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Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland

I took the children to my parents’ house at the weekend. Mr. Waffle’s parents’ house is always a bit on the cold side for me and my parents’ house is always much too warm for him. This means that at home, I wear my fleece of an evening – mmm synthetics – and Mr. Waffle wanders round in t-shirts and shorts.

The children take after him. Herself couldn’t sleep with the heat in Cork and even I was quite warm. I took off my fleece. Ah, my Cork family observed, you have become a Waffle. Still, my mother, who feels the cold terribly couldn’t really believe that any human being could really be so warm. As herself lay sweating under a single sheet, my mother asked me anxiously, “Do you think that she’d like a hot water bottle?”

This Week’s Theme is… Leprosy


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Princess

I got a book about madness out of the library last weekend. The first chapter deals with leper houses and I was talking to herself about this. Don’t tell me you don’t torture your children in similar ways. A lengthy discussion followed about the symptoms of leprosy. Then about leper colonies and how there is a Dublin suburb called “Leopardstown” because the land was used to fund a lepers’ hospital. The following day we visited Dublinia [we had tickets saved from a promotion on milk bottles – are you getting a picture of our home life?] In the, always popular, death and diseases bit there was a wax figure of a leper.

Then today at mass, the readings and the gospel featured -oh yes- leprosy. Herself was listening closely because she was up on the altar doing a try out for altar girl (successful). And the priest was fresh back from his visit to a leper colony in Africa so we covered that in the sermon.

There may be a lesson here somewhere but you’ll have to work it out for yourself.

Extra Time


Posted in: Ireland, Mr. Waffle

We’ve given up watching the news in the evenings; so, in fact, we’ve given up watching television altogether because all our TV watching consisted of the news and an hour of vain channel hopping thereafter. Now we sit and read and listen to music. We chat. It’s amazing how much of a difference it’s made to my evening. Apart from anything else, it’s delightful to be missing the economic doom news which RTE likes to lead with nightly. I’ll let you know when our resolve cracks.

You Don’t Get That Much


Posted in: Ireland, Princess

A couple of weeks ago at mass, we had a priest who was home from the missions. He was very struck by the change in Irish society. My thoughts flew to the economy and immigration, infrastructure…but no, he was referring to sexual mores. In fairness, he had a lead in to address this as the second reading was about fornication. But considering it was a children’s mass, if it had been up to me, I would have gone for the first reading which came from the book of Samuel – you know the one, where the child is asleep and the Lord calls to him.

Nevertheless, despite my qualms about the audience, I did think he made some fair points. Children of 12 who finish primary school put on make-up and head out in high heels. There’s definitely something wrong there. My daughter who is a habitué of the €2 shop where she spends all her pocket money on cheap plastic tat has been surveying with alarming thoroughness the range of adult goods on offer and bringing her queries home to me. I am not sure I am entirely comfortable with a shop that sells plastic toys for children also selling plastic toys for adults. I see shoals ahead.

We’re Alive!


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

During dinner this evening, the carbon monoxide alarm went off for the first time ever. It’s very loud. My ears are still ringing. As Mr. Waffle wrestled with it, Michael kept posing questions through the ringing and things became a little tetchy. The alarm instructions (which, yes, we had to hand, OCD and its many uses) advised that we go outside and leave all the windows and doors open while we called the emergency services. We might well have done that had it been summer and not quite so rainy. Instead we stayed indoors, put the children to bed and later consulted the internet.

You will be relieved to hear that we’ve turned off all gas appliances (last serviced in October for heaven’s sake) and are sitting in the cold. Having re-checked with our original alarm and the spare (your point? it was sitting waiting in its packaging for this moment), all seems to be well now. However, a man will have to be summoned before we can put on the gas fired central heating, the cooker or the gas fire. Alas. I will be retiring to bed early with a hot water bottle.

Mr. Waffle (installer of the carbon monoxide alarms) is mildly triumphant. But he doesn’t feel the cold. Still, if you have gas appliances, I should, I suppose, take this opportunity to suggest that you invest in a carbon monoxide alarm.

This is What Living in Ireland is Like


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Ireland

Me: I see there’s a reference to you in that new book by [mildly famous person].
Friend M: I am so mortified.
Me: I didn’t even know you knew her, how do you know her?
Friend M: Through Anna.*
Me: Who’s Anna now?
Friend M: She’s the woman who was married to J before Mr. Waffle’s friend C.
Me (to my mother who was listening): Oh you know C, Mum, she’s the younger daughter of Mrs. H who taught me in Senior Infants.

*Names changed to protect the innocent.