On Sunday the parish priest said that for the next 12 months we will be praying for one vocation in Dublin. Yes, one. Setting our ambition level low, I see. I wonder would it help not to cut out half of the potential candidates?
Dublin
Bah Humbug
The Trinity Christmas tree was lit this evening. I left work a bit early to be at the front gate where I had arranged to meet husband and one child at 5.30. Chaos ensued: child turned out to be at a lecture; husband was carried away by the crowd; rain lashed with real enthusiasm; the Trinity choir tried some challenging numbers instead of going for crowd pleasers; of the anticipated mulled wine and mince pies there was no sign (to be fair, my expectations were low on that front anyhow, were they planning to feed the 5,000?).
“Feeling Christmassy?” asked Mr. Waffle when we eventually found each other. We went to find our own cup of tea. The Westin had an event in the atrium and directed us to a noisy pub downstairs; the Palace Bar was heaving (full of men in suits drinking pints); the Joy of Cha, despite indications otherwise on the internet, was closed. We cycled home in the rain and I lost my hat of which I am very fond (herself models the hat below in a shot from this time last year, idle to deny that it looks a lot better on her than me). When we got home I went back to the shed to cycle in to try to find the lost hat but then I got a work call which I dealt with in the shed (glamour) and then somehow, I’d lost the will to retrace my steps.
However, when I finally got home, as part of my gradual Christmas prep, I got out my Spode ware and found my Christmas tablecloths and tea towels (“Oh my favourite Christmas tea towel,” I exclaimed as it emerged from where it had been nestling since last January. I am now the kind of person who has a favourite Christmas tea towel, apparently.) Mr. Waffle turned on Christmas FM, lit a fire and made me a cup of tea. Perhaps I am feeling a little bit Christmassy after all. You?
Updated to add:
Look what I found this morning!
November
I am indebted to Townmouse for drawing my attention to the poem below. Hard to argue with; especially in a gloomy Dublin November. To be fair the last week has been chilly but clear so there’s that. Still the sunset view from the office at 4.05 is not exactly making my heart soar.
November by Thomas Hood
No sun — no moon!
No morn — no noon —
No dawn — no dusk — no proper time of day.
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member —
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds!
November!
A Straw in the Wind
I am still doing baptism preparation in the church. I will be doing this until I die at the rate things are going. My mother used to always say that it’s very difficult to get off a committee and she never said a truer word.
Anyway, we had this young couple in and they asked me to help them fill in the form, so we went through it together. There’s a bit where it asks whether the announcement of the baptism can be put up on the church’s facebook page (somehow given the demographics of the congregation, it’s bound to be facebook). “Does that mean that the baby’s name will be on Google?” asked the father. “Well, yes,” I said. “Then no, no Google.” Interesting.
Still No News
A quiet day at the ranch: tennis; driving across the city with the learner driver; art gallery and tea in Bewley’s with the middle child; and a chance to admire Dublin’s Christmas lights (it’s November, Christmas time!). For the season that appears to be in it – Santa and the Grinch driving up and down Grafton Street.
My Travel Hell – Concluded
I have just arrived back in Dublin airport. I am sitting on the plane waiting patiently to be disgorged. I’ve met a number of people I know on the flight because, you know, this is Ireland. Do I feel up to other people? I do not. More tomorrow.