belgianwaffle

Dublin

A Low Point


Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

It’s been stormy. Our recycling bin blew over and the contents got wet. “Did you put them in the black bin?” I asked Mr. Waffle. “That would have been a terrible waste,” said he. Then he added, defiantly, “I dried them out by spreading them over the Aga.” I was not pleased. Was it for this that I spent my children’s inheritance?

The weather has been quite awful all month. Michael and Daniel spent much of their mid-term break holed up in the house (herself has an elaborate series of ongoing social engagements which mean she touches down in our sphere but rarely) so today Mr. Waffle and I forced them out for a walk on the pier in Dun Laoghaire after visiting his mother. They were very good despite the fact that it hailed on us. Good God in heaven.

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I suppose snow is next.

Rainy Saturday


Posted in: Dublin, Family, Hodge, Ireland

We were all in reasonably good form this morning. Yesterday evening I had said that we were going for a walk in the mountains to look at the snow. This announcement was greeted with limited enthusiasm. Even I had second thoughts overnight and was contemplating getting out of bed early without truly looking forward to it and only sustained by the reflection that we would enjoy it in retrospect. I was awoken at 9ish by rain dashing against the bedroom window and the glad tidings that it was too wet for our walk were conveyed to the children by Mr. Waffle while I sat up in bed with my book.

I was summoned from my bed at 10 by indignant shouts from herself. The cat had got sick on her bed. One of the joys of adulthood is cleaning up cat vomit, I find. Normally this falls to Mr. Waffle’s lot but he was out getting bread so I was the chosen victim. Later, leaving the boys in the thrall of their electronic devices, Mr. Waffle, the Princess and I braved the rain and went to breakfast in a local cafe.

On our return we brought all the children to town to acquire new hiking boots (when will their feet stop growing?), a camp bed (can only be an improvement on the air mattress, surely), more candles and some Magic the Gathering Cards for the boys (if you don’t know, you’re better off). We got sodden but it was speedy. Then we came home and were still back in time to drop the cat vomit soiled duvet to the dry cleaners (the hilariously named “Day and Night” cleaners which closes at four). Then we came in, lit the fire and battened down the hatches. It’s been delightful.

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How’s your own Storm Dennis day going?

An Attempt at Redress or a Vignette from a Wednesday Evening


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

I went to a colleague’s father’s removal after work. Having dutifully sympathised with my colleague, I saw that there was an Aldi next door to the funeral home which was pretty handy as I had no plan for dinner. I graced it with my presence and picked up the ready-made lasagne (I’ve had worse). As I was going towards the till, I saw a bowl of hyacinths and picked them up as well.

When I got to the check-out, the queue was enormous. A man with two mountainous trolleys let me pass ahead of him with my two items. The hyacinths caused massive confusion and the assistant disappeared for ages into the back of the shop while I made apologetic grimaces to the kind humanitarian who let me pass ahead of him.

The hyacinths are blooming now and smell delightful. Every time I see them, I say a prayer for my colleague’s deceased father and also the man who let me pass him out at the Aldi check-out.

December to Date


Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Princess

It has been busy here in Waffle towers. Lots of seasonal things: present buying; tree purchasing; card sending; Christmas partying.

We went to see “A Christmas Carol” in the Gate on Tuesday night. It was a pricey enough family outing. It might have been more successful had the children been a bit younger or, in the case of herself, more cheerful. She was tired, it was a school night, she had lots to do and we were forcing her to be there. All true but not information delivered in a manner calculated to please her mother who had envisaged a fun Christmas outing. “I’m not sitting beside Michael,” she said, “as we filed into our seats, “he makes noises when he consumes culture.” This set the tone somewhat. The second part was better than the first and, at the end, Michael hopped up and gave an enthusiastic standing ovation. He was standing alone for quite a while but, in the end, he brought the theatre with him and everyone stood up.

On the way out, I got chatting to an elderly gentleman (typical enough of the patrons of the Gate) who was making slow progress out due to a bad knee. “You would never think,” said he conversationally, “that I was once the Irish under 17 sprint champion but I was. I met Jesse Owens, I knew Jesse Owens. Did you know that the person who first got him interested in running was an Irish-American in his school called Charlie Reilly?” I did not but I’m willing to bet he was in a religious order. The children upbraided me for talking to random strangers and we went home.

I got my annual haircut. My hairdresser firmly resisted my requests to chop it all off but it is, at least, a good deal shorter.

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We have carols in the church on Friday night – Daniel is doing a reading; we’re having some people around for drinks on Sunday afternoon and then my last day of work before the holidays is Monday; I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that it is unlikely to be anyone’s most productive day at work.

How are your own preparations progressing?

Christmas Activities


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

We had the church Christmas fair after mass on Sunday. It was an occasion of almost unmitigated grimness. Freezing and poorly attended. I did hear one good story though. There’s a local man whom we will call Mr. Murphy who is Santa every year at community events. One of Santa’s neighours was saying how he took his three children in to see Santa at such an event and his two eldest children (then aged 3 and 5) went in and appeared entranced. The father decided that the youngest (aged 2) was too small for the treat whereupon the child began to wail, “Why can’t I go in to see Pat Murphy like the others?” Ho, ho, ho!