Family

Surprised by June

15 June, 2015
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland

Every year, I am astounded by June.

It’s bright almost 24 hours a day and the weather is lovely. All the roses come out. The garden becomes out of control.

Disclaimer: This is not my garden but look at the verdant foliage. It’s on the way to school in the morning.

Further disclaimer: This is manifestly not my garden and is, in fact, in Cork. But it makes the verdant foliage point strongly.

Meanwhile, at work, I realise that I am taking leave over the summer and throw myself into all the things that must be completed by end June. The bitter discovery when I return in September that they are no further advanced is not foremost in my mind in June. This June is worse than usual as I am supposed to be moving to a new role in September. Then we have a cyclical high profile event in June which requires constant vigilance and somehow, no matter how well prepared for (and, trust me here, it is really well prepared for), June itself always throws up a couple of crises.

Locally, the church garden party and the street party always happen in June. We had the church garden party at the weekend. I manned the sumo wrestling stand. No joke I can tell you.

The street party is yet to come but I see a starring role for the Waffles as Mr. Waffle is chair of the residents’ committee.

Sort of related, herself has been baking like a demon. She made pretzels and brownies for the church garden party (the cream of the latter reserved for her London aunt who was in town for the weekend).

Recently she has also made grissini, brioche and, only this evening, crumpets. What are we to make of this?

Meanwhile, at school, there is frenetic activity: school tours, school sports day, graduation (from primary school!) and obligations like finding pillowslips (for the sack race) and funding in coins of small denominations at short notice. In fact, herself had an overnight school tour last week. They went to an adventure centre in Wicklow and had an amazing time: swimming, canoeing, midnight hiking; and just running around. Unfortunately, I forgot to tell the childminder that she wouldn’t be coming home on Thursday and he and the boys waited patiently outside the school for her until he got hold of Mr. Waffle who was able to clarify. For the amusement of non-Irish readers, see items 1 and 2 on the list of what she had to bring.

Also associated with the end of the school year are various presents which must be purchased and offered to teachers as appropriate.

The GAA goes into overdrive with a summer mini-tournament almost all the time. Poor Daniel is practically always running out the door with a hurley in his hand or returning pink faced and exhausted. Nor are scouts showing the slightest sign of let up. Michael went to the park this evening and returned filthy but happy.

And poor Mr. Waffle is away again, so I am keeping the home fires burning (metaphorically only, it is sweltering for Dublin, it may have been 20 degrees today).

All this to say, posting may continue to be light in June.

Oh, and happy Bloomsday, if that is your thing. Maybe, this year I will finally read “Ulysses”. If you have done so, please indicate whether you found it even slightly readable.

Confirmed

23 May, 2015
Posted in: Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Princess, Siblings, Twins

The Princess was confirmed yesterday. It all went reasonably well. My aunt, my brother and sister came from Cork. My aunt stayed in the B&B around the corner. It looks lovely from the outside but after she arrived I went to check her bedroom with her and, regrettably, it was vile. Absolutely tiny and utterly unappealing in every way. It was also pretty pricy so that was definitely a minus. However, my aunt nobly assured us that it was fine and said that she slept like a log. My aunt fills me with hope for our old age. She will be 86 next month and she is well in every way. She joined a swimming club recently and told them that she was 75 in case they didn’t want her due to her age and they totally believed her. Utterly reasonably. She is in fantastic shape. She attributes her good health to a lifetime of inertia and overeating so I feel my chances for a healthy old age are good also.

The morning of the ceremony was a bit frantic. I had underestimated how long it would take to ferry two carloads of people to the church. The first carload arrived at 10.40 instead of the required 10.30 and the second carload containing the Princess’s sponsor (my brother), her brothers and her mother arrived well after the 11 scheduled start time. We were nearly later because as my brother and I were talking about the marriage referendum, Daniel was inspired to make his position clear and wrote in large letters in highlighter on his arm, “Vote YES”. While I applauded this at one level (“I thought you would be happy,” said he), it didn’t add to his allure as he headed off to his sister’s confirmation in his short sleeved shirt. Spit and rubbing ameliorated the situation but he looked distinctly orange.

When we arrived, the service had already started and while the boys could sit at the back of the church with other relatives, parents and sponsors were right up the front. Herself was at the lectern about to begin her second reading. Mercifully I didn’t miss her. And she was terrific, I was very proud though somewhat mortified by my late entrance. As Mr. Waffle tactlessly said later to Herself, “I presume you saw your mother coming in, you could hardly have missed her, arriving late and coming up the aisle in her red dress as you were about to do your reading.” Sigh.

Lunch went well and then we deposited various relatives to buses, trains and their homes. Then, I went out to vote with the children in attendance and collapsed. I developed a spectacular migraine and I still feel a little delicate. It is to this, the Confirmation excitement generally and Mr. Waffle’s recent hectic travel schedule that I attribute a severe oversight this morning. We are normally very reliable as a family, if you want reliability, look to the Waffles. As I was driving Danny home from a GAA match in North County Dublin (a massacre, thanks for asking) I noticed a church car park full to overflowing, “There must be a communion on,” I remarked to him. Then it hit me, Herself was supposed to be singing in the school choir for the First Communion that morning. We frantically rang home. Had they by any chance remembered? They had not. Was the Communion service now over? It was. Did she have a solo? Several. Am I looking forward to going into school on Monday morning and grovelling before the choir director? I am not.

Hoist with my own Petard

18 May, 2015
Posted in: Family, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Herself is making her confirmation on Friday. It is a busy week.

As I write, Mr. Waffle is off in Helsinki. On Wednesday, he is scheduled to fly to Luxembourg. It appears that the possible Finnish air traffic strike will not now go ahead so he will not need to use his back up plan of taking the ferry to Estonia and flying to Luxembourg from there. On Thursday night, he will fly from Luxembourg to Amsterdam and then into Dublin about 11. If his Thursday work gig runs late, he is booked on to the last flight out of Luxembourg to London and then he will get the red eye from London to Dublin on Friday morning. I am mildly concerned that she will be confirmed in her father’s absence.

Mr. Waffle, having little faith in his spouse, left a highlighted note on the kitchen table this morning that a red confirmation rosette was required and then also texted me to this effect. The boys need new shirts for the event. A colleague said that herself needs a new dress; she is being confirmed in her school uniform (mercifully). On enquiry, she confirmed that other children are getting new clothes to change into. “I don’t care,” said she, “I don’t look good in neon.” What are we to make of this? And then I had to ring the guesthouse for my aunt, book a restaurant for lunch for everyone on Friday and consider where my two siblings will sleep on Thursday night. I also had fend off my sister’s queries as to what I am doing with my daughter’s hair. Apparently “getting her to wash it” is a poor response.

And then as well as all the confirmation organisation, I am doing all the things Mr. Waffle regularly does (bins, washing, GAA preparation, cleaning up after dinner) and the things we do between us (homework checking, sandwich making, chasing to bed) and my own tasks (dinner, scouts, walking the children to school). And work is busy too.

So, this evening when my very undemanding daughter – in the matter of confirmation prep, at least – reminded me that she wanted to go to confession before her Confirmation, my heart sank. I had forgotten at the weekend when confession is very handily available in almost any church you care to think of. The internet tells me that the only real possibility is going to a city centre church between 5 and 5.45 on Wednesday. Alas, fair maiden. With Mr. Waffle away this would mean bringing all three into the centre of the city at rush hour. So I hemmed and hawed and said we’d see but, I feel like the (I am sure apocryphal) mother who said her child couldn’t make the first communion ceremony because there was too much else to do on the day of the communion.

Also, the Princess tells me that she and Michael need cardboard boxes for their art class tomorrow. Because.

London!

29 April, 2015
Posted in: Family, Princess, Travel

I took the Princess to London for her birthday. It’s not as extravagant as it sounds. We stayed with one aunt (they have TWO spare rooms, in their flat in London – as she said, “we live like oligarchs”) and another paid for our flights using her air miles. But still, it did feel rather decadent.

We were due to fly out the Thursday afternoon before her birthday but, very suspiciously, our flight was cancelled due to the air traffic controllers’ strike in France. Since we were flying direct from Dublin to London, it’s hard to see why that should be but doubtless BA had its reasons. My letter of complaint has, as yet received no response. We ended up flying out at 9 that evening which was fine although some of us were a little hyper at the airport.

The flight, excitingly, boasted free crisps and, annoyingly, an article in the magazine about Dublin. We got the Heathrow Express into London and a taxi to Islington and everything went as speedily as it could have done but we still didn’t arrive until nearly midnight. I also nearly had a heart attack when I took out Â£200 at the airport and discovered just how weak the euro is against sterling.

The next day, Friday, we were off to Harry Potter world near Watford junction. We put ourselves in the hands of my sister-in-law who, in her own family enjoys a reputation for vagueness. Before I first met her, I asked my mother- in-law what her daughter was like and she said, “Very kind and very clever but, a lot of her time spent with us on this earth is taken up with looking for her other shoe.” So I was a little tense but I can report that her reputation is entirely unmerited. She whisked us painlessly across London in exactly the predicted time and the delightfulness of being in a foreign city and just following someone else cannot, in my view, be overstated.

Harry Potter world itself was a huge success. We all enjoyed it very much; even those whose expectations were extremely high.

The props are amazing and the work that went into them is breathtaking. I would definitely go back (and I may have to as the boys have put in strong arguments for their rights).

You can wander up and down Diagon Alley and we did, happily, for ages.

The next day was a fresh new adventure. My sister had arrived in London and I went off with her, leaving the Princess to enjoy the company of her aunt and uncle. They went to the Tower of London which is excellent, I am informed.

Willing to bet that it was a superior option to the British Museum where I ended up going. Wonderful collection and so on but very tiring. Sister-in-law had given directions to all kinds of attractions near where we were staying (my sister and I peeled off for a fancy overnight in London – more free thing, hotel points this time – what’s not to love?). Both restaurants she recommended were excellent. And, again following her directions, we went into Persephone Books where I bought the Princess a small birthday present. I think that if only I had stuck to sister-in-law’s recommendation and gone to the Foundling Museum instead of the British Museum, I would have been a happier woman.

Meanwhile, the Princess and her aunt were preparing to go to a West End show (Matilda – very good since you ask) for which her aunt had v. kindly procured tickets.

The next day we all met for brunch, then back to Islington for cake and home. We were supposed to travel to Heathrow via the Heathrow express but alas, the line was down and there was no indication when it would be re-opened. When I asked if I could get my ticket refunded, I was told, only if I had bought it in the last 20 minutes. As herself pointed out, only a moron would do that as the line had already been down for an hour. My letter of complaint has as yet received no reply. We had to take a taxi to the airport. I would rather not talk about how much that cost but suffice it to say that we could easily have flown back to Dublin for half the amount. When we did get on our flight though, the Princess got a window seat due to the efforts of BA (as her feckless mother had only checked in that morning and there were no window seats to be had) and she is still an infrequent enough flyer to be entranced by the view over the clouds and the lights of the cities below.

Aside from our transport difficulties (on re-reading this, I note that they loom rather large but I have just described them in graphic detail in letters of complaint, so they are very fresh in my mind), we had a fantastic weekend. The boys are consumed with jealousy, as well they might be. I shudder to think what we will have to do when they turn 12. However, Daniel is an Arsenal fan and his aunt lives very near the Emirates stadium so I think the London relatives should prepare themselves mentally for a further onslaught.

Easter Holidays – Part 2

20 April, 2015
Posted in: Family, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Twins, Youngest Child

We drove back from Cork late afternoon on Holy Saturday and arrived back at about 7 with everybody tired, cranky and hungry. It was in this joyous mood that we made our way up to the Easter vigil in the Church at 9 that evening.

The vigil mass is a really beautiful service but spectacularly lengthy. The church was in darkness and we all went outside to light candles from a brazier. As we filed in to the dark, neo-gothic church with only our candles lit, it was really spectacular. Mr. Waffle, clearly feeling the weight of his role as chair of the residents’ committee, hissed to me, “Who’s taking in the brazier? Some of the locals could do real damage with that.” In the other ear, Michael sighed, “Mass isn’t even started yet, is it?” I was forced to confess, it was not. The music was really beautiful but it was hard to enjoy the service until Mr. Waffle peeled off with the two boys about 10. The Princess and I stayed until it ended at 11 but all in all probably not an experience I would repeat for a while.

On Easter Sunday we had my parents-in-law around for lunch and it all passed off relatively well although my father-in-law had left his lights on and there was some fun with jump leads before they could leave.

Easter Monday was a beautiful day and we decided to go into town to look at the various activities associated with commemorating the 99th anniversary of the Easter Rising. Town was heaving and O’Connell Street boasted a number of attractions which would have been all fine and dandy if there hadn’t been huge queues and a constant fear of losing a child.

In the afternoon, we decided to take a drive to somewhere quieter and went to walk up the Hill of Slane. We discovered that there is no walk up to the Hill of Slane. The car park is about 200 metres from the site but it was tranquil and relatively empty after the chaos of the morning.

We went into the town looking for a cup of tea and ended up having dinner in the Conyngham Arms which was lovely. We sat outside in the walled garden in the sunshine feeling very pleased with ourselves. On the wall, the hotel is described as having the best service in Leinster and I’m not surprised. Our waitress was a heroine meeting our endless ketchup demands with extraordinary cheerfulness.

More soon. Maybe.

Easter Holiday Round-Up – Part 1

19 April, 2015
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland

Mr. Waffle is a shadow of his former self. As the self-employed parent, he tends to do a lot of the childminding during the holidays. As it happened, these holidays he was very busy and it was all a bit tense. Not for the children, but for him.

At the start of the holidays, I took the children down to Cork for a couple of days. Having been to Kinsale so recently, the children avoided a trip to Charles Fort. Other improving activities included a trip to the ever popular Blackrock Observatory and a visit to the Cork City Gaol Museum which was moderately successful.

Undoubtedly, a highlight of the trip was a walk on the Marina. This was the subject of much unhappiness. A deal was brokered whereby we would walk 10 minutes from the car and 10 minutes back. In those 20 minutes, the children spotted that there was a funfair and begged to be let go.

I yielded. I felt mildly bad that on Good Friday while their 90 year old grandfather was up in the church doing the stations, they were flying through the air on a variety of dangerous machines. I also bought the obligatory fairground goodies.

It being Good Friday, I did not have anything to eat myself which, frankly, did not improve my enjoyment of the whole experience. When I got back to my parents’ house, I was ravenous for my dinner. My brother who regards my eating regime with a sardonic eye (he believes firmly that people and women, in particular, should watch what they eat, I do not watch what I eat, we have had spirited exchanges of views on this point in the past) commented, “It’s harder for your mother as she is so unused to deprivation.” Quite.

I can’t quite recall what else we did. I do remember a trip to the park and overhearing my daughter and my brother having the following conversation:
Him: How did your day go?
Her: Terrible, don’t ask her or she’ll kill us all.

So, you know, only good in parts. Michael dropped my father’s iPad and I attempted to repair it by banging it on my knee as advised by the internet. This did not work and I managed to break the screen. The repair of our combined depredations cost a fortune.

Maybe more tomorrow.