Dublin

Very Tiring

26 September, 2010
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

On Friday, Mr. Waffle and I went for a walk in Glendalough. All very pleasant.

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We arrived home and whisked the children off to a freebie cinema showing of “The Red Balloon” which won some prize in Cannes in 1956. It was mildly endearing but the children didn’t think much of it. What was startling was how dirty and run down Paris looked in 1956. For a while I thought it was Brussels but then I saw the Eiffel Tower looming through the smog. Further culture night activities included a visit to a quite spectacularly disgusting take away in Temple Bar and an obligatory visit to “The Ark” a slightly worthy cultural centre for children. The best bit was being out with the children at night: looking at the moon; the river lit up; and all the grown-up slightly drunk people. Weird for everyone.

On Saturday we went to the GAA, dropped the Princess to a birthday party, took delivery of a bouncy castle and went to IKEA.

This morning we realised that we had left the camera in Glendalough so, to ensure that our comprehensive catalogue of our children’s birthday parties remained complete, Mr. Waffle drove off and fetched it. In the interim, the children and I were at mass. Some woman in West Cork had asked that people boycott mass to support the ordination of women. While, unsurprisingly, I am in favour of the ordination of women, I’m not convinced that boycotting mass is the answer. Firstly, I think there’s no evidence that anyone would notice. The archbishop appeared at mass – mass therefore ran forever. He gave an erudite sermon managing to bring in references to Dante and the depiction of Lazarus and Dives in medieval art. He didn’t touch on the ordination of women though.

There was a very eclectic selection of music varying from some African number (really beautiful) to a local soprano (medium) and the regular choir of pre-teens accompanied by a guitar (achingly dreadful). While all this was going on, the children had been off in some room behind the altar at the children’s liturgy where they were free to colour and speak loudly. Daniel and Michael arrived back with two pictures. “What’s this?” I asked. “That’s Lazarus outside the gate,” Michael explained. “And what’s this?” I asked. “That’s the remote for the electronic gate and that’s the surveillance camera.”

In conversation with herself:

Me: What did you do today while you were with the ladies behind the altar?
Her: About Lazarus and Dives. Dives is mean and won’t give any food to Lazarus and in the end when they die, Lazarus is in Heaven and Dives is in the other place.
Me: Hell, you mean.
Her: You can’t say Hell, especially not in a church.

Ah, the post Vatican II world.

And finally, as we were about to leave, I asked her “Would you like to shake hands with the archbishop?” “Will he have lollipops?” she asked. I said that I thought not and we left it.

This afternoon was the boys’ party and in many ways it was a huge success.

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Unfortunately, the strain of the week began to show and the Princess was fiendishly awful. In any event, the boys had a terrific time and, unlike their mother, were indifferent to their sister’s behaviour. So all was broadly well. Their uncle and grandparents kindly came around to assist with crowd control. They got mountains of presents, the clear winner being (and I am sorry if you are a donor and this causes you pain) the hilarious Kung Zhu Battle Hamsters. These are fighting hamsters and were clearly inspired by someone who had an alarming experience with hamsters at an impressionable age. In fact, when my sister-in-law was 8 she woke up one morning to find one of her hamsters dead and the other, blood spattered, devouring the corpse; so, I suppose, experience of battle hamsters may be more extensive than I imagine. Aaanyhow, it all passed off peacefully. Very touchingly, a woman who lives around the corner called round as we were prodding the troops up the stairs to bed with cakes for the boys. I had met her on the street earlier in the day and mentioned it was the boys’ birthday tomorrow and she had decided that they should have more cake. How delightful.

And now it is over for 12 months. Tomorrow is their actual birthday and then I will have two five year olds.

Notes from the edge

23 September, 2010
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

We have done all these things recently that I want to record faithfully here. But I haven’t time because we are out doing things.

Thing one:

We went to the fire station for a visit. Firemen and women are a) very kind to children and b) amazing. Did you know that they are all trained paramedics as well? That they can abseil? That if you fall into the Liffey, they’re trained to dive in and take you out. That they will let small children ride in their fire engines, play with hoses and show them equipment? It was the kind of thing that we did for the children and were genuinely fascinated by ourselves. One of the firemen said that he was in hospital for four months when someone threw a brick on top of the engine from a pedestrian overpass. I am still outraged on their behalf.

Thing two:

The President turned up at Sunday mass. She did a reading. She did not tut at my children running up and down the aisle. Her security man took part in the service and put money in the collection box. I told my mother that the President was at mass; she said, “What was she wearing?” “And what did you say to that?” asked my husband. “A camel coloured coat.”

Thing three:

There was organised fun in the Dublin mountains. We took the children. I am always surprised by how much they actually like just running around in the woods. There was a time when I would have photographic evidence but it appears to have passed.

Thing four:

At 10 this evening, I dashed upstairs to turn off the Princess’s light. Clearly, she should have been asleep but she was reading her book as we had neglected to turn off her light because we were distracted by hunting the internet for bouncy castles for hire. She asked what the gentle plinking noise in her room was. Investigation revealed that it was a drip in the ceiling. Further investigation in the attic (all three children now awake and peering up the into the attic) revealed that a slate is missing from the roof. And we only just got a leak fixed. My father says, “Houses are nothing but trouble.” I’m beginning to see what he means.

Tomorrow we are going out for culture night. The boys’ birthday party is on Sunday. Further details may follow. There’s something to look forward to.

Weekend round-up

31 August, 2010
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland

It was heritage week. Getting into heritage week events is a bit like getting your children into a good secondary school in Dublin. You have to start before you might conceivably have thought it was necessary. The minute the brochure came out at the end of July, I attempted to book us in to three events. One was already fully booked but the other two came good. On Saturday we had a children’s tour of Farmleigh which, though led by a slightly forbidding woman, was actually very well done. She had stories from the last children who lived in the house (now grown-up Guinnesses) and she handled the crowd very well. It was her outdoors colleague who was less successful. His job was to introduce the children to the horses and donkeys on the estate. On the face of it, this was the easier job. However, he was the kind of man who likes to complain about his job and he told the utterly uninterested audience that you might think that he would be allowed to name the foals but no. That job goes to the general manager. And then when he goes on his holidays, the lad who looks after the horses doesn’t talk to them and they’re wild when he comes back. He would do anything with horses but he won’t get up on one, not for all the tea in china. And so on.

The mild success of Saturday was, however, completely eclipsed by the trip to Kilmainham Gaol on Sunday. The authorities in the gaol had gone to a lot of trouble and they put together an excellent tour for children. Firstly the children were given sheets of paper with their “crimes” and sentences on them (things like vagrancy, 6 months hard labour) and photographed. Then they were marched single file into the gaol carrying their crimes in front of them. Then they met the governor, Obadiah Bartley, who harangued each of them in turn for their “‘orrible crimes” in a strong Yorkshire accent. It was unfortunate that the Princess was the first child he came to as she collapsed in nervous tears even as Daniel whispered to her that it was “only pretend”. The children were then put in a cell, accompanied by parents, if they wished. Herself sat in the corner weeping hoping that the governor would not come to inspect her. The boys were already starting to enjoy themselves. On emerging, the children met prisoner 98 (an actor dressed up in prison gear) and went into his cell to see what he ate and what work he was doing. Even the Princess started to enjoy herself. Then they went out to the exercise yard in single file and marched around. Prisoner 98 attempted to escape and they ran after him and stopped him. Then they followed the Governor as he locked up prisoner 98 in the “smelly cell” in the basement. The Governor said that the children had all been good and he would pardon them. He then asked whether prisoner 98 should be released also but they were unanimous that he should be left to rot. Children have no bowels of mercy. They were then given their release papers.

The children were sufficiently reconciled to the Governor that they even got their picture taken with him and prisoner 98.

Weekend Round-Up – More a Stream of Consciousness than an Actual Post

3 August, 2010
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland

Let me see, the boys and I went to Dublinia which was dull but they seem to have come away with an abiding interest in bubonic plague. We went to mass where our parish priest dutifully hung Daniel’s picture of the crucifixion on a marble pillar. We had that great reading that starts “Vanity, vanity all is vanity”, which is both beautiful and pointed. Dinner with the cousins and in-laws.

Went to see the National Transport Museum which is appeallingly amateurish. The website is far more professional than the premises. Had lunch on a bench by the playground in Howth eating Beshoff’s take-away chips. A group of German tourists looked at us very disapprovingly. My sister rang from Bahrain and disapproved. Despite being sneered at for our poor eating habits/vulgarity, the children still didn’t eat anything. Daniel sucked the ketchup off his chips and then passed them on to the seagulls. Sometimes, I despair. Then, a walk at Howth Head where the Princess astonished us by running all the way. Michael did not surprise us; he insisted on travelling all the way back up on his father’s shoulders. Daniel was tired but manful.

Then out to the cinema with sister-in-law to finally see Inception.

Gardening

1 July, 2010
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

I have become obsessed with gardening. From someone who found gardens deathly dull I am turning into someone who knows the names of plants. We have giant hogweed, how lovely.

When we bought the house in 2003, the garden, lovingly tended by a little old lady, looked like this. While looking at these pictures, I want you to reflect on why anyone with a small garden would plant seven fir trees. Answers on a postcard please.

Then we left the country and let the house to tenants. Conscious of the fact that the garden might need some maintenance and having more money than sense we offered to pay for a gardener to come every so often. The tenants said that they would rather do it themselves. Here are some pictures of the garden just after the tenants moved out in 2008.

And look at those cute little fir trees, they grow up so fast, don’t they?

This is the side passage of which I have no 2003 photo as it was then an unremarkable gravelled area. It pushed the boundaries while we were away. When clearing away the foliage below, I unearthed two bicycle skeletons.

So, much of the past two years has been spent in uprooting. I’ve hung on to the pussy willow which self-seeded, is enormous and holding one end of the washing line. Mr. Waffle feels it needs to be pollarded. He says this on the basis of some work of literary fiction he is reading. Personally, I’d like some more reliable source, like the internet. You see it on the left below, does it need to be pollarded, if so how? Note also the tasteful paving stones on the “lawn” which I have not yet removed as I know I will not be able to grow lawn to replace them.

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Speaking of not growing grass, you see my problem below. On the plus side the fir tree you see is one of only two extant specimens. Cutting them down is hard work, especially when Michael cries and throws his arms around them. I am taking the children to Cork next week and I hope that the dastardly deed will be done in our absence.

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While there are improvements in the side passage, I would be the first to concede that it still needs work.

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Two years of hard labour and this is the result as of today.

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Frankly, sometimes I despair and I haven’t even shown you the, ahem, vegetable patch.

Weekend Round-Up

28 June, 2010
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Princess

Yes, yes, I know that this is very dull for you but, if I don’t record it here, how will I ever remember what we did with our lives?

So, on Saturday we went on the church outing. I never thought that going to mass was going to help me to get to know my neighbours but it seems to be an unintended consequence. We went to an adventure playground, the sun shone, the children played with each other, we sat in the shade and chatted and the whole thing passed off peacefully except for an incident involving herself and the water slide (she wanted to get on it, we wanted to have lunch first).

Then today we had friends around for lunch and the weather was so clement that we were able to sit in the garden. Surely this is not what the Irish summer is about. Rain is forecast.