekbones; cheekbones sharp enough to slice venison.  How to persuade Norah?  And then she remembered the man she had seen hanging around NorahÂ’’s place.  That may be the way –it wouldn’Â’t be easy but she wasn’Â’t a woman who was frightened of a struggle.

Comments
Bobble

on 10 October 2004 at 00:26

“Sharp enough to slice venison.” Worthy of a Mills and Boon Black Edition heroine.

dmts

on 10 October 2004 at 12:45

Ooops – I hope Waffle doesn’t mind me turning her into an M and B Black heroine…

L JS

on 10 October 2004 at 15:24

An M&B Black, eh? How wonderful!
I would only wish to say that wherever the truth in things may lie, each entry on this fabrication is simultaneously fantastic and true. Because each captures some magical reality, some distilled quality of what it is to be LJS and to lead an urban and urbane life.
In a way that no writing of true art & merit ever could.

silveretta

on 10 October 2004 at 23:08

I would never say that.

belgianwaffle

on 11 October 2004 at 13:09

I quite like being an M&B heroine. Most thrilling. LJS, come out Jack, we know it’s you. Silver, I’m crushed. Norah, where are you?

Bobble

on 11 October 2004 at 13:20

They are the best type Mrs Waffle. I fear I am doomed to Mills and Boon ‘Rose’ division.

belgianwaffle

on 11 October 2004 at 13:37

V. thrilling, Bobble. It’s not too late, we can change your character though, less mineral water more um, whatever you like really.

dmts

on 11 October 2004 at 13:58

god, at this rate all the women are going to be assassins and plotters – we need one fair maid –

Bobble

on 11 October 2004 at 14:23

Oh no I wasn’t saying I should be more “loose” Waffle!

dmts

on 11 October 2004 at 14:28

so bobble – tell us how you want your character – it’s hard enough trying to do it with the two of us in separate countries without the characters making special requests – next thing we know LJS won’t want to be tall.

Bobble

on 11 October 2004 at 14:31

Now I sound a fussypants ;o)
I am quite happy with whatever your superior taste decides BW: I am quite chuffed being in it.

dmts

on 11 October 2004 at 14:40
(
Comment Modified) Bobble – so you’re fine with what Waffle decides but what if it’s me doing the next bit? Waffle and I haven’t sorted it out yet. I gave Waffle the cheekbones (not that nature didn’t give them to her first) but if you want the length of your legs commented on as opposed to the length of your lense then this is the time….

Bobble

on 11 October 2004 at 15:56

Hadn’t thought of that Heather.
I do have a shapely neck but that is all I am saying. *ahem*

dmts

on 11 October 2004 at 16:01

of course, a swan-like neck.

NorahSplog

on 11 October 2004 at 17:42

Sorry I’m late. I heard a rumour that there was a man hanging about my place – I had to reset the traps.

poggle

on 13 October 2004 at 12:36

As long as you all know that Cindy and I already have quite a few of the attributes allocated already.
love,
Kate. I mean Pog.

belgianwaffle

on 13 October 2004 at 20:14

Pog, Bobble, your descriptions are safe with me, can’t answer for HJB of course…

Locotes

on 17 October 2004 at 20:47

Not bloody likely that LJS is going to lose his height, with all these women after him you can’t take away his manliest feature. Speaking of which – this episode was missing something for me – now what was it…..ah yes. No LJS. How disappointing.

belgianwaffle

on 17 October 2004 at 21:28

Ah well, Loco, we need to develop the cast of supporting characters.

Cyprus


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

Over the weekend we went swimming, we went to the Salvation Army shop where we bought all sorts of things we don’t need, we walked around the area round the shop and saw vats of wholesale olives for sale, the Princess nearly lost her life as we dragged her away (she is inordinately fond of olives) and we went to a tapas bar and a photograph exhibition and the park and dinner on Saturday night. We’re shattered.

Dinner on Saturday was interesting. It was at the home of my oldest friend. Not the friend I have known longest but my friend who is oldest. There were two other couples there who I had not met before. Mr. Waffle and I had the distinction of being the only couple who came from the same country (the issue of Cork’s independence being still undecided). There was much talk about bringing up bilingual children. Since most of the people there had children in their twenties they were able to speak confidently of their success. Oh the sophistication of it. Then we sat down to dinner. For reasons which are now not entirely clear to me, the issue of Cyprus came up. I said something flippant along the following lines: “weren’t the Greek Cypriots bad to vote no to reunification?”  Then, as everyone looked at me in horror, the Greek man across the table leapt in and asked me about the knowledge of the agreement. Detailed knowledge. Ladies and gentlemen my knowledge is scant, very scant. It is gleaned from scanning cross items in the Economist. This was quickly revealed by my opponent and after that my downfall was inevitable. As I drowned in Greek facts about the number of Turkish troops on the island, I cast a pleading, desperate glance around the table. Mr. Waffle looked at his plate, the nice Canadian lady tried entirely unsuccessfully to change the topic, the Greek gentleman’s wife tried to draw him off but to no avail, he had scented blood and was closing in for the kill. Somebody murmured “Mr. Verheugen (EU enlargement commissioner, if you really want to know) is in complete agreement with you”. Like a drowning man clasping at straws I said “And he’s Dutch” and pointed at my immediate neighbour, a Dutch gentleman in the hope that he would then take the fall for the EU commissioner’s views on Cyprus. It was then that Mr. Waffle decided to intervene “um, actually I think Verheugen is German”. Oh you do, do you? I can tell you there were words about this in the Waffle mobile on the way home. Anyway, my straw was snatched away by my husband and we were off again “Oh yes, I remember being at dinner parties in 1974 saying Turkey would invade Cyprus and they laughed at me…”. I was a shadow of my former self, I can tell you.

And then on Sunday, I was looking at myself in the mirror and pawing anxiously at my hair. “I look like one of the Hardy boys” I moaned. And for the first time in living memory my husband made a negative comment about my appearance (well, he’s not stupid). “It could do with a cut alright” he said.

Goodness, it’s been one disaster after another here.

Comments
silveretta

on 11 October 2004 at 15:29

Mr Waffle just gets better and better. You must feel like a third wheel in this blog at times, behind your bilingual cursing daughter and your punning Euro-know-it husband.

belgianwaffle

on 11 October 2004 at 21:04

This is Mr Waffle. I’ll write quickly as I don’t have much time – she may catch me at the keyboard any second. Silveretta, stop getting me in trouble ! If this goes on –aargh, got to go

silveretta

on 11 October 2004 at 21:57

Did you see it? Just for a moment there, this blog seemed to shine more brightly. It was a form of spiritual and actual enlightenment the likes of which I can only hope we live to witness again. Really, it’s like breathing the exhalations of the Dalai Lama.

poggle

on 12 October 2004 at 12:38

Silver – you stirrer!

Locotes

on 12 October 2004 at 14:25

Stirring is an art-form and should be admired as such. Keep up the good work silver. (not that I could possibly comment myself for fear of retribution).Anyways – personally, I think the hair looks wonderful. No Hardy Boy ever looked so stylish.

L JS

on 12 October 2004 at 18:50

We are all allowed to make an utter and absolute bollock of a dinner party once in our lives. Of course any further invites – not wholly impossible, given how forgiving older folk can sometimes be – to the location of the blood-letting should be approached with a more appropriate level of homework & tact…. Or send Mr Waffle on his own, just in case….

belgianwaffle

on 13 October 2004 at 20:15

Jack, I didn’t think it was that bad…Silver, there will be trouble, I’m warning you.

18 months


Posted in: Princess

The Princess was.  Yesterday.  We went out for tea to celebrate.

I sat down. I inserted the Princess in a high chair.  Tea and cake were ordered.

We had the following conversation:

Princess: Cake?

Me: Yes, cake. Would you like some?

Princess (nodding vigourously) : Oui, yes.

Me: Here’s a little on a plate for you.  What do you say?

Princess: Thank you. (Takes a mouthful) Nice. (Takes a further mouthful) More?

Me: I think that’s probably enough.

Princess (imperiously) : More.

Me (capitulating instantly) : OK.

Princess: Thank you. Merci.  Milk.

Me: Would you like some milk?

Princess : Oui, yes.

I poured out some milk into a mug and she sat and drank her milk and ate her cake, pointing out buses as they pulled up at the bus stop outside (Bus, bus, bus!).

Then we got ready to go. She smiled round at the other customers and said “Au revoir”.

We went to the cash desk to pay and as we swung out the door she called back to the man behind the counter “Au revoir, merci”.

Perfect.

Comments
dmts

on 13 October 2004 at 21:52

And when did she tell the waitress to fuck off?

DruidX

on 13 October 2004 at 23:40

*insert high-pitched ‘aww’ type noise*

NorahSplog

on 14 October 2004 at 11:30

Happy Birthday-And-A-Half Princess. A sweetie for good behaviour.

belgianwaffle

on 14 October 2004 at 12:23

Silver, thank you. I wil pass on your congratulations to himself. Snort. Heather, double snort. Druid X, Norah, thank you, that’s much more like it. Norah, particular thanks for the sweetie. Incidentally, can I say how much Mr. Waffle and I enjoyed your ode to typing?

So, Graham Norton


Posted in: Reading etc.

I just finished Graham Norton’s autobiography and although it is not the kind of thing I would have bought myself, I really enjoyed it, even though I think his programme on the telly is kind of useless. Of course, he is from Cork and it was interesting to get the inside track on what it’s really like inside Bandon Grammar.  All we knew was that they were protestants and ferociously good at hockey.  I remember one girl who was expelled for giving cheek to the nuns went off there and I met her again in college and she had become a very talented hockey player in the meanwhile.  I think I can safely say her skills would not have prospered in the same way had the following exchange not taken place:

Nun with clipboard noting the names of latecomers (always including me but I was very humble about it):  You’re late.

Me: Sorry, sorry, sister, it won’t happen again (craven lie), I slept out, the alarm didn’t go off, my parents were away, the cat ate my bike, I’m an abandoned child, please, please forgive me.

Girl who was subsequently expelled: Well, ten out of ten for observation, sister.

Anyway, I digress.  I liked the Cork bits but I’m not sure that they would be so appealing to outsiders, but who knows.  All the stuff before he was famous was quite good but once he becomes famous, it’s a bit of a tedious list of the great and the good.  The good news is it takes him a long time to become famous.  There is one good bit from when he’s famous.   For reasons, I won’t bore you with, he ends up having lunch at Sharon Stone’s house with his mother who is an entirely authentic Irish mammy. And she tells Sharon Stone that her (Ms. Stone’s) child’s name which she (Ms. Stone) believes to be Irish isn’t an Irish name at all and only a made up one.   Mr. Norton was mortified.  But you have to admire the Irish mother, a reliable product all round.

Comments
jackdalton

on 13 October 2004 at 22:32

But you should see the size of the cats in Cork…. it’s entirely possible that the tale is true.

belgianwaffle

on 14 October 2004 at 12:24

Jack is right, Silver. Our cat was particularly enormous.

poggle

on 14 October 2004 at 12:30

I like expelled-girl’s style with Nunzilla ….

belgianwaffle

on 14 October 2004 at 13:05

Yeah, pog, I know, impressive. And you didn’t know this nun. She was a legend. She had one wandering eye and one that bored into you.

poggle

on 14 October 2004 at 13:26

*shivers*
That’s like something out of Omen …

Cure for morning sickness


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Reading etc.

As you will know, if you have been reading this blog since its humble beginnings (yes, mother, this means you), I am a big fan of fluid pudding.  Before I knew what a blog was, I was pregnant and sick and trawling the internet for fellow sufferers.  And fluid pudding was pregnant too and she had her baby just after I had mine.  And she wrote one of the funniest descriptions of giving birth that I have ever read.  And generally she perked me up.  And now she’s pregnant again, which is all to the good obviously. But she is sick, sick, sick.  And when I was pregnant, I was really miserable and sick also.  So I sympathise. It is in this mood that I encourage you to email sympathy to the fluid one and also that I offer the following: in her misery, fluid’s only comfort has been fantasising about Ben Folds (see Ben Folds Kisses the Orb) for details.  Now, I can give you six degrees of separation from Ben Folds.  Ben Folds is a big buddy of Neil Hannon from the Divine Comedy.  I know this because I went to see a concert they did together and they were all pally on stage and talking about being great buddies.  Since Mr. Hannon was very much the worse for wear, he did a lot of talking about this – you know how when you’re drunk you really want to tell the world what a great person your friend is, well, he did that in spades.  Neil Hannon lives around the corner from my friends M & R (whom I may christen Gaza and Bosnia, for reasons which will become apparent in due course). Really, just around the corner about 10 doors down.  I know this to be true because it was in the Irish Times when he paid an obscene amount of money for it.   As it happens, M will be visiting us next week.  And M knows no shame, so I will give him a description of Mr. Hannon and ask him to become his friend.  It will be no problem for him.  He is good at dealing with neighbours.  Once that link is established it will be easy to get in touch with Mr. Folds and beg him to send you a get well card to the fluid one. I may have a little more difficulty with the intimate venue and the kissing. Leave it with me.

Comments
belgianwaffleon 16 October 2004 at 13:08

We aim to please. Hope you’re feeling a bit perkier.