Driving home from the creche the other day, the troops got a little restive, I sang a number of popular numbers to try to keep them quiet, as I ran out of English songs, I began to resort to Irish numbers I had learnt in the Gaeltacht many years ago. The boys seemed to like them but the Princess interrupted me â€œStop singing in Irishâ€. â€œHow did you know I was singing in Irish?â€ â€œIt sounded like Irish.â€ I was amazed â€œYouâ€™re a genius.â€ â€œYesâ€ she replied in a bored tone â€œIâ€™m a genius, I know.â€
I met Nicholas when I worked as an election monitor in Bosnia for a couple of months; I know, the glamour. Then years later I met him in a cafe in Brussels. It turned out that Mr. Waffle knew him too. It’s a small world and all that. And he had a blog and I have become a devotee. I tend to ignore the Dr. Who stuff though (and you can too, unless you’re into that, of course). His blog is fascinating. Lots of international politics but seen through a prism of Nicholas. And I scored 320 on this language test to which he directed me. I’ve been waiting to tell someone that since September. No, I don’t know what he was doing on a dating site either.
Nicholas’s wife who has, alas, a stop start approach to blogging. I suppose minding three kids full time gives her less scope to write than trotting off to the caucauses (I’m saying nothing Nicholas). I think that this is a real pity because I enjoy her posts and, as you will be well aware, it’s all about me, me, me.