• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar

belgianwaffle

  • Home
  • About
  • Archives

Archives for December 2020

A Random Medley

24 December, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

This post is so long I have broken it into headings for your convenience. Lucky you, happy Christmas.

Bookclub

I had my online Christmas bookclub.  Normally at Christmas we have a Kris Kindle.  This year, we had to post out our presents to each other/deliver anonymously to doorsteps.  It required a great deal of organisation and our most organised member organised.  And it was nice but, actually, it made me quite sad.  It just seemed to rub in how much we were missing small things and a (max €15) Christmas gift is not going to make any difference to that.  I hope this time next year we’ll be back with live drinks and mince pies.  I did ask my most middle-aged pandemic mother question ever to the group: “Where do you think I’d get a good online mass for Christmas?”  Did they have views?  My God, yes, they had views.

Cycling News

Daniel has been cycling to training for a good while now and, like all my children’s cycling expeditions, I am really nervous when he heads off.  My nerves were justified as at the last training session of the year a couple of weeks ago, he went over his handlebars as he had to brake suddenly to avoid a car turning left into Tesco.  In fairness, the driver stopped to check he was ok and he landed on his hands rather than his head.  Instead of coming home he went on to training and he also had a near miss on the way home (a van braked suddenly and the van behind swerved to avoid him and nearly hit Dan, protected from oncoming cars by a line of paint which is what all too frequently counts as cycle infrastructure in this country).  By the time he got home he was pretty shook.  He was up all night with a sore hand but an x-ray on Monday morning confirmed nothing broken, just a bad sprain.  Why do people cycling in this country have to take their lives into their hands when they go out?  

Further cycling news: the corporation have removed the car parking in front of my parents’ house in Cork and replaced it with a cycle lane.  I rejoice.  My sister does not, partly because it came as a complete surprise to residents and,  I suppose, she is the one who needs to park in front of the house.  I am afraid to tell her that  I am an enthusiastic supporter of Cork City’s cycle lane policies.

Rat Alert

In other less than good news: the few of us physically present in the office have to sign in, I usually glance up the list to see who else is in and one day last week, I was not delighted to see that Rentokil had signed in earlier in the morning.  “What’s the story?” I asked the man on the desk.  Apparently a rat had been found on the ground floor having gnawed its way through the skirting board.  Now my office is on the fourth floor so I’m assuming it’s just one rat and that they can’t climb stairs and all is well.  Still I’ve advised my colleague on the 4th floor who keeps a bowl of nuts on his desk that he might want to reconsider that.  I am indebted to my colleagues working remotely for the knowledge that rats are a huge problem in the other side of the building.  One told me that when she was on a smoking break, herself and four colleagues saw a large rat sauntering towards the back door of the building which had been left ajar.  Notwithstanding stamping and shouting by the unnerved smokers, the rat continued sauntering towards what he clearly thought of as his front door.  One of the smokers had only just lit a fresh cigarette but she abandoned it and they all ran for the back door.  As my colleague said, they were none of them small and they got stuck in the door while the rat wove his way in between their legs.  People, let’s not keep food in the desk drawers.

In other smoking related news, my bicycle has a basket which people like to throw rubbish in, if its parked on the street, because they can.  I was surprised to find half a packet of cigarettes the other day.  It seemed a bit wanton.  I presented the puzzle to my family.  “Well,” said Daniel, “it’s not always Christmas.”  I suppose not.

Housework

Dinner time conversation with my loving family wherein I said that Mr. Waffle and I have never argued over housework.  This is true, it’s pretty evenly allocated (I would like to record yet again my thanks to my amazing mother-in-law who did a very good job on ensuring that all her children know that housework is for everyone).  “Nah,” said herself, “somebody’s getting a good deal here.  Who is it?”  Mr. Waffle looked around the table, pointed at the children and said, “You three”.  This is true also.

Unloading the dishwasher has become a point of contention now that we are all at home so much. Herself sent round a link to this hilarious article: The Stages Of Unloading The Dishwasher When You Live With Other People – The Shatner Chatner. Her father made a suggested addition to deal with a particular problem at our house:

He forgot the people who are still waiting for a sign from on high. 
“Trust not this bleep from the machine, for verily the Evil One can take on any disguise to ensnare you. It may be a trap. Wait instead for the Lord appear and confirm that the dishwasher needs to be unloaded.”

Cork News

On Saturday afternoon, I got a call from my brother saying that my father was not well and it might be a good idea to come down to Cork before Christmas.  By coincidence, I was told that day that the fathers of two women I knew called Anne had died.  I’m not very superstitious but, you know, still. I hot-footed it down on the train on Sunday afternoon.

My father was pretty frail, I thought.  I live in fear that I will give him Covid, of course.  He’d had a fall the previous week and looked like he had been out street fighting and he had a dreadful cough.  The carers (of whom there are very many) were a bit anxious.  I was a bit anxious.  He was pleased to see me though.  When he was less ill, he always liked to celebrated the winter solstice on December 21 and it was nice to be with him that day and reflect that the year is on the turn.

My poor father, though, he is so ill and so bored.  It’s a grim combination.  His eyesight is pretty much gone so he can’t read which is a huge loss to a man who read all the time.  My brother and sister in Cork do an amazing job but it’s tough going. If it weren’t for the radio, I don’t know what he would do.  For the first time in my memory he didn’t have the radio on at top volume at night.  I’m not sure why but I didn’t find it a reassuring sign though it did make it much easier to drop off.  He’s still mentally absolutely fine and it was nice to chat to him though his voice is suffering from his awful chesty cough.

Some gems from our conversation.  1920 was a big year for Cork: one Lord Mayor was shot; five months later the next Lord Mayor was imprisoned in Brixton, went on hunger strike and died 74 days later; then the Black and Tans burnt Cork city centre just before Christmas (see below the before and after picture from an exhibition in the Nano Nagle heritage centre).  My father was born in 1925, does he remember any of his relatives speaking of these momentous events?  Long pause.  “I remember Uncle Dan saying that he had to renew his motor tax in Fitzgerald’s Park because the City Hall had been burnt down.”  There you have it folks, stirring times.  He also told me that somewhere in the house there is a picture of him boarding that flight in 1935.  Where?  He waved his hands expansively: somewhere.   Aha, because it’s easy to find things in my parents’ house.

Untitled

Up to when I turned 11, we had a woman who lived in our house and minded us and cleaned – Cissie.  We were all very fond of her but when we moved house, she left us.  The first intimation that I had that we were moving house was finding her at the kitchen table in tears saying she was never going to work with children again because it was too hard when they left.  You might think that my mother’s careful perusal of the Saturday property supplement might have given me a clue but no.  I was gutted.  We all were.  My sister, who was only four when we moved, used to march out of the new house announcing, “I’m going back to my own Cissie”.   Cissie went to work as a cook for a religious order and, as far as I know, she only visited us once after.    I tried to find out from my father why we didn’t see her.  I felt that perhaps there had been some kind of row.  My father was not illuminating on this matter but he did say that she made an excellent lamb stew, “As old Mr. Browne used to say, you’d ate your fingers after.”  Mr. Browne was apparently a neighbour’s father.  I found myself harnessing the power of the internet to try to find her last year.  I got an address from Council records where she had bought out the ground rent from a house. I sent a letter but never got a reply.  When I went to write my Christmas cards this year, I thought I’d try sending one.  I looked her up and found her straight away on RIP.ie.  She died in a nursing home on August 4 this year.  I feel sad that I hadn’t made more of an effort to find her years ago.  I might do a post on her – one for another day.

My brother tackled me about the Christmas list herself had sent him. “Honestly,” said he, “would ‘Eichmann in Jerusalem’ really be a Christmas read for you?” I guess not.

It was nice to be in Cork at Christmas. I went in to the Crawford. I gave the Share collectors a few quid having put in some time in that role myself many years ago. I went into the market. Of course it was full of spiced beef. There was a butcher standing at a dedicated stall that only had spiced beef. I paused and looked, “You see,” I said to the young man, “I didn’t know I’d be in Cork before Christmas and I’ve already bought my spiced beef in Dublin.” “Nightmare,” he said succinctly. Under his sympathetic gaze I bought another kilo of spiced beef. I’ll be eating it until next Christmas.

I came back to Dublin on Tuesday afternoon.  The Government announced that the country would be locked down again from the 26th so very glad I got to Cork. Like a fool, I managed to lose my train ticket. The woman on the desk was very eager to help and suggested I buy a replacement online as it was €20 cheaper. But my phone’s browser was not the latest version and it refused to let me book and I only had five minutes to get on the train. Nevertheless she was very reluctant to sell me the more expensive ticket and insisted on hunting down a refund form in case the lost ticket turned up. I made the train with moments to spare. It was very traumatic. The whole adventure cost me €140. I could have flown more cheaply. Never mind, I was very glad to have got down.

Christmasish Content

Our local lovely, lovely Christmas market went ahead.  We thought it might be cancelled but it was not.  We put up our Christmas tree and further decorations.  My sister came to visit us- briefly for Covid compliance reasons.

Untitled

Last weekend we went for a walk up to the Hell Fire Club.  Possibly our most successful walk ever.  Necessary ingredients:  I told everyone that we would be doing it on the Tuesday before to acclimatise them to the idea; it is a short walk and only half an hour’s drive from our house; we left the house at ten and were back by lunchtime; the weather was delightful.  Not all of these are replicable.

Untitled

Yesterday we watched “A Muppet Christmas Carol” as is traditional at this time of year. There was some reluctance from herself: “It’s so long for the adventures of a felt frog” she said. It was good all the same. Michael Caine’s best work.

Today my father went in to hospital. The GP thinks he might have pneumonia. He’s in a bed [I mean not on a trolley in A&E which is always the fear] but he’s going to be all alone there on Christmas day which is a bit miserable. I think the hospitals will let you in if someone is at death’s door but not otherwise. So not the best news on Christmas Eve but, I suppose, good news in one way that they won’t let anyone in. I’m very glad I went down earlier in the week. I hope they will be able to help a bit in hospital with IV antibiotics. It’s just grim and, no two ways about it, it’s a rotten time of year for it in a difficult year.

In late incoming Christmas news:

My friend in Brussels tells me that there is a meeting tomorrow because of Brexit urgency. God love them. Her brother-in-law sent them a surprise ham for Christmas and now it is stuck in Kent. If it arrives, he advises her to dispose of it carefully. As she said herself, “We feel so topical.”

My doctor friend in America sent me a picture of herself and her husband (also a doctor) getting the Covid jab and it filled my heart with joy. The end is nigh, in a good way.

A former boss now retired sent me a hilarious message about going to Kilkenny to tend her aged sister. To fully appreciate this you have to realise that the narrator is a woman of unimpeachable respectability in her late 60s:

I have been running the gauntlet of Garda checkpoints every fortnight to visit [my sister] and get her groceries. A Garda pulled me over and said my tax was out of date. She said she had no option but to seize the car. It was towed away and I was taken off in the back of a squad car. Luckily I had my mask on! I had to pay the tax and a ransom and umpteen taxi fares to get the car back. Now I have a criminal record. See what happens to those who do good works.

This afternoon we went for a cycle in the park.

Untitled

This evening we streamed Christmas mass on the television. The children were really good and even got dressed up for it but it was all a bit odd. But better than nothing.

Untitled

Tomorrow herself is doing a Christmas breakfast and we are going to the cousins for Christmas dinner. I rejoice. I asked herself what I should wear. “Maybe that green dress that I like?” I said. She asked, “The ‘female politician goes for centrist vote’ look?” Yes, that’s the one.

Notwithstanding everything, I hope everyone has a lovely Christmas, it’s been a long, long year. Back with more quality content in 2021.

Untitled

Cristesmæsse*

12 December, 2020
Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Ireland, Siblings, Work

Work has been very, very busy this past week. One night I found myself cycling home in the small hours of the morning – I could have got a taxi but I didn’t fancy it – and Grafton Street was all lit up and quite deserted and it was absolutely beautiful in a way that this photo doesn’t quite convey.

Untitled

One night I had to go back to the office building about 8 in the evening and with Covid and everything else, the building was empty and dark except for the emergency lights. When I stepped into the downstairs reception in the dark (doubtless a health and safety hazard) I was overwhelmed by the smell of pine and sure enough, by the light of my phone, I saw a real Christmas tree in reception which was lovely and a lot of effort for the few of us who are left in the building.

My sister bought me a box of 24 jams and chutneys in small jars as a very welcome advent present. I deployed the raspberry jam today to make an apple and jam toasted sandwich for herself who was flying out to her applied maths class. She ate it in the car and she said to me, “You know, this is delicious.” This filled me with joy because, cooking is not one of my core skills and my children are rarely enthused by my offerings. Also, I used my mother’s toasted sandwich maker which she bought in France about 40 years ago and which she would love to see still in regular use.

Untitled

We’re still sticking cloves in oranges. Note fancy patterns.

Untitled I bought gold and silver aerosol spray paint last week. This week I deployed it in the shed. Delighted with myself. I sprayed everything. Behold two pine cones which I stuck on top of the Aga. The corner of instagram I inhabit shows amazing Aga decorated for Christmas content but, I am unconvinced. If you deck your Aga or around it in foliage, it will soon be desiccated foliage. I am pleased with my minimalist solution.
Untitled

I have taken the Christmas ware out of the press in the utility room and brought it into service.

Untitled

Presents are flooding in. Gratifying. I moved spare school books from under a table to create room for the presents. I went to put them in the press in the hall only to find it full to the brim of Junior Cycle school books and past exam papers (some still pristine in their cellophane wrappers). As the children are all past Junior Cycle now, I decided to give them away on freecycle. I wanted to give them all to one person rather than have a stream of people coming to the house so, to discourage time wasters, I stipulated that whoever took them would have to take them all. That was a week ago and nobody has messaged me. I appear to have significantly over-estimated the potential popularity of Irish language Junior Cycle materials.

Yesterday was the centenary of the burning of Cork by the Black and Tans. I can’t help thinking about my Cork city relatives and how shocked and angry they must have been. My granny died when I was 12 and I don’t ever remember her mentioning it. I must ask my father and my aunt what she thought.

I finished my online Christmas shopping today. The relief. It meant spending much of the day sitting at the computer on a weekend which feels a bit too like work for comfort but it is done. Christmas cards tomorrow, if I’m feeling strong. And the Christmas tree. Online bookclub Kris Kindle tonight. One of those presents from under the table will be opened anyhow.

For those of you here for Gategate updates, all has gone silent. Alarming.

*Herself has got really into old English recently. This is the old English for Christmas she tells me. Apparently there are only 30,000 lines of old English extant and she is planning to read them. As a jumping off point she has bought herself a book from which she keeps quoting. I am irresistibly reminded of the elves in the Lord of the Rings films. Apparently I’m a philistine.

Untitled

Further Christmas Things

8 December, 2020
Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Mr. Waffle

I ordered a present from an online shop which had been recommended to me. The owner’s name seemed familiar. I thought that she and her husband may have sat beside us at an arty Christmas extravaganza a number of years ago. This was just as well as I managed to put in the wrong email address on my order. I emailed the helpdesk and said that I thought we’d met. I got this lovely email back:

Hi Anne,Thanks for getting in touch and for ordering with us. I hope X loves her [present]! That was such a great night in Henrietta street. Would you believe we only just moved into our school house 2 months ago [they had been talking about doing up an old school and moving in in 2018]. We had so many delays and I still don’t have my terrazzo tiling down but hopefully in the New Year. Wishing you a fabulous Christmas! I’ll send your tracking number to this address.

It’s a wonderful shop run by delightful people. Have a look. Although sometimes everyone knowing everyone in Ireland can be trying, at times it is absolutely lovely.

I have made sugary orange slices to dip in chocolate and am delighted with myself. I realised this evening that I may well eat them all myself. I don’t care.

Untitled

Today Mr. Waffle picked up the essential annual Christmas publication for Corkonians at home and abroad.

Untitled

I am beside myself with excitement. Obviously, he’s also laid in the RTE guide so that we can record dozens of films which we will never actually watch; a cherished tradition.

Untitled

It’s funny how the TV seems so wholesome now whereas when I was a child it was basically the work of Satan and rationed all year round except at Christmas when a certain amount of decadence set in.

Michael at 15

7 December, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Michael, Princess

Michael was 15 on September 27. Usually at some stage in the marathon that is November blogging, I do the boys’ birthday posts but not this year so this post on Michael is late even by my standards. But look, better late than never.

He’s still reading away. He’s very interested in books; economics, data and history in particular. We got him “Calling Bullshit” for his birthday which, despite its title, is quite worthy and he seems to have liked it very much. He’s also fond of science fiction, fantasy and detectives. My mother had a pile of 60s sci-fi books which he enjoyed very much

IMG_8672

He loves nothing more than staying peacefully in his room playing an online game which involves him building up empires and partaking in crusades and the like.

During lock down 1 earlier in the year, he organised a games club meeting in the park which was reasonably satisfactory but he wasn’t very keen to repeat the dose.

He’s very happy in his own company and he may have been one of the happiest people in Ireland during lock down. He finds school very full of his class mates. And even home can be a bit full of other people. The other morning, he came downstairs for his breakfast and found the whole family in the kitchen. He visibly recoiled. As he retreated, Mr. Waffle intoned, “The antelope is shocked to find so many other animals at the waterhole and retires precipitously.” He laughed but he retreated all the same. In the summer, if the conversation at dinner got a bit tedious, he would head out to the back garden for a circuit; I used to call it his smoking break. The colder weather keeps him more tied to the dinner table.

IMG_0694

To my great regret, he gave up drama at Christmas. He was good at it and he enjoyed it. But he was tired of it and when Michael puts his foot down, it is utterly useless to protest. No more drama.

He is much taller than me now and still very thin. He has a 24″ waist and a 32″ leg and, let me tell you, that is a hard combination to find trousers for. He is largely uninterested in food – sweet or savoury. A very surprising outcome for a child of mine. Corn flakes are a key part of his diet. One afternoon after school Daniel ate a bowl of corn flakes. It transpired that Michael had sacrificed his own afternoon snack to have that bowl for breakfast. When there were only “the crumby ones” left at breakfast, he was pretty irate. I wish he would eat a wider range of things and more of them but he seems perfectly healthy, if skinny, and he’s certainly growing, so I suppose it’s alright.

This time last year I was fighting an entirely unavailing battle to get him to hang up his coat under the stairs rather than slinging it over the banister. While the rest of the family now consistently hang up their coats under the stairs, Michael’s one man battle continues.

He cycles in and out to school and is the only one of the children to take the mother-approved route which involves crossing with the green man and avoiding the busy main road. Long may it continue, I don’t care if he’s fifteen.

2020-09-06 15.50.56

He and Daniel get on pretty well although he is not sporty and did not love being forced by his mother to play basketball with his brother during lock down. They share, however, an interest in board games and card games.

IMG_0657 IMG_8852

Generally, he gets on fine with his sister but they tend to bob along in quite parallel tracks without a great deal of overlap. It does drive her crazy when I believe what he says because all of what he says is delivered in a deep voice and tones of great conviction. I can’t help it, he always does sound convincing.

IMG_1866

He is ludicrously uninterested in material things. He never wants anything. In consequence he is very difficult to buy for and my sister, who is his godmother and would like to give him loads of presents, is driven demented.

He loved being off school between March and September and he loved his Junior Cert being cancelled. He’s finding re-entry hard. They’ve re-organised the classes for Transition Year. Michael is convinced he is in with all the messers and was a bit down about it. Nothing we can say can convince him that this is not the case and the school wouldn’t do that and doesn’t stream but after a rocky enough start, he’s finally settling down. Of course, the pandemic meant that he couldn’t go to Irish college this summer. No one could have been happier.

IMG_1018

We bought him a guitar during the pandemic – he’d been learning at school and he seems to enjoy strumming away up in the privacy of his room.

IMG_1132

He’s been worried about my father during the pandemic and was really upset to see a picture my sister sent me of him masked up and in his doctor’s waiting room (his cardiologist who said that he was fine and could come back in June which is pretty good when you’re 95); “What if he gets the virus?” he asked anxiously. He didn’t, you will be pleased to hear but not as pleased as Michael.

He is a wonderfully engaging public speaker and teachers and students alike love it when he stands up to give a presentation at school and so does he. What a great gift to have.

I find him completely charming and very kind. His siblings have a more nuanced view but are basically fans. His father thinks he’s hilarious. He makes us all laugh. A delight, he’s a delight.

Christmas Update

6 December, 2020
Posted in: Belgium, Boys, Cork, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Princess

So in normal years, I resist Christmas until the weekend after December 8 at the absolute earliest. This is not a normal year. I saw Heather had a post about Christmas songs and I was delighted. Here is a post about Christmas songs from me. I wouldn’t say my favourite Christmas songs as there are so many but here’s a list of some Christmas songs, anyway.

Hark the Herald Angels Sing

I really feel that you can’t beat a good carol. This is a good carol. Mind you, so is Angels we have Heard on High. Excellent work all round by the angels.

I’ve gone all out this year on outdoor lights. Even two months ago, I would have called outdoor lights tacky. No longer, people. Herself and myself drove off to a place just off the M50 which was basically a series of sheds filled with Christmas tat one of which, disturbingly, smelt strongly of urine. Nevertheless, we had a great time and bought loads of Christmas lights.

Untitled

We had a street light turning on last night and had socially distanced mulled wine and mince pies outside. Very satisfactory. Herself says that I have turned into Sorcha O’Carroll Kelly who is locked in mortal combat with her neighbours over Christmas lights. I reject this characterisation. However, I can tell you that Dublin is mad for outdoor Christmas lights this year and there is a reason why we had to go to a shed off the M50 to get some.

Untitled

Handel’s Messiah

Long, there’s no two ways about it, but very Christmassy. I have turned on Christmas FM which has a questionable playlist. However, I have recently become aware of Christmas FM carols and classical (or Christmas for the middle aged) and only this morning it graced us with For unto us a child is born from the Messiah. Pleasing. They are also going with Lieutenant Kije by Prokoviev on regular repeat which is, I presume, a bit longer than the bit they’re offering on the radio but I like the extract I’m getting.

We are working on our Christmas orange decorations.

Untitled

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas

I think I only heard this for the first time a couple of years ago but I like it. In other Christmas news, my sister-in-law has asked us around to their house for Christmas dinner. I am delighted. It will be festive; my sister-in-law is an excellent cook; the children will love to see their cousins; and I hope it will feel more like a normal Christmas. I am so looking forward to it. Sad that the relatives in London won’t make it back this year though.

I am fond of O Come All Ye Faithful and am shoe-horning it in here even if it doesn’t quite fit given that everyone is basically staying away this year. Sigh. We’ve never done a Christmas round robin newsletter before but Mr. Waffle is actively contemplating it this year. Stay tuned for more details.

O Little Town of Bethlehem

When my father got his triple bypass in December 1985, we thought he might be in hospital for Christmas. My mother was up in Dublin at the hospital with him and my brother, my sister and I went in to my aunt’s house next door to record a Christmas mix tape for him. My sister played the piano, my brother and aunt played the recorder and I sang. I don’t think I have ever laughed so much in my life. The recorder is not an instrument that forgives hysterical laughter either. My father was home for Christmas, so we didn’t need the tape after all which was just as well.

Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

When I was small I had a Christmas record that featured this song. When you opened up the album there was a pop-up Christmas scene inside with Santa, Mrs. Claus and the reindeer. I thought it was the most wonderful thing imaginable. My friend and I spent hours trying to write down the full lyrics to this song listening to it over and over again. That was before the internet, kids. I have the record in Dublin now along with a Perry Como Christmas special LP (which I think actually belonged to my friend but which our family somehow ended up with) and I’ve been listening to both of them on the record player and they really remind me of Christmas in Cork in the 1970s. Sometimes on Christmas Eve, I’d go out for a drive with my father to see all the Christmas trees lit up in people’s windows and it was thrilling.

Untitled

Saint Nicolas Patron des Écoliers

I wouldn’t say that this is an absolute favourite tune but it does remind me of living in Belgium when the children were small and whereas many of the nursery rhymes and songs they learnt in French have been forgotten this one remains fondly remembered. Today, you cry, is December 6, did St Nicolas come? He did.

Untitled Untitled

Another Christmas number the children are keen on is Walking in the Air because of the Snowman and every number from the Muppet Christmas Carol which Michael and I watch every Christmas Eve.

All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name

Along with Gaudete this is a new hymn I learnt in the parish church when we moved here in 2008. Our church has a great musical tradition and it will be very strange and sad not to have a Christmas carol service this Christmas Eve. In general, the choir mistress and I do not have musical tastes in common but I like these ones and Joy to the World and the Carol of the Bells which are staples in the carol service every year.

There’s usually a slightly chilly and damp Christmas market as well where I pick up poinsettias. Again, not a 2020 event.

I have asked the children to find an online midnight mass with hymns which we can go to on Christmas Eve in the house. It’s not really the same.

On a podcast the other day, I heard someone say “We miss each other”. And it’s true, I’m missing not just friends and family but other people and the normal everyday interactions which have largely disappeared this year.

Silent Night

A classic which can be very beautiful and also quite appalling. I am thinking sadly of all the Nativity plays which won’t be happening this year.

I feel very disorganised on the present front this year. Normally, I take a day off work and buy everything in a slightly exhausting but broadly enjoyable trawl through the shops. This year, it’s basically online only which, for me, removes all the spontaneity and excitement. And also, should be done by now but is not so I am feeling regular waves of mild panic. I am half thinking of taking a day off work to sit at the computer and order but my boss, in a Scrooge-like move, has asked us not to take unnecessary days off in the run up to Christmas as we are quite spectacularly busy. He’s right, we are spectacularly busy. Define unnecessary.

Needless to say, not a solitary Christmas card has yet been sent.

Driving Home for Christmas

I’m not quite sure whether we will get to Cork this year. My sister is a bit worried that our descent en masse from Covid ridden Dublin could take out both her and a number of elderly relatives. I’m not sure what to do. I suppose that we will decide closer to the time but I will be slightly heartbroken if I don’t get down to Cork over the Christmas holidays.

We usually have Christmas drinks on the Sunday afternoon before Christmas. Preparation and hosting can make me a bit tense to be honest but I love it in retrospect. Not this year and I miss it. My friend Michael who has a lovely voice and is a born performer often sings O Holy Night in several languages which is a hard act to follow.

Fairytale of New York

I love this song. There’s something about the bitter-sweet nature of it that means that you can hear it a lot over Christmas but it never loses its magic. I’m aware that the lyrics are a bit difficult but I still love it. It somehow feels very appropriate for Christmas 2020.

Primary Sidebar

Flickr Photos

More Photos
December 2020
M T W T F S S
 123456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
28293031  
« Nov   Jan »
Tweets by Belgianwaffle

Categories

  • Belgium (144)
  • Boys (858)
  • Cork (205)
  • Daniel (603)
  • Dublin (450)
  • Family (588)
  • Hodge (46)
  • Ireland (836)
  • Liffey Journal (7)
  • Michael (588)
  • Miscellaneous (71)
  • Mr. Waffle (540)
  • Princess (1,049)
  • Reading etc. (555)
  • Siblings (203)
  • The tale of Lazy Jack Silver (18)
  • Travel (159)
  • Work (191)

Subscribe via Email

Subscribe Share
Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy

© 2003–2022 belgianwaffle · Privacy Policy · Write