Last week was another rather busy week. On Monday night we had GAA for Dan, scouts for Michael and Pilates for Mr. Waffle to try to help his bad back (on the advice of an eccentric gentleman from Co. Down – more of which anon).
Tuesday was open night for the secondary school that the boys are most likely to go to – the Princess’s current school. She wasn’t there (off at a debating competition) but the teachers all recognised Daniel as her brother as he does look very like her. “I don’t just want to be someone’s brother,” he said mournfully. However, overall the evening was a success. We headed home about 8.30 and promptly, as we sat on the sofa, got a call from the school saying that the debating team had finally returned and could we go back to the school and collect herself. On the debating, she had came home and told us that the motion was “The internet is a waste of time”. So we tossed around some ideas on that. Then the next night she said, “My mistake, it’s Transition Year is a waste of time.” Her teacher is from Donegal where the Irish can be hard from Dubliners to understand and, in any event, idirlinn (internet) and idirbhlian (transition year) sound more alike than you might think.
On Wednesday, Mr. Waffle and I went to the theatre. The piece we saw was a site-specific, interactive, interpretative dance piece and perhaps you needed to be on top of your game to appreciate it because we did not, particularly. It has got superb reviews, if you fancy going along yourself.
On Friday night herself had French class which she got to on the bus but needed to be collected from – v. happily, however, a neighbour volunteered to collect her but with traffic, it was gone 8 when she was restored to us.
All week long we had men in the house fitting new windows which meant that the house smelt of putty (not unpleasant) and was covered in a layer of dust. Also all the curtains will need to be dry cleaned. But still, new windows. They’re supposed to finish this week. Fingers crossed.
On Saturday morning, I was up with the (slightly later) lark to drive Daniel and a neighbour’s child to a GAA match. Herself came with us. I got horribly lost in West Dublin, not helped by the boys piping up from time to time: “The match is probably over now” or “How long have we been in the car?” We did eventually make landfall and the boys were slaughtered by the opposition and quite mournful. In the afternoon we looked for a new car (no joy yet) and Mr. Waffle and I went to a very good exhibition in the National Gallery. We forced Michael to come with us as he had not left the house all day (the other pair stayed behind and made dinner – good eh?). Despite himself, Michael found the exhibition mildly interesting. When asked whether he found it even a tiny bit good, he said “A tiny bit, like about the size of an atom which is the basic building block of the universe.” You have to start somewhere, I suppose.
Then on Sunday, I went to my bookclub which is an all afternoon affair and Mr. Waffle and the children went out to visit his parents in a distant suburb. I felt mildly guilty that we absolutely failed to see anything in Open House Dublin but I think I may be beginning to know my limits. We had some friends call around that evening and they stayed for dinner which was lovely and as they are v low maintenance, quite undemanding- although Mr. Waffle cooked so it may have been more demanding for him.
And then, this evening, it starts all over again: GAA, scouts, pilates. No culture this week though.
Updated to add: Today (Wednesday) Mr. Waffle asked whether in my floundering around west Dublin I had crossed the toll paying ring road. “Only for two seconds and I told Daniel to remind me to pay the toll when we got home,” I said defensively. Funnily enough the 11 year old didn’t remember my obligations for me. Still not too bad, fine is only about 6 quid and Mr. Waffle (having lost all faith in his wife’s administrative ability) is paying it for me.