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Princess

“Time passes. Listen. Time passes.”


Posted in: Princess

When I was a child my mother would often say, “A place for everything and everything in its place” when urging us to put things away. For reasons I cannot explain I thought this was from Dylan Thomas’s “Under Milk Wood” but I have just discovered, thanks to the internet, it turns out it’s Benjamin Franklin, which seems far more likely. Anyhow like all my parents’ well used phrases, it seems to have burrowed its way into my own family life.

Recently, herself was unable to find some item despite my well honed tidying techniques, “A place for everything and nothing in its place,” she harrumphed. “That’s harsh,” I said. “This place is a finely tuned disaster zone,” she replied. Little does she know that, if experience with our parents is anything to go by, it will only get worse.

We Live in a Small Country


Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Princess

When the Princess was in Neuschwanstein during her Bavarian odyssey recently, she met a woman from Cork. “I asked her where exactly in Cork she was from because I knew you would want to know,” she said. Apparently, they had a grand old chat following on this auspicious beginning.

Then during the recent snowmaggedon we were all watching the six o’clock news and they eventually went to Cork, to Carrigaline, for a vox pop on the snow. As a woman started talking about the state of the snow the Princess yelled at the telly, “That’s her, that’s the woman from Cork that I met in Neuschwanstein.” I can’t help feeling that this kind of thing is much less part of the lives of people who live in larger countries.

Very Wrong


Posted in: Princess

In her mock Junior Certificate business exam, herself was asked to recommend three types of non-compulsory insurance she would recommend for a business. The business was described as a carpet shop on Patrick Street in Cork. On this basis she recommended flood insurance. People, this is very solid advice. However, she got no marks as flood insurance was “not in the marking scheme”. Should she be penalised for deploying her local knowledge? Outraged etc.

Only Child


Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

It’s mid-term. Herself and Daniel are off in Munich on a school tour. They left at 4 yesterday morning and seem to be still alive. A tribute to their teachers.

We strongly encouraged Michael to go but he even more strongly resisted so he is home alone for the week. Boy is he loving it, my little home bird. We signed him up for a sports course between 9.30 and 4 (advertised as “for the sporty child” – “I’m not a sporty child,” he pointed out. I said that it would be fine, it is fine). I knocked off work early today and picked him up. I offered all manner of treats but he just wanted to go home and sit in front of the fire where, even now, he is sitting happily. It’s all very peaceful.

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Independent Lives of Infinite Variety* or Weekly Round-Up


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

Last Monday night, Daniel had hurling training, there was a talk in the school about Transition Year and I was hosting bookclub. Something had to give. It was Daniel’s training. He took it manfully, particularly since the weather was freezing.

On Tuesday night it was parents’ council in the school at 7, Michael in scouts at 7.30 and Mr. Waffle at soccer at 8. We made everything but one of us had to cycle home from the school at 8.30 in the evening in positively Baltic conditions.

On Wednesday morning, the Princess and I left the house at the same time. As we arrived at the top of the road in the freezing cold, she said, “I’ve forgotten my gloves but I’m not going back”. She had “mocks” this week, a venerable Irish rite of passage where you do a whole set of practice exams for a week before you do your actual State examinations in the summer. Since you have half a year of the course left to cover, results are invariably hair-raising. They are taking these with immense seriousness in the school and she was particularly anxious not be late. I was wearing gloves. It was very chilly, my fingers were frozen inside my gloves. I half-heartedly said, “You can have mine.” “No,” she said, “you have further to cycle” and she pedaled off like a demon in the other direction. I felt like a heel all day.

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On Wednesday night there were no activities. This encouraged me to spread my culinary wings. Other nights I get home at 6.30 and there is some activity which means that dinner has to be on the table and eaten by 7 which doesn’t really allow for flights of fancy. On Wednesday night we had salmon (sadly still raw when brought out of the oven), cheesy potatoes from the butcher (slightly out of date but ingredients were described as “potatoes, cheese, sauce” so a bit difficult to gauge how bad out of date might be, sauce, it turned out, included cream so that meant out of date corresponded to “completely inedible”) and green beans (do you find that these always take longer to cook than you might think?). The whole was an unmitigated disaster. Thursday saw me returning to “fun with pasta” (say what you like, pasta and pesto, hard to go wrong) and last night Mr. Waffle had to go out to his parents’ house so the children and I had take away which was undoubtedly the highlight of the culinary week although, doubtless, very bad for all of us.

How was your own culinary/activity filled week?

*Title is Hilaire Belloc, if you’re wondering