belgianwaffle

Archives for July 2014

Cycling


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland

Last time I was in Cork, I borrowed my sister’s bike. I cycle most days in Dublin but I haven’t cycled in Cork in 20 years. I was struck by the effort that the city council seems to have put into cycling infrastructure – loads of bike parking spaces, conta-flow lanes! On the minus side, it was raining. And I saw no other cyclists while I was out. I suppose that these facts might not be unrelated. In Dublin, at every junction you are likely to be joined by half a dozen other cyclists and nothing makes cyclists safer than lots of other cyclists. I hope that “if they build it, they will come” works out in Cork as it is a compact city with loads of students and it seems like a natural place to cycle to get around.

Meanwhile, back in Dublin, while during the year, all 5 of us cycled to school one morning, it was a bit hair raising in parts. There was a certain amount of pushing bikes on busier roads but we made it there (and back in the afternoon). We didn’t repeated the dose though. Much more pleasant was a trip we did on the bank holiday Monday along the banks of the Royal Canal from Phibsborough to Ashtown a round trip of about 10 kms which, in places, feels as though it is out in the country although it is very much in the city.

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While the other two were happy enough (lovely cygnets, terrifying nesting swan, chance to accidentally cycle into the canal, quaternions), Michael was not enthused cycling gloomily and rather slowly along while muttering darkly. In part this was due to his refusal to use 5 of the 6 gears he has on his bike. He was peddling along in first gear with all his might but, as I unavailingly pointed out, the route was along a canal and, in consequence, almost entirely flat so he would have done better to have tried 5th or 6th gear. It’s a pity Michael was not keen as I would like to do it again but I fear that a very significant bribe would be required to persuade him to entice him out. Alas.

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He did cycle into town with his father and brother the following weekend to play war games in a shop that sells expensive, small pieces of plastic, so I suppose that is something. While they were doing that the Princess and I cycled in to see the Fat exhibition in the Science Gallery (I sometimes wonder whether the Science Gallery regards part of its mission as being to revolt) and then went for a restoring tea and a bun before cycling home, all uphill. She and I have been on a number of cycling adventures in the warm weather which has all been very pleasing. If Dublin City Council get their way on cycle lanes in the quays, there will be lots more of this. Not news that has been greeted with unequivocal enthusiasm, but, go them, I say.

Final, bike related news: one lunch time, I arrived home late, locked my bike to the railings outside the house, leapt into the car, collected the children from school and brought them to the library. As we were leaving the library, I looked for my library card only to discover that my purse wasn’t there. When I got home, there it was, sitting happily in the bottom of my basket; untouched after a whole afternoon outdoors.

Summer


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland

The children and I are on summer holidays and it is delightful. In my never ending endeavour to promote culture in the face of some dubiety from the children we have visited the following:
St. Michan’s where we shook hands with the mummified crusader in the crypt;
Christ Church where we inspected the view from the belfry
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and rang the bells
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(only some of us became air borne); and
the Casino Marino which is the best and the cleverest neoclassical temple you will ever see, if that is your thing
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We also went to Cork where 3 of us swam in the sea at Garretstown and the fourth sat on the towels on the beach proclaiming dolefully that he does not like sand. We had the obligatory trip to Blackrock Castle Observatory which continues to be much loved by the troops.

We also purchased a new toaster the excitement of which outstripped by some distance all other events since the holidays began. Daniel got to watch a football match while we were choosing.

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You can toast four things at the same time.

And I have also visited Rye (more details to follow – hang on to your hats etc.).

Five go to Smuggler’s Top


Posted in: Travel

Last year, some friends from Brussels came to Dublin and we agreed that we should all meet again this year.

I mentioned that it would be lovely to go to Rye and little faerie hands went and made it happen [pause to regret that I no longer work with the organiser who is spectacular at getting things done]. So on the first Friday in July, I flew to Gatwick leaving my little family to fend for themselves. In what can only be called a spectacular organisational débâcle, that morning I drove the 250kms from Cork to Dublin with the children sitting resignedly in the back. My appetite for driving from Gatwick to Rye at 9.30 that evening was, therefore, even less than it might otherwise have been. However, my trusty phone navigated me safely there. Very cheaply also as the new lower roaming rates had just been introduced. Let us pause for a moment here to think positive thoughts about the European Commission and all who sail in her.

The drive was a bit hair raising. Due to it taking forever to get the rental car, it was 10.30 before I set off and midnight before I arrived. The whole journey was busy, lots of cars even in the rural parts and I was struck anew by how very full England is, particularly, the south east. The accommodation was terrific – my first airbnb experience and I would recommend it on the basis of this place.

It has been years since I have been away with a group of friends and I was delighted with the novelty of not constantly worrying about meals which is a feature of travel with my children and also, nobody said, “I’m bored”. There were five of us who used to work together in Brussels on this weekend and although we are a somewhat disparate group we get on really well and, of course, have the delightful luxury of reminiscing about our time working together and what happened to our least loved colleagues.

Rye itself is delightful. I was reminded how pretty England is and, as my friend J pointed out, this part of the world has had money for at least a thousand years, and it shows. Rye is a hilltop town looking out over marshes to the sea. It’s all steep little winding lanes and half-timbered cottages. Tiny and perfect.

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Rye

I had wanted to visit since my friend J told me that it was the town on which Tilling in the Mapp and Lucia books is based. If you haven’t read them, I really recommend them. They are set in the 30s and describe two middle aged women vying for social dominance in a small English town. I re-read the books in preparation for my trip and was slightly appalled to discover that I am now older than Miss Mapp who is only 43. Alas.

They were filming a TV series while we were there so I was able to take this picture from the church which was rather appealing, to me at least.

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I also climbed the church tower from which Lucia’s garden is visible.

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Rye is awash with literature. Lamb House which is the model for Mallards in the novels was where EF Benson lived but Henry James also lived there for many years as did Rumer Godden (unknown to me in advance of my trip but now will try her – suggestions welcome). Radclyffe Hall also put in time in Rye but not at Lamb House I think. Entirely coincidentally, I had taken “The Well of Loneliness” out of the library recently to give it a go but I am not entirely convinced that I can face it, enthusiasm for Rye notwithstanding. Anyhow, here is a picture of Mallards and it is entirely clear on seeing it why Lucia wanted to get her mitts on it.

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I had forotten that this part of England was also the setting for one of my favourite Georgette Heyer novels – “The Unknown Ajax”. Since I almost know it by heart from repeated re-reading, I was able to recognise the landmarks referred to in the book and was suitably delighted to see the cage of the murderous butcher referred to in the novel when I visited the little museum. Rye is also, apparently, the inspiration for “Five go to Smuggler’s Top” which I am also about to re-read. Your point?

The local supermarket was called Jempsons and it was, insofar as a supermarket can be, charming. Everything about Rye is charming. J bought a ceramic hen for keeping eggs and my soul was filled with envy but as I had travelled hand luggage only, I was not going to be able to buy a ceramic hen as well as a biscuit barrel [why am I obsessed with biscuit barrels?]. Happily, in Cork this week, I found a ceramic hen [someday I will post a picture of my mother’s enormous range of china] and, with my parents’ blessing, brought it safely to Dublin and it is even now surveying the kitchen with a beady eye from its perch.

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We also went to Camber Sands which are very beautiful but very full of people and built up right to the coast in a way that reminded me of Scheveningen in the Netherlands which is also very full of people. This inspired my friend N who is from Northern Ireland to suggest that next year we might visit the Antrim coast which is also full of beautiful beaches but boasts considerably fewer people. So next year will see us going off to Northern Ireland. Isn’t it well for us?

Very Green


Posted in: Middle Child, Twins, Youngest Child

We went to Clara Lara fun park on Monday. Rain notwithstanding, the children had a good time. Very many of the other families in the park had northern accents and I assume that they had made their way out of Northern Ireland for a holiday during the July marching season.

For no reason that I can tell, other than, perhaps, the subliminal impact of all the northern accents, Michael attracted the amused attention of other diners by saying loudly at lunch, “When oh when are they going to give us back Northern Ireland?” At least Daniel didn’t say, “Ireland unfree shall never be at peace.” This is his usual automatic reaction to any mention of the North [reasons unknown – suspect school] but possibly my outraged hushing of Michael made him decide to hold back.

Some briefing may be required before we go to Belfast to see the Titanic exhibition.

There’s a Rat in my Kitchen


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

Well not actually in the kitchen but lying outside the kitchen window. It was so enormous and sleek and healthy looking in a fetching shade of grey that I thought it was a soft toy which the children had left out overnight.

Closer inspection revealed that it was a huge dead rat stretched out in rigor mortis. I can only assume that the cat caught it but decided in her infinite mercy not to bring it into the kitchen or under the stairs. How did I deal with this? Well, I called my husband (rather shrilly) to dispose of the corpse and ran to get my phone to photograph it for you but by the time I came back, the body was gone and Mr. Waffle was washing his hands. He’s a fast operator. It’s in the bin out the front but I don’t think I’ll be fishing it out to pose for pictures.

And how has your day been so far?

Unrelated: Happy Belgian National Day!