belgianwaffle

Archives for January 2006

It’s gym, but not as we know it


Posted in: Princess

In other news, the Princess skipped off early to school today for gym (or pyschomotricité as it is known in the language of diplomacy and romance, you might note that it may not be spelt that way). She has no idea what it is, but she is all excited, I hope that she is not in for a bitter disappointment.

Peggy
(Homepage)
on 26 January 2006 at 09:49
Bet the plumber was hoping you’d still be in bed… breastfeeding one or two babies.
Ok, I’m out of here.

Friar Tuck
on 26 January 2006 at 16:23
Maybe you could give the plumber one of yours as payment. After all, you could always make another. A win-win situation if there ever was one.

kristin
(Homepage)
on 26 January 2006 at 19:37
but tell us about the new fridge! is it nice? and pyschomotricite indeed. good lord. quite a step up from Circle Time.

belgianwaffle
on 27 January 2006 at 09:12

Hello CACOchyme, encore un Belge, the excitement. In fact, I was very pleased with the plumber and frankly half an hour late isn’t really very late but he did cost me, sharp intake of breath, 142 euros.
Peggy, hmmm, you go and stand with pog in the coin colere.
FT, would have been insufficient to defray substantial costs.
Oh yes, Kristin, no circle time for us, humph. Fridge is fab and much bigger than last one. Mr. W. says it’s just a fridge. Pah.

Nemesis the Avenger


Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland

A letter from my father:

“I was amused (not quite the right word) by your account of your troubles with people parking outside your garage today.   I remember your mother’Â’s story.  She found a car parked outside the gate when she wanted to go somewhere.  There had been a few similar episodes, and she lost her temper and telephoned the guards.  They sent a guard to investigate.

It appeared the car was registered to a woman in mid-Cork, some distance away, and she was telephoned and told to remove the obstruction.  The car was being driven by her daughter, who had business in [town], but she (the daughter) could not be found, so the registered owner had to make the trip into [our] road and remove the obstruction.  Revenge, satisfaction, removal of an obstacle… all very well, if one was not acquainted with the culprit.”

Customer Service


Posted in: Belgium, Princess

It was just as well that Sunday’s outing passed off peacefully because on Saturday we had an absolutely hideous trip to a tea shop.  We all went out and bought the Princess a new anorak. We bought a ski jacket on the basis that it would be warm and maybe we might all go skiing next year (oh stop sniggering). It is pink.  After one afternoon’s wear, it was filthy. An excellent investment, clearly.

After the success of the anorak, we decided to go for tea and a bun. A dreadful mistake, we went to this place on Rue du Bailli where the food and decor are lovely and the staff are vile.  And really, that’s ok, if it’s just two adults, but two adults and three small children? It’s a disaster. Mr. Waffle (with Michael strapped to him on the sling) and the Princess
ascended the steep stairs (which I had forgotten) to the tea
room. I tried and failed to get Daniel up the steps in the
buggy.  The woman from behind the counter gave a deep sigh and marched around, I assusmed to help me, but no to bang shut the door I had left ajar. I concede that it was freezing, but I was distracted. Another staff member came and told me that the buggy was in the way. I tried despairingly to get up the steps again, but they were just too steep. Mr. Waffle came down to help me (Michael still in sling) leaving the Princess precariously sitting on a chair minding a table. The staff snorted as we, relatively briefly, blocked the staircase. We all sat down. The boys were as good as gold, as was the Princess.  The staff continued nasty, they disliked our paraphenalia. It’s hard to blame them, I suppose, but they were so rude and unpleasant, that I was more than willing to try. I ordered a milk shake and asked for a small glass so that I could pour some of it in there for the Princess. “We have no small glasses”. “Well, maybe a mug.” More snorting.  The waitress decided that she would ignore that particular bizarre request. Lovely.  I think that you will get the flavour of the unpleasant spirit that animates the establishment when I
tell you that on their blackboard, they had emblazoned in large letters “No second spoons with ice cream/deserts”. It was all a bit grim but our little Princess sat smiling, eating her ice cream and saying to her frazzled parents “We’re having a lovely time, aren’t we?”

Comments
Divaon 30 January 2006 at 22:08

Good Lord, how mean about the spoons! Little princess made me smile with her innocent comment about the lovely time, bless her heart, she obviously enjoyed it and will remember it with a smile and a warm feeling :o)

UndercoverCookieon 31 January 2006 at 10:14

maybe you’d have to ask for a second fork? Or perhaps romantic couples could just eat the ice cream off each other. There are always ways around these rules.

poggleon 31 January 2006 at 12:19

I bet The Princess was taking notes for future reference – and revenge.
And Mrs Affable – gah. Still, at least it wasn’t a drumkit, ay?

cha0ticon 31 January 2006 at 19:50

Retaliate. Penny whistle for Mrs Affables child 🙂

Daddy’sLittleDemonon 01 February 2006 at 13:39

Jesus, that’s so Belgian

belgianwaffleon 04 February 2006 at 10:21

NS, I know. Diva, you’re a big softy. UC, this relationship is doing all kinds of odd things to you. Pog, I certainly hope so. Cha0ic, she’s expecting twins in May, I’m holding my fire for when she’s at her weakest. DLD, to be fair, this has not been my experience elsewhere.

Divaon 05 February 2006 at 17:06

If she’s anything like I was at her age, little memories like that will still make her smile when she’s a big ol’ hard backed woman of 36 ;o) And yes, I know, I AM a big old softy! LOL!

Bobbleon 05 February 2006 at 23:54

It’s the law, you must get second spoons. Staff like that must be made to a summer at Camp America, oh yes.

Standards


Posted in: Princess

Princess: A freshly squeezed orange juice.
We put in our order and wait and wait.
Me: Where is that waitress with our order?
Princess: She’s coming, patience Mummy.
Waitress arrives.
Princess: See, I was right.
Me: Yes dear, how is your orange juice?
She continues sipping and turns her chubby hand from side to side in mid air (meaning medium).
Me: What’s wrong with it?
Her (sotto voce): I don’t think it’s freshly squeezed, Mummy.
I tried it, it wasn’t.

Comments
Friar Tuckon 31 January 2006 at 16:49

Well, it had to be freshly squeezed at some point in time. Did you specify that you wanted it freshly squeezed today? ���

belgianwaffleon 04 February 2006 at 10:17

Mike, you are entering into the spirit of the thing, FT you are not. And as an American, I would expect you to care about service standards. You spent too long in Rome.