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Cork

The Wind that shakes the Barley

30 September, 2006
Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Reading etc.

The scene: A bunch of Pres boys stand around ad libbing about rebellion in a Ken Loach film. Including yer man Cillian Murphy who was a couple of years behind my brother in school (clang).

Me (sotto voce): God they’re dreadful, do you think that they’ll be with us for long?

Mr. Waffle: I’d say we’re stuck with this lot until 1923.

Later.

Leader of flying column, Teddy O’Donovan, ad libs on why they must support the treaty: We have to give this thing a green light.

Mr. Waffle: What’s a green light Teddy?

Alas, I know very little about Irish history and I kept having to ask Mr. Waffle for important historical information like, when did the War of Independence end and what was the name of the famous guy from North Cork? Truce was summer 1921 and Tom Barry, since you ask. He hissed at me “didn’t you do any history at all in school?” I replied with great dignity that I had given up history at 15 and stopped at the Renaissance and I could tell him all about the great Florentine painters later.

It was my choice. I wanted to see a Cork film. And there were lots of Cork accents which was entertaining. Although the socialist was from Dublin, as Mr. Waffle said, no one would believe in a Cork socialist. But Cork was burnt down by the Black and Tans, so you would think that it might feature in the flick but, as my mother would say, devil a bit. In fact, I didn’t recognise anywhere they filmed though I see it was shot on location in county Cork. And the dialogue was desperately clunky. I loved Ken Loach’s film “Raining Stones”, I think it was one of the best things I’ve ever seen. I really hated “Land and Freedom” though which was about the Spanish civil war which featured the same kind of exposition as this film. Lots of scenes with young revolutionaries sitting down and setting out their reasons for fighting. Desperately tedious stuff.

I have no idea why this film got rave reviews (in the English papers) and a palme d’or, perhaps it’s because the English feel guilty about Ireland and the French always enjoy a film that is mean to the British.

Still dire and all as it was, it did make me think. I mean we all knew that the Black and Tans were brutal and that our grandparents were all involved in the war of independence – Mr. Waffle’s grandfather’s house was burnt down by the Black and Tans and my grandmother, who worked in the telephone exchange, used to pass on to the IRA messages she heard passed between British army officers. But our grandparents, they were so law abiding, as Mr. Waffle said, the most conservative revolutionaries ever. I did hear about some old fella who fought the war of independence refusing to go to the reinstated commemoration parade for 1916 because, as he put it, the State had an army for years and why hadn’t it invaded Northern Ireland. You have to admire a man who sticks to his principles.

37

10 March, 2006
Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Work

Today is my 37th birthday. Yes, I know, I do sound a lot younger. Thank you. Less of the barracking down the back, please. I am beginning to feel my age. Yeah, I know 40 is the new 30 (or as a friend of mine said on hearing that another friend’s 80 year old father was to remarry, 80 is the new 70), but approaching 40 has come as a bit of a surprise to me. I can see my face thinning out, getting that slightly gaunt and hollow look that trying to meet the incessant demands of a toddler on zero sleep will give you, particularly, if you’re an older mother and you have baby twins as well. Why oh why didn’’t I have my children at 22 when I had the energy for it?

I will be 20 years out of school this summer. My oldest friend attended her 20th school reunion recently, much against her better judgement. She tells me that it was dreadful, “very Cork”. “But wasn’’t it fascinating to find out what everyone was doing?” “Well” she conceded “it might have been, but all anyone talked about was husbands and children”. The oldest friend has a glittering career as a diplomat (this is obviously more impressive in Cork than in Brussels, where there are more diplomats than natives) so I asked whether her former school friends had expressed suitable awe. After various modest disclaimers she said “that no, it hadn’t come up – though they did express amazement that she wasn’’t married with children. I would be the first to say that having children is very challenging and rewarding etc. but, you know, having a glittering career is very challenging and rewarding too (with the added bonus that it makes for more interesting conversation –- toilet training doesn’’t regularly feature). One of her former school mates summed it up by saying to her condescendingly “ oh well, having children is very hard; it’s not for everyone”.

So, clearly, this all made me feel better about my achievements: one husband, three children, one job. I’’m having it all; my life at 37 is perfect. However, at the moment I don’’t feel like I’’m having it all; this lengthy maternity leave has
largely turned me into a housewife and I’’m not at all sure how I feel about that. I was ludicrously pleased when I was able to order a dustbuster and a blender based on my supermarket points. I spent days admiring our new fridge.

The other day I said to Mr. Waffle, ““Great news, I have solved a mystery”.” I think he felt that I had oversold my discovery when I explained that it was how our cleaning lady manages to wipe down the kitchen counters without leaving a water swipe mark (if you want to know – it’s by using window cleaning spray, I hope it won’t kill us all, but they are delightfully sparkly). The final blow came when I was watching an old episode of “Friends” on the telly in which Monica’’s cleaner said to her, ““Mrs. Bing, this tile cleaner is terrific” and Monica said “Really? I made it myself it’s one part amonia, one part lemon juice and a secret ingredient.”” The cleaner asked, ““What’’s the secret ingredient?”” I leant forward listening closely, only to have Monica dash my hopes: “”What you think I’’m going to tell you my secret ingredient?”” Yup, I guess I’’m a housewife now, alright.

A housewife and out of touch with “the young people” as I understand they are known. Let me give you an example. A friend of mine who is a competition lawyer said of a small town in England, ““I went to a rave there.””

Me: What a rave, a rave??
Her: No, a raid, you know, where we turn up at a company’’s office and go through their stuff looking for incriminating papers.
Me: Oh right. Do you go to raves?
Her: No.
Mr Waffle: I don’’t think that they have raves any more.
Me: Really?
Him: No, I haven’’t read about them in the paper in ages.

Roll on 40. And has anyone seen my glasses?

Comments

poggle
on 10 March 2006 at 10:34
Oops! Hippo birdies!
Knobber
on 10 March 2006 at 10:46
bon anniversaire waffleroo
jackdalton
on 10 March 2006 at 14:14
Hap’birty, ‘waf… you Oldie you 🙂
poggle
on 10 March 2006 at 14:17
You got the Doc to come out of hiding!!
Beth (Homepage)
on 10 March 2006 at 14:35
Happy Birthday! You don’t look a day over 28. You know, I assume.
groupie
on 10 March 2006 at 14:51
Happy Birfday. I love the idea that the career diplomat might be taking the easy route out.
kristin (Homepage)
on 10 March 2006 at 15:17
happy happy birthday! you ought to go enjoy yourself and take in a rave. or a raid. either sounds preferable to getting the little men to sleep.
happy b’day!!
xo

Friar Tuck
on 10 March 2006 at 16:24
Or as I once heard someone say, why didn’t you have children when your parents were young enough to take care of them?
Minkleberry
on 10 March 2006 at 19:49
Happy birthday. And gaunt and hollow is in, don’t you know- just look at Terri Hatcher xxx
Lilo
on 10 March 2006 at 20:32
Many happy returns Ms Waffle. You’re not the only person born in 1969 wondering how it is that 40 seems to be galloping up so fast.
bobble (Homepage)
on 11 March 2006 at 00:16
I think it’s only natural to feel ten year younger than you actually are and surprise yourself when you realise you aren’t. I do it constantly. My last rave was 1990 by golly.
disgruntled
on 11 March 2006 at 12:53
>Happy Birthday … I’m younger (by a couple of weeks but still, these things are important) but even so managed to humiliate myself at work by asking my staff what ‘crazy frog’ was. Apparently it’s some sort of popular beat combo for telephones.
Angela (Homepage)
on 11 March 2006 at 13:30
Happy happy Birthday! To celebrate, I will be throwing a huge rave in my basement. We will be serving energy drinks, and will only allow admittance to those carrying a hard boiled egg.
beachhutman
on 12 March 2006 at 00:17
Happy birthday Young Waffle.
belgianwaffle
on 12 March 2006 at 21:10

Oooh, thank you all for kind birthday wishes and sweetie bonanza. You’re all younger than me, aren’t you? And tell me, do you really need hard boiled eggs to get into raves?
Norah (Homepage)
on 13 March 2006 at 11:13
Happy birthday Waffly. Ibet the secret ingredient is bicarb of soda.
belgianwaffle
on 14 March 2006 at 09:06
Thank you, thank you Norah. Should I try it or would that just be too sad…back at work this time 3 weeks. Goodness gracious me.
dmts
on 14 March 2006 at 22:05
happy belated birthday Ms Waffle – let me tell you, as someone on the down-hill slide into the decade that is being hailed as the new 40’s that the view isn’t too bad at all. (although it’s a fairly gin-fuelled view!)

belgianwaffle
on 21 March 2006 at 20:58
Ooh gin fuelled, how lovely…

Nemesis the Avenger

27 January, 2006
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland

A letter from my father:

“I was amused (not quite the right word) by your account of your troubles with people parking outside your garage today.   I remember your mother’’s story.  She found a car parked outside the gate when she wanted to go somewhere.  There had been a few similar episodes, and she lost her temper and telephoned the guards.  They sent a guard to investigate.

It appeared the car was registered to a woman in mid-Cork, some distance away, and she was telephoned and told to remove the obstruction.  The car was being driven by her daughter, who had business in [town], but she (the daughter) could not be found, so the registered owner had to make the trip into [our] road and remove the obstruction.  Revenge, satisfaction, removal of an obstacle… all very well, if one was not acquainted with the culprit.”

Christening

9 December, 2005
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Princess

My sons will be baptised in Cork over Christmas thus ensuring for my mother a lifetime of retrieving ecclesiastical paperwork for her grandchildren.

We’re hoping to be more prepared than we were for the Princess’’s christening. We didn’’t know that you needed a candle.  When the crucial moment arrived, I hissed at my aunt, ““You’’re very religious, why didn’’t you tell us we needed a candle?””  ““I thought you knew”,” she hissed
back. Her highness was christened under a night light retrieved from a side altar. Your baptismal candle is supposed to enjoy further outings at your communion and confirmation.  That’’s probably why they don’t use night lights. We knew that she needed a white garment alright and proudly produced a white cot blanket.  We were somewhat abashed to see that the little overachiever being christened at the same time as the Princess had an elaborate lacy number with her name embroidered on it.  It was probably vomit free too.

My religious aunt is to be godmother to Daniel. I phoned her the other day to confirm dates
and times and she told me tartly that she has purchased two christening candles. Now, who will buy lacy garments and embroider their names on them?

Comments

Manboobs

on 09 December 2005 at 15:22

Dirty Nappy; Clean Soul. Congratulations

Minkleberry

on 09 December 2005 at 19:13

Bobble, that’s such a relief- my poor Nanny has been so worried about mine and my sisters’ eternity in limbo.

Friar Tuck

on 09 December 2005 at 19:28

Minkle, only infants get a pass. Unless you are a precocious two year-old, your Nanny should continue worrying, not about Limbo, but worse!  But back to the baptismal garment, I know someone who makes their living selling handmade ones. It’s too late for flapjack and pancake, but I can put you in touch for any subsequent progeny.

kristin

(Homepage)

on 09 December 2005 at 23:06

My daughter was christened in a haze of high, high episcopalian incense, and my poor baptist mother still hasn’t recovered. She only stood the christening dress because lucy looked so adorable in it, but once the recitation of the saints started, she looked very pale. the event was particularly memorable because my sister’s hair caught fire from the candle she was holding during the procession to the font. the mom of the other baby who was being baptised that day offered to give us the videotape of kera on fire, for posterity. i think she was just jealous that lucy was such a cutie.

beachhutman

on 11 December 2005 at 10:36

If you think THAT’s a palaver, wait for first communions !

belgianwaffle

on 14 December 2005 at 09:13

Bob, Minks, MB, aren’t you glad that we have FT to sort these things out for us? FT, start your own blog in the new year or face dire consequences.
Kristin, that’s hilarious, superb story.
BHM, I know, I know.

The Republic

16 December, 2003
Posted in: Cork, Ireland

Illness continues to stalk our household. Most trying. However, you will be delighted to hear that we are recovering and hope to be healthy for our trip home on Friday.

Somebody asked me where in Ireland I was from. I am from Cork. We are an independent and proud people brutally subjugated by the nasty east coast Dubliners. My loving spouse comes from Dublin so our Christmas holidays will be scrupulously divided between the two locations. Well, reasonably scrupulously. More of this later.

I think perhaps the following story would help to explain the Cork spirit. I met my husband in Brussels and, despite the fact that he was from Dublin, I liked him straight away. I rang my mother and said to her “I’ve met a great guy”. My mother, like many another Irish mother was concerned that, as I lived in Brussels, I might meet a local and settle down far from the ancestral home so she said “Not a foreigner?” “No” I said.? “Ah”, she said in tones of great relief “he’s from Cork”.

Our holidays are not as fairly divided between Cork and Dublin as they might be. A friend of mine from school (the “heart surgeon”) is getting married. As a 34 year old mother of one, I thought that my bridesmaid days were over, but apparently not. I am supporting actress in the wedding which is taking place in Cork on January 1 so we are staying in Cork a little longer than we might otherwise have done.? My friend has selected really lovely dresses for her bridesmaids but there is one tiny snag. Cork is chilly in Winter and wearing a strapless dress on January 1 is definitely going to take from my enjoyment of the occasion.? Particularly since there will be a photo session on the beach.

Finally, have been surfing around and have to plug this site which tells of the adventures in Brazil of a friend of ours from Brussels.? Makes me feel most uninteresting which is quite distressing but is very funny and worthwhile.

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