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Archives for February 2016

Customer Service


Posted in: Boys, Ireland, Michael

On our way back up from Cork to Dublin after Christmas, we stopped off for lunch in a well-known stopping place. The staff were busy but they were also exceptionally rude and unhelpful.

I went to an independent bookshop to spend my money. This is a popular one with the press but I have always found the staff rude and unhelpful. Nevertheless, I went in because I don’t want all our bookshops to be the same and I want them to keep going. The assistant was speaking loudly to someone which was surprisingly unpleasant as the shop was otherwise quiet. After a few moments she said to me, “You have to leave now, we’re closing.” Not an “I’m afraid” an “I’m sorry” or a tone of voice that conveyed anything other than “leave, you are in my space”.

How pleasant it was then to go to Kilkenny Design for a cup of tea with the children and find that not everyone is vile in January. Michael ran into a waiter and an entire tray of crockery went up in the air causing a crash and, inevitably, pottery shards spread over a wide radius in what is a crowded enough cafe space. The staff could not have been more pleasant and understanding and their main concern genuinely seemed to be that Michael was unhurt (he was only psychologically scarred by the scorn of his sister who was embarrassed as only a nearly teenager can be).

I’m not quite sure what the conclusion of this post is other than that I am clearly getting crankier as I age and, you know, it costs nothing to be polite.

Sunday Reflections


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Princess

Our church serves a diverse community. In the children’s choir, although all of the children are local, there are a number whose parents are from India, the Philippines, Romania (I think) and even Cork. Last weekend the children from the local school brought up the gifts. The priest called on Caspar and Anastasia to come up to the altar. What delightful names and not typical Dublin ones.

It’s all much more exciting than when I was a child and there was never anyone at mass who wasn’t from Cork, except for the odd priest from Kerry.

In one respect, however, matters are not improving. The choir mistress is both talented and dedicated but her musical tastes do not chime with mine and I wish that the choir would do some more classical church numbers. I expressed this to the Princess and she said, “Mum, these are new songs for the next generation; all ten of us.” Oh very funny.

My children continue to star in readings and prayers of the faithful and I am regularly congratulated on their prowess by elderly members of the congregation, leading to a definite instance of the sin of pride on my part, so it’s all going to hell in a handcart etc. Amusingly, last weekend herself had to read “When I was a child, I used to talk like a child, and think like a child, and argue like a child, but now I am a man, all childish ways are put behind me.” No better child to make it work for her.

Culture


Posted in: Boys, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle

A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Waffle and I took the children to see “Trauma” in the science gallery. It was, well, traumatic. Not unexpected you might argue. After the strain of the exhibition, I felt we ought to do something further of a cultural nature. It would be hard to overstate Michael’s bitterness on hearing this news.

Since we were in Trinity anyway and, one of the major advantages of a degree from Trinity is that it gets you in free to the Book of Kells, I suggested that we might go there and get some use out of Mr. Waffle’s degree. We passed the playing pitches on the way and I found myself, somewhat to my surprise, standing beside a man yelling “Come on Trinity” at a rugby game. How little we know our spouses. Happily Michael’s weary insistence that we might as well get it over with propelled us onwards.

The library is lovely, actually. I note that we went there this time last year so it seems to occur to me as a good outing in January. As ever, I sold it to the boys as being the model for the Jedi library which may be true. They were cynical and bitter, “You say that every time.”

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We didn’t stay long and it is genuinely interesting. Afterwards, as we emerged into the drizzle, having contemplated one of Ireland’s great treasures Michael said grudgingly, “I suppose it wasn’t too bad.” I think I will take that as a win.

Green Shoots, Baby, We’re Back etc.


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

Recently, Mr. Waffle and I went for dinner in our local gastro pub [insert obligatory ‘it’s far from gastro pubs we were reared’ comment here]. The main course was €29.90 and I thought to myself, that is quite pricy, is it not?

A couple of weeks ago at work, I felt a little sorry for myself and decided to go to somewhere nice for lunch – not super nice Michelin starred, white tablecloth now but nice and newly opened. I arrived at 12.45 on a rainy Wednesday in January looking for a table for one only to be told that they were fully booked, sorry.

Where will it all end?

Rug – Further Developments


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Siblings

So, I went to Cork at the end of January and collected the rug. It was packed into an impressively small parcel:

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I was able to transport it to Dublin by train with the aid of my sister’s suitcase:

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I have to say that it looks pretty impressive now that it is installed:

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The children and the cat absolutely and unreservedly love it and spend a lot of time digging their toes/claws into it.

I love it too. However, it brings to crisis point our need for new curtains, sofa and armchairs. When we moved into the house in 2013, we kept the faded pink regency stripe curtains and the orange chintz furniture as a stop gap measure. Already the existing colour combination was exciting but the addition of the rug has tipped us over the edge. You may not have fully appreciated this from the last photo. Have a look at this photo which still doesn’t do justice to the real thing:

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It’s even more thrilling when the curtains are closed. I think the sofa will have to be first to go – at least the curtains aren’t uncomfortable.

More home decorating news as we get it.

The Great Filing Catastrophe of 2016 and Other News


Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

Mr. Waffle and I are tidy. I am the queen of filing and he is the king. People gasp in amazement when they see my tidy office. All of our domestic administration is carefully filed away and (somewhat) regularly sorted through to throw out papers that we no longer need to keep (although, to my knowledge, Mr. Waffle’s bank statements from when we lived in Belgium are still filed in the attic, a fact of which I deeply disapprove – you may recall that we last lived in Belgium in 2008). All this to say that, you know, we are not the kind of people who can’t find guarantees or passports or papers when we need to. You know how this is going to end, I assume. Stay with me anyhow, why don’t you?

Herself is going to Rome horribly early tomorrow morning for a mid-term school trip. She has been counting the days since September when she first heard about it. The programme is daunting. They are going for five days and will visit Rome (Vatican museums, the Forum, Pantheon, Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountain and anything else they feel up to – one of the teachers seriously suggested to me that they might go bowling one evening, insert your own sardonic comment here), Pompeii, Naples, Sorrento and the Amalfi coast.

She spent the weekend packing. After dinner this evening I went to get her passport out of the drawer and it was there. Of course it was there. I went to get her European health card from the shoebox where we keep these things. Daniel’s was there. Michael’s was there. I emptied out all of the non-EU currency, the Belgian bus tickets, the Paris metro tickets and the foreign stamps which also live in the shoebox but there was no sign of the Princess’s health insurance card. We searched in all the likely places: the desk drawers, the health insurance folder, the folder for herself, all the other folders just in case. It was unfindable. She had had to bring it into school twice so that they could verify that she had it. In light of this I felt that the authorities were likely to check in the cold, pre-dawn Dublin airport whether she had brought it with her. We kept searching. It turned up sticking out of the Lonely Planet guide to Paris on the book shelf. I am not the better of it.

It was also Valentine’s day and my husband got me lovely flowers and a card. I got him some stroopwafels and only because yesterday morning, herself said to me, “I hope you know that Daddy is getting you something for Valentine’s Day.” He took the boys to a reading in the National Library while I scuttled around hoping to find something he might like. I am not sure that he was absolutely thrilled with the packet of biscuits, now. Sometimes I feel that Mr. Waffle gets a poor deal. Guess who is getting up at 4 in the morning to drive our precious first-born to the airport? Not me, I fear.

Have a photo of the boys checking out the National Library reading room:
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Earlier today we climbed Bray Head. This was inspired by Michael who needed to do it for some scouting badge. He was pleased to be going. The others, possibly less so. However, we met the cousins and they were all happy to see each other and ran up cheerfully despite the biting wind. A further aim of the trip was to ensure that herself and Mr. Waffle were tired enough to go to sleep early. Any benefits in this regard were entirely offset by the health insurance card trauma.

Still, nice views from the top:
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