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Hodge

Rainy Saturday


Posted in: Dublin, Family, Hodge, Ireland

We were all in reasonably good form this morning. Yesterday evening I had said that we were going for a walk in the mountains to look at the snow. This announcement was greeted with limited enthusiasm. Even I had second thoughts overnight and was contemplating getting out of bed early without truly looking forward to it and only sustained by the reflection that we would enjoy it in retrospect. I was awoken at 9ish by rain dashing against the bedroom window and the glad tidings that it was too wet for our walk were conveyed to the children by Mr. Waffle while I sat up in bed with my book.

I was summoned from my bed at 10 by indignant shouts from herself. The cat had got sick on her bed. One of the joys of adulthood is cleaning up cat vomit, I find. Normally this falls to Mr. Waffle’s lot but he was out getting bread so I was the chosen victim. Later, leaving the boys in the thrall of their electronic devices, Mr. Waffle, the Princess and I braved the rain and went to breakfast in a local cafe.

On our return we brought all the children to town to acquire new hiking boots (when will their feet stop growing?), a camp bed (can only be an improvement on the air mattress, surely), more candles and some Magic the Gathering Cards for the boys (if you don’t know, you’re better off). We got sodden but it was speedy. Then we came home and were still back in time to drop the cat vomit soiled duvet to the dry cleaners (the hilariously named “Day and Night” cleaners which closes at four). Then we came in, lit the fire and battened down the hatches. It’s been delightful.

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How’s your own Storm Dennis day going?

Matters Mouth Related


Posted in: Hodge, Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

The cat somehow managed to hurt her nose. She may have got into a fight. Unclear. Mr. Waffle took her to the vet (which she did not enjoy) and the vet pronounced her to be basically fine and we should just wait and let her get better. €60 we will never see again. Sigh. Anyhow to skip to the finish, she did recover, but in the intervening fortnight she was unable to lick herself clean. Who knew a cat could become so revoltingly smelly. That licking behind the ears regime is startlingly effective.

Meanwhile, herself had another appointment with the medieval torturer who is passing himself off as an orthodontist. Honestly, if I had known at the start how much prolonged misery it would involve, I would never have started. I mean all she had was one little snaggle tooth (as our American cousins say) and it was actually quite cute and characterful. The orthodontist has now applied those dreadful elastic bands which are attached by hooks on the inside of her mouth. The pain, the poor child. She told me that the dental nurse said to her that she couldn’t go until she had put on the bands herself. It took her about 2 attempts. The dental nurse sighed and said, “It’s always the same, girls can do it straight away but boys take about 14 tries.” She speculated that it might be because girls look at themselves in the mirror more. It’s possible, I suppose. When she returned home, bloody, battered and elasticated, her brothers’ words of comfort were uncomforting. Daniel offered, “Now there is no food that you can’t readily turn into a catapult.” Michael said, “Isn’t it a good thing that I have perfect teeth?”

And in final tooth news, Daniel’s front tooth was declared dead by the dentist and he had his root canal treatment (€450 but cheap compared to the braces). Daniel said the procedure wasn’t too bad and he was quite cheerful during and after even though he had to lie there for a good hour with his mouth open. I took him for a bun afterwards and he ate it up with every appearance of enthusiasm.

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He then took himself off to GAA training that evening without a bother. All in all it appears to have been far less painful than his sister’s brace tightening which is something, I suppose. I have to go to the dentist for my regular check up next month. I’m not sure I can face any more mouth related trauma, so let’s hope it passes off peacefully.

Extended Round-Up


Posted in: Cork, Family, Hodge, Ireland, Middle Child, Princess, Siblings, Twins, Youngest Child

The coda to our logistics last week was getting Herself back to France. She was due to fly out at 9.50 on Wednesday morning. Alas, I did not see some form online which was supposed to be filled in for under 16s [Air France didn’t need one but Aer Lingus did – I know, I know, when you’re explaining you’re losing] and she was thrown off on the steps of the plane. Mr. Waffle had to zoom back to the airport and re-book her for a later flight and then we needed to re-book her train from Charles de Gaulle to the west of France. It was all a bit stressful. She is Miss Super Competent in fairness to her. She got on the plane in Dublin and from there, unaccompanied, navigated her way to the train station in CDG and on to the express train back to her host family in the west of France.

Poor Mr. Waffle meanwhile spent the morning in the airport (unexpectedly, obviously) and then came home to find that the wretched cat had captured a blackbird and brought it into the kitchen. Mr. Waffle arrived home to a storm of feathers and the bird standing dazedly on the work surface between attempts to hurl itself out the closed window. The cat was pacing the floor frantically some dimly understood precept (or possibly her vast bulk) preventing her from hopping up on to the work surface. Mr. Waffle threw her into the utility room and ushered the bird into the garden. The cat got out the cat flap in the utility room and was waiting anxiously for them at the back door so that escape plan was not entirely successful. The bird got out eventually and we are still finding feathers in surprising places. Joy.

Meanwhile it was Halloween in Dublin and for the first time since moving in, our decorations beat next door’s. It could be that now that their children are 19 and 17 they are not trying so hard but I like to think that we really tried. The boys looked very impressive in their costumes but were too sophisticated to go door to door and just wore them for school.

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We had planned to go to Cork for a couple of days over mid-term before Mr. Waffle’s father died and I wondered whether we should cancel but after some humming and hawing we went in the end. In a new development, the boys stayed in my parents’ house and Mr. Waffle and I stayed with my sister. This was a very satisfactory development for everyone except, possibly, our host.

We drove down on Thursday night which was a bit of an epic trek but it did mean that we woke up in Cork on Friday morning ready for a day of Cork related fun. In what can only be called the high water mark of family cultural engagement, the boys said that they wanted to go to Charles Fort in Kinsale on Friday, so we did. It was a bit damp but we missed the worst of the rain. On the strength of this, I bought a new family heritage card for €90 which means that we have to go to at least six heritage sites over the next year to break even. I fear the worst. So do the children.

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We went for lunch in the Bulman and Daniel took the obligatory before and after pictures of the ketchup bottle to send to his uncle who does not love ketchup. The waitress assured me that ketchup is part vegetable but I am not entirely convinced.

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We took the traditional picture at the caution children sign.

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On Saturday, my brother and sister minded the boys for much of the day (including a trip to Milano’s for pizza, let joy be unconfined) leaving myself and Mr. Waffle to our own devices. We were a bit blinded by the unexpected freedom. We went for breakfast and, after a trip to the Crawford gallery and a mild wander around the town in the rain including a look at food fair in the City Hall, we waddled on to lunch. In slight desperation, wondering what to do next, I asked Mr. Waffle to check a list of 17 hidden exciting things to do in Cork he found on the internet. One of them was feed the ducks in the Lough. I mean, I’ve no objection to feeding the ducks but I wouldn’t exactly call it exciting. We had about an hour and a half until Mr. Waffle was meeting a friend for coffee and I almost suggested going home (to be fair, it was lashing) but then I had a mild stroke of inspiration and we went to see Elizabeth Fort and the Protestant cathedral.

Elizabeth Fort boasted mildly exciting views and an air raid shelter which I don’t remember seeing before. It was extremely damp and had a random collection of cold damp objects for viewing including this slightly alarming map.

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I quite like the cathedral although I am not generally a fan of neo-gothic. Mr. Waffle wondered about the candles and the IHS on the altar. “Maybe they are very high church?” I offered. “Not in Ireland,” he said firmly. He said it was the least Protestant looking Protestant church he had ever been in. I wonder was he misled because Ireland is basically full of 19th century neo-gothic churches that are Catholic and there are inevitable stylistic similarities. It’s a mystery.

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That evening, the boys played board games with my sister and her partner and had a fantastic time.

We drove back on Sunday morning. It was actually a really good idea to go in the end. We all had a lovely time. It turns out that despite the cynical words of my son Michael on another occasion, there is such a thing as fun for all the family.

Culture Night


Posted in: Dublin, Hodge, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Twins, Youngest Child

Last night, the boys went for French lessons (not a success). While they were there, as part of Culture Night, Mr. Waffle and I went to the RIA and the Mansion House. I’d been to the Mansion House for events before and it was grand but a bit dull. Not their brass, though, which was impressively shiny and made me realise, sigh, that my own is in sad need of polishing. A very enthusiastic woman in the RIA explained about the Irish Historic Towns Atlas and explained, even to my satisfaction, why on a 25 year project when even Youghal and Bandon are done, Cork city is not due until 2020. Apparently it’s because Cork is particularly difficult to do as it has a very complex and ever-changing street landscape. So there.

We went with the boys to the Terry Pratchett exhibition in Trinity which was disappointing as it was a bit heavy on lecture and light on other elements. There was a great map though. It was a bit of an evening of maps.

We went to Gotham (a pizza and burger joint off Grafton Street) for dinner as I could not face Milano’s. It was crowded but they were able to put us outside. It was the first time in years I’ve eaten my dinner beside a smoker and the first time ever for the boys who were displeased but also fascinated. “Wait until tomorrow,” I said, “when you wake up, all your clothes will smell of smoke.” We packed up reasonably rapidly and went home.

When I was going to bed I noticed a weird small rash thing on my neck. “Probably stress,” I said to myself gloomily. In the morning, however, it came off in the shower so I can only suppose that it was ketchup which ended up on my neck due to a combination of peculiar eating habits, shortsightedness and poor hygiene. You’re welcome.

In other cultural news, Mr. Waffle and I are going out to the theatre this evening. It’s a thing in the Fringe and only an hour or so; we are leaving the boys to fend for themselves. Mr. Waffle has just come in after struggling for about an hour with a ladder and the unhappy interaction of the down-pipe and the rose bush in the front garden. I’ve told him we’ll have to leave for the theatre in about 15 minutes. He’s delighted.

We spent the day ferrying Daniel and Michael to various activities – tennis, drama etc. But, we also looked at ovens for our new kitchen. I want to get an aga. Am I crazy? Stove/oven advice very gratefully received.

Just now, the cat has skulked to the flower bed with a dead mouse between her jaws, I can only hope that my shouting at her, “Don’t you dare bring that into the house!” will be effective. All the news as it happens here.

And how has your weekend been so far?

Alas Alack


Posted in: Hodge

There was an all-white cat who lived in one of the houses at the top of the road who had been coming to our house and putting the frightners on Hodge since he was really quite small. He had one green eye and one blue eye. We called him Griddlebone and he marched up and down the gardens of the road as though he owned them. He frequently wandered into our house in summer when the doors were open to Hodge’s furious and hissing disapproval. Only the other day, I arrived home to find Mr. Waffle indignantly announcing that he had just seen Griddlebone weeing against the kitchen window (from the outside, I hasten to add). Griddlebone was insouciant, he was nimble and devil may care and the other morning, I found his body on the busy main road nearby. A neighbour came out and took in the body before it got squashed. Apparently his owners called him Bowie; he’ll always be Griddlebone to us.

Ominous


Posted in: Hodge, Mr. Waffle, Princess

When I checked my personal mobile as I left the office this evening, I saw that herself had called me at 2. I rang her back. “Oh yeah, it was an emergency when I called you. The cat caught a mouse and brought it into the utility room.” “What happened?” I asked. “I shut the door and called Dad and he’s going to deal with it when he gets home.” Cravenly, I cycled home very slowly. Mr. Waffle opened the front door to me. “Did you find the mouse?” I asked. He had not. We both looked again but could find no trace. Could the cat have eaten it all, including the tail? She is certainly less hungry than usual this evening. Alternatively are there mouse body parts quietly rotting in an unseen corner of the utility room? It’s all to play for, folks.