belgianwaffle

Archives for March 2013

Nearly There


Posted in: Family, Mr. Waffle

Him: Have you decided what you are going to wear for N’s wedding?
Me: Yeah, it’s a bit mother of the bride but it’s ok.
Him: Well I am going to be father of the bride, so that suits.

It has been decided that Mr. Waffle will say a few words at his sister’s wedding though this is turning out to be less onerous than originally expected (correspondence below):

From: Mr. Waffle
To: Me

Looks like I’ll have to jettison the last 18 minutes of my speech…

———- Forwarded message ———-
From: The Bride to be
To: Mr. Waffle

Hi

How are you? Looking forward to seeing you on Sat week! Hope the speech is not too taxing … we’d ideally like them to come in at under 2 mins or so, but don’t let me cramp your style! I’m sure it will be great.
Talk soon

Flowergirl is very excited indeed.

Céad Fhaoistin


Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

The boys made their first confession this evening. Their sister sang in the school choir. They were all a mass of tension. Herself because she had a solo; the boys because they had to confess their sins and in Irish to boot. I had read them Frank O’Connor’s “First Confession” to get them in the mood.

It all passed off peacefully. The children did a drama on the altar about the lamb who had gone astray (Michael was the lamb) and then went up and made their first confession. It’s a lovely ceremony. The priest told them, quite mendaciously (one assumes), that he had been speaking to the new Pope who had said they were all good boys and girls. When he asked where the Pope was from, there was a forest of hands which did not include Michael’s. He was leaning over the edge of the pew examining the parquet flooring. Daniel, however, was a credit to us and very serious, sober and upright throughout.

At the end, Michael asked me whether he could now get the “holy bread” at mass on Sunday thus showing his, alas, utter ignorance of the nature of the sacrament of reconciliation which he had just received. He appears to have fatally confused first confession and first communion. This might be remedied, if I made known to him the likely cash bonanza that his first communion will bring but I feel that this is hardly in the spirit of the sacrament.

We all went for a drink and the children have just now been whisked off to bed. And tomorrow we’re flying to London. It’s just non-stop excitement.

An Gorta Mór


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Princess

Herself is learning about the famine in school. She had a great time doing a dramatisation where she got to play the lady from the big house increasing the rents of misfortunate tenants who had made improvements and then tossing them out. Another day, they made a coffin ship.

One night, she had a couple of questions for homework, the first of which was – “Why were the Irish so poor at the time of the Famine?” “Why were they so poor?” she asked me. “Well, lots of reasons: landholdings tended to be small as they were divided up between families; landlord and tenant law was unsatisfactory in a number of ways [insert digression on land league]; there were, of course, absentee landlords and unfair agents [digression here to cover Captain Boycott]; then remember that the Catholics had been disenfranchised for a long time and there was the legacy of the Act of Union in 1801 and the penal laws…” I began. “Does this go back to William of Orange and James II?” she asked. “Well, yes, even before that, I suppose it is the nature of history that it is informed and shaped by the past.” And so on.

I checked her homework later. In response to the question, “Why were the Irish so poor at the time of the Famine?” she had written: “Because the English were not very nice.”

Is it any wonder that her aunt has vetoed all talk of the Famine when she marries her English man in London at the weekend?

All You Need is Love


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

While I was on one of my many trips to Cork recently, my husband took my boots to the cobbler and got them re-soled. I walked home in the rain the other night with toasty dry feet. And you know that I got a Valentine’s card too? Who says romance is dead?

Fire or Your Mother is Always Right


Posted in: Family, Siblings

My sister left a message on my phone, “Don’t panic, but we’ve had a small fire.” I called her.

My mother had put a leftover piece of Christmas hamper wrapping on the fire expecting it to turn to ash but it seemed to be made of sterner stuff and flared in an alarming manner [I think it was some kind of wood-like substance but I am unclear. Evidence is now burnt.] My mother yanked it out of the fire still burning. My parent’s front door can only be opened with a key (yes, from the inside and the outside, yes, I know it is spectacularly awkward) so in her wisdom, my mother decided to bear her burning wrapping to the back door – through 4 rooms. My father who was, until her arrival, sitting happily in one of them, leapt to his feet and opened the door for her. My father is 87 and normally walks with a stick. We can take this as a sign of the urgency and excitement attending my mother’s adventure or, alternatively, he is only pretending with that stick.

My brother was in the breakfast room and my mother asked him to open the back door. My brother has a fatal desire to get to bottom of everything and insisted on asking how on earth this had happened as my mother stood holding her makeshift torch and dropping bits of flaming wrapping on to the floor. My sister at this point rushed in and opened the back door, tossed out the burning wrapping and doused it with water.

“What lessons did we learn from this adventure?” I asked my mother. “That everyone is very slow except for your sister. And also that it’s very hard to get out of this house.”

Social Media


Posted in: Reading etc.

Isn’t it odd the way that Twitter has revealed the personalities behind companies. OK, maybe not so many companies but who knew that Betfair Poker had quite so much personality? If I ever get into poker, Bet Fair will be my dealer of choice.

Samples below: