belgianwaffle

Archives for July 2008

Highwater mark


Posted in: Belgium, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc.

I went to see Horton with the children some time ago.  I recognised the voice of Horton as being Dany Boon from Bienvenue chez les Ch’tis.  A film which I understood almost in its entirety (not an achievement to be sneezed at – though I was somewhat helped by the fact that the Ch’tis are essentially Belgian).  And further, I recognised that Horton was Dany Boon based on his accent in French.  This was a proud moment, I can tell you.  Then, I realised that I am probably speaking the best French I ever will and it’s downhill all the way from the end of the month.  I suppose I can pepper my conversation with French words thereby annoying my friends and embarrassing my children.

As part of our preparation to leave Belgium, I am also sorting through our mountain of medical and dental bills.   Before I had children, I never went to the doctor and now I seem to spend all my time going from surgery to surgery with my travelling circus.  It’s all surprisingly complex and, of course, it wouldn’t be, had I done it as I went along.  I wrote a letter to my insurer in my best French and got Mr. Waffle to check it.  The maestro sat down at the computer and made it perfect.  He corrected the French and reorganised the letter so that my various rambling questions were concisely stated and clearly presented.  I was awed:my husband the genius.   “Yes,” he said “I have spent the past number of years perfecting the art of writing in administrative French, I have probably reached the pinnacle of my potential in this field.” Hélas indeed.

I know children are supposed to like boundaries but is it normal for them to articulate this so clearly?


Posted in: Princess

Me: Do you always do what C (our childminder) says?

Her: Yes.

Me: Do you always do what Mummy and Daddy say?

Her (laughing): No.

Me: Then why do you always do what C says?

Her: Because C is strict.  You should be strict too like C and J&P [the heart surgeon and her husband who operate an impressively tight ship].

Me: Would you really like us to be stricter?

Her: Yes!

Me: But you always cry when we’re strict.

Her: Those are tears of joy, Mummy.

So there


Posted in: Princess

Father of friend (to Princess): Why do children like television so much?  It’s not real is it?  It’s not got real people like here (gestures expansively round bar).

Further father of friend (listening in): But real people are booorrring.

Princess: And television has programmes specially devised for children.

Credit Worthy


Posted in: Reading etc., Siblings

My sister has pretty much always earned more than the rest of us.  And she’s good at saving too, she probably still has her first communion money salted away somewhere.  When we were little she always had her sweets after my brother and I finished ours (then she would share them with us – she was the youngest, we were bigger).

She has, however, not borrowed much and travelled around a lot.   When she lived in England it took her months to get a bank account. When she lived in America, she was refused a store card for some big department store.  The guy in the shop said that this was the first time this had ever happened. When she moved back home, for a long time the bank wouldn’t let her have cheques.  Now that she has her own little business, they have reluctantly allowed her to have the odd cheque but they continue to be suspicious.

My sister is the most solvent person I know.  She likes to have six months’ living expenses in the bank in case of an emergency, yet she has consistently had difficulty with banks due to living all over the place.  Meanwhile, the world’s economy is going belly up because of the  sub-prime mortgages.  Oh God, why did we decide to give our economic well-being over to the banks?  I mean, really, the banks?

Things I want to remember


Posted in: Middle Child, Twins, Youngest Child

“Daniel, come to dinner.” “I finish my book”.

“How!” – Daniel as an Indian with arms folded stiffly and a solemn expression.

Daniel using the wooden spoons as skis.

Daniel using the wooden spoons as violins.

Daniel using the wooden spoons as lethal weapons.

The boys running down the corridor with their towels on their heads flapping out behind them.

Sounds from the bedroom.

Daniel: Scream.

Michael: Giggle.

Michael: Scream.

Daniel and Michael: Giggle.

Dialogue

Daniel (in bed): Ehhh, mmh, waah (general whimpering noise).

Me (tiptoeing to his bedside in the dark): Daniel, what’s wrong?

Him (delighted): Moi, je fais “Ehhh, mmh, waah”.

Today, I explained to the creche that when the boys leave in July, we are moving back to Ireland. Since they would be finishing in July anyway, if they were going to school in Belgium, we hadn’t explained that we were actually leaving the country. It was funny because the women who worked there all said “ah, that explains a lot”. To be honest, I hadn’t really thought that the boys were aware of the proposed move at any level, but it seems that I was wrong.

Daniel insisting on silence before speaking and saying to each of us in turn “Can I talk?” or “Je peux parler?” before imparting an item of information such as “The house is big.”

Lasts


Posted in: Belgium, Family, Work

We took the children for a last check-up with the paediatrician (we have become reverse ex-pats – who knows whether they will have paediatricians in our home country?).  As they kissed him goodbye (Belgium is the country of the social kiss, something I find bewildering but charming), I scanned the books on his shelf: lots of books on pediatrics in English and French and the Hachette Guide des Vins, 2006.

We took the car for a last trip to the garage to get rid of all the dents (as Mr. Waffle points out, we are careless with our toys).  4,500 euros later, the man in the garage and the Princess were exchanging polite kisses and we were leading out our gleaming car which we hope somebody may now buy.

Friday was my last day at work.  During the week I had a farewell dinner with my lovely boss who flew in specially to say goodbye, had drinks with my lovely colleagues and got some lovely presents.  Emptied my inbox (really lovely) and handed over my key.  If you think there are too many lovelies in this paragraph, you have never had my job.  Sigh.

On Friday night, Mr. Waffle and I went to a farewell dinner in our favourite restaurant in Brussels.  A place we used to go to long before it got its Michelin star when it bore the considerably less user friendly name of Mieux vaut boire ice qu’en face.

On Saturday we had a farewell party.  At the start of the evening Mr. Waffle made me a stiff gin and tonic and after that it all seemed to go swimmingly.  The next day, far less so.  That was my last gin.

All week we have been getting quotes from moving companies in excess of the value of our furniture.  Highest offer so far is 10,000 euros. I feel faint. Who would have thought that my inability to throw out books would cost us quite so much?  Would anybody like to buy a double bed?

Our cleaner came for the last time today.  She brought little presents for the children who adore her and they had something for her as well.  She has been so kind to them and they are so fond of her, that I felt quite tearful as did the Princess (though this may have been because she didn’t want to go on her sports course).  She was also an excellent cleaner and I am not sure whether the reduced cost lifestyle we will be enjoying in Dublin will permit us to replace her.  Alas.  She is on our Christmas card list.

Yesterday was the last time we will attend Belgian National Day celebrations.  Of course, the same may well be true for everyone else in Belgium.  The Prime Minister tried to resign in despair last week but the King wouldn’t let him.  The pair of them sat glumly in the rain yesterday watching the parade.  We, on the other hand, had a very pleasant time eating waffles and frites (not together, you understand) and meeting the police (horses! spinning cars!), the firemen (hoses! and firemen!), the civil defence (trampolines?), the army (tanks and our optician who used to be in the navy and gave us some new glasses cleaning solution for Daniel), farm animals (pigs, cows, and best of all a horse being shod who kept nibbling the farrier’s bottom) and suppliers to the royal court (Mercedes, Jules Destrooper, Delvaux, Godiva and lots of table ware).  As is the nature of these things, there were lots of balloons for the children and little Belgian flags to wave.  These latter included one (sponsored by a radio station but never mind) which covers my feelings for Belgium at the moment: