Last week I went in to Trinity for carols. I did it last year and it was lovely. The child who is in Trinity had an exam (at 5 in the afternoon, does that strike you as peculiar?); the other Dublin based child has no interest; and Mr. Waffle was busy at work so I went alone. I sloped out of work a bit early and headed in. Here is my news for you, if you want to go to the carol service in Trinity chapel at 5.05, don’t arrive at 5. This was the queue. Did I get in? I did not.
From outside the church I heard that great advent hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” which could usefully have replaced some of the numbers I had heard other choirs deliver. Alas.
I gave it up as a bad job and, pausing only to note the bat signal
and the attractive Christmas tree (regular readers will recall my disastrous attempt to get to the lighting ceremony), I left Trinity in a state of damp gloom.
On my way home I passed Dublin castle which was advertising winter lights. They weren’t as good as the truly spectacular Collins Barracks lights that we saw last year but they weren’t bad and I pretty much had them to myself.
Speaking of lights – did I tell you we had a lighting up session for all the vulgar outdoor lights on the road? Well, we did. I used to hate outdoor lights but now I love them; you see change is possible though I remain slightly unsure about the large inflatable Santa across the road. It’s a lovely event usually but this year it was freezing, squally and wet and no amount of mince pies, mulled wine, gas fired braziers and neighbours could keep me beyond about 10 minutes but the lights are on now and I like them. Yes, probably even the Santa.
We had some carols at work and they were surprisingly good despite my expectations being extremely low.
We hosted Christmas drinks on Saturday afternoon which were broadly successful. Top tip though, if you are hoping to have your Christmas drinks catered, you need to start ringing around more than a month in advance. We did not have our drinks catered. It was nice but it also nearly killed me. We are fully stocked for Christmas (also, I note our floorboards need re-sanding).
One of our guests commented that she liked the ivy around the mirror. “Did you forage that?” she asked. “Um, yes, I suppose,” said I. “Sorry, I’m using my Dublin dialect, I meant did you strip it off the walls?” she clarified. Accurate.
We only got the tree up on Friday afternoon – everything was a bit late this year but it is a fine specimen even though we had to lop off the top. Every extra foot costs a tenner so Mr. Waffle would like us to think harder about our needs before sending him out to invest in a tree in future.
On Sunday we had middle child’s Swedish friend to lunch before she went home to Sweden. St Lucia is a big thing in Sweden at this time of year and she described the white dresses with the red sashes and the crown of lit candles that young girls wear. “Is it a bit dangerous?” I asked. Apparently it is; she described with some enthusiasm the various times young women’s hair had caught fire. “Would they not consider artificial candles?” I asked. “Only for very young children,” she said reprovingly. I see that, despite everything, the Viking spirit lingers on.
The house looks nice for Christmas and the Swedish friend commented, “The old core style you favour works really well for Christmas.” True. “Sorry,” she corrected herself, “I meant old-fashioned.” Probably best not to provide clarification there.
We have finally passed the winter solstice and the days are getting longer. It was always a holiday my father liked so I thought of him fondly on the day.
Herself went to the dentist yesterday and he gave her two fillings. He also seems to have made some kind of mistake with his injecting as her jaw has swelled like a balloon and she has the beginnings of a spectacular bruise. Alas. Even when I got my root canal done, I had nothing like this. She is sore and peeved. Herself, myself and Mr. Waffle went out for breakfast to cheer her up and then on a slightly overcast walk on Dun Laoghaire pier and a reviving cup of tea afterwards. She remains a bit glum. She’s just gone in to town to meet some school friends and show off her jaw.
It would not be Christmas if we did not need a tradesman who ignored us. The fan in the upstairs bathroom has gone and Mr. Waffle has already been available for three full days when the electrician faithfully promised he would come. Did he come? He did not. “Godot and Co. have still not arrived,” said Mr. Waffle gloomily on enquiry. Realistically, is the electrician likely to come before January? He is not. On the plus side the drains man came when expected (don’t ask) and I suppose if one tradesman out of two is going to let you down, I would much rather that the electrician was the disappointing one.
I trust your own Christmas preparations are proceeding apace.
