Family

Where had we left matters?

6 June, 2022
Posted in: Family, Middle Child, Twins, Work

It was mid-May, I was finishing work mid-June. Good news, I am still finishing June 17. Bad news, this last two weeks before I finish up, they are going to squeeze work out of me until the pips squeak.

My niece turned 14 in mid-May and we all went out to dinner to celebrate. There was an adults’ table and a teenagers’ table which worked well for everyone. My only fear was that one of the boys would tell their cousin what her present was before her parents gave it to her the following day. They booked tickets for her to go to London to see Hamilton. I confided this to the boys in advance but they dutifully kept it secret even when their cousin said, “I don’t know what my parents are getting me, the present isn’t hidden in any of the usual places.” Her father sent round a photo of her opening her present the next morning and getting a big surprise which we all enjoyed. Like my sister-in-law said, “We’re desperately trying to catch up on the things Covid took away from our children.”

We had the Dutch Mama to stay overnight – she was in Dublin for a work trip (and got Covid in the process, alas, we remain – almost miraculously, Covid free) – and she told us how her 15 year old on a trip to a European Youth Parliament with her school mates ended up sleeping in Helsinki airport due to a delayed flight. No teachers, although some of the school mates were 18 so there was that. Honestly, the Dutch are very daring. Anyhow the child was none the worse for her experience and it makes me think that Daniel will be fine on his trip to Rome later this week.

Words are the Daughters of Earth, but Objects are the Sons of Heaven

2 May, 2022
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland, Siblings

I was in Cork over the weekend a couple of weeks ago. My brother announced that he had thrown out a couple of books from my parents’ house. “You shouldn’t have done that, I might have wanted them!” I cried. “Well,” he said, “You’ll just have to manage without Common Household Insects and Pests“.

My sister and I spent hours clearing out my mother’s wardrobe; you will recall that my mother died in June 2019 so this was overdue. It took a lot out of both of us.

The clothes were ok actually though why I thought that I would fit into a size 10 jacket – which I have now donated to herself – is beyond me. We found an enormous number of kid gloves in yellowish white all of which I have given to herself in the – possibly forlorn – hope that she will find these vintage items of interest.

There were furs which had belonged to both my grandmothers. In surprisingly good nick but, I don’t know, fashion may have moved on. Mr. Waffle believes there is something distinctly disturbing about the little paws on this scarf (intertwined dead rodents is how he describes the whole), hard to disagree. These were standard issue for everyone’s granny when I was a child but not so much anymore.

Herself says her fellow students are always leaving unlikely things at nightclubs and posting distraught messages to social media saying things like “I lost my Great Aunt Edith’s pearls at Wild Nights, has anyone seen them? My parents are very cross.” I can’t help feeling that her great grandmothers’ furs are more unlikely lost items than most and she might enjoy having them.

The wardrobe also contained a mountain of papers, most of which we threw out: old theatre programmes; dinner menus; conference programmes; receipts; hand made cards; bafflingly, an entire Cork Examiner from December 1985 kept for no discernible reason; photographs; a letter from my father from London; chequebook stubs; and postcards.

I kept a description of the dying days of our cat written by my mother which was surprisingly emotional for a hard headed farmer’s daughter. I also kept her insurance book issued from when she went to Freiburg as a postgraduate student in the 50s.

There were some lovely photos of her time as an international student in Freiburg as well as some from her graduation and UCC balls. We kept all the photos, of course and also all of her out of date passports.

I wonder where the people in this photo are now? My mother is in the middle of the front row. If you know any international students who spent 1957/58 in Freiburg, get in touch!

I kept three of her old cheque books from the 60s. Many of the stubs were not filled in – I regret to say an abiding failure of hers. There was one though for Â£600 to a garage in Farnborough and I think that must have been for her beloved mini cooper. I kept one of my homemade cards – there were many but I remembered the pain associated with creating this particularly elaborate one. There was a German calendar for 1958 and some unused postcards from Copenhagen, I kept those too.

There was what I can only assume was an unopened wedding present from 1967. We used them for breakfast the other morning. Good to see them getting a trip out after a wait of 54 and a half years.

It’s funny how few things remain of a whole life time, a whole beloved person; and I am conscious, not necessarily the things she would have chosen to have kept or be remembered by. That’s how it goes, I guess.

Belated Easter Round Up

30 April, 2022
Posted in: Family, Hodge, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Reading etc., Twins, Youngest Child

The boys got Foil Arms and Hogg tickets for Christmas. They went with their father and their sister just before Easter and pronounced it satisfactory.

For Easter Sunday we had extended family round and it was lovely. Sadly my nephew was off in Germany with a friend (I mean not sadly for him but sadly for us as it would have been nice to have had all the cousins together) but otherwise we were all there. As the 11 of us sat down to lunch, herself said, “Have we any bubbles?” “Champagne? No,” I said. “Well even Prosecco or Moscato?” she asked. I would like to say that these are English notions but her paternal grandfather never met a celebration which he felt could not be made better by Prosecco so they are probably home grown notions. She did a great job in prepping the table. She’s quite arty; this did not come from me.

Dinner – cooked by Mr. Waffle – was reasonably successful although my four year old niece did not eat anything. “You’re not eating,” said Michael anxiously. “Michael, that you of all people should say that…” said her mother. Everyone laughed. Even Michael. He is like his grandmother who really enjoyed small children and was quite fascinated by them. Dinner was a triumph for the cat who after everyone had left the room, leapt up on the table, grabbed the remains of the leg of lamb and made off with it at speed.

There was a rather damp garden Easter egg hunt for my niece. The Easter eggs were small but many and I have never seen her more pleased than when she came in with her bucket of eggs. It was really great to have everyone together again.

The week after Easter, Mr. Waffle and I took ourselves for a walk to Portrane. We went there just as Covid was beginning and it was funny to be there now that it’s – apparently – all over.

I went to see “The Secrets of Dumbledore”. Absolutely no one in the family could face going with me, so I went on my own. At the start, Dumbledore outlines how to outwit Grindelwald: we need last minute plans, overlapping plans, confusing plans. My heart sank a bit as JK Rowling is a woman who likes a convoluted plot without making it an essential part of the plot if you see what I mean. It was alright actually but I do think the whole thing may be beginning to run out of steam.

Over the holidays I took herself to the dentist and then we bought her a ball dress. It took a lot out of both of us (far more than the dental visit which was benign by comparison). Part of the problem was that with her sylph like figure most things looked good on her and she tried on a lot of things. We bought this dress in the end. She is pleased. I hope she continues to be as she will have to get a lot of wear out of it.

I have discovered that she has become a coffee drinker. I suppose as addictive habits you pick up in college go, it could be worse. It’s always really sad when she goes back to England. Usually she’s quite perky but she was glum on this occasion – which made it worse – as she had upcoming exams and she had to unpack all her stuff from storage. Both of these weighed pretty heavily on her mind. She has on campus accommodation which I thought was terrific but it comes with the not inconsiderable downside that she has to pack up all her stuff in three large boxes for every holiday. She says third years have it down pat and only bring a t-shirt to college. For English students their parents can drive them up and down and help them with the packing but she has to do it by herself. Last time she grabbed some unfortunate random young man to help with her boxes. “Where are your parents?” he asked. “They’re not here,” she said (with a touch of bitterness, I’d say). He thought that her parents were dead and was both mortified and sympathetic until the boxes were moved and the matter was cleared up. I am beginning to realise that from now on holidays will be bookended by happy arrivals and gloomy departures. Oh well.

I trust your own Easter was satisfactory.

Mother’s Day

27 March, 2022
Posted in: Family, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

I always think about my own mother on Mother’s Day. I still miss her. I suppose it would be strange if I didn’t.

My little family dutifully delivered for me despite the fact that it comes hot on the heels of my birthday which is always a big effort. I had a very nice breakfast, flowers and a card and, best of all, I didn’t have to get up at 6.30 to drop herself to the airport as her father kindly did so.

I trust you had a satisfactory day yourself, if you celebrate.

The Bread Basket of Europe

18 March, 2022
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Mr. Waffle

When I was growing up my mother often talked about the man made famine in Ukraine in the 1930s. I have to say, I was not particularly interested at the time but it occurs to me now that my mother was born into a farming family in 1936 and that that famine probably had a direct impact on her family and her neighbours, at the very least in terms of what crops they were growing. No wonder she spoke about it, she must have heard a great deal about the damage that central planning did to Ukraine.

My cleaner is Ukrainian. She’s about the same age as me and I do think about what she has had to put up with in her life time compared to me. To talk to her is awful, I feel so helpless in the face of her misery and distress. She has relatives stuck over there and I think she is going out of her mind with worry and I can’t do anything useful. She said sadly, “All the Irish people are being very kind but it is too terrible.” It is indeed.

My neighbours have taken in a Ukrainian family. She’s a doctor and there are apparently close links between Irish and Ukrainian doctors (who knew?). Herself and her husband who lived in a grown ups only house until now have been amazed just how much energy and enthusiasm a nine year old has. The child also has a medical condition which means he has been stuck at home for Covid as well. How utterly grim. It’s all just grim. The neighbourhood whatsapp group has been hopping with offers of help but it all feels very limited. I listened to a wonderful – thought very sad – podcast where people talk about their home cities in Ukraine. A man who was a couple of years ahead of Mr. Waffle in school was working in the Ukraine and was killed.

Honestly, if this were fiction, you would say it was too unlikely – a conflict with so few shades of grey, a heroic president who was formerly a comedian, a full scale invasion in Eastern Europe.

For God and St Patrick

17 March, 2022
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Twins, Youngest Child

This year he has brought us a four day weekend and, honestly, nothing could be more welcome.

Poor Daniel is sick though recovering. A negative Covid test but a bit miserable all the same. Mr. Waffle, Michael and I turned up for 11.30 mass in our local church only to discover that masses were at weekday rather than Sunday times. Mass was over. Alas. Michael rejoiced, naturally.

Trying to find out where to get a 12.00 mass in Dublin is very difficult. The archdiocese categorises by church and while I can see that might be handy in a general way, it was not useful on this occasion. I found an excellent English website which listed all the masses in Dublin by time and then by location. Not so godless after all, it appears. Anyway we went in to town to the church in Whitefriar street to find them locking the gates against us. No 12 o’clock mass. We actually tried to visit the other week to take in its shrine to St. Valentine and relics and the door was briskly (and I felt slightly gleefully) shut against us by the same man. The house of the Lord is always open indeed. Mind you we had had to skirt the parade to get there and even at that early hour, not all of the parade goers seemed sober. So perhaps a wise precaution on balance. We eventually got 12.30 mass in St. Theresa’s on Clarendon street where they had gone all out with the music and had a lovely solo singer and all manner of musical instruments including perhaps bagpipes? Anyway they played us out to the quintessential St. Patrick’s day hymn, “Hail Glorious St. Patrick” very nicely done.

Mr. Waffle and I tried to get home and around the parade but to no real avail so eventually we gave it up as a bad job and watched a bit of the parade. Views were poor but I love to see people leaning out of the windows upstairs in city centre buildings (it reminds me of this picture):

Then we had lunch in town and went home about 3 before it all became a bit too raucous. A lot of people waving Ukrainian flags as well as Irish ones and the authorities had bedecked the city in both. This chimes with our official St. Patrick’s day message which focuses on Ukraine.

In unrelated news, I found where all the jam jars in the utility room have disappeared to; they’re hidden in the shed. Our facilities for summer jam and jelly making are intact. And the way things are going, we might need them.

Finally Aunt is still in hospital, seems to be reasonably well but the hospital is now closed to visitors due to surging Covid cases. It hasn’t gone away, I suppose although there was nary a mask to be seen in town today. Another colleague tested positive yesterday but I am now much less unnerved by this than I used to be. I wonder is that entirely a good thing.