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Family

Christmas Update


Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Twins, Youngest Child

Still alive. A bit challenging this year. We had my brother and sister on Christmas Eve which was nice but I was starting, alas, to feel a little under the weather. Did 2 solid hours in Dublin’s newly minted Catholic cathedral make me feel better? It did not although the singing was beautiful and the archbishop gave a pro-migrant sermon of which I strongly approved. My brother was beside me and it is hard to believe that he had ever been to Christmas mass at all as he kept saying, “Surely, it must be about to end now.” Herself commented sagely that the flower arrangers etc. still had to be thanked. She was right although the thanks were mercifully less extensive than they tend to be in our local church.

We had exchanged presents with my sister earlier in the day as she was spending Christmas Day with her partner’s family. I always feel she does quite poorly out of this as she is very generous to the children and doesn’t get so much from us. She did not disappoint this year and I gleefully pocketed a blue book voucher and a nice candle and the children got untold largesse. She also gave me a novelty jigsaw which was a blown up picture of our cat. I think it’s going to kill me. And I’m also feeling a lot less enthusiastic about the cat.

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Comparisons are odious but this jigsaw which I received from my middle child was much more satisfactory.

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You’ll see there’s a piece missing. We spent days on our hands and knees on the floor looking for it but finally a couple of days ago we swept the jigsaw into its box and decided the piece was lost. This morning middle child found the missing piece. In a trouser pocket. Was I delighted? I was not.

Back to our chronology here, I felt ok when we got up on Christmas morning and v much enjoyed the present giving (good haul thanks) and receiving. Mr. Waffle does a treasure hunt for the children on Christmas morning and that was great too.

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We were having the in-laws and my brother to Christmas lunch and the children were a great help in prepping and the table looked fantastic; the food wasn’t bad either. All in all pretty satisfactory though I am, if possible, even more grateful to the in-laws who host almost every year. This year they have moved out of their house to facilitate very significant renovations. If you pray to a deity, please remember them in your prayers, they’ll need it.

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By the time evening rolled around, we were all a bit exhausted though we did play one game of 110 with my brother. Wouldn’t say everyone was totally into it.

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I’ve no idea what happened on St. Stephen’s Day. I whined about being ill. The Princess admired the spectacular bruise which the dentist’s butchery had left her with. My brother hit the sales and we put him on the bus to Cork.

On Saturday I was still ill. So sorry for myself. Herself and myself went to look at the antiques shops on Francis Street (all still closed) and had lunch in the Argentinian place on Meath Street. I was exhausted after my mild outing.

To everyone’s horror we realised that we were booked in to see Dublin Gothic in the Abbey that evening. A three hour play about one Dublin building. And two, yes two, 15 minute intervals leading to a total run time of 3 and a half hours. While there were varying levels of enthusiasm when this Christmas treat was booked, I think that it would be fair to say that on Saturday night we all shared the exact same enthusiasm level namely zero. To be fair to the play, it wasn’t too bad but it was too long and we weren’t in the form to appreciate it as we might. It gave us something to talk about and there were some very interesting ideas and funny bits but you know, 3 and a half hours is a lot even when you want to go and you are in the whole of your health neither of which necessarily applied.

On Sunday I felt just well enough for a mild stroll around the Botanic Gardens. Very sorry for myself still.

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On Monday I finally started to recover. We rejoice. Herself and myself and Mr. Waffle had a look at the antiques shops many, but by no means all, of which were open.

Then we went home and she packed and we dropped her to the airport to go back to London. Gutting. I felt very sad. But there you are, this is the lot of the Irish mother. I did it to my mother and she did it to her mother so I suppose we can only hope that some day she’ll move home again like my mother and I did. She’s starting a job and moving flat in January so exciting times ahead and I guess London isn’t so far.

Today my recovery continued apace and we climbed the Sugar Loaf. These pictures give the impression that we were there alone but in fact this was not at all the case and every family in Dublin appeared to be on the mountain having a health giving walk. It was a beautiful day and you could see snow on the higher mountains in the distance and all the way across to Snowdonia in Wales.

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I am delighted to report that I have no plans for this evening. I hope that your Christmas passed off peacefully also and that you are recovering from the inevitable illness of the season. A very happy new year. More blogging in 2026; something for you to look forward to.

Golden? Would you say Silence is Golden?


Posted in: Family, Mr. Waffle

I have Scholl sandals with wooden soles. I tend to wear them instead of slippers in the summer. The family hate them; I’m sure they’re good for my feet so I persist in the face of general disapproval. Mr. Waffle remarked, to general acclaim, at one point, “In summer, a mysterious figure stalks the house, I like to call her Madame de Clompidour”.

That is all. Unless you have an annoying slipper story of your own to share?

Saint Nicolas


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

He came – after all these years. As I write one of the Dublin based children is still in bed, so possibly excitement levels are not what they once were. But look, it’s the thought that counts!

I guess it’s a long time since 2006.

For Those who have Died; a November Thought


Posted in: Family

Today is my Nana’s birthday. She never liked November much. Of course, when she was born in 1897, it wasn’t Christmas like it is now. Or, in fact, even when she died in 1984. I absolutely loved her and I loved when she came to visit. She only lived about 70kms away but it seemed like she lived on the moon. She came for lovely long visits and then we mightn’t see her for ages. I mean the roads weren’t as good as they are now but there was the train; still she had lots of grandchildren who were keen to see her and she had to divide herself up fairly, I suppose.

Anyway here we are on my first Communion; both looking quite pleased and I note the grass has been cut for the occasion to add extra glamour. My mother made my dress and had to wash it (as she frequently reminded me) three times on the day because I seem to have spent my time running around in it and falling over. Cissie who lived with us gave me the little mass book which I am pretty sure I still have somewhere. I remember her showing me how big the print was – a positive for some reason – and I pointed out that this was only at the consecration (I sometimes think I must have been unbearable) but I loved my little prayer book with its mother of pearl cover and I think she must have known that.

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Revolutionary


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

When Mr. Waffle’s uncle K was a little boy he was taken by his father to see Dan Breen in hospital. They had been neighbours in Tipperary. Mr. Breen turned to young K and asked him what he would do, if he found an informer among his men. Young K was baffled by this and in the pause while he was collecting his thoughts, Mr. Breen sat up in the bed and said ferociously, “You’d plug him.” It made quite the impression on K, still a very peaceful soul.

If I don’t write this down here, who will ever know?

Anniversaries – November Thoughts


Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland

My father would have been 100 last March 25. Last March felt like a bit of a milestone as well because it was 5 years post the first Covid lock down. My father died on Christmas Day 2020 and those last nine months were made even grimmer by Covid. I think the very old and young people in education got the worst of Covid but it was no picnic for those in the middle either. It was pretty dreadful and I find few things more annoying than people who say, “Actually, I had a good Covid.” If it’s you, please stop it, but as Covid memories mercifully recede, it is something I am hearing more frequently and I don’t like it. Look, maybe you did have a good Covid (unlikely in my view, but I’ll allow it) but you must know lots of people didn’t and sharing this experience of yours is unlikely to make them feel better about that time. Anyway, here’s a thing about my father, he cycled all his life until he was well into his 80s – when cycling was unpopular and no grown ups cycled, he cycled, and now, partly inspired by his singular devotion to the convenience of the bicycle, I cycle every day too and I often think of him as I freewheel along.

My sister sent me flowers on our mother’s anniversary – what a nice thing. I think of my mother most days and what I really miss is her advice. Teenage me would be surprised. Also, she thought I was brilliant and was always on my side. And she was hilarious and practical and clever and I miss her very much.

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Look, it’s almost the season (though I can 100% guarantee that picture was taken on Christmas Eve which was when our tree went up every year despite my pleas for an earlier date; as you can observe my pleas for a real tree were also in vain). And, speaking of practical, my mother made that dress I’m wearing though I am afraid I never liked it. Oh well.