belgianwaffle

Ireland

Happy New Year


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland

How have we been since December 24 you ask?

The Princess was very keen to go to midnight mass (at 9 on Christmas Eve) to sing with her choir. I wanted us all to go together but felt it was too late for the boys. She promised faithfully to go to mass again on Christmas day with all the family so herself and Mr. Waffle went to mass on Christmas Eve and she sang a verse of “Away in a Manger” on her own and she was delighted with herself. On Christmas Day, she dutifully went to mass again (as did her saintly father). The choir were given the day off in recompense for the night before so it was just the organist and the choir director who sang solo. The director spotted herself and asked her to do a reprise of her “Away in a Manger” after communion: “Do the first verse and we’ll see how you’re doing after that.” So away she went. The organist accompanied her quite brilliantly; speeding up and slowing down as necessary. To be fair to the Princess, she sang clearly and in tune. After mass, a number of people congratulated me on her performance including one woman who said that the Princess “made the mass”. A comment which was, theologically, probably not entirely appropriate but was nonetheless very welcome to the singer’s mother.

The presents went down well and Santa played a blinder. Daniel in particular was delighted with his Lego Harry Potter Years 5-7 which he had described as “urgent” on his Christmas list. Michael got a bop it which is a strangely compelling toy. Mr. Waffle has banned its use in the car. The Princess got a zoomer which is an electronic voice activated puppy. Like Siri, I think he is less comfortable with Irish accents than English or American ones. I heard her say repeatedly to Zoomer “Sit, sit, sit.” She achieved varying results. As he lay on his tummy at one point, I heard her say “That’s grand Zoomer” which I’d say was fairly baffling to Zoomer. She also got “The Screwtape Letters” at her request. On Christmas day, she said, “I feel bad going to mass after starting to read that book.” I pointed out that it was not a manual but a system of warnings. “Oh,” said she. This is clearly going to end well.

On the food front, those who said that turkey is a big chicken were right. It was all pretty painless though, oh Lord, there is a lot of it and my parents-in-law who came to us for Christmas dinner are not heavy eaters.

On the 26th we went orienteering with the cousins. It was a beautiful day and very sunny though icy.

It made a pleasant contrast to our trip last year when the weather was, frankly, inclement. Oh yes, a happy memory:

We have just returned from a trip to Cork where we stayed in our saintly friends’ house again – they were in Spain for Christmas so we moved in. We went down on the 27th amid apocalyptic storm warnings but all was well.

There were many more presents in Cork including a Skylanders swap it set which the boys played almost constantly. The highlight for the Princess was probably a trip to the ice rink. A year of roller blading means that she is better than all the rest of us combined on the ice. The boys enjoyed it somewhat less.

We found a dead dolphin on the beach (not included in atmospheric beach shot below):

On Sunday Michael was outraged to discover that he was expected to go to mass twice in one week. I assured him that mass in the country was much shorter than mass in Dublin. Mass was at half eleven and we arrived at 11.28. When we went in, they were on the “Our Father”. We had relied on the internet for our information but the internet had let us down. Clearly mass had started at 11. We slunk to our seats in shame (this was the wilds of east Cork, it’s not like we were going to get to another church) and left again at 11.40. Michael said, very perkily, “You’re right, mass is a lot shorter in the country.”

We drove back to Dublin yesterday. Under the stairs, there was a very strong odour of raw poultry. We had a very good look round but found nothing. I can’t help remember how we never found the head of the pigeon that the cat caught a couple of weeks ago. After that trauma, Mr. Waffle and I just managed to stay awake to midnight. Clearly a good omen for the new year. And today we mostly stayed around the house and some friends came to visit. The boys and I went to see “The Desolation of Smaug” where they were delightfully terrified. And no work or school until next week. Hurrah. Now, if only we could find the source of that smell.

There is NO Pension Crisis or Further Christmas Cheer


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

Last Sunday we had people around for mulled wine and mince pies from 4 to 6. The invitations specified that children were welcome. Our friends have a lot of children. We totted up that there were 70 odd people here many of whom were 15 or under (nobody between 15 and 35 though, that demographic was clearly at an entirely different party). I quite enjoyed herding mortified teenagers into the utility room and forcing them to speak to each other. We’d put out some beanbags to make it less utilitarian and this was before the pigeon had died a bloody death on the floor so it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. Herself had pinned this to the door:

Note correct use of the apostrophe, though clearly following a period of reflection.

I deployed herself and her friends to wend through the crowds offering mince pies and cocktail sausages. A friend of Mr. Waffle’s reports the following conversation:

Friend: Is that panettone*?
Herself: No,it’s stollen*.
Friend: Is it nice?
Herself: Well, it has marzipan; some people don’t like it or are allergic to it.
Friend: I’ll try some.
Herself: On your own head be it.

*It’s far from panettone and stollen that we were reared.

Santa visited the school. Not the real Santa, you understand; just a man from up the road with a luxuriant beard. Nevertheless, at mass this morning when it came to the sign of peace, Michael jumped a mile when the man in the seat behind poked him in the ribs and said “Ho, Ho, Ho”. Yes, indeed, substitute Santa was at mass this morning. Herself had been muttering bitterly that Santa was a sexist cad as he gave the girls knitting and the boys small table footballs but since she had managed to persuade someone to swap with her (unlikely but true) my hopes that she wouldn’t raise the issue with substitute Santa in the church porch were realised.

Last, but my no means least, there is a man I found on the internet who explains wordpress to me. He did a bit of work on my blog [this here is a technical masterpiece, I’ll have you know]. I asked for a bill for his latest labours and this is the reply that I got:

All done. Very easy.
Instead of paying me, could you throw 10 euro to your favourite charity.

It’s been a bit grim for charities this Christmas as there has been a lot of media coverage about money from fund-raising going to top up already large salaries for senior staff. While this is certainly not true for all charities it has hit them all; the man [volunteer] from the Vincent de Paul who spoke at mass last Sunday found himself obliged to say that none of the money raised in the collection would go to top-ups. I felt for him.

All this notwithstanding, I am feeling a definite Christmassy glow. Today it snowed (well, sleeted); yesterday I went to a party and got a blister on my finger while constructing an IKEA gingerbread house with melted sugar; tomorrow is my last day at work before Christmas. Lucky Mr Waffle and the children finished up on Friday so they will be bonding tomorrow and possibly picking up the turkey while I labour.

It’s all good (apart from the blister).

Nomoblopomo


Posted in: Ireland, Princess, Reading etc.

The Princess, her aunt and I went to see Pride and Prejudice in the Gate this evening. It was very long and the lead actors had as much chemistry as a pair of lemons. Disappointing and very tiring.

Naming Policies


Posted in: Ireland, Reading etc.

A lot of Irish women are called Majella. St. Gerard Majella is the patron saint of expectant mothers and those parents who didn’t fancy Gerardine for their daughters often went for Majella. Whenever I meet a Majella, I think, difficult birth. I am not sure whether Majella has any traction elsewhere but it continues to be a reasonably common name here for women aged 35 to 65. Goretti (another saint’s surname – St. Maria Goretti) is also a, less popular, choice for women of that age group.

You think that pair are bad? There is worse to come in this trend of using saints’ surnames as girls’ first names. My mother has a friend called Labouré which is, I think, the world’s worst name, just shading Gobnait (second worst girl’s name). I am reminded of all this because there was a quote from St. Catherine Labouré in the leaflet at mass on Sunday: I place myself before the good God and I say to Him: “Lord here I am, give me what You will.” If He gives me something, I am very pleased and I thank Him. If He gives me nothing, I still thank Him because I do not deserve anything.

So, not only the source of awful names but sanctimonious also. Feel free to share weird names you have known in the comments.

Do I Despise Me?


Posted in: Ireland, Siblings

My sister took me to Kildare Village today. It’s essentially a shopping centre in the middle of nowhere surrounded by a car park.

It was a bizarrely antiseptic experience walking around the streets of this spotless, tiny, artificial town. No civic architecture, no life or purpose other than neat little shops in this lifeless, manicured space.

We went for a cup of tea and through the window we saw an old abbey; surprising, but very pleasing.

“We can go and look at it, if you like,” said my sister.

“But we haven’t seen all the shops yet,” I said.

This is Cheating


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

I did not update on 22 November because I came home from work and crawled into bed with a hot water bottle. But I will date this post yesterday and all will be well. I’m feeling a bit better today, thank you, but mainlining lemsip.