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.
