belgianwaffle

Twins

21 Today – The Years of Unc Begin*

Leave a Comment
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Twins, Youngest Child

It’s been quite a while since this post. It seems like a very long time ago and, in that weird way that time telescopes as you get older, not that long ago at all.

Youngest child had a party at home last night and it was still in full swing when we got home from the cinema but this morning when we got up, it was all cleaned up. I was truly impressed (but I felt a little guilty, surely he knew that he could clean up in the morning, has my insistence on picking up after oneself been just a tiny bit overdeveloped?).

They firmly but politely refused to have a party together (which seemed ideal to me). Instead of celebrating with his brother last night, middle child is having a joint party with a friend at his place next weekend. They are twins with distinct social circles.

We went out for lunch today to celebrate and had tea and cake at home afterwards. Relatives have dutifully come up with presents and good wishes. Mr. Waffle did one of his legendary treasure hunts for them.

All is right with the world.

*At lunch they told us that unc is slang for old and basically uncool but really only used on young people, we are so unc we don’t even know it; we’re beyond unc. It’s not very recent slang apparently but it’s new to me and perhaps to you also. Just wanted you to be as with it as me.

Northern Adventure


Posted in: Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Travel, Twins, Youngest Child

You’re doubtless on the edge of your seat waiting to hear about our Nordic odyssey but first let me tell you about our Northern Ireland trip in May. “Exciting!” you shout.

Friday, May 1

You may recall that some time ago we tried to climb in the Mournes but were defeated due to problems with Mr. Waffle’s coat. A difficult time. We vowed to return and this time we stayed the night before in Carlingford which is nearby and would allow for an early start on Saturday.

IMG_1226

We stayed in Ghan house in Carlingford which is lovely but the last time we stayed there was during the pandemic (also lovely then) and we were assigned the same room so it reminded us a bit of that difficult time. But we had a nice lunch, a nice walk and a nice dinner, so what’s not to like?

2026-05-01 16.20.26

Saturday, May 2

We spent hours going up Slieve Binnian. It was very foggy as we panted up and as we passed fitter walkers coming down they said gloomily that the normally excellent view from the top was invisible. Was I downhearted? Honestly, a bit. However, we felt our way to the Mourne wall – a key landmark – here it is looking foggy and, well, wallish.

IMG_1241

Despite some incentive to turn back we followed the directions and instructions and clambered to the top where we were met with a less than stellar view.

IMG_1247

However, as we sat there recovering from our exertions, the clouds miraculously cleared.

2026-05-02 14.32.57

And it was, honestly, totally worth the effort; really recommended.

2026-05-02 14.32.54

We came back by a different route as I always enjoy a loop but it was a bit dull and quite long so if I were doing it again, I’d probably come back down the way I went up. Although the return did have its own quiet charms.

IMG_1279 IMG_1280

By the time we got back to the car, we were keen for a restorative cup of tea and a snack so we went to the Percy French restaurant which is at the entrance to the luxury Slieve Donard hotel and, I can only hope, unrelated to it. It was quite vile and an insult to poor old Percy who gave us the song “The Mountains of Mourne“. However, it met our needs, in a very basic and uninspiring way and gave us the strength to push on to lovely Newforge House in Moira where we were booked in for the night.

At drinks before dinner we met the other guests. There was a Cork woman who had married a local who assured me she could drive from there to her mother’s house in Cork in 3 and a half hours (highly dangerous, I would have thought) and two newly engaged (to each other not in employment) doctors who had been to college in Cork. They told us all about their time working in Australia and their return to Dublin. Overall more Cork content than you usually get in Armagh. We got our room upgraded and we got an amazing dinner. Delight all round and the memories of the Percy French restaurant in Newcastle faded.

Sunday, May 3

After a superb breakfast, we went to mass locally. On that day there was an Ulster senior football match. Armagh were playing Down (supporters’ cry which never fails to amuse “Up Down!”) in Clones (Co. Mongahan, a neutral venue, I guess). It had been referred to at dinner the night before and I wasn’t sure that the Polish priest was going to be weighing in at mass but that’s where I was wrong. “I’m not going to pray for Co. Down today,” he said to his Co. Armagh audience, “because they don’t need it.” Daring. He was wrong too, they did need it. Armagh won by miles. Despite being visitors, Mr. Waffle and I were nabbed to bring up the gifts; I was very tense as I can never remember when anything happens in the service and I’m always afraid I’ll miss my cue. Mr. Waffle was on top of it, however, and all went off peacefully. Mass went on forever though.

The youngest child was still in Liège at that stage. He had been in Dublin for the week and had to get himself to the airport without parents to drop him off. We offered to pay for a taxi but he is very frugal and insisted on getting the bus. Everything went wrong: the bus stop moved; the bus didn’t come; there was a delay on the road. But look, even though he had to sprint, he got there in the end. I felt a bit bad but he survived and it doubtless made him stronger.

We took in Hillsborough Castle on the way home. It’s an odd spot. It’s run by the historic royal palaces organisation and they haven’t at all, even slightly, adapted for local mores. I found the tat in the shop (and I love an upmarket souvenir shop) very divorced from the context in which it sat. But it is an interesting building with lovely grounds so overall I would recommend but I would say, in all the years I have been visiting Northern Ireland, I have never been in a more British spot (and I have mostly been on the Antrim coast).

IMG_1318 IMG_1334

Then it was back to Dublin. Stay tuned for further adventures.

Queen of Cafés


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Twins

I met middle child and Mr. Waffle for lunch today in a café where I have been going for many, many years. I used to work near there and go there a fair bit but I work in a different part of town now and go much less frequently. Middle child had never been there – as Mr. Waffle said, they have anti-student prices – but enjoyed it. Both of my lunching partners were surprised to see one of the waitresses surge out from behind the counter and embrace me saying, “We haven’t seen you in ages.” I was a little surprised myself but gratified. “I have been here 19 years today and I remember you coming in when I started working here,” she said. When it came to time to leave she whispered to me, “Open your bag; we made extra scones today and I will give four to you”.

I remember once years ago at a slightly low point they gave me free cake. I tell you, loyalty has its privileges.

Silver!


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

Those of you following along at home will know that Mr. Waffle and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary in July. We celebrated on the August bank holiday weekend with his family and mine in a nice guest house in Wicklow where we have been before with the family.

There were various alarms in the approach – despite constant reminders, it came as a surprise to my brother; although my children knew they had to be there, their arrival was challenging in the case of the two who were abroad.

Herself was due to arrive from London at lunchtime the day before the dinner but missed her flight. After a fun day spent in Heathrow, where she learnt a great deal about airport administration and ticketing, possibly to the irritation of some staff members including the woman who said severely, “This young lady has been told she can’t get on a flight before 8 this evening”. The angel with the flaming sword was in an Aer Lingus uniform but apparently all the staff in Heathrow are subcontracted – who knew? I can’t help feeling that actual Aer Lingus staff would have been nicer. However, even her colleagues agreed that angel with the flaming sword was a bit grumpy (herself got to know them all) and the Princess finally got away on an earlier flight and was home by 8.

Meanwhile middle child was returning from a slightly disastrous sojourn in Paris. This child on crutches and a boot decided that rather than book a direct flight from Paris to Dublin – something that is readily available – that changing in Manchester was the better option. This may have saved €20 but it was €20 I was more than willing to pay. And it wasn’t just a quick stop in Manchester either; it was about 5 hours. Not really long enough to go into Manchester and explore (remember the crutches and the boot) but long enough to get a bus to the library in some nearby place and do some studying. I have so many thoughts. But I did get sent a picture of the police station in “Life on Mars” which seems to be relatively near Manchester airport – a genuinely excellent show which we watched over the winter and which has stood the test of time but not, I would say, worth travelling to Manchester for. It’s no Game of Thrones tour, I’ll say that. So, I was back to the airport at midnight to do another pick up.

Notwithstanding airline difficulties, I was extremely pleased to have all my children back in Ireland at the same time.

On Saturday we went off to Wicklow which took a lot longer than expected due to the Bray air show but we got there and we had tea and scones and then I found myself wondering what were we all going to do in the couple of hours before dinner. I had brought a photo album charting our 25 years together but that was hardly likely to keep us going until dinner time. My genius sister had prepared a quiz – and vitally – prizes. The quiz was all about Mr. Waffle and me so I really triumphed. So pleasing. Mr. Waffle felt it was unfair – he likes the sanctity of the quiz format to be respected, but I did not care.

The remainder of our time passed off without a hitch. I gave my speech (carefully prepared, heckled by my brother); Mr. Waffle gave his (invented on the spot, also heckled by my brother). I had wondered how the two sides of the family – who don’t see each other so often – would merge but that actually went really well. And I was thrilled that all the young cousins were there. It was really nice to do something to celebrate and I would totally recommend it.

Untitled

The next day the party split up and my sister said she was going to the outlet shopping centre and a number of us said we would go with her. In fact, two cars were needed to get there. In each of these cars there was one person who knew it was wildly out of the way and assumed anyone with a modicum of intelligence would know that. The rest of us with our tenuous grasp of geography thought it was only half an hour away and did not know that we had committed to hours in the car. By the time we arrived there, all tempers were extremely frayed. I had Mr. Waffle drop myself and middle-child at the shopping centre and then sent him and Michael on his way back to Dublin; a long journey as became apparent on the trip down, and one they were not super looking forward to. Herself, who travelled in the other car, said things were no better there. In fact, no sooner did the other car arrive than having disgorged the Princess and my brother, they hightailed it back to Cork. As part of my, unstated, plan was to have them drive us to the station at the end of the day, that was a matter of regret. It’s not that the station is far but one of our number was, you will recall, on crutches and in a boot.

I am very ambivalent about outlet shopping. I hate everything about it in theory but I love it in practice. We actually had a great time and got loads of nice things but I hate myself for enjoying it. And the walk to the station was grand in the end.

Coda. When Mr. Waffle and I got engaged, we went to a lovely jeweller in the Galeries de la Reine in Brussels to look at rings. She asked our budget and said dubiously, “For a small budget like yours, I don’t think I have anything; come back for your 25th wedding anniversary”. It sounds like she was being mean but she was actually charming. Now that saintly Mr. Waffle has shelled out for our 25th anniversary extravaganza in Wicklow, he may think I have forgotten this, but I have not.

A Mixed Report


Posted in: Twins, Youngest Child

Youngest child is back in the bosom of his family after 5 long months doing an Erasmus term in Liège in Belgium. His family has hardly seen him since his return since he has been extremely busy picking up the threads of his social life.

He wanted to go to Belgium on his Erasmus trip as he was born there and felt he ought to know it a bit better. His university had links to Liège so that’s where he went.

He did not love it. His accommodation was on the new (1980s) campus in the forest. It only had a couple of faculties (the main campus remains in the city) and no shops or restaurants and a very irregular bus ride to the city which was a 20 minute drive away on the motorway. There was no train which really surprised me. The Belgian students all lived in the city or at home and had no interest in getting to know someone who had joined their course in the middle of third year. His only social outlet was the other Erasmus students (many of them also stuck in the accommodation in the forest campus) and these were, perhaps, more friendships of convenience, like the guy who had a car. Belgian universities don’t have extensive clubs and societies like Irish universities so there was no chance for him to find like minded students. So not a total triumph.

However, I feel it did him good. To be fair to him, he organised himself to go to all the Flemish cities. He also went to Brussels, Maastricht and Luxembourg. He went to Budapest for the Hungarian election (something I don’t think he would have done from Dublin – budget airline and hostel accommodation but he really enjoyed it). He has a whole new found appreciation for the people who do laundry and make dinner at home. It’s not like he wasn’t grateful before but now he appreciates home comforts. His French has really improved and he had to do exams in 4 or 5 subjects in French as well as a couple in English and, mercifully, he does not have to return to resit anything.

Overall, I would say it has been good for him but it would be great if it could have enjoyed it more. Mr. Waffle was chatting to one of the neighbours on the road and it turned out that she had done her Erasmus year in Liège about 20 years ago and loved it, so it is possible. Though she stayed in the city which I’d say was a help.

Still youngest child is thinking about what he might do after college next year and he said he might try to get an internship in Brussels which is not something I think he would have thought of before. So, a win, I guess. I’m not sure that is entirely his view though.

I Despair


Posted in: Middle Child, Twins

You will recall that middle child is on crutches and has to wear a boot following an incident last Monday. Today we deposited our precious child at the airport to go to Paris for a bit. The journey passed off peacefully and the wheelchair assistance at both ends all worked fine. So far, so good.

Unwisely, however, I did not supervise the booking of accommodation. When I rang this evening to check that all was well, I was told that the flat is “6ème étage sans ascenseur”. This is a Paris classic, the maid’s room under the roof, 6th floor and no lift and just not suitable for someone on crutches. To add insult to injury, the bed is on a mezzanine. So you get up to the 6th floor and then you have to hop up the ladder to the bed. It is true that in the booking process I was asked to explain what a mezzanine was but I thought that my description would steer my beloved child away from the mezzanine option. More fool me.

By our mistakes we learn. Keep your fingers crossed that that ankle improves rapidly.