belgianwaffle

Archives for April 2022

Feeling Popular


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

The school is having a fund raising quiz night next week. We asked Daniel and Michael whether they would like to be part of a family team of 4. They instantly declined.

We asked two friends of ours who love quizzes and who have no children (so no babysitting or school events of their own to support) whether they would like to go. Yes but that night one of them has bridge and the other has poetry appreciation club (it’s our age).

I texted herself in the fleshpots of Spain where she is currently enjoying herself, to see whether she would come with a friend. Two days later I received a curt monosyllable in reply. No.

I suppose we’ll have to go on our own. We’re doomed for the popular culture round though to be fair, I’m not saying that the bridge and poetry appreciation crowd would be delivering there either.

Alas.

Still Reading


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess

One of my Monday book club members is president of a professional society this year. Last Monday she invited us to dinner on the society’s premises to celebrate her presidency. How satisfactory. 22 years of book club and it was the first time we haven’t had frozen pizza at a meeting.

One of our members who is cautious insisted that we all take an antigen test in advance. I was sure one of us would be felled but no, we were all clear. It was such a lovely evening and we all waxed nostalgic remembering early meetings, members who had come and gone and favourite books. Also the food was fantastic.

Herself also came back from her trip to Marbella on Monday evening. As I cycled home, I thought, “If I were a good mother, I would have a vegan feast prepared for her instead of going out for dinner for myself.” Happily, I am not a good mother because it transpired that she had rung her father and asked him to iron her evening dress, bring it with him to the airport when he was collecting her at 6 and drop her into Trinity for 7 where she was going to a ball with her friends. People, if I had prepared a vegan feast I would have been incandescent.

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Networking Lunch


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Work

I had lunch with a former colleague of mine during the week. “Look at this,” said she and hauled out a letter informing her that she is going to be made a Chevalier of the Légion d’Honneur. I was suitably impressed. I also had lunch with an old friend who has decided to abandon retirement to head up an august (though small) body. I feel the quality of my lunch dates at the moment is high.

19


Posted in: Princess

Herself is 19 today. “When,” she asked me, “will you be doing the GDPR-breaching post for my birthday ?” Not tonight but, probably before the boys’ birthday in September.

She seems to be pretty pleased with her haul of presents – many books including a first edition of a Samuel Beckett book of poetry in French. I paid good money for these notions and I am pleased to see them being used.

She was off at a session in the Alliance at the weekend on Irish and French literature. Simultaneous translation was provided for both the French and the Irish speakers on the panel and herself was the only person in the room who didn’t need to put on the headphones at all. Honestly, my work here is done. And where do you think she got her notions?

Matters Ukrainian


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

We now have 4 Ukrainian families living on our road. Herself met young Master Next Door in the course of her gallivanting and he tells her that they too have taken in what he rather sweetly called “Ukrainian guests”. Apparently they all gather gloomily in the converted shed in one of the houses up the road and listen to the news from Ukraine. It’s extremely grim. I am slightly in awe of my neighbours who spearheaded this. As well as putting up their own refugees, they are gathering up old laptops, ware, cutlery and pots and pans for Ukrainian families as well as trying to source more permanent accommodation and schools and everything else. Mr. Waffle dropped off our old bikes to a man in town who is reconditioning them for Ukrainian refugees. It is nice to feel that you are doing something, however small, but it’s only a drop in the ocean.

On the Socials


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess, Work

We had an in person away day at work last week. I was genuinely looking forward to it (sadly) and it was really great to see people in person again. But you know, ultimately, an away day is as you would imagine. We had a guest speaker. She spoke about trying to manage our tech habits and inspired by her, I have deleted Instagram from my phone. It was a slight wrench but I had found myself sitting scrolling at midnight when I ought to be tucked up in bed reading my book and keeping my husband awake with the bedside light. I gave up Twitter in April 2019 and although I do still slightly miss it from time to time, I am very pleased that I did. I find Instagram less interesting than Twitter so hope that I will miss it even less. Although I did like those filters.

Instead, I now seem to be addicted to Duolingo which at least has the merit of being educational. I am learning Ukrainian. I would say that the Cyrillic alphabet is tricky. Mr. Waffle said, “It’s based on the Greek alphabet – remember Cyril and Methodius – which I learnt in a week when I was 12, how hard can it be?” Frankly, this attitude is unhelpful. I spent some time in Bosnia in the mid-90s and in my head I still pronounce the Bosnian word for restaurant as Pectopah so you can see my difficulty.

Separately, herself introduced me to BeReal which I mentioned a couple of weeks ago. I am quite enjoying it despite the fact that I know no one on there but herself (I feel like I am definitely ahead of the middle aged curve on this one). Sadly most of my pictures feature me in my concrete bunker (or, as it is described elsewhere, my award winning office – architect led design, what is it with architects and concrete?). I am very excited by the prospect of my sabbatical and a whole range of different settings opening up to me.