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Archives for November 2021

War and Peace

19 November, 2021
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

The issue of bathroom towels is a vexed one in this house.

Firstly by way of background, my husband’s family are obsessed with towels. If we are staying in self-catering accommodation the very first question is always, “Do we have to bring our own towels?”

We are not a family who uses a towel once and puts in the wash. Each towel gets several uses. Here is what happens. Mr. Waffle comes to the bathroom. He deems all of the towels in use inadequate and gets a fluffy new one from the hot press. He does not put a towel in the laundry basket. I come to the bathroom last and the place is swathed in damp towels. I have no objection to people getting fresh towels (particularly, I suppose when those people do all the laundry in the house) but I do object to people not throwing the used damp towels in the laundry basket.

Over the summer I went on strike and stopped putting used towels in the laundry basket. Things began to get unbearable until herself took over. As she said, “Please stop this war, it’s always the children who suffer the most.”

But more recently, all seems to be well. A bit baffling. I said as much to Daniel in the car on the way to training. “Oh,” said he, “Michael puts the towels in the laundry basket now, but I saw him doing it and made him put out a fresh one because I know that’s what you like.” I fear I may not have been entirely clear.

And that, people, is the kind of content you are likely to get for the remainder of the month. Hold on to your hats.

Not Waving But Drowning

20 November, 2021
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Twins

Mr. Waffle continues to be ill. He decided that it would not be conducive to his recovery to stand in the middle of a windy field for a couple of hours so he delegated to me the job of taking Dan to his hurling match in west Dublin. “You’ve a beautiful day for it,” Mr. Waffle thrilled as we headed off.

We arrived and schlepped for miles from the car park to the designated pitch. No sooner did we arrive than the rain started. I discovered to my horror that although we were instructed to assemble at 1.15 the match was only starting at 2. I trudged gloomily around the pitch regretting that I had neglected to bring any kind of hood and discovering that my boots were not waterproof. Truly mine eyes have seen the abomination of desolation.

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There were 6 subs and, to my relief, Dan was in the starting 15. I spent a good while watching number 24 before I realised that my son was playing up front (normally he’s a back) in the number 6 shirt. Half time arrived mercifully quickly. Sadly, it turned out only to be a water break (quarter time, if you will). I continued my trudging. The heavens absolutely opened with that kind of rain that bounces off the ground and back up your trousers.

I telephoned my sister and she asked how wet I was. This is the photo I sent her. Very wet. Apparently it was a lovely day in Cork.

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Daniel was having a great match but he got knocked down and the coach ran over, patted him on the back and came to the sideline reassuring me that it was only a hard shoulder to the head. I was not reassured. Later he got a hurl to the head (they were all wearing helmets but still) and eventually, about 5 minutes before the end, he was subbed off somewhat to my relief as he is absolutely fearless on the field and I wanted him to finish alive.

I was very proud as we went back to the car and people kept coming up to congratulate him on a great match, sadly though, not great enough as, in the end, they lost by six points but, honestly, it felt closer than that.

We were both glad to get home.

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In other news, I bought logs from a garage and on my way out, accidentally blocked a middle aged woman in high vis and lycra who was marching determinedly in the rain, clearly getting her steps in. She gave me the evil eye, as well she might, and I realised it was the leader of the opposition. This is the kind of glamour that west Dublin offers. Let’s have your own celebrity encounters.

Out and About

21 November, 2021
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc., Twins, Youngest Child

Mr. Waffle is still sick.

It was a beautiful day. On the way home from mass, Daniel looked at me warily and said, “Please don’t suggest a cycle”. I am afraid that that is exactly what I did.

We met friends in the park who invited us to go to see Eurydice in the Met in the cinema (live streamed from NY to your local picture house). I blithely said yes for me and Mr. Waffle, the boys politely but firmly refused the generous offer. I thought it was the “Orpheus and Eurydice” with tunes but it turns out that it is an original composition. I fear the worst. As Mr. Waffle said about these much loved friends of ours, “It’s not just that they love opera but they love hard opera.” A three hour treat for December.

We had a lovely cycle. Even the boys didn’t hate it.

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I peeled off and went to the museum to see the Eileen Gray exhibition, sending the boys on home on the basis that they had suffered enough. The exhibition was mildly interesting. I’m more of a good mahogany furniture kind of person than a modernist so not really for me but I could see it was good, if you see what I mean. Apparently she left Ireland in horror after they did up her family home. I mean, you can see where she was coming from. What an absolutely horrific thing to happen to a perfectly nice square Georgian house.

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I was quite taken by the practicality of some of her more famous pieces. The chair that acknowledges that people sit to one side.

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The “practical for breakfast in bed” table:

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She had an extraordinary life and lived until 98 working away into the 70s. She lived long enough to see her furniture and ideas come back into fashion and in some ways, she’s the godmother of open plan living (though she seemed to have moved away from that in later life). Interesting.

Notions or Gentrification is Continuing Apace

22 November, 2021
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland
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That was quite a handy shop for fuel, I’ll have you know. And do I really want Beaujolais nouveau which Mr. Waffle says always tastes of bananas?

More Covid

23 November, 2021
Posted in: Family, Ireland, Reading etc.

Two of my colleagues have Covid this week. Both fine, thankfully but not loving the general prevalence levels.

Meanwhile my brother-in-law and his family were due to go skiing in Austria for a week at the start of December. Alas, that adventure has been cancelled as Austria is in lock down.

In unrelated news, my teeth having basically caused me no problems whatsoever for the first 51 years of my life have really pulled out all the stops this year. I was sitting at my desk minding my own business when I noticed that a bit of tooth had crumbled off. This was at the site of an enormous filling and it had already been earmarked as problematic but having spent most of October in the dentist’s chair, I was holding off doing anything about it until next year. Until, of course, it fell out of my head. I’m back in for treatment on Friday afternoon. Sigh.

I met a friend for lunch and he told me how his daughter had to do research on Muhammad Ali for school, so she dutifully prepped away, she was on top of the Rumble in the Jungle. She went into school the next day and the teacher asked her, “What were some of the key events leading to Indian independence?” Mahatma Gandhi was who she was supposed to research apparently.

He also offered me this story which he believes to be true. I really hope it is. The teacher asked a child to get a guillotine, off she skips out of the class. She is gone for ages but finally comes back with 15 other children. “Sorry miss, I thought you said the Gaelic team”.

And finally, in the good news category, Emily Bell’s book is in the bestseller list. Extremely pleased by association.

Oh No!

24 November, 2021
Posted in: Princess

I rang herself this morning and, startlingly, she picked up the phone. She has a nasty cold and she was miserable. While I was on the phone with her she did three lateral flow tests [swab over your tonsils or where your tonsils would be – best line from the instructions]. Two of the three tests were positive for Covid. She’s locked up in her room and she’s booked in for a PCR test and, you never know, it might be negative but I am not optimistic. My poor child, it is no fun being sick when there is no one to look after you. And she was supposed to be going to Paris at the weekend. Alas alack.

Her father has ordered a box of goodies for her to cheer her up. Poor miss.

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