belgianwaffle

Archives for April 2004

More about me


Posted in: Family

I received the following email from my friend C following my last posting:

“Welcome back to blogland. I was checking out your latest entry and I noticed a link called ‘More About Me’. Hilarious. A web site in which you talk endlessly about yourself and there’s room for a link called ‘More About Me’. Slightly disappointed that the link contains no more about you, apart from the fact that you’ve only been a twentysix user since November last year.”

Should I put in an update to keep C happy or is there really more than enough information available from my entries?  Hard to know. Would you like to know my interests and hobbies?  Do you care? Don’t you know that mostly my interests and hobbies consist of mopping up baby vom? Will this lure you in to read my entries?  Very hard to know.

Well, let me tell you more about me. I speak loudly and clearly.  This is a severe affliction to me. Particularly since I’m Irish and most Irish people speak in soft musical tones. I blame my father for this, when I was growing up he used to say to me “Her voice was soft and gentle and low, an excellent thing in a woman”. Not sure where the quote is from, probably John Knox, sounds like the kind of thing he’d say.  Anyway it used to drive me insane.  You know how it is, action/reaction.  Latest manifestation of this, occurred the other night in the cinema with the Glam Potter (Big Fish, since you ask, it was ok, and, no, I still haven’t seen Lost in Translation).  We were early and before the film started I began explaining to her my plans for the future and when we might move back to Ireland. All this arose because she has put her daughter down for school and am wondering whether I should do the same for the Princess or will we be back in Ireland by then.  School starts at two and a half in Belgium so the problem is reasonably imminent.  I digress.  I was expounding away and suddenly the GP hissed at me “Stop”. “What?” “Everyone in the cinema is listening to you because you’re speaking so loudly.” Oh dear, well I’m sure they were just rivetted by my future plans.. On the plus side, I am excellent at presentations, even the people right at the back can hear me.

On the new 20six platform, my background music will be very loud to drown out the sound of me muttering to myself. Well, actually, no. As a middle of the road music fan, I like my background music to be just that, sort of subdued Norah Jones. In fact when I was at home last week, I had to come down stairs in my pyjamas and ask my father to turn down his music. I grant you, that felt a little odd.

LRB


Posted in: Reading etc.

A friend gave me a subscription to this publication.  I was most pleased.  It suits all my pretensions.   As I am fond of saying, my parents paid good money for these pretensions and I don’t see why I shouldn’t use them.  The first copy arrived last week and it is very hard.  Long, long book reviews.   Not bad in parts though (there’s damned with faint praise). We’re not going to throw it out when we’ve finished it, we’re going to pile old copies up in the spare room so that when my sister-in-law the publishing exec comes she can be impressed.

Am not sure that this is what the editors intended but the small ads are the best bit.  I mean, you may think I’m pretentious (think of the ballet lessons, the elocution classes), but what kind of person puts in the following:

“Am I the only one here writing personal ads to his imaginary childhood friend?  For the last time: are you a fourteen foot high Stegosaurus-Bagpuss cross breed with the voice of Ed Bishop, an ability to vaporise Sunday school martinets and turn cod liver oil into Vimto?  If you are out there Basil de Bumps, please answer.  Spoilt commitment-hungry only child, 38 (the sort who took his library books back before running away) needs help from therapeutic London F, more Jenny Hanley than Angela Carter.”

Note the use of the colon.  And they’re all like this.  Extraordinary.  By the by, if any 20sixers want to get back to this man you can reply to Box No 06/10.  I think I might make an extract from the LRB small ads a regular feature of this section. What do you reckon? And does anyone know what Vimto is?

By the by am reading “The Dante Club” following rave reviews and finding it bitterly disappointing so far.  Will update in due course.

Comments
cha0tic

on 03 April 2004 at 16:51

Vimto yum. They do fizzy vimto now. But it used to just be a cordial. Try it. You might like it
belgianwaffle

on 04 April 2004 at 18:36

Hmm. Thanks for enlightenment. Do you think I’d have to go to the UK to get some or do they sell it in the Delhaize?

Lovely Lier


Posted in: Family, Princess

Today we went to Lier for the day.  We were able to do this because I had gone to mass last night.  Today is Palm Sunday: longest mass of the year.  I went to a very long mass involving processions, palms, longest gospel of the year and a sermon (this last is usually skipped in Ireland, they know how much the congregation can bear).  Arrived home, late and exhausted, clutching my palm (some kind of laurel in this part of the world, we use pine at home, wonder does anyone actually use palm?). I was not, however, as exhausted as Mr. Waffle who had been heroically minding, feeding and entertaining the Princess at her crankiest time of day.

This talk of vigil mass reminds me of a story a friend of mine from Northern Ireland told me.  When he was a child in the 70s and the troubles were at their height he was whisked off to America for a holiday by kindly Americans with deep pockets.  Apparently six of them were chosen from his school by raffle.  I asked whether he had had to consort with Protestants “only on the plane” said he.  Obviously some of the good-natured Americans’ intentions were not realised.  Anyhow, being a catholic ten year old from the North, he was very catholic and, in those days, there was no Saturday night vigil mass in Ireland but there was in America.  He refused to believe that Saturday night mass counted and insisted on going on Sunday as well.  One Sunday, his American family was going on a trip and didn’t go to mass.  He was scandalised and refused to go until they had gone to mass.  Very challenging for our transatlantic cousins I’d say.

Anyhow, Lier.  If you are an English speaker, Belgium is full of entertaining town names.  Lier boasts the suburbs of Lisp and Lint and nearby are the towns of Boom, home to a clay pigeon shooting establishment, and Duffel, where they first made the coat.  If you want to live in the Brussels suburbs, you can choose to reside in, inter alia, Dworp or Erps-Kwerps (next week funny names from Wallonia – this is a politically correct website).

Lier is very pleasant although we were unable to fully appreciate its marvels as the Princess didn’t like it much and roared all afternoon.  An attempted stop for tea had to be hastily and humiliatingly abandoned as she was a bit noisy for the establishment. Arrived home and she went straight to bed for a nap, so spent the early evening perusing the Sunday papers.  Excellent, though I fear we will pay for it later.  Since we’ve got back from Cork, herself has only been waking 2-3 times per night.  On Wednesday night she only woke up once.  In case you didn’t know, this is excellent. Whether this exceptionally positive trend will continue or not is difficult to tell.  I bet you’re waiting for further news with bated breath.

Comments
belgianwaffle

on 05 April 2004 at 10:21

Bated breath indeed. You may relax in relation to your role in the syndicate, last night was typical. After she woke up for the fourth time it all became a bit of a blur but I think that she may have woken up 6 times. Deep sigh.

Locotes

on 05 April 2004 at 11:06

No no no, I’m sure once you think about it clearly that it was definitely just the 4 times. No more. No less. Yeah?
*nudge nudge wink wink*Sorry for your sleepless night though – the joys eh?

belgianwaffle

on 06 April 2004 at 21:56

And another thing, Locotes, I bet you had to look up “revolving door”. And last night was only three times…

Locotes

on 07 April 2004 at 08:26

Well of course I did, My Irish is of a typical pass level iffiness – “chuaigh me go dti an siopa, agus cheannaigh me aran agus bainne” – and that’s about all I have! Truthfully, for the ‘door’ one, I was just looking for some phrase that would suit the blogs that don’t fit anywhere else…
Ok, the Princess is having a laugh with me now – I might have to find something new to gamble on – the number of nappies used per day perhaps…

Tipping point


Posted in: Belgium

It seems to me that often when I start doing something everyone else is suddenly doing it too. I’m not sure whether this is due to product awareness (once I start doing it I notice it everywhere) or because I am a sort of middle of middle person (i.e. once I start doing it 51% of the population is doing it). Does everyone else feel like this too? If so, there may be money in Mr. Waffle’s suggestion of starting a website called “Isaiditfirst.com”. The theory is you can register your idea and when everyone is talking about it, you point to this website and say “Yes, now, you know all about it, but I was talking about this last November”. My problem is no one ever remembers me talking about it last November. Isaiditfirst.com remedies this problem. I’d like to register now that the latest Belgian ads saying “Un carrefour, ce n’est pas la jungle” are a pointless extravagance. As far as Belgians are concerned, that’s exactly what a crossroads is and stopping on orange will continue to be regarded by fellow drivers as a mortal sin. Apparently they are going to hang plastic monkeys from traffic lights at particularly dangerous junctions. Frankly, can you see this working?

All this talk about tipping point and such like is inspired by today’s Observer which I got to read due to the Princess’s unexpected nap. There is an article about Belle de Jour and blogging and stuff. Now, it seems to me that there are articles about blogging everywhere. Did I just skim over them before I started myself? The man in the Observer thinks that we’re all rampant ego maniacs. Surely some mistake. Furthermore, in the magazine bit, there’s a big feature on Carla Bruni. Now, Carla Bruni is massive in Belgium, so I suppose it’s not a big surprise that I have her album, but apparently she is just about to try cracking the UK market. Isaiditfirst.com. All you cool 20six music buffs will loath her, kind of a French Norah Jones gentle background music. Likely to be big though. Incredibly beautiful and surrounded by the kind of scandal adored by gossip mags.

Hairy


Posted in: Belgium, Mr. Waffle

You may have noticed that the Princess is bald.  Go on, have a look at the photos.  This comes from me.  I was bald for ages.  I was on the phone to my mother the other day and I asked her when I got hair and she said pensively “well, you certainly had hair by the time you were four”.  Not really as comforting as it might be.

And my hair grows very slowly.  I had my first haircut when I was 12 and it only just reached my shoulders.  This is true.  No really.  Even now, I only get my hair cut three times a year. This is partly because my hair grows slowly and partly because each visit to the hairdresser’s is fraught with trauma.  The following are my fears in order of priority:

My hair will look dreadful when I emerge blinking in the sunlight (almost always realised)

Someone will see me sitting in the window of the hairdressers wearing a stupid overall and with my wet hair pulled back from my face looking like death warmed up (funnily enough, never realised, not even when I was living in Cork and stepping out the door normally entailed running into a dozen of my mother’s closest friends).

I will have to chat to the hairdresser (almost always realised – not you might think, an enormous problem for a talker like me, but for reasons I cannot really explain, I always end up lying to them: when I was working, I felt that they wouldn’t be interested in my job (or worse, be too interested and want something explained or sorted) so I pretended to be between jobs and now that I’m unemployed, I feel that they might think that I’m the wife of a rich businessman living it high on the hog with no obligations so I sort of invent occupations for myself; I then spend the time in the chair in an advanced state of tension trying both to keep my story consistent and to see what the back of my head looks like).

How will I hand over my tip (I mean to give it to this person for whom I have gone to the trouble of fabricating a whole false existence and with whose wedding plans I am now very familiar seems insulting, like tipping a friend of a friend; however not to tip is, I know, an even greater insult so I hand over my tip at the cash desk and mutter “that’s for x who cut my hair” and feel nervously that I’m doing the wrong thing).

It will cost a small fortune (almost always realised except for the time I got my head shaved.  That only cost a fiver but the effect was not happy.  I remember going to the pub that night with my then boyfriend: I had no hair and a rotten cold so I looked marvellous – bald and snuffly.  I said “I look terrible”.  “No, no” he said reassuringly “you look really cool – with the hair and the sniff, you could be a drug dealer”.  Fantastic, that relationship was clearly doomed.  It was also sporting that haircut that I went out with three friends of mine who were sisters.  We bumped into a friend of their’s who said “finally, I get to meet your little brother”.  “Um, no actually I’m a GIRL, unrelated and finished school” I said bitterly).

So today, I went to get my hair cut.  I haven’t had it cut since December so, sadly, I realised it was time. I went to this place my friend F recommended.  She said that this place was good if you want to look like a bourgeois Belgian “you know, shortish, blondish”. In my heart of hearts, I really do want to look like a bourgeois Belgian so I took myself off to Olivier Dachkin on the Rue de Tongres which apparently is the original branch of the chain where the great Olivier himself snips from time to time.
When I arrived, this very nice male hairdresser came up and discussed what style I might go for, it was all going suspiciously well.  “And of course” said he “you will need highlights”. “Um no, I wasn’t really thinking of highlights” “But you must, it will look wonderful”.  He was kind of convincing, I was weak, I said ok and sat for half an hour with tin foil on my hair. The girl who did them said “it’s very original that you’ve gone for these wide streaks”. My heart sank, “original”, does that sound bourgeois Belgian to you?

Downstairs, I saw that my nice male hairdresser appeared to be working exclusively on little old ladies, I further noticed that unlike all the other hairdressers, he was not wearing a red shirt with Olivier Dachkin on it and he was bossing people around. Could it be that he was the great Olivier himself?  Well whoever he was he abandoned me and consigned me to a woman who gave me an alright haircut, I confess, but I wasn’t really in the mood to appreciate the quality of the cut because I was transfixed by the zebra stripes on my head. The man who may or may not be the great Olivier came over and ruffled my hair and said “isn’t it fabulous?” I smiled cravenly.

Tonight I asked Mr. Waffle what he thought. “Very nice” he said without hesitation.  “What makes you say that?” I asked. “Fear”. I see. Oh well, it’s all over until August, though I suspect that those highlights will grow out in a very exciting fashion.

With it


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

Present from sister-in-law the publishing exec. It’s a book on tape – abridged version of Daphne du Maurier classic and most enjoyable. Sat in the car listening to it after I’d parked.  The ultimate accolade.  May rush out and buy “Hungry Hill” which is supposed to be excellent and has the added (enormous) advantage that it is set in Cork.

It also makes a refreshing change from the World Service (as the Glam Potter points out, it’s really designed for people whose first language is not English and in consequence they always speak very slowly and enunciate very clearly and, if your first language actually is English, they will, eventually, drive you – slowly and clearly – insane), Radio Contact and Bel RTL (can’t really be bothered finding a link, I know you’re not going to look) which are my usual staples in the car.  Though, an unexpected advantage of the Radio Contact service was that I was recently able to wow Mr. Waffle with my knowledge of what the young people are listening to.  We were looking at a list of mobile ringtones you could download (just out of interest, you know, we don’t get out much any more etc.) and he had never heard any of the offerings whereas I was able to hum most of them.  If God is a DJ, tum ti tum..