Princess

France II – Île de Ré to Arcachon

29 September, 2025
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Travel, Twins, Youngest Child

Thursday August 28, 2025

My late mother-in-law, of whom I was very fond, was very excited when the new Luas (tram service) arrived in Dublin. Despite having a commuter rail service which went to her house, she would often try to develop plans which involved getting the Luas to Sandyford which was the nearest point to her house to which the Luas went but, you know, not very near and not at all as convenient as the existing rail service. Whenever an arrangement is overly complex we describe it as being like the Luas to Sandyford. In a Luas to Sandyford type arrangement we decided that we would charge the car at the Lidl outside St Martin de Ré. Mr. Waffle brought the car to the Lidl and made his own way home; then he and I both cycled to St Martin and had breakfast; then I cycled home while Mr. Waffle drove home (I get home first proving, yet again, the superiority of the bicycle); then we both drove back to Lidl; then Mr. Waffle cycled home and I drove home. Are you with me? On the way home google maps indicated to me that it would be 2 minutes faster to cut off the main road. I did. Google maps is not really set up for European arrangements, I think. It sent me along an unpaved dirt road along the side of a field and then up a sandy trail near the house where I thought I would get stuck. Google maps loves that sandy wooded incline as it had sent us there by bike earlier in the week. It is not suitable for bikes or cars and happily I did not get stuck but, seriously, look at this picture from inside the car.

Compare this to the comfort of travel by bike on the island. The house even came with bespoke bike parking inside the front door which compared well with the car parking around the corner.

In the afternoon, herself arrived! The island is really near the airport so we had her picked up and whisked to the house in no time. We went for dinner out to celebrate. Hurrah.

Friday August 29, 2025

I went out with herself in the morning for a bit of an adventure and to show her the island. We did some mild shopping. Such was the excellence of the whole bike riding situation on the island that even herself who is not normally a bike fan (possibly in part due to my slightly rabid advocacy) said that she enjoyed cycling.

In the afternoon my beloved middle child arrived having survived exam season, an uncle in residence and the painter. I have to say it was very nice to have all my chickadees together.

Poor Mr. Waffle was a bit under the weather but still took a bus to the Lidl car park (“this is where I live now, apparently”) to pick up the car which he was charging in anticipation of our drive south the following day.

Saturday August 30, 2025

We were up with the lark. “To improve their service” to me, our Airbnb hosts had given us the opportunity to hire our sheets and bedlinen. I was not delighted and honestly think that bedlinen could have been included in the cost, I would gladly have paid a bit extra to have the beds made and not to have created a loclinge account. I had to predict the two hour window when laundry should be collected. Check out from the house was at 10 so I felt laundry should be collected before we left. So I selected the 8-10 window. This meant we had to be up and showered by 8. Were people enthusiastic? They were not. Did loclinge even turn up before we checked out? Non.

We dropped herself to the station to get the train down to Arcachon as the car was a bit small and we felt it would not be conducive to good relations to put all the children in the back. The roads were quite busy on the way down but we stopped for a long lunch in a service station (as glamorous as you might imagine) to – you guessed it – charge the wretched car. Mr. Waffle was thrilled by the fast charger and he said gleefully (after an initial disappointment when all the charging stations were full, but mercifully someone left) “It’s like the early days of motoring.” Honestly, could do without it.

Herself arrived in Arcachon first and after some tension over which I will draw a veil, we managed to find the station, collect her and drive to the house. I really liked the house. The living quarters were upstairs and it felt like living in a tree house.

There was a nice heated pool out the front and I took myself for a swim while Mr. Waffle and herself went to the supermarket to lay in supplies. One of the features of the car was that it sometimes didn’t start for us; to be fair, I think this is a feature of automatic cars more generally that they won’t start if you don’t have your foot on the brake when you turn on the engine? Anyhow, Mr. Waffle and herself were stopped at the exit from the car park and, of course, couldn’t start the car engine. Almost immediately the woman from behind beeped them. When there was no progress she hopped out of her car and shouted at them “Il faut avancer!”. While they knew that they had to advance, they couldn’t seem to persuade the car to do so. “How long will this take?” huffed the irate French woman. “About 3 minutes,” said herself with a confidence born of nothing. Their progress was possibly further impeded by both of them becoming mildly hysterical with laughter something which I suspect did nothing to calm down Madame. Anyhow, they made it home safely.

We had take away pizza for dinner and recovered from our day of excitement.

Sunday August 31, 2025

Arcachon is a small place but we were a bit of a step from the centre in quite a suburban area. We walked to what we thought was a cafe but it turned out to just be a boulangerie and, I regret to say, not a very good one at that.

We continued on to 11.30 mass. We were quite early so made meandering progress stopping at a corner shop and a newsagent and dutifully admiring the local architecture (much more of which anon). Still, despite our efforts, at 11.20 we ended up sitting on a bench across the road from the v ugly church considering our entertainment options for the next 10 minutes. I double checked my phone and realised that mass was at 11. We galloped across the road. There was no mass. On the back of an envelope pinned to the church door there was a notice saying “No mass at 11; mass at 7 this evening instead”. Not a great system if you ask me. Michael, who had stayed in bed for the whole adventure was amused but the rest of us were less than entirely delighted.

Mr. Waffle and I drove to the centre of Arcachon and did some mild supermarket shopping; it was hard to find an open supermarket and while I really welcome this at a theoretical level, on a practical level, it has some drawbacks. It was absolutely lashing rain but I said that since we were in town we should have a poke around. Rain soaked; a real end of season feeling.

But there were signs that the weather may have been nicer in the past and that the people of Arcachon would prefer if you didn’t parade around the town in your swimsuit. It seemed a very improbable concern on that particular day.

Michael resolutely refused to go out in the driving rain but the other two were curious and we went into town for a look around.

Mr. Waffle didn’t come “I’m going to the Lidl car park – my new home in France,” said he. He managed to leave the car charging in Aldi overnight and got the bus back to the house. I’m not sure that we were experiencing all of the advantages of having a hired car. Herself observed that the electric car was like the B plot to the holiday.

Since the weather for the next day was scheduled to be dreadful again, we decided that we would drive into Bordeaux. We spent the evening hunting online for a car park in Bordeaux with a compatible charging station for our car. Fun times.

More excitement to follow. Stay tuned.

Separation*

14 September, 2025
Posted in: Princess

We saw a lot of herself this summer. On Saturday we saw her off to London where she will be residing from now on. I have spent the past four years adapting to having a daughter who was in college in England. It feels somehow different to have a daughter who is living and working in London. I am glad for her and I hope she has a fantastic time with all her friends who live in London. And it could be much further away (and she might yet decamp to another continent; at least London is easy and quick to get to). But it is sad to see her go; another generation of emigrants in the family. My husband and I emigrated; my parents emigrated; my parents-in-law emigrated; and my grandparents emigrated; but, you know what? We all came back. Keep your fingers crossed that someday she will come home for good after lots of exciting adventures.

*Separation by WS Merwin

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

Weekend Round Up

18 August, 2025
Posted in: Family, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Princess

Friday, August 15

My weekends now start on Fridays thanks to my four day week. Am I pleased? You betcha.

Herself was home for a couple of weeks (rejoice!). On Friday (before she headed off to Paris on Saturday), she and I went for a day out in Howth. We parked at the Summit car park and walked down towards the lighthouse. It had been a bit overcast earlier but the sun came out and it was beautiful.

In a way that is not at all obvious, you can access a beach from a set of steep slightly makeshift steps set into the cliff. And down we went.

By Irish standards the water was delightfully warm. We had a lovely swim. You often see seals swimming a bit out to sea from this beach. However, very excitingly there was a baby seal sunning itself on the beach. Lads, the thrill.

After our excitement on the beach, we went back up to the car (slightly more tiring than going down).

As regular readers will be aware, I am a big fan of the bike and public transport and it is not so often that herself gets to have an outing in the car. As we drove back into the village, she announced defiantly, “I love the car, I love it.” However, parking was a bit of a nightmare and after 15 minutes of circling the town looking for parking, she was less sure. We eventually parked in a loading bay (judge away, I was operating in the belief that it is only a loading bay in hours of loading, no hours of loading were specified so really who was I fooling?) and went for a lovely lunch on the pier, slightly marred by my fear that I would get clamped.

After lunch we got two 99s and walked back to the car. I finished mine before we got there. “What’s your plan for my ice cream?” she asked. I was genuinely baffled. “I mean, I haven’t finished it,” she clarified. “Well, you can finish it in the car,” I said. “In the car?!” she exclaimed. It is true that the children were never allowed to eat ice cream in the car for reasons which should be obvious. “Yes, you’re 22, you can eat ice cream in the car,” I said. She was awe-struck and delighted. It was kind of hilarious but maybe you had to be there. But guess what, we were not clamped so a very successful day all round.

Saturday, August 16

Mr. Waffle’s sister and her family are in Dublin for a couple of weeks and last weekend we had them and Mr. Waffle’s brother and his wife around for tea. A good time was had by all etc – relatively low labour from our point of view. This weekend Mr. Waffle’s brother and his wife had us all around for lunch and also his elderly aunt and uncle, their son and their grandson. I must say it was a big crowd and I am lost in admiration at my sister-in-law’s ability to cater for large numbers. It was quite exciting to meet Mr. Waffle’s first cousin and his son who live in Spain (first cousin’s wife is Spanish). We last saw the son when he was about 4 and he is now 12 and very tall and very pale for a Spaniard (still tall for an Irish person and quite tanned). My niece and brother-in-law played and sang (very reluctantly) and I have to say they were absolutely amazing; he is a very good pianist and she is a professionally trained singer. Mind you, what would I know, he finished up laughing saying “went into F there” – what does that mean? A mystery. Sounded fine to me and I thought my niece sang absolutely beautifully. A little thrill.

Sunday, August 17

It’s heritage week. Mr. Waffle and I thought we might try Leixlip castle which is quite near Dublin. It’s not open to the public very often which is possibly why when I rang the phone number they gave out on the website, a rather harassed though very pleasant woman told me they were chock a block. She felt perhaps she could fit one but, alas, we were two. I’m willing to bet my bottom dollar that the person I spoke to was the chatelaine which makes me more curious than ever to visit. Maybe next year.

Today we went to Tullynally Castle instead, ancestral home of the Packenhams. The house tour was mildly interesting although the castle itself, Gothicked by Francis Johnston in the early 1800s is not to my mind particularly beautiful. But my goodness, it’s big and the family still live there – it’s clearly very lived in and I would say it is baltic in winter. The gardens are the big draw and they are delightful.

Herself pointed out to me that it is only in Ireland that crisps are served unironically as a salad accompaniment to sandwiches. Sandwiches tend to be described as ” served with salad and crisps” and have a token bit of green to help them live up to that billing. Today’s example is a good one. My smoked salmon came with a side salad.

Update – Secular (patroness of the arts etc.)

1 July, 2025
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Princess

In rapid succession I went to the following events at an arts festival: David O’Doherty (covered earlier, try to keep up), Paul Murray (rather earnest but interesting author of, inter alia, “The Bee Sting”) and Louise Lowe. I found the last the most interesting (Mr. Waffle accompanied me – he was supposed to come to the other two as well but pressure of work prevented him and having run into loads of people I knew at both earlier events who were wondering why I was there on my own – not to mention the expense of getting two tickets when only one turned out to be needed – I was pretty pleased to have him there but I remain mildly resentful about his previous unavoidable absences, as you can possibly tell from this lengthy aside).

Louise Lowe is a director of a theatre company called ANU and I have been to loads of their productions and they are always interesting and usually good. I found her absolutely fascinating. She has a really unusual way of looking at things and she is intrigued by the audience and uses all kinds of different approaches to bring them closer to the production. So enthused am I that I have become a supporter – so far all this has got me is an opportunity for early access to tickets to a play I saw already last Christmas but I remain optimistic.

I have been to see the Mainie Jellett & Evie Hone exhibition in the National Gallery a couple of times. Interesting, but I did not love a lot of the art. Much like the Irish Times in the 1920s, it appears I am not ready for modernism in Irish art.

Like the curate’s egg though, good in parts.

Nice to see an old friend from the Crawford Gallery on tour anyhow.

My brother got me a voucher for an “art afternoon tea” in the Merrion hotel for Christmas. They have an amazing art collection and you get to look at it; get a brochure on it; and eat cakes inspired by it. Not cheap (though free to me) and quite difficult to get a booking but I would recommend. Herself accompanied me. We enjoyed our experience.

I was listening to the German classical music radio that Mr. Waffle favours when I heard this number I have not heard in over 40 years. We learnt it in school for choir. To be honest I thought it was a bit mawkish but hearing it really brought me back. It’s by Handel, apparently, who knew? I have to say, you’ve got to applaud Mrs. O’Shea’s vaulting ambition for the 14 year old girls in her charge.

Mr. Waffle and I went to tenth anniversary celebratory drinks for the Dublin Inquirer to which we subscribe. It’s run on a complete shoestring but I like their enthusiasm and I like getting a print edition delivered. The drinks were upstairs in a pub and a bit primitive but we got to meet all the journalists and the editor. We also met the mother of one of the journalists. It was that kind of evening. The journalist was American but her mother was Irish (though she had lived in America for many years) and had just that morning arrived in from the States to show support (“I’m here as a subscriber,” she said enthusiastically but she was the only subscriber who had travelled 5,000 kms to be upstairs in a pub). She told us that on arrival that morning, she had discovered through the inevitable channels that her old headmistress’s funeral was that very day so she and her mother (the journalist’s grandmother – are you still with me?) went to the funeral and had lunch in the convent with the nuns which she very much enjoyed. I enjoyed this exchange myself as it confirmed all my beloved stereotypes about Irish people and funerals.

Our media subscriptions may yet beggar us. We subscribe to the Inquirer, the Irish Times, the Guardian and the Canard Enchaîné which you might have thought was plenty. The other day Mr. Waffle said to me “According to Haaretz…” “Sorry, what?” I said. He said, “I’m a subscriber. I felt they needed some support.” I mean yes, but that’s a lot of news organisations to keep afloat.

We went to the Dalkey book festival. Dalkey is a lovely little village beside the sea near Dublin. Our hopes for a lovely day were dashed by the bucketing rain. We went on our bikes and although our rain gear is good it wasn’t exactly the pleasant cycling experience I had envisaged. Also Dalkey is full of electric SUVs. I mean it’s good that they are electric, I guess, but they steal up behind you and unnerve you as you cycle along, like a snowboarder swooshing down the mountain after you as you are attempting a tricky turn.

We went to a panel talk on the manosphere. I was very underwhelmed. No new insights and I have decided that a panel with four people and a host is never going to give you any depth. I bought this book all the same, I had heard the author on a couple of podcasts and the book sounded interesting, though like everyone else, she had no real chance to shine on the panel. Not a triumph.

What was a triumph was that I had booked a restaurant for dinner and despite the literature loving hordes who had descended on the town we got our dinner and a window seat from whence we could see the crowd at the pub across the road, come out, get driven in by the rain and come out again.

As we were sitting watching the crowds surge in and out of the pub we saw Mr. Waffle’s brother and his wife locking their bikes to the pole across the road so we rushed out to say hello. Then another friend came up and we all had a nice chat until the rain started again and we all scuttled back to our various locations.

After dinner we went to see Paul Howard talk about Ross O’Carroll Kelly. Wouldn’t be a massive fan myself but Mr. Waffle enjoys the books. Mr. Howard packed out the ballroom of the hotel and the local crowd loved him (technically, I think Ross may be from Foxrock but Dalkey appears to be close enough). It was grand but I spent much of the evening in shock as Mr. Waffle pointed out an apparently very elderly gent whom I did not recognise at all but turns out to have been one of my (younger) lecturers from college. Disturbing.

To recover, we had a drink in the town with the friend we had run into earlier and his wife who was one of the volunteers shepherding literature enthusiasts from venue to venue.

As you will be no doubt aware, Bloomsday was June 16. I’m not a huge Joyce fan but a friend of the Princess’s who is doing a PhD on Joycean stuff was over from England to give a lecture so we went along to show support. Mr. Waffle found it interesting; I thought it was quite hard going myself but we both agreed that it was better than the Dalkey panel, so there was that.

And finally in cultural news, Mr. Waffle and I saw “Jane Austen Ruined my Life”. Grand but nothing to write home about. A bilingual film about a French woman who loves Jane Austen. It is supposed to be set in a big English Georgian house but it is a quite obviously entirely French big house so I found that amusing. We get our thrills where we can.

How have your own cultural outings been going?

Whatever Works

28 April, 2025
Posted in: Princess, Siblings

When herself came home over Easter, she found her copy of a VERY LONG work on Spinoza on the floor beside her bed. She had to give a talk on Spinoza once (the reason for this eludes me) and this book was part of the spoils of that adventure, I think. She was a bit surprised that the book was on the floor as she felt she would not have left it there but she thought no more about it until she met my brother for lunch.

He occasionally stays with us in Dublin and sleeps in her room. It transpired that when he was here, he had been reading Spinoza. We were all a bit surprised; it just didn’t seem his kind of thing. She clarified. He had been using it as an aid to sleep. He was still at the early stages but he found it exceptionally soporific. He pointed out to herself that the preface indicates that it is good for the student, the lecturer, the casual reader and the in-depth scholar. It was, however, his freely expressed view that it was good for none of these people. Let us trust that the author can be philosophical about the additional off label use (as it were) to which his scholarly work is being put.

Testing Times

22 April, 2025
Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Work, Youngest Child

Herself is back in England after a week at home. She had to go back to deliver a paper at a conference this afternoon. She was tense. No update as yet.

Michael did his driving test today (no, alas, thanks for asking) and his exams start next week.

Daniel’s exams started at 5 this evening (not a conventional time, you will agree and one which leaves a lot of today to be got through).

And I, like a complete moron, signed up to do an economics course last autumn which I deeply regret. The written final exam is tomorrow morning (thoughts and prayers, please). I last performed under exam conditions in 2019 and I thought that I liked it better than assignments. I am seriously re-evaluating my conclusions in this regard.

Suffice it to say that everyone’s Easter was pretty much ruined with studying and prep.

Once I get this wretched exam out of the way, I will have thoughts on the Easter season more generally; something for you to look forward to.