belgianwaffle

Belgium

L’Actualité Dans Toute Sa Majesté


Posted in: Belgium, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc.

When we lived in Belgium, I used to occasionally buy and read “Royals” magazine. The clue is in the title; it goes large on the Belgian royal family but all of the European royals feature from time to time (the Grimaldis are my absolute favourites; what a family) and sometimes more exotic royals from Asia or the Middle East. I used to read it in a post-modern, ironic way and, because it’s in French, it’s clearly not the same as reading, say, “Hello” magazine which I am obviously too lofty to read.

Mr. Waffle goes to Brussels for work from time to time and on his return he often picks me up a (post-modern, ironic) copy of “Royals” magazine. Inspired by his success he got me a subscription to 12 months of “Royals” magazine last Christmas. I have to tell you I was not delighted, I felt I’d tipped over from post-modern, ironic to weird middle-aged Belgian royalist lady. Anyway 12 months later, my subscription has finally expired. If you need to know anything about the Belgian royal family, ask me now. While I have to say that I enjoyed it more than I expected to, I am glad to have reverted to being an occasional consumer of Belgian royal family news rather than the Irish expert on Prince Laurent’s latest quirk.

Untitled

Brussels


Posted in: Belgium

For obvious reasons, I have been thinking about Brussels all day. It will always have a special place in my heart. I still have lots of friends living there all of whom are safe and well for which I am very thankful. It is very chilling to see this happening somewhere you have lived and in the most banal and everyday places.

Saint Nicolas on Tour


Posted in: Belgium, Boys, Michael

Michael: How far is to Saint Nicolas?
Me: Well, we haven’t lived in Belgium for a long time now and, um…
Him: When is it?
Me: Well, some people might say it has already passed. Technically.
Him: When is it?
Me: December 6. But, you never liked the chocolate Santas anyway, he had to bring you crisps.
Him: That’s hardly the point.
[His siblings emerge from their bedrooms looking peeved.]
Me: Um, well, it’s really up to Saint Nicolas and I suppose we don’t live in Belgium any more….
Him: There will be three pairs of shoes beside the fireplace tomorrow night. Saint Nicolas had better deliver.
Me: Um, ok, we’ll have a word with him.

Saint Nicolas, Patron des Ecoliers


Posted in: Belgium, Boys, Michael

Did I mention that, on the 6th of December, Saint Nicolas came to our house? We did think that since it is now 6 and a half years since we have lived in a jurisdiction where he has authority, he might give us a skip but the children were adamant that no, he should come. I blame myself. I offered Daniel 50 cents to read a French book aloud. He picked “T’choupi fête Noël” which had the dual advantage of being seasonal and short. As he read aloud the doings of the festive mole, it all came flooding back.

So, in fairness to him, at quite short notice, St. Nicolas came in line with expectations. He just brought some chocolates and crisps in accordance with his reduced obligations in this jurisdiction. This did not stop Michael sleeping on the floor beside his bedroom door in a state of advanced excitement or him waking me at 6.30 in some distress as Saint Nicolas had brought him the wrong type of crisps.

Nostalgie, La Legende


Posted in: Belgium, Travel

I went to Brussels for work a couple of weeks ago. We left Brussels for good in July 2008 and this was only my third trip back. The first couple of times, shortly after we had left, I didn’t feel anything in particular and I remember remarking to people in Ireland how surprised I was that I didn’t miss Brussels at all.

This time, it was different though. The weather was lovely; much warmer than here. You forget that Brussels is warmer. And so much was the same, the Sablon, the 92 tram, I felt a remembering tug of all the things I used to love. I went to see some old friends in the evening and their children, in the manner of small children on whom you turn your back, had grown from infants to polite, slightly exotic older children who kissed me on both cheeks when they greeted me.

I think I would like to spend a long weekend in Brussels. Nobody is more surprised than I am.

In the airport on the way home I overheard a Belgian mama lamenting to her mother about the difficulty of finding an English speaking exchange for her child. She pointed out that everyone wants to learn English so the English can go where they like and their fancy rarely falls on Brussels. The grandmother asked whether she had considered Ireland although, she added doubtfully, she herself had been to Dublin and the English spoken in Ireland was entirely unintelligible.

I love Belgians too.

Belgian National Day


Posted in: Belgium

Item 1 – wherein I am reminded of Belgian paperwork

I got a change of address form to fill in from my (entirely depleted, alas) savings account recently. It had to be witnessed by a solicitor, a commissioner for oaths, a clergyman, a garda or some other pillar of society. It had to be accompanied by an original utility bill from my new address (which would be returned to me – what if I only get my bill online, you ask).

I got a friend who is a practising solicitor to sign the form. Was that sufficient? No it was not; she had failed to affix her office stamp to the form (largely because she was in my house and it was 9 at night and I thought it wouldn’t matter). The form was returned to me with the place for the stamp circled and the words NB written on it. Of course it did because my savings were with an institution which was channelling the Belgian State. It made me feel very nostalgic for Belgium. I dutifully cycled to the local Garda station and got the guard on duty to fill in the form and, crucially, stamp it. That did the trick.

Item 2 – Wherein I decide to get my hands on the special edition of Point de Vue covering the life of King Albert.

As you will know, of course, King Albert has decided to abdicate today in favour of his son Philippe. The excitement. Mr. Waffle and I watched a very long programme on RTBF about the life of King Albert (possibly prepared in anticipation of his demise) which covered his father’s war record (not good) and his life as a playboy (possible explanation of why Queen Paola always looks displeased) but yet, somehow, failed to entrance. This may have been because these juicier nuggets were intercut with the King and Queen visiting yet another flooded home/exciting civic event in the years 1993 to 2013.

Item 3 – Happy Belgian National Day