belgianwaffle

Oh Mr. Rops!


Posted in: Belgium, Family, Princess

The publishing exec arrived on Friday night clutching to her bosom an array of exciting presents. Books all round and a teapot. The Princess is particularly taken with her book which, as a token of supreme approval, she has not even tried to tear. Publishing exec was full of tales of glitzy parties and famous people. She works in non-fiction at the moment and though I think, in her heart of hearts, she would like to be working with brilliant unknown authors on their difficult, yet brilliant, works of fiction, non-fiction has its compensations. Her bit of non-fiction appears to be the “you’re a famous person, why don’t you write a book?” end of things which I imagine doesn’t guarantee quality (think of Victoria Beckham’s biog or Bill Clinton’s) but does guarantee regular meetings with famous people. Famous people seem to be tortured by their book writing deadlines. And I can tell you that, even now, there are a couple of famous people who are being tormented at the prospect of spending the summer trying to finish that book that was supposed to be delivered for last Christmas. Being rich and famous isn’t everything, you know.

Saturday, we decamped to Namur. We felt that it was time that the publishing exec sampled the joys of Wallonia.  I haven’t been to Namur in a long time and I was pleased at how pretty it was.  I had only remembered the long tramp up to the citadel and not the appealing old town.  It was very warm though.  I was sorry that I had told the publishing exec to pack for March weather and, I suspect, so was she as she sweated in her jeans.  We took a trip into the Felicien Rops museum which was air-conditioned and full of steps so all conditions were met for the Princess’s entire felicity.  I had vaguely heard of Mr. Rops as a belle epoque artist and knew he had done some erotic stuff but I hadn’t realised that it was almost his entire output.  The guy was a 19th century pornographer (oh yeah, now you’re all going back to check on the link) but it was quite entertaining stuff in a mildly outrageous way.  Mr. Waffle, the publishing exec and I gasped while the Princess proceeded up and down the stairs watched over and attended to by the kindly middle aged ladies who were the guardians of the house of porn.

On Saturday night we left herself in the hands of the babysitter and went out to dinner.  All very nice and I weighed myself on the antique but, I hope working, scales outside the bathroom (we have none at home in the interest of everyone’s well being) and weighed less than I expected which I was able to report to the waiter who was peering over my shoulder in mild interest.  When we got home, I drove the babysitter back while Mr. Waffle and the publishing exec got stuck in the lift and had to effect a dramatic escape involving jumping between floors and potential risk to life and limb.  All parties, including the lift, are now fine.

On Sunday, myself, the Princess and the publishing exec went to the Horta house which is Mr. Horta’s own art nouveau house.  It is all very beautiful and everything but, if you check out the link, you will see that it is distinguished by its many flights of stairs which I walked up and down numerous times while holding a small girl by the hand.  She never tires of stairs, our girl. All of the chairs in the house have little labels on them saying “please do not sit on this chair”.  I presume this was meant to include, “please do not use this chair as a means of support for your filthy little fingers while cruising round the room” but they didn’t say so and as all of the other visitors were Italians who are notoriously indulgent to small filthy fingered people the Princess was free to cruise in peace.

Speaking of Italians, you will be delighted to hear that after many, many faxes (email? “no, non e possibile”) and a 300 euro postal order as deposit (credit cards? “no, non e possibile”) our guesthouse in Sicily has finally confirmed our reservation.  This is a relief as I was responsible for booking in the entire extended Waffle family.  I can’t help feeling that a pall would have been cast over my brother-in-law’s wedding had his parents had nowhere to stay due to the ineptitude of his sister-in-law (oh come on, I mean me…do try to keep up).

Comments
belgianwaffle

on 19 July 2004 at 12:00

Don’t be sarky miss. Very, very glad you’re back. I missed you. Hope you are feeling great.

silveretta

on 19 July 2004 at 12:10

Ta BW – sadly wasn’t being sarky though…

Locotes

on 19 July 2004 at 13:23

House of porn eh? And trying to justify your visit in the name of ‘art’. Tsk. I knew all you art lovers were a dodgy bunch behind it all…
Good news with the booking though – when’s the trip?

belgianwaffle

on 20 July 2004 at 21:45

Silveretta, it’s so difficult to guage the tone of a blog comment…
Locotes, you’re right about art lovers. Trip is end August, so it should be nice and warm.

LRB personals


Posted in: Reading etc.

Today’s selection:

“Summer school for domestics. Rare opportunity to theorise and practise skills in a domestic setting, including some paperwork and gardening, for women with good ploughing abilities. Instructor disciplined and will impart dust-removal techniques and tumbleweed formation. It’s a wrap. Box 13/01.”

I note that a crowd called “Lonesome Oxbridge Blues” advertise in the LRB. They run a website for “bringing Oxbridge people together”. Forgive me, but I think that this could only happen in England. The English are odd, there’s no two ways about it.

Last week, I think I read the most pretentious article ever. And remember I’ve been reading this publication for a while now. The author covered a full page showing off how much he knew about everything before he even mentioned the book he was reviewing.

State of the Princess


Posted in: Princess

Language skills. She can do all the vowels and b as in baby, c as in coucou, d as in dada, no f, g as in aw gon, no h though she does say i for hi, no j, k (although koukou is a possibility, I suppose), l, m as in mama, n as in no (first word, frequently used), p as in uppa (little arms stretched in the air) no q, r, s, t as in ta ta, no v, w as in wah, wah WAAH, no x, no y, no z.

Sleeping skills. And speaking of no z, I see Minkleberry is taunting me by complaining that her tiny baby woke up once the other night. Meanwhile our baby continues to wake at least twice a night with no real sign of improvement. I hold very bitter thoughts about the people who told me that a bottle of formula at bed time would have her sleep through the night.  I now have to get up in the middle of the night make up a bottle and, in darkness, put a bib on the Princess, to make sure she doesn’t soak herself in her enthusiasm to gulp down the contents of the bottle and sit holding the bottle in one hand and baby in the other until she polishes it off and pushes it away.  For all its disadvantages, breastfeeding is useful for those middle of the night feeds.  If you have any advice to offer on this situation consider carefully whether it is possible that I may have heard it before.  If yes, don’t offer same.  I am a sleep deprived maniac and I refuse to be responsible for the consequences.

Motor skills.  She is excellent at step climbing and has mastered slides which she loves.  She still hasn’t got the hang of walking though.  She can, however, stand and clap herself enthusiastically while doing so.  When we were on holidays with my parents the week before last, my mother was sure that she would walk very soon after we got home.  She hasn’t.  She’s consolidating her standing.  I had the following conversation with my mother.

M – Is she walking yet?

Me – No, still standing though.

M – Are you sure she’s not walking yet?

Me – Yes.

M – Could you have missed it?

Me – No.

M – What I mean is she might be walking and you might not have noticed.

Me – Yes, I know what you mean and no.

M – Well, I’m amazed, I was sure she’d be walking by now…

This is a girl who likes to be sure of herself before making any movements. She didn’t crawl until she was 11 and a half months.  However, I can exclusively reveal that she will stumble for two steps between myself and her father.  If we try to go any further apart she will just get down and crawl between us which was not the effect we were looking for.  This morning while standing she fell over quite dramatically cutting the back of her head on the bedside table and giving herself a Harry Potter like scar on her forehead.  She seems to have recovered from the pain and trauma but I am still a shadow of my former self.  Frankly, she’s right, walking can wait.

Other skills.  She eats almost anything. Well, at least, she will try anything including soap and cardboard boxes.  She is very affectionate doling out hugs and blowing kisses on the slightest provocation.  She is stubborn.  When she doesn’t get what she wants she can work herself into a frenzy of hysterical tears.  This is maybe a trait we could do without.  Fortunately, her attention span is short so the tears abate rapidly.  She loves being read to.  She adores her doggy and is quite fond of us.

Comments
Beth

(Homepage)

on 12 July 2004 at 16:18

I love the idea that she might be walking and you just hadn’t noticed. Maybe she is climbing out of her crib at night and strolling around the house? 😉

on 13 July 2004 at 16:11

Yes, DX and quite fond about covers it too…
I know, Beth, my mother thinks that I have the observational abilities of a sight impaired goldfish. She is, of course, completely wrong! Well, almost completely wrong…

Instant soup


Posted in: Miscellaneous

Yesterday the Princess and I went out for brunch. We ordered a tea, an orange juice, a pain au chocolat, a croissant, a boiled egg and a bowl of muesli and yoghurt.  When the waitress arrived with our order, she looked at us and asked “Are you waiting for someone else?”  Humph.

Yesterday afternoon we went to the Asian supermarket downtown.  Very exciting altogether. We bought a jar of “instant Vietnamese sour soup”.  Today was chilly and rainy (alas) and, with great pride, I produced it at lunchtime.  Mr. Waffle looked on dubiously as I poured it into the saucepan.  The illustration on the outside showed bits of fish and exotic vegetables floating in a clear broth. The stuff I poured into the saucepan had the colour and consistency of bovril accompanied by a remarkably pungent smell.  It turns out that you add a dab of it to the other ingredients (not included) to make “instant Vietnamese sour soup”.  This is not my definition of instant.

Comments
belgianwaffle

on 13 July 2004 at 16:10

OK, you’re somewhat ahead of me on the waffle front. I’m really only an amateur waffle.

Intercultural meetings


Posted in: Belgium, Mr. Waffle, Princess

On Friday the Princess and I went to the Royal Museum for Central Africa where we met the best dressed diplomat and various cousins who were visiting her from distant Chicago.  The little boys had no interest in the Princess but the little girl (6) was delighted with her and showed her round the museum leaving me to stroll in their wake chatting to the adults.  All very pleasant.  And they were all nice Americans, you know the way we used to laugh at our American cousins for being so nice when we were all growing up?  Well, I can tell you, there is nothing as nice as polite, well-behaved, little Americans when you are spending a wet afternoon in a museum with a one year old.
The museum itself is a funny place.  It was built on an imposing scale by King Leopold II to celebrate his conquest of the Congo.  The exploitation of the Congo was particularly dreadful.  Joseph Conrad wrote a book about it “The Heart of Darkness” and Roger Casement wrote a damning report for the British government.  But the museum is curiously unaware of these developments.  Nowhere is there an acknowledgement that dreadful things happened in the Congo when Leopold and co. were in charge.  This may be partly because a lot of the exhibits and display cases don’t seem to have been updated since the museum was built in around 1900.  This is part of the charm of the establishment, in many ways.  There is a piece of wood from the tree under which Livingstone’s heart was buried accompanied by a handwritten note from the donor confirming its authenticity.  There is Stanley’s case which has a handwritten note pasted on to it in fading writing saying “This suitcase accompanied my brother across Africa.  It is not to be used under any circumstances or to be removed from my bedroom.  Dorothea Stanley”.  There are old maps of Africa dating from the 1400s.  The one that impressed me most was one from 1825 where they were truthful about what they knew and almost the entire of central Africa had “lands unknown” written across it.  Best of all, from the point of view of the children, there were stuffed animals.  Lots and lots of stuffed animals. The Princess reached febrile levels of excitement when she came to the enormous elephant.  She grabbed the rail round it and stood on her tiptoes squeaking and pointing.

Friday, was terribly thrilling also as it involved a birthday party.  This was Mr. Waffle’s first children’s birthday party in a long time and, fortunately for him, it was a relatively civilised affair where the adults outnumbered the children by about 3 to 1.  Still and all there was falling, vomiting and crying, so it wasn’t entirely untypical.  One of the attendees was the birthday boy’s minder who is a very nice girl from South Carolina. The Princess was most taken with her and sat on her lap for a considerable time poking at her train tracks.  “These European kids are always fascinated by the braces” she said gamely.  “Right, I see, well, proof that we don’t believe in orthodontics over here” I said in mortified tones.  Princess continued to poke with interest and then offered Ms SC a paprika crisp to show that there were no hard feelings.
We got the birthday boy two books.  I began to feel a bit inadequate as the other presents emerged.  Ms. SC (who let’s face it, must have no cash as a childminder who’s “starting school in the fall”) got him a very elaborate turtle that makes lots of interesting noises when you poke it.  Other people got him a coat and a bottle of wine for his parents; and two very elaborate cuddly toys.  Had the following conversation with Mr. Waffle on the way home:

Me: Did you feel that we should have got him a bigger present.

Him (in tones of deep bafflement): No, why?

Me: Well, the other presents were all bigger than ours.

Him: Really, were they?  Well, I’m sure ours was fine, didn’t his mother thank us for it?

Me: Well, yes, of course, but…

Him: Well then.
Sometimes, I feel that I worry too much.

A life of crime


Posted in: Belgium

I was in the post office a while back and I saw a sign from the Flemish tourism agency saying “fill in a card and we’ll send you all our brochures absolutely free of charge”.  So, I did.  Brochure arrived and it was mostly advertising.  I was about to chuck it in the wastepaper basket when I see that they have a little note as follows:

“As we mentioned, the book of ideas and brochure are completely free: all we require from you is 2.50 to cover post and administration costs”.

The nerve.  However, we subscribe to test achat and we will shop them for their iniquity.  In the interim, I am inclined to pay, but Mr. Waffle is not.  It is not his misspelled name that is on the bill though and I fear that the commune police will come knocking on our door and haul me away for non-payment of debt.  I’m living on the edge here, I can tell you.

Comments
jackdalton

on 09 July 2004 at 01:03

Shop them; they deserve it.

belgianwaffle

on 09 July 2004 at 20:59

Um, HJB, no, Belgium is sort of like Switzerland, if Switzerland has lots of different police forces but it’s not clean like Switzerland and they don’t care about washing anything on the street as far as I can tell. The main task of the commune police is to ring your doorbell to check that you live where you said you lived when you registered with the commune. You think that I’m making this up, don’t you? Would you believe that they have guns to accomplish this difficult and dangerous task.
Jack, would have to compose a letter in French and am probably too lazy for that so it will just sit and taunt me on the desk for a bit, I suppose.