Herself: Where are we going on our summer holidays?
Me: East Cork and West Kerry.
Her: But no, for our summer holidays.
Me: East Cork and West Kerry.
Her (outraged and, also quite correct): But it will be raining. Summer holidays are in the sun.
Sharper than a serpent’s tooth etc.
The other night we were awoken by frantic knocking at 1.30. It was the security men who patrol the institution nearby, someone had broken our car window and the neighbour’s camper van. They had got away with a set of jump leads and Mr. Waffle’s glasses. So, a great haul then. The poor gardai came at 2.30 am. Mr. Waffle took the car to be repaired the following day. It was covered by insurance and done in an hour. Hurrah, finally a return on the approximately 20,000€, I have spent on insurance over the years.
Recently Mr. Waffle and I both took a day off work while the children went to school. An excellent idea and something I fully intend to repeat. We did not share details of our illicit outing with the children. We didn’t say that we were going to work but we didn’t say we were not going to work either. Jesuitical. We went for low key, nearby pleasures: a walk around Glendalough and a cup of tea in Hunter’s with the paper. I was, however, made to squirm for my fun when, in the morning getting the children ready for school, herself who is an expert on guilt said to me “Mummy, I know that you are in a hurry getting ready to go out to work but I wonder could you get me another bowl of cornflakes?” Her normal form of address is “More cornflakes, minion!” so it was unfortunate that she chose that of all mornings to ramp up the politeness quotient. Oh well.
Title of email sent to everyone in the office: “Intranet unavailable 1-2pm today!!!!”
Can we discuss this? Is there any item of news which conceivably requires four exclamation marks? If there were, would it be that the intranet is unavailable at lunch time? Weighty matters.
In other work related matters, I had a long phone conversation with a colleague today. In the course of this, I was continually distracted by small errors he made.
“This was muted [mooted] for later in the year”. “The board will take their clue [cue] from the chair”. After a while, I began to wonder whether he was doing it on purpose to leaven the boredom of our conversation. Do you think that’s possible or am I just indulging in paranoia?
Me: I’ve bought a book about twins starting school: “Topsy and Tim Start School”
Mr. Waffle: I wonder what Topsy is short for?
Princess: Topsyietta?
Last night my sister and I went to the show that the Princess’s school put on to celebrate its 20th anniversary. The Princess was a munchkin with one line in the “Wizard of Oz” but she delivered it with great panache (Féach ar na daoine sin. Tá siad an ait). As my sister said when the first child opened her mouth (Dorothy): “Oh God, it’s not in Irish is it?” It was in Irish and the overall effect was a little odd.
When Dorothy was told “NÃl tú i Kansas anois, a Dorothy”, my sister hissed at me “In more ways than one, Dorothy”. As well as doing the “Wizard of Oz”, there were little cameos by the teachers (seeing the múinteoirà doing a scene from “Sister Act” was memorable), parents and past-pupils – all very appealing. The big show of the night was “Oliver” by the senior school (9-12). They took some considerable liberty with the story and, as far as I’m aware, “The Sun will Come out Tomorrow” is not a song from the musical Oliver, however, who am I to quibble? A past pupil, now 25, was a suitably intimidating Bill Sykes and, to my untrained ear, pulled off a reasonable cockney accent leading to unlikely phrases such as “Cá bhfuil sé, the little blighter?”
What can one say only – an ait ar fad but surprisingly enjoyable for a school production.