• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar

belgianwaffle

  • Home
  • About
  • Archives

Dublin

The Mother of All Sundays

9 January, 2022
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

I’m back to work tomorrow after what feels like a very long break. Am I looking forward to it? I am not.

Covid

Over the past week, Mr. Waffle and I have sampled a range of Dublin eateries for breakfast/brunch, which has been hugely enjoyable. However, if I get Covid, it will definitely be from the Elephant and Castle in Temple Bar. It’s not that they weren’t observing all of the requirements but it was the fullest place we’ve been in months.

So, I do not currently have Covid. However, Covid is rampant here. My brother-in-law and his wife have it – baffled as to where they could have got it. My brother is at home self-isolating as a close contact of some randomer in Spain (regular readers will recall that he was in Tenerife for Christmas). I am a bit amazed that the systems talk to each other and impressed. He’s not delighted.

I went to visit my mother’s friend from college whose husband died in August. Two of her sons live abroad with their families and couldn’t easily come home due to Covid. She and her son who lives at home had been going to host her other Dublin based son and his wife and children for Christmas Day. However, you guessed it, the son, his wife and children all came down with Covid so it was just my mother’s friend and her son who lives at home for Christmas Day. He had a really bad reaction to his Moderna booster and spent Christmas evening throwing up so it was not exactly a peaceful and joyful day as hoped.

My friend who lives in America came home with her husband and four children. There was a problem with two of the children’s passports and her husband had to stay behind with them to sort with the American embassy while my friend went home with the younger children. This is not exactly a Covid story but, of course, everything was made much more complex by having to source a Covid test (when the public system had basically given up putting additional stress on private testing) after they had solved their passport difficulties.

Culture

We went on a number of cutural outings. Somewhat satisfactory. There was an exhibition in Dublin castle on photography in Ireland from 1839. Look, ok, it was put on by the photography bit of the National Library but a bit more on the subjects of the photographs as well as full details on the photographers and their techniques wouldn’t have been any harm.

As a Trinity graduate, Mr. Waffle can get in to the Book of Kells free and bring a couple of guests. This is a genuine graduate perk, I have to concede. When he and I visited we were told that now you have to book in advance to get the graduate perk. “Will we just go in anyway?” I said to Mr. Waffle. “How much is it?” I asked the woman on security. €18 a head! We did not just go in anyway.

Untitled Untitled

In other cultural excitements, I decided to go to the annual Turner exhibition in the National Gallery but there was a big queue so I was put off. Instead, I decided I would finally cash in the gallery membership I got last Christmas (2020 – I was waiting for Covid to be over so I could get full value for my annual membership, I’m tired of waiting) and go into the (cost-free to members) Jack Yeats exhibition. Was there anyone in the whole gallery who could assist me in redeeming my membership? There was not. Apparently I can ring any morning. Well, that’s helpful. A job for next week. I had a wander around the free stuff but my absence of membership gnawed at my frugal bargain-loving soul and I couldn’t enjoy it properly thinking I ought to be in the Jack Yeats exhibition for free.

Untitled

Great Outdoors

We went on a couple of successful walks. Out to Howth Head early on Wednesday morning with Daniel and Michael. When Daniel saw the Summit car park he said, “Oh God not here.” This was not exactly propitious but it was a beautiful day and we had the walk largely to ourselves and, I think, despite himself, he didn’t hate it. We had lunch in Howth and were home by early afternoon filled with inner smugness (in fairness, that was probably just me).

Untitled Untitled Untitled

On Wednesday night, we had a farewell dinner. I went all out on the Christmas ware which none of the menfolk appreciate at all. Their loss but it was nice to have herself defending it, even if it does make the cupboards a bit full for December (conceded).

Untitled

Thursday was Women’s Christmas. The Wise Men completed their epic journey from the far side of the hand sanitiser on the hall table.

Untitled

The boys went back to school. Herself went back to England. We drove her to the airport. “Did you see my whatsapp message about how hilarious it is to google “askew”?” I asked. “Yes,” she said tartly, “but I knew about it already because I have been on the internet since 2007.” Notwithstanding her very recent reminder of how keeping your parents young can be a brutal process, I was so gutted to see her go. It’s just really sad seeing a child off at the airport and I know it’s great that she’s having such a good time and loving it and the alternative would be much worse but I am heart broken. Seeing the light flooding into her bedroom every morning because the curtains are open gives me a pang and reminds me that she’s gone, probably for good. For the very first time, I am wondering what it was like for my mother when I moved abroad at 23 – and basically was gone forever. In fairness, herself is only 18 which seems so young notwithstanding her extraordinary competence at managing everything. I completely forgot to slip her any money at the airport which was something my mother did for me without fail. Happily her father remembered and had cash to hand so that she could sustain herself on her epic trek.

Untitled

Mr. Waffle and I drove away from the airport in lashing rain. I had decided to go for a walk in Carlingford to cheer us up but as we drove there in the downpour I did wonder about the wisdom of that. Miraculously the weather cleared as we arrived and stayed fine while we had our walk.

Untitled Untitled Untitled

Then it started to lash again. We went off to a nice lunch spot which we had found on our recon mission during the summer. A pretty successful day out.

When we returned to Dublin, the boys debriefed us on school. They said it was largely empty as half the children and many of the teachers were out with Covid or were close contacts of Covid sufferers. God, I really hope they don’t close the schools.

Change and Decay etc.

On Friday morning, Mr. Waffle and I went to a friend’s father’s funeral. It’s the biggest funeral I’ve been to since Covid. The back doors of the church were left open (Covid, I assume) and the sleet blew straight in and down the back of my neck between my scarf and collar no matter how tightly I wound my scarf. I have never been so cold at a funeral mass. They must have been perished at the graveyard afterwards although it can’t have been a great deal colder than the back of the church. The mass was lovely, if chilly. A relative was an organist and they had pieces from Fauré’s requiem. An outstanding funeral music performance (although a friend did tell me about a funeral he went to where they had a choir and string quartet – which I’m sure was excellent – upping the ante even in death). The speeches (several) were very good, particularly a granddaughter who gave a real feel for what the dead man had been like to her and her cousins (lovely, obviously). I ran into a friend – it turned out she was there in her professional capacity as president of an important national body where the dead man had been advisor to the finance committee. I tell you what, it’s weird to be part of the middle aged, middle class establishment. Where have all the grown ups gone? Dead and buried apparently.

We went home and Mr. Waffle worked for the afternoon and the boys and I took down all the Christmas decorations. What a melancholy end to the holidays. January is going to be grim, I fear, but I’ve decided we will all – Covid permitting – visit herself in England during mid-term in February. She and her brothers are, if not delighted, at least resigned.

How’s your January going?

Untitled

Christmas Round Up

2 January, 2022
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Christmas Eve, 2021

My sister sent me an advent calendar which she made herself with Christmas pictures from years past which I absolutely loved.

The last picture is a still from a video 10 years ago when the boys and I were walking through Temple Bar. Michael peered at it “Is that you? I can’t believe how young you look compared to now.” Telling it like it is, our Michael.

Untitled

We drove down to Cork. In a genius move, Daniel had downloaded the “Muppet Christmas Carol” soundtrack which serenaded us part of the way. Herself was testing us on the Myles Na gCopaleen “Catechism of Cliche” where I was doing exceptionally well, I might add. “You know,” I said to her, “he was from Northern Ireland.” Daniel, busy listening to the Muppets said in considerable surprise, “What Kermit?” “Yes,” said Mr. Waffle, “that’s why he’s so green.” We’re hilarious.

The in-laws in London sent us a message that some Christmas pantomime had to be cancelled as Beauty and the Beast both got Covid.

Moving on from the Muppets we had general Christmas carols and played “Il est né le divin enfant” which was previously unknown to me but appears to occupy the space in French culture which “Away in a Manager” does here (mostly for the children’s Christmas nativity play but can be gussied up for more formal occasions). Mr. Waffle said that he had heard it on Lyric FM (yes, we are now Lyric listeners – your point?) earlier and the host said, “From my French, I think that means “he is not the divine infant.” So close. And as herself regularly says to me, slightly sardonically, “context clues.”

We had three hours in the car. It’s a long time. This interaction is not untypical.

Me: Michael, you need a new guitar string, don’t you?

Mr. Waffle: Which string?

Michael (tetchily – he’s the one in the boot): Give me a minute, I’m trying to think.

Herself (briefly removing her earphones): This is exactly what will happen during all Christmas interactions.

Me: I’m sure it’s not.

Her(sticking back in her earphones) : Yes it is. Cassandra out.

Things perked up when we got to Cork. My sister had spent weeks getting my parents’ house ready for our arrival and we all had beds (not a given) and I hadn’t seen it so pleasant and organised since before my mother got sick. And she had dinner ready for us. Delightful.

Over dinner, I mentioned my father calling him Daddy and the children thought I meant their father whom I also call Daddy (I know, I know, I try not to, it’s horrendous). Mr. Waffle pointed out that my family has too few names for too many people. “Look at Dan,” he suggested. “Well, my father is dead and my brother is in Tenerife, so in fact, there are no Dans,” I said tartly. “What am I?” asked my misfortunate son Daniel who was sitting beside me. Alas.

We walked up to midnight mass at 9 in the evening. It rained on us and the church was surpisingly empty. The priest galloped through it (he skipped the second reading which I didn’t approve of but I quite liked if you see what I mean) and even with a choir (which was a lovely surprise given Covid restrictions) we were out by 9.45 for our damp walk home.

Christmas Day, 2021

We were all up reasonably early but not as early as Daniel who woke at 3 in the morning and in his excitement couldn’t get back to sleep and spent the night watching Spiderman films. Good presents all round and my sister cooked an incredible Christmas dinner for all of us and for my aunt who came in from next door.

Untitled

Mr. Waffle, the Princess and I went to visit my parents’ grave – the graveyard was full of people, who knew this was a thing? I probably wouldn’t have gone myself, if it hadn’t been my father’s anniversary.

Overall, a great success and the visit to the graveyard wasn’t even too bad – it’s an interesting graveyard – mock all you like.

Untitled

St. Stephen’s Day, 2021

I had booked those who were willing (Michael and herself) in to the outdoor skating circuit in Fota. It was a bit of a pain finding the entrance (don’t ask) but actually great fun when we got there. The skating circuit was small (and I have no idea how they kept it frozen) but outdoors which was lovely. And while I wouldn’t call any of us star skaters (even though herself had been to Somerset House when she was in London – less glam than Cork, I’m sure but still good practice) we appeared better at it than the majority of people. There was a very slight downhill slope which meant that for half the circuit little effort was involved. At the very last minute, as we were getting off the ice, I fell over. The injury to my dignity was severe but otherwise no lasting harm done.

Untitled Untitled

Herself sent the following message to the family group chat:

Have lost £100 in an unmarked envelope (save your laughter) so please look carefully before you recycle/burn anything!

The money was a present from her aunt and my sister and I found it by going through the large green bin outside. I feel my unmerited reputation for throwing out everything was, alas, reinforced by this episode. Yeah, it was me, of course, it was me, if you leave an unmarked envelope on the floor, I will throw it out. On the plus side sorting of rubbish for environmental reasons made this a more pleasant task than it would have been in times past.

Monday, December 27, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went to Kinsale to visit a friend of his who was back from London. We would have taken the children for a walk as well but it was lashing so they were spared. She renovated her house extensively and it is, I must say, extremely swish.

When we got back to Cork, Mr. Waffle asked where the Irish Times was as he had succeeded in completing the prize crossword. Back to the recycling bin. Look, if you don’t want a three day old newspaper thrown out, you have to say something. I fear my reputation may be consolidated though.

Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Herself and myself went for breakfast in the Crawford together. “I’m trying a look, don’t say anything,” she said slightly dauntingly before we went out. I did not say anything.

Untitled

We had a look at the Rembrandt exhibition. It was grand but I am not a big Rembrandt fan, still interesting to have seen it.

Mr. Waffle and the children went back to Dublin, filling the car to the brim with loot. I stayed an extra night to meet a school friend who had come back from America for Christmas with her husband and four children.

My friend described her departure from America in such hair-raising terms (antigen test places closed due to Covid cases in the staff) that I have zero desire to do anything like this. However, she reckons that we could have Covid for ten years (she’s a doctor but a cardiologist, I really, really hope she’s wrong) and we had better start doing things. I don’t know. Contexts seem to be different in different countries.

It was interesting, the Princess was saying that in England, no one ever talks about NZ and it’s all about Sweden. We are all about NZ and their extremely successful strategies for dealing with Covid but I haven’t heard too much coverage of Sweden, a bit I mean but it isn’t the first country Irish media outlets seem to look at.

I finally (two years after my mother’s death) cleaned my stuff out of my childhood bedroom, something she had been asking me to do since 1993. To be fair there wasn’t much left – some college and school essays, old papers, a few pieces of jewellery. My sister was suitably impressed by my ability to chuck things but I think I had probably brought to Dublin years ago anything of value to me.

Wednesday, December 29, 2021

I went in to the market to get a poke bowl to bring to herself in Dublin because I am a saint. The wretched Cork bike stands weren’t working in two places so this delayed me. However, I must give credit to the people in TFI who I emailed in some irritation and who replied instantly to say call us and we can re-start the screen for you. Very gratifying. Nevertheless, I was slightly late for my sister who had promised to give me a lift back to Dublin. In my defence, my sister has become punctual and that put me off.

It was nice to be home all the same. Poor next door had had Christmas cancelled as their first born despite being double vaccinated had got Covid again. They had been going to host Christmas dinner so had to dole out supplies to relations from behind closed doors. The parents and younger child had been scheduled to go skiing and were antigen testing every day. They did get off but it’s all a bit stressful.

Thursday, December 30, 2021

A friend from work and his four children came to visit. I was able to deploy my Christmas ware and also the fruits of my Christmas hampers. I was delighted with myself. He said that my kitchen reminded him of Mr. Tumnus’s and I was thrilled as I suddenly realised that this was the look I had been going for all along.

Untitled

New Year’s Eve, 2021

Our Irish Times did not come but there was the neighbours’ copy on their doorstep. Later, Mr. Waffle realised that the neighbours don’t get the IT during the week and they had obviously got our copy. When he went to retrieve it, it was gone. Who were we to begrudge the poor self-isolating one a paper?

Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast and when we came back, we began to dole out tasks to the children. Daniel said, “I knew when I heard you come in – clompity stromp (his own invention but I like it) – that it would be empty the dishwasher, put away clothes.” I am afraid it was. I am predictable that way.

We went off for a post-Christmas visit to the cousins. Very pleasant. “Had we any plans for this evening?” they asked. I looked blank, I had completely forgotten it was new year’s eve.

Herself had to bail a bit early as she was going to the theatre with a friend (Faith Healer – it was grand).

Everything closed at 8 so she was back by half past. We all went to bed but were awoken at midnight by the quite spectacular illegal firework display nearby. We had some champagne and wished the neighbours a happy new year including the Covid one who was waving from her front door at her friends standing by the gate.

It was fine, you know, but herself said to me that all her friends in England had put up on instragram, fireworks and meetings with friends and Dublin is just dead. “There’ll be other new years,” I said encouragingly. “Not when I am 18 and new year just isn’t the same when you’re 52.” I am afraid that is unanswerable. Although when I was cleaning out my room I found a third of a pound note which I had split with two friends on new year’s eve 1989 saying that we would meet again in 1999 and put it together. Reader, we did not. But I was reminded of that very dull evening in the rugby club in 1989 when we had been reduced to tearing up a pound note for a mild thrill. I suppose what I’m saying is that not all new year festivities are what they might be.

New Year’s Day, 2022

Mr. Waffle and I went for a lovely walk. Lovely walk was lovely. We avoided the traffic chaos on the way by taking our bikes. So my walk was accompanied by a side order of smug glow.

Untitled

Sunday, 2 January, 2022

Fresh from the successful walk the previous day, I announced to the children that we were going to Howth for a walk. Herself said that she planned to dedicate her day to college work but the boys and Mr. Waffle, God love them, were resigned to their fate.

When I was in mass my phone rang which has never happened to me before. It was a friend. I did not answer or check the text messages she sent but spent all mass thinking that someone we both know must have died because what else could it be to require an actual phone call.

Anyhow, when I got out it was to find that she was suggesting a walk at 2.30 in the park with a third friend. I was delighted. The menfolk graciously agreed to defer their walk.

When I got home there was a message from my brother-in-law – whom we had met on Friday – that he had just got a positive antigen test (they were going out to meet friends and he had one to be on the safe side). Herself pulled out the stash of free, yes, free tests that she had brought home from England and I twirled away (v unpleasant it was too). Negative. I told my friends, they said come on the walk anyway. I did. I mean all three of us are triple vaccinated and we were meeting outside.

And it was brilliant. There is nothing like meeting people in person. I came home full of energy and enthusiasm and tackled the old receipts and guarantees box. In no way do I have form for throwing out necessary things.

My brother is home from Tenerife and he called to find out why both recycling bins in Cork are full. What can I say, I’m good at recycling.

I hope that your own Christmas was happy and Covid free.

Advent Begins – The Season of Waiting

28 November, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Princess

Mr. Waffle took Dan to the airport for a fresh Covid test in an abundance of caution (mine). Mr. Waffle got up at 5 in the morning yesterday to book it and then they had to wait two hours for him to take it. Alas. We await hearing.

In continued surprises from Sunday mass, the priest quoted from Emily Dickinson’s “Hope is the thing with feathers” in his sermon in a bid to cheer us all up as we contemplate the next Covid variant (how soon before we run out of letters of the Greek alphabet, depressingly soon by the looks of things?).

In England herself says she is feeling a bit better.

I went into town to do some Christmas shopping. No joy really but town was looking very nice with the Christmas lights up.

Untitled Untitled

Inspired by Emily, I went into Bewley’s for a cup of tea. More accurately, I joined the queue for tea outside in the freezing cold. When I got to the door, I could not find my mask so I left. As I bitterly put my stuff into my bicycle carrier, didn’t the wretched mask fall from between the pages of the paper? I hummed and hawed but went back and joined the end of the queue and waited and waited. A waitress came out to the frozen pundits on the street and said it would be half an hour for a table. I was committed at this stage. 15 minutes later, her colleague came out and said it would be 20 minutes for a table (ok, I suppose) and as they closed in 20 minutes, there was no longer any point in waiting. I was incandescent with rage. I went to the Queen of Tarts, an old favourite of mine, closed, looked a bit permanently closed, I do hope not. I cycled homewards in the freezing cold and stopped off at a local old reliable cafe. Closing and unable to accommodate me. That’s right, a city of nearly a million people and not a cup of tea to be had. I got home having spent nearly two hours trying to get a cup of tea. Snort.

In other Advent news, my sister gave me an Advent calendar in the form of a box of skin and beauty care. As it was the first day of Advent I pulled it out from under the bed. “Beauty lies within” it announced. “Surprisingly frank,” I thought for a moment. Honestly, could they not have chosen a better slogan? I had to ring her up to find out how I was to use the first item I received, I think it may be a bit sophisticated for me and my beauty regime.

Dinner and a Show

27 November, 2021
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Reading etc.

I went out to dinner with three friends this evening and then we went to a comedy gig afterwards. Great evening or super-spreader event? Perhaps a bit of both. I miss the old days when going out didn’t feel mildly criminal.

The Crown Season 2

26 November, 2021
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Princess

So, back to the dentist to get my tooth fixed. This afternoon he did prep work which involved a fair amount of drilling. At this moment, I have a numb mouth and a temporary crown. I’m back in on December 17 to get my permanent crown. The Friday before Christmas, I rejoice.

In other news, herself appears to be improving, I base this on the reduced communication levels. She has had one of her poems published in a college magazine and is pleased.

And, finally, something else in the good news side of the ledger. I am very, very slowly making my way through a fat volume on the history of Dublin. There was a passing reference to the Worth Library which I had never heard of before. I emailed to find out about visiting hours and I got a lovely telephone call from the librarian, thanking me for my interest and pointing me towards their online exhibitions. Alas, they are closed due to Covid but hope to open up to tours again in the Spring. I am quite excited. Middle-aged thrills.

Notions or Gentrification is Continuing Apace

22 November, 2021
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland
Untitled

That was quite a handy shop for fuel, I’ll have you know. And do I really want Beaujolais nouveau which Mr. Waffle says always tastes of bananas?

  • « Go to Previous Page
  • Go to page 1
  • Go to page 2
  • Go to page 3
  • Go to page 4
  • Go to page 5
  • Interim pages omitted …
  • Go to page 75
  • Go to Next Page »

Primary Sidebar

Flickr Photos

2017
More Photos
May 2022
M T W T F S S
 1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
3031  
« Apr    
Tweets by Belgianwaffle

Categories

  • Belgium (144)
  • Boys (837)
  • Cork (200)
  • Daniel (585)
  • Dublin (439)
  • Family (582)
  • Hodge (46)
  • Ireland (817)
  • Liffey Journal (7)
  • Michael (573)
  • Miscellaneous (71)
  • Mr. Waffle (521)
  • Princess (1,039)
  • Reading etc. (553)
  • Siblings (198)
  • The tale of Lazy Jack Silver (18)
  • Travel (156)
  • Work (184)

Subscribe via Email

Subscribe Share
Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy

© 2003–2022 belgianwaffle · Privacy Policy · Write