belgianwaffle

Archives for July 2019

Latch Key Children


Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael

I haven’t been entirely delighted with how much time the children have been at home alone this summer, particularly Michael. Today was a bit of a low point.

We live in a trendy, urban up and coming area, if you’re an estate agent. A bit too edgy maybe, if you’re not. For example, I was not totally delighted to discover that my daughter knew how to recognise people doing a drug deal before she finished primary school. Our leafy road is lovely though: the houses are great; we know most of our neighbours many of whom have been there a long time; it’s close to town and it’s quiet without much through traffic.

I came home from work this evening and the two boys were home alone as expected. Mr. Waffle was at a work thing and herself was at her residential camp. Daniel had come in about half an hour before me. Michael was still in his pyjamas although he had showered. I’m trying to spin this as a win. I asked for news from their days. They had a talent contest at Daniel’s camp; it was a bit dull. Michael had risen at lunch time, showered and, undoubtedly, spent the rest of the day glued to his phone although this was not how he put it to me.

After a while Daniel said, “Oh yeah, I forgot to say, there was a man sleeping on the doorstep when I got home.”

“Sorry? At the gate or on the doorstep?” I asked.

“On the doorstep,” he said.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, “I hung around for a while not sure what to do and then [the very nice, quite senior in the FCA man] from across the road came and helped me in.”

“Michael, did you know there was someone sleeping on the doorstep?” I asked.

“Not until Daniel came in,” he said. The advantage of remaining in pyjamas all day.

I took myself off across the road to thank my neighbour but he was out and I spoke to his wife. He hadn’t mentioned his good Samaritan act to her. I can’t help wondering what was the story with the person, quite possibly, passed out on our doorstep. It’s hardly a welcome development, I think we can agree.

It turns out, even my bleeding heart liberalism has a limit. My very conservative father who has been waiting for this development for some time will be pleased to hear it.

Summer Activities


Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael

I have a school friend who ended up living in a coastal town in North County Dublin. A fellow exile we meet about four times a year for dinner and exchange of news and views. We always meet in town but it was summertime and I said that I would drive out to Skerries and go for dinner there. It was a Wednesday, which is daring and I felt like I was on holidays as we went for a walk on the beach and then out for dinner in a lovely new restaurant in the town which I can truly recommend if you find yourself in that part of the world.

Michael has been doing a tennis course for the past fortnight with mild reluctance but a certain degree of resignation. This has spurred us all to take a greater interest and for the past fortnight, most evenings we’ve gone up to the local courts to play doubles (herself is off at camp so not available). It’s good fun and somewhat justifies under the stairs which has an extraordinary quantity of sporting equipment for a not very sporty family.

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I brought my mother’s spare golf clubs to Dublin after she died. My brother took out the putter on the grounds that it was a special putter made for her in some golf club in Limerick and we might lose it. We managed to make good the deficit by taking a putter from my father-in-law’s old clubs and also the husband of one of my mother’s old friends. His son lives up the road from us and his wife and son came and dropped us down a spare putter and we sent them off with a pot of jam. After all the effort, I felt we ought to use them, so Michael and I went out to a small local pitch and putt course. As you know, I am a big fan of the bike but, let me tell you, that there is no easy way to carry golf clubs on a bike, even if it’s only a pair of putters and a couple of nine irons. Anyhow we made it. The club was deserted and initially we were refused admittance on the grounds that it was members only. I offered to pay green fees and my knowledge of this technical terms softened their hearts towards me. “Did we have our own clubs?” Oh yes indeed, though I forgot to bring tees, like a fool. However, they made good this deficit.

I went to the first hole to tee off. I used to play a bit in my teens but I would say it’s 35 years since I raised a club. I had a practice shot. The three elderly gentlemen came out from the shed to have a look at me play. I was a bit unnerved. However, all those hours spent practicing in front of the bored and indifferent club pro with other teenagers came back to me and I was pleased and surprised to see the ball loft up into the air and land squarely on the green. The men said, “Good shot,” and shuffled off about their business.

Michael teed up and sent the ball scudding along the fairway (such as it was) but, as he pointed out, he was nearly as close to the hole as me and it was his first time ever playing. Pitch and putt is not challenging. And that’s the way we like it. Later one of the elderly gentlemen asked me if I’d like to play on their team. I have arrived, I never want to go back to proper golf. When I offered to pay green fees at the end, the elderly gentlemen waved me aside and told me that it was on the house. Very pleasing.

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Michael decides to play the ball where it lies.

We were cycling along beside the canal last Saturday as part of our summer of sport extravaganza, threading our way through crowds of GAA fans heading to Croke Park. I ran into my cousin with her husband and three little boys marching determinedly towards the stadium. She is from Limerick and has Meath children but they were all dutifully dressed up in their Limerick kit. So far their loyalties are relatively undivided as it’s going to be a while before Meath challenge anyone in the hurling. Alas, Kilkenny defeated Limerick by a point so not a great day out for them in the end I imagine.

We had a barbecue at the cousins’ house. It lashed rain and we all huddled indoors while my brother-in-law cooked burgers outside sheltered from the elements by his aunt who held a large golf umbrella over his head. The boys went down to the tennis club and got soaked to the skin. A successful outing which my brother-in-law is minded to repeat the August bank holiday weekend.

How’s your own summer going?

Always Jam Tomorrow


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

I have spent much of the past month making jam. Behold the fruits* of my labour. We have a plum tree in the front garden and this has been a bumper year.

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I had occasional help from the troops but usually I toiled alone.

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If the nuclear Armageddon comes this winter, at least we have enough plum jam to get by. This is our final stock (bar another jar I made the other morning which was not yet ready for its close up but that was definitively the last jar) and I’ve given several jars away to lucky, lucky individuals.

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*Yes, of course the pun is intended.

Cork Geography


Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Siblings

When I was last in Cork, I was in the car with my sister and she said that she wanted to drop in something to a friend who had just had an operation. “Oh,” I said as we drove up to the estate, “this is where my friend F from college grew up. Ask your friend if she knows F.” My sister went in to the house, I waited in the car. “Well,” I said, “does she know F?” “Yes,” said my sister, ” and not only that but F’s sister was her surgeon.”

Meanwhile, Mr. Waffle was talking about a colleague of his. “What’s his wife’s name, again?” he asked me. “You mean A who was in my class in college; whose father was a friend of my father’s; who was a neighbour of my friend F’s (yes, same F) growing up?” “Yes, I suppose, I do,” he said.

18 Years


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

Today is our 18th wedding anniversary. Mr. Waffle reminded me last night. And he was only reminded because it’s his brother’s birthday on Tuesday. Is it possible we could do with a little more romance in our lives?

Look, we’re still married. You may congratulate us.

Reading


Posted in: Reading etc.

“After the Armistice Ball” by Catriona McPherson

“The Burry Man’s Day” by Catriona McPherson

“Bury her Deep” by Catriona McPherson

More Dandy Gilver books; gentle, historical detective fiction set in Scotland.  I find these books soothing and also quite funny in places.

“Transcription” by Kate Atkinson

Every Kate Atkinson book is really good.  This one about a woman who works transcribing material for an English spy during the second world war is really good.  I didn’t love it as much as I have loved some of her other books but it is still very, very good.

“Middle England” by Jonathan Coe

Jonathan Coe’s anguish on Brexit revisiting the characters from the Rotters’ club.  I quite enjoyed this and a paragraph about our hero hooking up with his old girlfriend made me laugh out loud.

“How to Stop Time” by Matt Haig

This is about people who don’t age at the same rate as the rest of us.  The premise is clever and it’s reasonably well executed.  I liked it.  I find Matt Haig is full of these ingenious plot ideas and he’s good at playing them out to their conclusions.

“The Dead Fathers’ Club” by Matt Haig

More Matt Haig ingenuity; it’s about a boy whose father dies but he keeps seeing him.  It’s clever but quite depressing.  There are definite echoes of Hamlet (the boy’s mother takes up with his uncle) but I could have done without that.

“How to be a Woman” by Caitlin Moran

This was really popular when released; I found it fine but a bit of its time.  There’s a lot of journalism slightly reheated in here and in my experience that doesn’t work well a number of years after the event.

“Educated” by Tara Westover

I thought this autobiography about being brought up by very strict – actually insane in the case of the father – Mormons was absolutely eye-opening.  This isn’t a genre I care for much in general but the author is an exceptionally good writer and she has an extraordinary story to tell.  Possibly the best thing I’ve read so far this year.

“The Moncks and Charleville House: A Wicklow Family in the Nineteenth Century” by Elisabeth Batt

I went to visit Charleville House on an open day and I was curious to learn more about it and the family who lived there.  This book fitted the bill but it’s really more family history/local history than anything else notwithstanding that one of the Moncks was very influential in Canadian history which was covered extensively.  For enthusiasts only.

“Lethal White” by Robert Galbraith

Latest JK Rowling crime offering.  I quite enjoyed this, I have to say but her plots get ever more ludicrously complex.

“Notes to Self” by Emilie Pine

This is a beautifully written personal series of essays.  I really loved this book although at times I found the author a bit irritating because sometimes she does seem to believe that she is the only one who has really felt.  But what a writer.

“The Dubliner Diaries” by Trevor White

The notions; this is a book about a loss making magazine that Trevor White edited through the boom.  I found it funny in spots and a real reminder of how we lost the run of ourselves.

“My Beloved World” by Sonia Sotomayor

I found this interesting but a bit worthy.  I can see how Sotomayor is an excellent legal writer but as an autobiography this was plodding. 

“The Break” by Marian Keyes

Meh, it was ok; very readable as Marian Keyes is so good at this kind of stuff but quite forgettable.

“The Wych Elm” by Tana French

Another brilliant author whose every new book I read.  This is a mystery story set in Dublin but for my money, not the best book she has ever written.    I know the hero is meant to be complex and not entirely sympathetic but I just found him tough going.

“Insurgent” by Veronica Roth

“Allegiant” by Veronica Roth

God, these are definitely the worst written books I have read this year.  The latter was written from different character points of view and I kept forgetting which character was supposed to be narrating which chapter as the authorial voice was so unchanging.  Still, they were a cultural phenomenon and I read them.  I cannot recommend them.

“The Shepherd’s Life” by James Rebanks

This is a beautiful book.  A big hit in England, I understand.  I got it after hearing the author on “Desert Island Discs” (why, hello, middle age). It’s by a man who works as a shepherd in the Lake District.  He assumes a degree of ignorance about the ways of agriculture and farmers in his writing that I suppose is warranted in England but can seem a  bit patronising in this jurisdiction.  We are not very far removed from farming.  I have a colleague whose father is a shepherd and he helps out at the farm at weekends and takes leave for lambing.  I recommended this book to him but he’s pretty dubious.  I recommend it to you also.

“In this House of Brede” by Rumer Godden

This was recommended to me by a faithful blogging friend. I enjoyed it very much.  It’s a very odd book written about life as a nun; by a convert, so very keen.  Interesting.

“Breakfast with the Nikolides” by Rumer Godden

This is a terribly sad book – autobiographical in part, I suspect – about a sensitive young girl in India whose parents are not getting on.  It’s excellent and quite, quite different from the nun book.

“And then there were none” by Agatha Christie

I haven’t read this in a long time – still a very good read.  Michael found it around the house and adored it.

“The Witness for the Prosecution” by Agatha Christie

I got this out of the library for Dan as my sister took him to see the play in London.  Sadly, he had no interest but Michael and I quite enjoyed these classic short stories.  Mediums feature strongly.

“Admissions” by Henry Marsh

More stories from a neurosurgeon about his life.  Interesting although he is an unusual and difficult man based on his own account.

“Guards Guards” by Terry Pratchett

I saw this on a colleague’s desk at the office and it precipatated a general discussion on the brilliance of Terry Pratchett and also made me realise that I had never read this one before or at least had no recollection of doing so which is just as good.  Great stuff.

“The Essex Serpent” by Sarah Perry

This was an immensely popular book when it came out so when I read it, I had high expectations.  I did enjoy it – a 19th century mystery/romance – and some of the characters were wonderful but I was not overwhelmed with delight.

“The Seven Imperfect Rules of Elvira Carr” by Frances Maynard

This is a bit like “Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine” – young woman with a domineering mother and difficulties has to get on in life.  It suffers by being so similar thematically to “Eleanor Oliphant” because although it is a very well written, interesting and funny book, it just doesn’t feel as novel.

“The Hate You Give” by Angie Thomas

This is a very well-written, deeply depressing book about race relations in America told through the prism of a girl who witnesses police shoot her friend.  You’d want to be in the whole of your health to tackle it.

“This Could Hurt” by Gillian Madoff

I thought this was a bit meh.  It’s about life in HR in a big company.  Funny in parts but overall, I was underwhelmed.

“A Manual for Cleaning Women” by Lucia Berlin

This is a series of beautifully written, very autobiographical short stories.  Each is more depressing than the last.  I would recommend consuming them in small doses rather than reading a whole collection at once.

“Small Fry” by Lisa Brennan-Jobs

If you would like to feel better about your parenting or how your parents brought you up, this is the book for you.  Steve Jobs comes across as an appalling parent and an unpleasant human being but his daughter still adored him so I suppose he had something. It’s very unclear what it might have been from this memoir.  Competently written but I’m not sure I would have found it so engaging if her father were not Steve Jobs which makes me feel a bit displeased with myself.

“Reasons to be Cheerful” by Nina Stibbe

Funny story about a dentist’s assistant.  A familiar range of characters, if you have read any of the author’s previous books.  The cover describes her as the heir to Sue Townsend.  Somewhat similar in tone, alright although not quite as good as Townsend at her best.