belgianwaffle

Ireland

Is There Snow in the Mountains?


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland

You can see the Dublin mountains from our front garden. Every morning for the past couple of weeks, I have asked the (keener sighted than me) children, “Is there snow in the mountains?” Often there is and I would so love to get up there and look at the snow but the rest of the family are less keen.

When I was growing up, my mother would often say, “I love natural phenomena.” I can remember, as a small child standing by the window in the dark after the electricity had been cut in a storm. We had lit candles and I was watching the lightening with my parents and my mother was delighted. It’s funny how you turn into your parents, isn’t it?

Last weekend I was in Cork and when I came back, herself said to me, rather heartlessly, “You should have seen the mountains, it was like the Alps up there.”

In related news, the children and I walked in to school in the snow last week. It was horrible, cold, sleety snow that didn’t stick but they twirled around in it, crowing in delight.

And it was definitely very cold:

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Weekend Round-Up


Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Twins, Youngest Child

On Saturday we went to an old friend’s house for lunch. We’ve lost touch a bit over the years for no reason really just continuing our busy lives. It was delightful but, regrettably, we can never have them back as their house is undoubtedly the tidiest and one of the most beautiful we have visited. I particularly admired the floors which were varnished and had no gaps between the planks. They made the builders re-lay them as “you could see the foil backing of the insulation underneath in the gaps!” As I sit here looking at the foil backing in the insulation visible in the gaps between my floorboards, I can’t help wishing that Mr. Waffle and I were more forceful people. I am often reminded of Mr. Bennett’s assessment of Jane and Bingley when I think of us:

“Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will always exceed you income.”

I am not sure about the generosity but I can vouch for exceeding our income.

After visiting our friends, we called around to the grandparents. Of late, Michael has become obsessed with getting home before dark. It is hard to be home before dark all the time in January. Michael spent his time looking reproachfully out the window which made for a not entirely restful visit.

Sunday saw the Princess up to do the first reading at mass. This was a huge relief as the second reading which she normally gets was 1 Corinthians 6:13-15,17-20. One of the unfortunate teenagers had to work her way, very gamely, through that one.

On Sunday afternoon we prodded the children out. They were not happy. We went into town to get Herself runners and wandered around Trinity a bit aimlessly. We went into the Book of Kells and the Long Room library – interest levels from boys despite being told that it was the model for the Jedi archives (or was it): zero.

It’s nice though:

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And it was all pretty empty on a late Sunday afternoon in January. Of course, we weren’t home before dark. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth in outer darkness.

Glamour, Excitement, Bins*


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Ireland

Bin services in Dublin have been privatised and are no longer provided by the city council.

This has led to much woe, not least of it related to the truly phenomenal amount of dumping of domestic refuse in lanes around the city. Apparently the private contractors are not as willing to continue providing for rubbish collection when the punters do not pay. I happen to know that the city council will provide this service free of charge for 5 years as that is the length of time they continued to collect bins from our tenants while we lived in Brussels – happily collecting the bins while the tenants happily ignored the bills and reminders. When we terminated the lease, said farewell to the tenants and moved back to our house, the city council presented us with a steep bill for rubbish collection for the previous five years and refused to collect our bin until we paid it. Appeals to the (departed) tenants were unavailing and we ended up having to fork out a fortune.

While this did not leave me with any particular affection for the council regime, the move to private providers has been appalling for us. Greyhound, the only bin company which serviced our last house regularly forgot to collect the bins at all. Mr. Waffle had to ring them most weeks. They only began collecting your bins when you had made payments in advance. But they didn’t tell you that. It was shambolic. When we moved house we had the option of another company and we transferred with delight to Oxigen (I don’t know why they spell it that way but please don’t think I can’t spell oxygen) and all has been sweetness and light until today when they did not collect the bin. Mr. Waffle called them. “Oh sorry, you should have got a letter, we are no longer collecting from your area, we have transferred your account and your credit to City Bin.” Call to City Bin follows. They don’t do our area. Oxigen agree to mediate with City Bin to persuade them to cover us. Oxigen will do one last pick up for us. In fact, it looks like there is only one provider who will service our area. Oh excellent, we’re back with Greyhound.

The free market is not doing it for me. Total disclosure requires that I reveal that privatisation of city bin services in Cork has created no problems whatsoever. Cork is perfect, though.

*Only two of these words are relevant to the content of the post. Honestly, could this be more exciting?

More Dispatches from the Cultural Differences Frontier


Posted in: Ireland, Siblings

My sister’s friend who married the Swede was back in Cork for Christmas.

She decided to take her husband’s name. She is wrestling with Swedish bureaucracy and they have referred her request to head office.

While she was in Cork, she decided to check with at the local Garda station to see what the procedure was in Ireland. Dialogue as follows:

Her: So I want to make my name double-barrelled and add my husband’s name.
Guard (puzzled): OK.
Her: So what do I need to do?
Guard (long pause): Start using it, like.

This reminds me of when I left Belgium and went to hand my id card back to the commune.

Man in commune: Where are you moving to? I will post your documents.
Me: There’s no need, I’m moving to Ireland.
Him: But tell me your commune and I will post it for you.
Me: We don’t have communes.
Him: But where do you get your id card?
Me: We don’t have id cards.
Him: But how do the authorities know where you live?
Me: They don’t.

Collapse of stout party etc.

Glendalough


Posted in: Ireland, Mr. Waffle

Mr. Waffle and I eased ourselves into January by going for a walk in Glendalough today. It was pretty rainy but pleasant all the same.

I have seen it look like this in sunshine; to be honest, that is better. I felt for the American tourists who were unlikely to be back.

The visitors to the toilets have strong views about grammar. Glendalough: attracting pedants from all nations.

Cork


Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland, Siblings

We spent a couple of days in Cork. The weather was surprisingly good but much of our time was spent indoors exploring the delights of various electronic devices.

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We did get out for our traditional trip to the observatory and went for a short walk nearby. The view looks idyllic but in fact the Cork ring road is only a stone’s throw away and the noise is quite extraordinary.

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We also saw a large rat which was very exciting and quite daring for the rat given the number of dogs being walked nearby.

My family are always very generous with Christmas presents and the children always look forward keenly to their Cork haul. This year it included, very successfully and at minimal cost compared to the overall investment, a packet of Pringles each. Here you see my brother handing over €20 each to his nephews, jaded from the effort of ripping off paper from so many parcels.

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This is what the pile of presents looked like before they began their work:

I think that a little commentary is needed on the tree. This is the tree which my parents bought the first Christmas they were married. I doubt whether it was particularly attractive in 1967 but now as it approaches 50, it has lost almost all of its sparkle. The spirited campaign which I waged as a teenager to have it replaced by a real tree was utterly unavailing. Now my mother says, “We were green before anyone else.” I am still struggling to make my peace with it.

My sister bought the boys the Skyrim guidebook. She says it is the largest non-academic title she has ever purchased. Indeed, when I saw it first, I thought for a moment that it was a telephone directory. They love it. Even though they do not own Skyrim the game and we will not be purchasing it in the near future as it is certified 18s.

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We also went for our obligatory walk up to the Lough and I recollected how my great Uncle Dan used to skate on the Lough (skates still in my parents’ attic) and the children were filled with hope that it might be frozen but it wasn’t. It was quite mild actually allowing punters to sail their motorised vessels, “like in the Tuilleries” as I said to the children.

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We also went on the big wheel which would have been fantastic if only the boys hadn’t kept twirling it around and making me feel sick as a dog. Note the Princess’s cowl which she knitted herself.

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Returned to Dublin laden with presents and stuffed to the gills.