belgianwaffle

Archives for March 2010

Nah Nah Nah NAMA


Posted in: Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Princess

The country is seething today as details of the sums that will be poured from our pockets into the banks were analysed. The Irish Timessummarises it thus:

“In reality, nothing that could have been said yesterday would have altered the fundamental risk associated with Nama. At its most simple, it is a calculated gamble that the all-in upfront cost to the State of bailing out the banks will be less debilitating than the wider costs of letting them fail. That upfront cost is still not clear but based on the information that was released yesterday it could involve capital injection of up to €31.8 billion in fresh capital and close to €40 billion in debt issued to the banks to pay for their discounted property loans.

The cost of having let the banks fail is unquantifiable and is inextricably linked to the impact on the State’s own credit worthiness and ability to borrow. Ultimately the view was taken that standing behind the banks and their obligations to international debt markets was preferable to letting their bond-holders suffer the consequences of the banks’ greed and stupidity.”

As my loving husband said, if the banks can transfer their loans to the State at a 60% discount then why can’t we transfer our mortgage with a 60% discount too. I guess the bottom line is that the international bond-holders are a lot more important than we are.

The Princess and myself watched a news report on NAMA and she asked me what it’s all about.

Me: Well, the State has pledged a lot of taxpayers’ money to the banks to keep them from failing.

Her: Who’s he?

Me: Who’s who?

Her: The taxpayer.

Me: Well, everyone who has a job and pays taxes to the State to run it. And everyone who is going to have a job in the future. You’ll have to pay for this too, sweetheart.

Her: Really?

Me: I’m afraid so, honey.

Her: You’d better up my pocket money then.

A Mother’s Lot


Posted in: Boys, Ireland, Michael, Princess

A (very religious) friend said to me that he thinks that some people take their children to mass like they take them to swimming lessons – it’s something useful for them to know. I felt a distinct twinge of guilt. Especially when I recollected my maternal pride on hearing that the Princess had collected an Easter egg at her Sunday school thing by identifying the man who helped Jesus carry the cross. Your best guess in the comments below please. No googling.

The Princess has dropped out of her holiday course in the Alliance Française. Due to her idiot mother’s assumption that the course would be for bilingual children, she was forced to spend the day learning to count in French. Although she explained to the teacher (in French) that she could already count and even say her name in French, she was not let out (well where would they send her?). She was very cross. I was very guilt ridden. On the plus side, the Alliance say that they will give me my money back. Hurrah.

As I entered the house after a long day at work, the childminder was leaving it. “What’s it like in there?” I asked her. Normally she is resolutely upbeat. “It’s murder,” said she, “they are all tired, cranky and whacking each other.”

Michael wants a Nintendo DS. He can’t have one. “Why? Jack has one.” “Because you’re four and I say no.” A river of tears follows.

The country has given all its money to the banks. In fact, money that it hasn’t got. Every public servant in the country got pay cuts of between 10 and 20 per cent and it saved the exchequer 4 billion. Apparently we’ll need 30 billion to keep the banks going. Do you think that the public servants would like to work for nothing? I am annoyed with the banks. I am also unclear who benefited from the reckless lending. Not the shareholders, not the taxpayer, not the banks and, it appears, not even the developers who took out the massive loans we and our children will be paying back. Unless the developers all have Swiss bank accounts. Aha. Of course, now that the State effectively owns the banks, we can regard the forthcoming increase in interest rates on our mortgages as a saving really.

And it’s snowing today. Appropriate.

Vignettes from the babysitting dungeon – in case you were wondering how my sister got on last weekend


Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Michael, Princess

A phone call.

Me (sitting on a chair by a pond in the Tuileries): Hi, how is everything going?
Sister (in Dublin minding offspring): Not great, I am making pancakes, the smoke alarm has gone off, the children are screaming and the cat is pooing in the kitchen. How are things in Paris?

A further phone call

Me (sipping tea in a Parisian cafe): Hi, how is everything going?
Sister (at the side of the road in the car): Not great. Your daughter won’t stop saying “church in a church” and it’s driving me and the boys insane so please will you talk to her.
Daughter: Church in a church, church in a church, church in a church..
Me: What does that mean?
Daughter: Church in a church, church in a church, church in a church…
Me: Unless you stop saying that straight away, there will be no Club Penguin for a week.
Daughter: Eek.
Sister: Thank you that seems to have worked.

Motivational Speaking


Posted in: Princess

Me (upstairs putting on make up): You are the leader, go and inspire your brothers to get dressed.
Her (voice penetrating from downstairs): Mummy made me the leader, you must do what I say. (Noises of protest off)
Me (loudly): Come back up here.
Her: Did you hear that?
Me: Yes I did.
Her: Rats.
Me: That’s not what a real leader does, a real leader inspires her team to follow her through her own example like Jake the Red Ranger in Power Rangers SPD.
Her: OK so.
Moments later she returns.
Me: Are the boys dressed?
Her: No.
Me: I thought you were the leader, I thought you were going to inspire the boys to get dressed.
Her: I passed on the job to Daddy.

I suppose real leaders know how to delegate too.

Not a round number


Posted in: Family

“I recollect nothing that passed this day, except Johnson’s quickness, who, when Dr. Beattie observed, as something remarkable which had happened to him, that he had chanced to see both No. 1, and No. 1000, of the hackney-coaches, the first and the last; ‘Why, Sir, (said Johnson,) there is an equal chance for one’s seeing those two numbers as any other two.’” From Boswell’s Life of Johnson

My father is fond of this anecdote. He is against numerology. All the same, he has now reached the age where people start to say “that’s a great age” so surely a cause for celebration. Happy birthday, Daddy.