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Archives for June 2008

Weekend

29 June, 2008
Posted in: Belgium, Family

We went to view the restored Porte de Hal yesterday.  It is all very interesting and beautifully done but I would have enjoyed it a great deal more, if the boys and I had not spent some considerable time stuck in the lift.

The button on the side of the lift with a picture of a telephone, yielded no answer; a stricken call to Mr. Waffle’s mobile phone gave me a voice message; and the alarm button though unpleasantly loud to the lift’s three sensitive passengers, appeared inaudible to anyone else in the building.  Meanwhile, the disembodied female voice in the lift continued to announce calmly to us that we were on the second floor.   This was clearly untrue as the lift kept descending.  The best bit was probably when the lights went out in the lift and we whizzed down to the basement.  We emerged physically unscathed to be met by a security guard who said “no need to worry, it happens all the time, we knew you were in there, it rights itself automatically – you see I knew just where to wait for you to come out.”  While this may remove the need for staff to worry, I can’t see it as being ideal for visitors.  It is perhaps something the authorities could usefully look into.

We had people round to dinner last night and I spent today recovering from the unaccustomed alcohol intake (a Kir and two glasses of white wine – contrary to stereotypes, not all Irish people are great drinkers) by going for gentle walks around the park.

As I write, the children are all in bed asleep but they are unlikely to remain so as the large local Spanish community is celebrating Spain’s victory in the European Cup by driving around beeping their car horns and letting off fireworks under our windows.  Sigh.

Decency tip of the day

26 June, 2008
Posted in: Belgium

If you are planning to cycle to work, do not wear a wrap dress.  That is all.

A Practical Arrangement

25 June, 2008
Posted in: Boys, Michael

Michael completed his toilet training some time ago with almost no accidents.  So much for boys being bad at this.  This process has given me some unexpected insights.  It’s actually relatively hard for boys to aim with any accuracy but I am amazed how much easier it is for small boys to wee in public without wetting their clothes than it is for small girls.  I suppose I knew in theory but I never really expected to know in practice in quite so much detail.

A friend (mother of two daughters) tells me how she had a little boy to stay and after he had been to the bathroom, it was soaked.  He had stood at the toilet but every time he heard a noise outside the bathroom he had twirled around to see what it was and sprayed liberally as he turned.

Too much information?

Confusion

24 June, 2008
Posted in: Family

I sent my mother a belated little parcel for mother’s day.  At the same time, I sent my friend D a present for her new baby and her three year old daughter.  This is why my mother telephoned me and said “thank you for the miniature stove with doors that open and close”.  I hope that little A likes the Villeroy and Boch bonbonnière that is winging its way to her.

Trilingual

23 June, 2008
Posted in: Belgium, Ireland, Princess

The Princess is terrified of going to her Irish language school in September.  She is excited about moving to Ireland, being closer to her relatives and having a house with a garden but the prospect of school is hanging over her like a dark cloud.  Any conversation about moving to Ireland ends with her in tears saying she can’t speak any Irish.

We have begun introducing her to the odd Irish word, though, unfortunately, this isn’t fooling her into thinking that she has an excellent command of the language.   I think that it will be easier for her to pick up Irish because she already speaks two languages but I’m not the one who will have to face a classroom of strangers and interact with them in a foreign language.   When not in the company of her parents, the Princess is, I think, a great conformist and she is concerned that she won’t be able to follow the teacher’s instructions.  However, she can now say “ciúnas!” with great authority.  I have emphasised that this will stand her in good stead as my memory of primary school is that this was the command most used by teachers and the one that they were most anxious to see obeyed.

I assume that it is progress of a sort that this morning she uttered her first trilingual sentence: Can I have a cáca milis in my boîte à tartines, please?

Interesting times ahead, I daresay.

Random examples demonstrating that my husband knows everything

22 June, 2008
Posted in: Mr. Waffle

1. At the mini train extravaganza.

Me: What does BNSF stand for on the side of the train?
Him: Burlington North Santa Fe, I’d say [on later inspection, this was quite right].
Me: How do you know that?
Him: Good guess?

2. On the radio

Me: Who sings that?
Him: David Bowie.
Me: Oh yeah, talk about selling out, remember that perfume advertisement?
Him: Well, David Bowie is the man who turned his back catalogue into a financial instrument.
Me: What?
Him: Complex explanation.
Me: How did you know that?
Him: Everyone knows that.

3. At the supermarket one morning.

Him: Interesting, that lorry is from Slovenia but the drivers’ friends are obviously Romanian.

Me: Eh?

Him: Well, it has Slovenian number plates, see from Maribor which, as you know, is Slovenia’s second city.

Me: Eh…

Him: But in the window he has Romanian plates with his friends’ names on them.

Me: Ah right.

To be fair this last touches on two of his specialised subjects: geography and number plates.   But generally, my husband is good on facts. When we have dinner at his parents’ house and a question comes up, everyone swivels towards him which I find mildly amusing. In my parents’ house (the home of the patriarchy as Mr. Waffle wistfully refers to it from his equal opportunities outpost), everyone swivels to my father. Though my father really does know everything.

What is it they say about women marrying men like their fathers?

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