belgianwaffle

Archives for November 2020

30 Days hath September, April, June and, Mercifully, November


Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland

I’m always completely out of ideas by the end of November. Usually on the 25th I say something about my much adored Nana. November 25 was her birthday and I often think of her around then. I remember the happiest news when I was a child was that Nana was coming to stay for a couple of days. She lived over the border in County Limerick and that was a lot further away in the 1970s than it is today. She was a fantastic grandmother: kind, clever, competent, indulgent, adoring. I still miss her.

And in completely unrelated news, I was walking along the road with two colleagues and an elderly lady wearing earmuffs marched up to us and waved at us shouting, “Social distancing, social distancing, haven’t you heard of social distancing?” We were all a bit baffled. Had we wandered too close to her without noticing? In any event, she seemed well able to protect herself from unwanted advances by the general populace. It was a weirdly unnerving encounter. I don’t think she was mad but she was certainly very angry and forceful.

Cycling home this evening, I ran into a friend and we stayed half an hour at the side of the road on a cold, damp evening chatting. God, we were delighted to see each other. We are sick of Covid.

And on that Covid-related note, I will draw November’s blogging to an end.

Maybe some December blogging will follow but for now, a pause may be warranted.

Weekends Rounded-Up


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

With the 5 km limit on travel and everything closed, weekends have been a bit similar. Last Saturday (i.e. November 21 not November 28, Mr. Waffle keeps saying that the way I say last Saturday is very confusing but I fail to see where the difficulty lies, if I meant Saturday November 28, I would have said yesterday), I went off to explore Chapelizod on my own without children saying it was very dull to be hanging around while I looked at buildings. I found a new way there through the park staying off the main road. That’s as exciting as it got. Some local history: Sheridan Le Fanu wrote a short story about the house on the right in the picture below and Lord Northcliffe was born up the road. His mother was Irish, who knew?

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I came home via the Lutyens designed war memorial gardens which, in fairness, were looking pretty good.

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An email arrived from the school threatening dire consequences if students didn’t have face masks. A follow up email some time afterwards apologised for giving out all the parents’ email addresses in violation of GDPR rules.

On the Sunday morning, herself and myself went to the Botanic Gardens.

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Her Christmas jumper got an outing.

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For added excitement we saw the actual last rose of summer left blooming alone.

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Then, in the afternoon, back out on the bike to Chapelizod with Mr. Waffle and the boys. There are only so many options.

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Then on to the weekend just past. I have absolutely no recollection of what happened yesterday, we went out for a mild walk, I think. We did not watch the “Late Late Toy Show“. My family are the only people in Ireland not into this. Mr. Waffle and I never watched it as children and our own children never had the faintest interest. My little niece in London watched it and loved it too. Look, I took in five minutes of the highlights: I liked the bit with the singer; the child from Cork and the hospital porter and the follow up; also the bit where the presenter was surprised by a hard to open bottle of Fanta. My cold heart was warmed but it appears we are never going to be a family in Christmas pjs watching this with a hamper of Christmas goodies. Too boring say my loving family. There you have it.

And then today, another trip to the Botanic Gardens also taking in the excitement of Glasnevin cemetery where, it transpires Gerard Manley Hopkins is buried. Fancy that. November is, of course, the month of the dead but I didn’t get to visit my mother’s grave. I might take all the children on a visit if we ever get to Cork en masse again.

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Very much looking forward to moving out of lockdown level 5 and back to level 3 from next week. Maybe my weekends won’t change a great deal but the possibility of change is very exciting.

“A small sound like the coo of a dove”


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess

So, in continuing pigeon adventures, while herself was absent this morning, Mr. Waffle went in to her bedroom and unscrewed the back of the fireplace. This is what he found.

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He poked gently with a stick and the pigeon ambled into the room and then flew on to the windowsill where he paused to survey his kingdom.

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Mr. Waffle whooshed him away and screwed back up the fireplace. Shortly he heard again the soft scratching noise of a pigeon who has happily re-established himself in a toasty spot down the chimney. Next project, definitely chimney caps. Herself is in the horrors.

Surprising


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess

You will remember our rat concerns over the summer. Notwithstanding Rentokil’s confirmation that our house is definitively rodent free, herself continued to allege that there were…scratching sounds coming from the blocked up chimney in her room.

Today she summoned her father to listen to the noise. She messaged me subsequently:

Update on the rat living in my chimney: it is a pigeon. Dad is thrilled. Apparently, it’s not a problem anymore because pigeons are peaceful animals. I am significantly less positive. He offered to let it loose in my room (!) in the hope it would fly out the window. When I rejected this solution, he left in a sulk.

Apparently, Mr. Waffle opened the hatch at the back of the fireplace. He was going to put up a piece of cheese to verify absence of any cheese eating rodents and when he opened the hatch there was a totally unafraid pigeon blinking calmly back at him. This, apparently is where it lives and scratches. Chimney caps are coming into our lives.

The Furry Menace


Posted in: Hodge, Mr. Waffle

Mr. Waffle was making a tomato and mozzarella salad (I know, it’s November, but it’s mild and the only seasonal vegetable in this country is the turnip) and was summoned from his labours by the children.

When he returned to the kitchen, it was to find the cat on the work surface contentedly polishing off the mozzarella. She left the tomato. Is it any wonder she is occasionally ill given her penchant for overeating?

Local Concerns


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Mr. Waffle

For ages, there has been talk about putting up gates to the lane at the back of the houses on our side of the road. Progress on this has been glacial. The right of way in the lane was extinguished after years of painstaking discussions.

Then someone insisted that they had to be electric gates so she didn’t have to get out of her car to open them. I am saying nothing but I will let you imagine, gentle reader, my feelings about this car and electric gate enthusiast. Electric gates are a lot more expensive. And they need a power source and more maintenance. More humming and hawing. And most people don’t keep cars in the sheds/garages at the back of the garden and some people who live on the road don’t have cars at all.

Agreement was hammered out that the B&B at the top of the road and student accommodation at the end would provide electricity to power the gates. Another lengthy and painstaking process and though definitely a good outcome, there was still a hefty sum to be paid per household for the actual installation of the gates. I assumed getting agreement on this would take a long time.

So did our neighbour up the road. He is an impatient man and he has tired of waiting. He has taken matters into his own hands. He’s ordered the gates. He’s going to pay €10,000 for them and people will have to give him money to get the fobs. It’s slightly high-handed and I see shoals ahead but, on the whole, I am pleased. As I said to Mr. Waffle, the important thing is that nobody must ever know that we knew in advance.

Will I keep you posted on Gategate lads?