For a combination of reasons we drove to school one day last week and the Princess brought in her phone. This is a bit unusual and she kept trying to tap in to the local wifi and calling out names as we passed (“Dublin bus wifi” “Cafe wifi” and so on).
There is an anarchist squat at the bottom of our road (this is how we roll) and as we passed she said, “Oh ‘squat wifi'” Really? We can’t get a service from eircom and the people in the squat can get wifi? Insert your own jokes in the comments.
Because, unlike eircom, you care.
I was in Scotland last week for work (rainy, but interesting, thanks for asking) and I got this pathetic message from Mr. Waffle on March 11.
Hi,
Hope your night out went OK. Just to say that UPC seems to have withdrawn service – neither TV nor Internet work. Still no news from Eircom…
Since then, the eircom technician has come. Pause to appreciate that. True, Mr. Waffle had to work from home for a third day but the technician came on Friday 13th. Unfortunately, he is only phase one of operations and another person has to come now. Date unclear as they cannot yet give us an appointment, but I am willing to bet you that it will not be before the national holiday on March 17.
In the absence of TV and internet, the children have been thrown upon a combination of their own resources and the DS for entertainment. None of us is sure how long this will be sustainable.
I am writing this from the broadband heaven that is my parents’ house in Cork. I am not sure what appetite I will have to blog from the 3G on my phone when I return to Dublin, so there may be a hiatus here. Or, at least, pretty short posts. I know, it’s a worry, you’re on the edge of your seat out there.
As I was away on the day of my birthday, Mr. Waffle and I decided to take Thursday off work and go for a walk together as a birthday celebration for me.
We went to Carlingford. It can be really beautiful up there. It was not beautiful on Thursday. It lashed rain; that rain that hits the ground and then bounces back up again and hits you from underneath. We abandoned our plans for a walk and went to the Heritage Centre in the old Protestant church. It was fine as these things go but limited. Standing in the church graveyard in the driving rain looking at the gravestones, I couldn’t help feeling that it was all going rather poorly. This was before I stood on a large sloping, slate gravestone to examine the inscription in more detail. Slate is quite slippy in the rain and I managed to hit my knee, shoulder and the side of my face as I went down. No serious injury but mild pain, humiliation and misery.
Then we went for lunch. We went to Fitzpatrick’s. It was recommended by a friend. It didn’t really do it for me. Mr Waffle described it as “Johnny Fox’s North” and that was about the size of it. Food was fine; big quantities and decor very touristy. Unfortunately, I then proceeded to succumb to a migraine to add the icing to that particular birthday cake.
Alas. Let us hope that the rather inauspicious beginning is not an omen for the year.
Did you know that the Irish word for Wednesday, Céadaoin, means first fast? And Friday, Aoine, means fast? And Thursday, Déardaoin, means day between two fasts? It makes me reflect on how religious and abstemious our celtic ancestors were. Meanwhile, on Ash Wednesday, I forgot that it was a day of fast and abstinence and had a beef sandwich at lunch. The guilt. Also, for Lent I have given up sweets again. I feel I should perhaps be trying harder.
Herself told us that they were doing fairy tales in school and someone said that the handsome Prince went to the market disguised as a pheasant.
That is all.
American Tourists: We are going to Belfast tomorrow, what is it like?
Waiter: It’s really cool.
American Tourists: Is it very different?
Waiter: I guess compared to Dublin, it’s a lot like Canada is for people from the US.
I really don’t think so.