belgianwaffle

Dublin

Compare and Contrast


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

I booked tickets for the national concert hall recently and a nice man answered the phone immediately, talked me through my options, I booked my tickets and they were sent out by post.

Today I wanted to book tickets for a show in the Olympia Theatre. The Olympia has decided to dispense with the person in the foyer who takes bookings and has instead entered into a deal with Satan. Sorry, ticketmaster. So I telephoned ticketmaster and made my way through the poorly organised menu – am I going to a particular location, family event or a concert? no, a play but there’s no button to press for that, go for location and know that this is going to end in tears but nevertheless say Olympia theatre clearly into the phone. I then waited 15 minutes until a man from the North of England came onto the phone to take my booking. A perfectly nice man, I hasten to add, and it’s hardly his fault that by the time his customers come on the line they are always a bit peeved after the long wait time. But he’s not exactly a local who knows the layout of the theatre, is he? In any event, the wretched thing was booked out.

There must be a moral here somewhere.

Two dreadful events


Posted in: Dublin, Hodge, Ireland

Dreadful event 1: Mr. Waffle’s bike was stolen from the back garden. To do this, the thieves had to toss it over an eight foot gate. It’s a big bike and it has a child seat. Mr. Waffle is bereft. I will be locking the back door more carefully. And, yes, we will be getting a shed.

Dreadful event 2: When we went to bed last night, we heard the cat mewing pitifully. An exhaustive search of the premises revealed that she was trapped in a drawer in the boys’ room. The idiot cat likes to climb into small spaces and one of us had accidentally shut her in while she was sleeping peacefully on the boys’ trousers. I can see this leading to difficulties in future. The cat was most reproachful and we were guilt-ridden.

On the plus side, the roof no longer leaks.

Pressing Matters


Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland

On Saturday, I went to see number 10, Henrietta Street as part of the Open House weekend where all sorts of places are thrown open to the public. Number 10 is a beautiful former townhouse which has been a convent since the start of the 20th century. It was restored in 2003 and an architect involved in the restoration gave a fantastic tour.

I have fallen in love with Henrietta Street and want to live there. It is quite beautiful to look at with the King’s Inns forming the end of the street and very large early Georgian houses on either side. The area is very urban and edgy (what some people might call rough and dangerous) and the houses are beautiful, listed, huge and, in many cases derelict. As recently as 1974 they were tenements with 36 families living in one of the houses. Hassett and Fitzsimons has one for sale with the fantastically engaging description “unique refurbishment opportunity”. €1.85 million before you have at all begun your unique refurbishing. When I told Mr. Waffle all this with shining eyes on my return, he started to bang his head against the fridge. I suppose my only hope of moving there is either a) win the lottery or b) become a nun.

During the week my brother brought us up an enormous quantity of apples from my parents’ house in Cork. We took ourselves off to West Wicklow on Sunday morning where a look branch of the slow food movement were making an apple pressing machine available to those with plentiful apple crops. This was terrific. There were lots of children to play together while the grown ups made apple juice. Those attending ranged from bohemian couples with children with unlikely names to elderly protestant ladies. Although we were a bit outside the general demographic, it was great fun and I am contemplating shelling out some of my income to be notified of future events where I will be able to overhear more conversations along the lines of “I knew, just by looking at them that your children had to be homeschooled…” and “Have you met …, she’s a herbalist.” Also the Princess made a friend. They discovered that they were both from Dublin and arranged to meet at the Spire. I knew she had met a soulmate when the new friend said to her father, “Daddy, I am meeting my new friend at the Spire, when would be an appropriate time for us to meet.” [Emphasis added] To her great chagrin, her father replied “In about 6 years.”

I See Dead People


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

The Town Mouse delegation, being tourists, had been to visit the National Museum and spoke animatedly, if not enthusiastically, about the bog bodies. I think the words TM used were, “Someone should give those bodies a decent burial.”

Not having set foot inside the door of the National Museum since 2008, I decided it was time to bring the children to investigate. I keyed them up the night before, I made popcorn and gave it to them sitting on steps adjacent to the Masonic Hall before going in so that they would not be hungry. We passed through the shop safely and saw two bog bodies which were holding everyone’s interest nicely before Daniel announced that he needed to go to the toilet. This inevitably involved passing the cafe and after that, all was doom and gloom. Michael wept for crisps and did not stop until we got back to the car. The nice Garda who tried to cheer him up was treated with tears for her pains. The Princess ran off twice in a huff.

Culture is very tiring, I find.