Siblings

Christmas Round Up

2 January, 2022
Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Twins, Youngest Child

Christmas Eve, 2021

My sister sent me an advent calendar which she made herself with Christmas pictures from years past which I absolutely loved.

The last picture is a still from a video 10 years ago when the boys and I were walking through Temple Bar. Michael peered at it “Is that you? I can’t believe how young you look compared to now.” Telling it like it is, our Michael.

We drove down to Cork. In a genius move, Daniel had downloaded the “Muppet Christmas Carol” soundtrack which serenaded us part of the way. Herself was testing us on the Myles Na gCopaleen “Catechism of Cliche” where I was doing exceptionally well, I might add. “You know,” I said to her, “he was from Northern Ireland.” Daniel, busy listening to the Muppets said in considerable surprise, “What Kermit?” “Yes,” said Mr. Waffle, “that’s why he’s so green.” We’re hilarious.

The in-laws in London sent us a message that some Christmas pantomime had to be cancelled as Beauty and the Beast both got Covid.

Moving on from the Muppets we had general Christmas carols and played “Il est nÃ© le divin enfant” which was previously unknown to me but appears to occupy the space in French culture which “Away in a Manager” does here (mostly for the children’s Christmas nativity play but can be gussied up for more formal occasions). Mr. Waffle said that he had heard it on Lyric FM (yes, we are now Lyric listeners – your point?) earlier and the host said, “From my French, I think that means “he is not the divine infant.” So close. And as herself regularly says to me, slightly sardonically, “context clues.”

We had three hours in the car. It’s a long time. This interaction is not untypical.

Me: Michael, you need a new guitar string, don’t you?

Mr. Waffle: Which string?

Michael (tetchily – he’s the one in the boot): Give me a minute, I’m trying to think.

Herself (briefly removing her earphones): This is exactly what will happen during all Christmas interactions.

Me: I’m sure it’s not.

Her(sticking back in her earphones) : Yes it is. Cassandra out.

Things perked up when we got to Cork. My sister had spent weeks getting my parents’ house ready for our arrival and we all had beds (not a given) and I hadn’t seen it so pleasant and organised since before my mother got sick. And she had dinner ready for us. Delightful.

Over dinner, I mentioned my father calling him Daddy and the children thought I meant their father whom I also call Daddy (I know, I know, I try not to, it’s horrendous). Mr. Waffle pointed out that my family has too few names for too many people. “Look at Dan,” he suggested. “Well, my father is dead and my brother is in Tenerife, so in fact, there are no Dans,” I said tartly. “What am I?” asked my misfortunate son Daniel who was sitting beside me. Alas.

We walked up to midnight mass at 9 in the evening. It rained on us and the church was surpisingly empty. The priest galloped through it (he skipped the second reading which I didn’t approve of but I quite liked if you see what I mean) and even with a choir (which was a lovely surprise given Covid restrictions) we were out by 9.45 for our damp walk home.

Christmas Day, 2021

We were all up reasonably early but not as early as Daniel who woke at 3 in the morning and in his excitement couldn’t get back to sleep and spent the night watching Spiderman films. Good presents all round and my sister cooked an incredible Christmas dinner for all of us and for my aunt who came in from next door.

Mr. Waffle, the Princess and I went to visit my parents’ grave – the graveyard was full of people, who knew this was a thing? I probably wouldn’t have gone myself, if it hadn’t been my father’s anniversary.

Overall, a great success and the visit to the graveyard wasn’t even too bad – it’s an interesting graveyard – mock all you like.

St. Stephen’s Day, 2021

I had booked those who were willing (Michael and herself) in to the outdoor skating circuit in Fota. It was a bit of a pain finding the entrance (don’t ask) but actually great fun when we got there. The skating circuit was small (and I have no idea how they kept it frozen) but outdoors which was lovely. And while I wouldn’t call any of us star skaters (even though herself had been to Somerset House when she was in London – less glam than Cork, I’m sure but still good practice) we appeared better at it than the majority of people. There was a very slight downhill slope which meant that for half the circuit little effort was involved. At the very last minute, as we were getting off the ice, I fell over. The injury to my dignity was severe but otherwise no lasting harm done.

Herself sent the following message to the family group chat:

Have lost Â£100 in an unmarked envelope (save your laughter) so please look carefully before you recycle/burn anything!

The money was a present from her aunt and my sister and I found it by going through the large green bin outside. I feel my unmerited reputation for throwing out everything was, alas, reinforced by this episode. Yeah, it was me, of course, it was me, if you leave an unmarked envelope on the floor, I will throw it out. On the plus side sorting of rubbish for environmental reasons made this a more pleasant task than it would have been in times past.

Monday, December 27, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went to Kinsale to visit a friend of his who was back from London. We would have taken the children for a walk as well but it was lashing so they were spared. She renovated her house extensively and it is, I must say, extremely swish.

When we got back to Cork, Mr. Waffle asked where the Irish Times was as he had succeeded in completing the prize crossword. Back to the recycling bin. Look, if you don’t want a three day old newspaper thrown out, you have to say something. I fear my reputation may be consolidated though.

Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Herself and myself went for breakfast in the Crawford together. “I’m trying a look, don’t say anything,” she said slightly dauntingly before we went out. I did not say anything.

We had a look at the Rembrandt exhibition. It was grand but I am not a big Rembrandt fan, still interesting to have seen it.

Mr. Waffle and the children went back to Dublin, filling the car to the brim with loot. I stayed an extra night to meet a school friend who had come back from America for Christmas with her husband and four children.

My friend described her departure from America in such hair-raising terms (antigen test places closed due to Covid cases in the staff) that I have zero desire to do anything like this. However, she reckons that we could have Covid for ten years (she’s a doctor but a cardiologist, I really, really hope she’s wrong) and we had better start doing things. I don’t know. Contexts seem to be different in different countries.

It was interesting, the Princess was saying that in England, no one ever talks about NZ and it’s all about Sweden. We are all about NZ and their extremely successful strategies for dealing with Covid but I haven’t heard too much coverage of Sweden, a bit I mean but it isn’t the first country Irish media outlets seem to look at.

I finally (two years after my mother’s death) cleaned my stuff out of my childhood bedroom, something she had been asking me to do since 1993. To be fair there wasn’t much left – some college and school essays, old papers, a few pieces of jewellery. My sister was suitably impressed by my ability to chuck things but I think I had probably brought to Dublin years ago anything of value to me.

Wednesday, December 29, 2021

I went in to the market to get a poke bowl to bring to herself in Dublin because I am a saint. The wretched Cork bike stands weren’t working in two places so this delayed me. However, I must give credit to the people in TFI who I emailed in some irritation and who replied instantly to say call us and we can re-start the screen for you. Very gratifying. Nevertheless, I was slightly late for my sister who had promised to give me a lift back to Dublin. In my defence, my sister has become punctual and that put me off.

It was nice to be home all the same. Poor next door had had Christmas cancelled as their first born despite being double vaccinated had got Covid again. They had been going to host Christmas dinner so had to dole out supplies to relations from behind closed doors. The parents and younger child had been scheduled to go skiing and were antigen testing every day. They did get off but it’s all a bit stressful.

Thursday, December 30, 2021

A friend from work and his four children came to visit. I was able to deploy my Christmas ware and also the fruits of my Christmas hampers. I was delighted with myself. He said that my kitchen reminded him of Mr. Tumnus’s and I was thrilled as I suddenly realised that this was the look I had been going for all along.

New Year’s Eve, 2021

Our Irish Times did not come but there was the neighbours’ copy on their doorstep. Later, Mr. Waffle realised that the neighbours don’t get the IT during the week and they had obviously got our copy. When he went to retrieve it, it was gone. Who were we to begrudge the poor self-isolating one a paper?

Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast and when we came back, we began to dole out tasks to the children. Daniel said, “I knew when I heard you come in – clompity stromp (his own invention but I like it) – that it would be empty the dishwasher, put away clothes.” I am afraid it was. I am predictable that way.

We went off for a post-Christmas visit to the cousins. Very pleasant. “Had we any plans for this evening?” they asked. I looked blank, I had completely forgotten it was new year’s eve.

Herself had to bail a bit early as she was going to the theatre with a friend (Faith Healer – it was grand).

Everything closed at 8 so she was back by half past. We all went to bed but were awoken at midnight by the quite spectacular illegal firework display nearby. We had some champagne and wished the neighbours a happy new year including the Covid one who was waving from her front door at her friends standing by the gate.

It was fine, you know, but herself said to me that all her friends in England had put up on instragram, fireworks and meetings with friends and Dublin is just dead. “There’ll be other new years,” I said encouragingly. “Not when I am 18 and new year just isn’t the same when you’re 52.” I am afraid that is unanswerable. Although when I was cleaning out my room I found a third of a pound note which I had split with two friends on new year’s eve 1989 saying that we would meet again in 1999 and put it together. Reader, we did not. But I was reminded of that very dull evening in the rugby club in 1989 when we had been reduced to tearing up a pound note for a mild thrill. I suppose what I’m saying is that not all new year festivities are what they might be.

New Year’s Day, 2022

Mr. Waffle and I went for a lovely walk. Lovely walk was lovely. We avoided the traffic chaos on the way by taking our bikes. So my walk was accompanied by a side order of smug glow.

Sunday, 2 January, 2022

Fresh from the successful walk the previous day, I announced to the children that we were going to Howth for a walk. Herself said that she planned to dedicate her day to college work but the boys and Mr. Waffle, God love them, were resigned to their fate.

When I was in mass my phone rang which has never happened to me before. It was a friend. I did not answer or check the text messages she sent but spent all mass thinking that someone we both know must have died because what else could it be to require an actual phone call.

Anyhow, when I got out it was to find that she was suggesting a walk at 2.30 in the park with a third friend. I was delighted. The menfolk graciously agreed to defer their walk.

When I got home there was a message from my brother-in-law – whom we had met on Friday – that he had just got a positive antigen test (they were going out to meet friends and he had one to be on the safe side). Herself pulled out the stash of free, yes, free tests that she had brought home from England and I twirled away (v unpleasant it was too). Negative. I told my friends, they said come on the walk anyway. I did. I mean all three of us are triple vaccinated and we were meeting outside.

And it was brilliant. There is nothing like meeting people in person. I came home full of energy and enthusiasm and tackled the old receipts and guarantees box. In no way do I have form for throwing out necessary things.

My brother is home from Tenerife and he called to find out why both recycling bins in Cork are full. What can I say, I’m good at recycling.

I hope that your own Christmas was happy and Covid free.

The Final Lap

24 December, 2021
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Princess, Siblings, Twins, Youngest Child

It’s all go. I mean not as much all go as it was for my colleague who had an emergency stent fitted the other day, but pretty busy. I have to say we all got a shock when this older but apparently fit and very popular man nearly died on us in the run up to Christmas. Hurrah for modern medicine. He’s safely home and planning a quiet Christmas.

I got into the Huguenot graveyard in the centre of town during the week. It is almost always closed but a man was painting the gate and he let me slip in illicitly. There was a big plaque to Jacques de la Fontaine. I went and looked him up and thanks to the internet, I found a whole book he had written about his life. He had bad times in Cork, unintentionally hilariously described. It was strange to think of this man whose grave I pass daily having a life in Ireland a good 400 years ago. It’s all intimations of mortality around here at the moment. And also, I seem to have put out my lower back. Does this augur well for the ice skating session I have booked for us on St. Stephen’s Day? I think not.

The return of my first born continues to be a source of delight. She had three friends from primary school around for dinner on Monday. These girls who I have known since they were tiny tots of 4 have turned into beautiful, charming grown up Amazons (all very tall, I must say, something in the water?).

I was chatting to her the other night and asked whether she read the blog. A bit. “You’re funnier on the blog than in real life,” she offered. “I know what you’re thinking, you’re going to put that on the blog. Listen here, I’m more than a content farm.” Meta paragraph right here for you, all the literary tricks are being deployed.

I was amused to hear Mr Waffle talking to Michael the other morning in the kitchen before school. As I was standing in the hall I heard him ask in slightly surprised tones, “Are you following the election in Chile, Michael?” He is, apparently. This slightly nerdish streak in my children means that the Christmas receipt of school reports is generally an occasion for rejoicing and so it was on this occasion. Teachers love children with views on the Chilean elections, it appears.

We’re in Cork for Christmas. It’s quite the logistical challenge, my sister was in Dublin during the week and she brought down our Christmas presents. Like a saint she’s cooking Christmas dinner for us as well. And she took the boys off on Wednesday afternoon to her partner’s parents’ place where they spent a happy afternoon playing magic (don’t ask) with her partner and being fed by his parents. I rejoice as did they.

It was the winter solstice on Tuesday. That makes me think of my father. He was a summer person, always loved the sun and always celebrated the turning of the year with delight and a glass of whiskey. I used to ring him to wish him a happy solstice. It was this time last year that I saw him for the last time. He died on Christmas day. We’re off to Cork today and we’ll celebrate Christmas in my parents’ house tomorrow. I feel a bit sad about it. A little bit strange.

Where ever you are, I hope that your Christmas is happy and that the logistics do not defeat you. See you in January.

Oh No Redux

25 November, 2021
Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Siblings, Twins, Youngest Child

So off she went for her PCR at 11.30 this morning and at 8.15 this evening she got her positive result. Alas alack though impressively speedy work by the British testing people, I must say. I spoke briefly to her this morning and she was pretty miserable – in a bad cold kind of way – but not at death’s door.

My sister is a big fan of moonpig which does personalised cards. She went online and got the Princess a card with a personalised message and my sister’s cartoon of a corona virus on the inside. Unfortunately the site kept crashing and my sister had a lot of difficulty with it. This is why the personalised greeting card has, “Get well soon, Caroline!” on the front. The Princess’s name is not Caroline. Funnily enough when I mentioned moonpig at home, both boys said, “Uh oh, data breach,” so perhaps not where you should go for your personalised greeting cards.

In other news, we had online parent-teacher meetings for the boys this evening. This was extremely stressful. I had to be in the office and called in from there and Mr. Waffle and each boy in turn were tuning in from home. The format was five minutes per appointment. It was like academic speed dating. I turned up in other people’s meetings, they turned up in ours, I couldn’t get in to some teachers, the home team couldn’t get in to others. I mean it was better than nothing but I wouldn’t call it a triumph for new technology. On the plus side the teachers love my children. They’re both doing fine, thanks v much. My favourite nugget from the evening was the following: Michael tends to finish his in class economics exercises ahead of the other students and when he’s finished, he pulls out his book from his bag and starts reading, an activity which is apparently tolerated by the economics teacher but he is keen that Michael would stop reading promptly when class recommences. I can imagine.

A Grand Day Out

17 November, 2021
Posted in: Ireland, Siblings, Work

To be honest, I thought I would be a bit older before this happened; I mean that I would regard a funeral as a social occasion but look, there were extenuating circumstances. My sister came up from Cork late last night. Good and early this morning, we drove out of Dublin to Wicklow to attend the funeral of the wife of my father’s oldest living friend (96 and very sprightly – he and my father were friends for nearly 80 years). The funeral was, of course, very sad for the immediate family. It was a lovely service and both sons gave great speeches.

I was surprised to see a couple I knew in the congregation. It turned out that they were neighbours of one of the dead woman’s sons and, this being Ireland, the husband discovered during the course of the service, that she had actually taught him in school.

We sympathised, we chatted and then it was 11.30 on a beautiful day and my sister and I were both on a day off work and in Wicklow (the garden of Ireland, I’ll have you know). So we went to Powerscourt for a look round and a nice lunch and a long chat. God, I was delighted. You will recall that I was supposed to be in Cork at the weekend but my trip was cancelled due to a late Covid test result. I really didn’t think I would be seeing my sister so soon and for such a pleasant day out.

She dropped me home, tried (and failed) to light the Aga and headed back to Cork. I welcomed the boys home from school and sat down to read the paper. A friend from work called with news that a re-organisation is imminent. He, alas, is being moved and maybe me too for all I know, I will find out more tomorrow. Mildly unsettling.

And in Covid news, it looks like things are going backwards again and case numbers are up. And antigen tests are in. And nightclubs and bars are to close at midnight (to be honest, not a huge deal for me). Alas.

Change and Decay

15 November, 2021
Posted in: Family, Reading etc., Siblings

My Monday night book club is more than 20 years old. People have dropped in and out over the years. I was off in Brussels myself for 5 years. Shortly before I went away, we got a new member. A friend of a friend. I didn’t really get to know her as I was off in Brussels for most of her tenure and by the time I came back, she’d married an Austrian and moved to Austria.

I remember visiting her once in her family home in the midlands accompanied by my friend. I remember it because they lived in an actual castle, a mock gothic 19th century castle. Freezing, naturally. And as well as being a very nice woman she was also very beautiful and she looked slightly otherworldly standing in the door of her castle welcoming us in (though wearing a warm woolly jumper rather than a diaphanous dress which would have been more in keeping as it was, as indicated above, freezing). She died at the weekend. She had cancer. She was only in her early 50s. I have been rejoicing recently in the many successes of my book club friends. That’s middle age for you. So is this, I suppose.

When my father died, one of his friends wrote to me; a lovely letter with a long description of his friendship with my father in their early university years, nearly 80 years ago. He is almost the last of my father’s circle of friends left alive. He’s in his mid-90s and is in reasonably good nick. His wife died at the weekend. She was in her 80s and had been ill. I feel very sad for him. He has two sons whom he adores and grandchildren too but I’m not sure how long he will last without his wife of more than 50 years.

I’m going to the funeral on Wednesday with my sister. More gloomy updates to follow, doubtless.

More Rugby Than You Were Expecting

13 November, 2021
Posted in: Middle Child, Siblings, Twins, Youngest Child

Update on yesterday. The latest I could change the train with my flexible ticket was one hour before departure. At 15.55, I reluctantly changed my booking to January. At 16.07, my Covid test result came in. Negative, I’m pleased to report. Mr. Waffle and I leapt into the car. The traffic was awful. I intended to buy a last minute ticket in the station to hell with the expense. But the traffic wasn’t moving. And I looked at the train website and it turns out that due to Covid all intercity trains now have to be pre-booked (whatever happened to good old booked?) and you can’t buy tickets in the station any more. And the next train I could book online was 6 which would get me into Cork too late for dinner at 8. Alas alack. We turned around and went home.

Later that evening Daniel’s test came in negative too. And today I am much, much better though not in Cork.

I see the Dutch are closing all their bars and restaurants in the evening and bringing back masks and social distancing. It did feel very normal when we were there but I see that a surge in cases is the price of normal as the public health doctors keep pointing out in their Cassandra-like way.

I had a quiet day as did Michael (who is currently working his way through “Eminent Victorians” having finished his 1,000 page scifi short story compendium -he has eclectic tastes) but Mr. Waffle and Dan had a day filled with excitement. My brother had got them tickets to the rugby match: Ireland v New Zealand. Due to my brother’s slightly last minute organisational style, it was unclear whether he would arrive in Dublin at 10 or 12 or 3 and whether they would meet him before, after or during the match (they met him during and after, in case you were wondering). Daniel wore his Leinster top to the match on the basis that almost all of the team bar a couple are from Leinster (a sore point for the Munster people, obviously – Cork is in Munster, Dublin is in Leinster, in case there is any confusion on this point).

Anyway, miraculously, Ireland won. When Mr. Waffle and Dan returned from the match they were absolutely ebullient and Daniel gave me a play by play description. They had a fantastic view from their seats in the stadium and it was all tremendously exciting. I texted my brother “When Leinster beat the All Blacks” which I thought was pretty hilarious but he was not amused.

As I type, it is still unclear whether my brother will be staying the night with us or high tailing it back to Cork this evening. He likes to keep us on our toes.

We’re having a Studio Ghibli phase at the moment. Daniel went out and bought “Spirited Away” with his own money and we all loved it and this evening we watched “My neighbour Totoro” which, though aimed at a more youthful audience, was a delight. The boys had watched it when they were small and they loved it.

I trust your own Saturday was satisfactory.