belgianwaffle

Archives for February 2012

Where is my Willpower?


Posted in: Family, Siblings

Sometimes I stay up late into the night surfing the internet. My almost famous connection (give it time – also, buy her book) put up a blog post about make-up wherein she said “I’ve just spent about 45 minutes watching make-up videos by Lisa Eldridge”. “Ha,” I thought to myself “well I might as well have a quick look at this before I go to bed as there is no way I would spend 45 minutes looking at a make-up video.” Bear in mind that I last bought something for my make-up bag in the 1990s. It’s not that I don’t wear make-up, it’s just that I take my sister’s free gifts from her amazingly extensive collection. But yet, I found Ms. Eldridge strangely compelling and 45 minutes later (at 3.45 am, alas), I finally tore myself away from her advice and found myself contemplating my first make up purchase since 1995.

It’s going to be a clinique airbrush; I thought you would like to know.

Literally


Posted in: Boys, Ireland, Michael

Those of you following Ireland’s progress will know that the banks have behaved badly. I can be lyrical on this point. I have been, in fact, to the extent that the children are dimly aware of the banks’ role in our current crisis and can’t quite understand why I insist that they leave their money there rather than letting them spend it – by far their preferred option.

We were in the car in the morning on the way to school and I was talking to Mr. Waffle about this repossession. The sheriff was defeated, at least temporarily, by the “random legal word generator”. In this case the words “constitution”, “common law”, “separation of powers” and “inviolable” were brandished to good effect. While, the arguments adduced made no legal sense whatsoever, the emotional argument that the banks had got away without any sanction did strike a chord. “Of course,” said I bitterly “the banks got away with murder.”

Michael piped up from the back seat, “WHAT, the banks murdered someone?”

Heartwarming


Posted in: Dublin

At my tennis coaching, a new Polish coach turned up. As we chatted before training he mentioned that he had been playing in a match at the weekend but had lost. “Oh dear,” we said sympathetically. “Well, I had not played for 16 years,” he said in the frank manner of Poles of my acquaintance. Seeing that his new class looked less than entirely entranced with this piece of information, he explained his remark:

I was in Ireland working in construction but then my job disappeared [like so many others, alas] but I was stuck here [again, the Polish frankness], I have an Irish wife and baby, what was I to do? I went to FÁS [the employment and training agency] and they asked me what I could do. They had nothing for me. “Are you any good at sport?” I said no and they said, “Pity, because we need tennis coaches.” Then, I said, actually, I played in Silesia from 6 to 14 when I started playing adult leagues because I was too good for the kids leagues [Poles are not big believers in false modesty either in my experience] and I got sick of it. So, they said great, I re-trained as a tennis coach and here I am. And, I have to say, he was absolutely terrific. I really admire people who turn around and find a new career and I am so glad that he didn’t head back to Poland with his wife and baby because, God knows, we need the coaching.

God and Pharmacology Working Together to Make a Better World


Posted in: Boys, Family, Michael

I was ill last week. I am almost never properly ill (as opposed to whining and sniffling into work with some Lemsip in my bag). I did not enjoy it. I had taken some time off work to go to Cork with the children for mid-term and I was not pleased with the timing of my illness. Reluctantly I dragged myself to the doctor and paid €55 for a diagnosis and a course of antibiotics. I started straight away.

My father is a pharmacologist. He is against the reckless use of antibiotics. This was therefore my second ever course of antibiotics. They were quite miraculous. I was able to drive to Cork as planned. I picked the children up from school having told them that this would not be possible as I was too sick. They were pleased. Michael was unsurprised: “I told the teacher you were sick and we wouldn’t be able to go to Cork and I was sad. So, we all said a prayer for you to be better and now you are!”

Lent


Posted in: Family

I can’t believe that I’m 42 and I’m still giving up sweets for Lent. Somehow, I thought life would have given me more glamorous things to give up at this stage.