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Mr. Waffle

On the Socials

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Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess, Work

We had an in person away day at work last week. I was genuinely looking forward to it (sadly) and it was really great to see people in person again. But you know, ultimately, an away day is as you would imagine. We had a guest speaker. She spoke about trying to manage our tech habits and inspired by her, I have deleted Instagram from my phone. It was a slight wrench but I had found myself sitting scrolling at midnight when I ought to be tucked up in bed reading my book and keeping my husband awake with the bedside light. I gave up Twitter in April 2019 and although I do still slightly miss it from time to time, I am very pleased that I did. I find Instagram less interesting than Twitter so hope that I will miss it even less. Although I did like those filters.

Instead, I now seem to be addicted to Duolingo which at least has the merit of being educational. I am learning Ukrainian. I would say that the Cyrillic alphabet is tricky. Mr. Waffle said, “It’s based on the Greek alphabet – remember Cyril and Methodius – which I learnt in a week when I was 12, how hard can it be?” Frankly, this attitude is unhelpful. I spent some time in Bosnia in the mid-90s and in my head I still pronounce the Bosnian word for restaurant as Pectopah so you can see my difficulty.

Separately, herself introduced me to BeReal which I mentioned a couple of weeks ago. I am quite enjoying it despite the fact that I know no one on there but herself (I feel like I am definitely ahead of the middle aged curve on this one). Sadly most of my pictures feature me in my concrete bunker (or, as it is described elsewhere, my award winning office – architect led design, what is it with architects and concrete?). I am very excited by the prospect of my sabbatical and a whole range of different settings opening up to me.

Still Reading

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Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess

One of my Monday book club members is president of a professional society this year. Last Monday she invited us to dinner on the society’s premises to celebrate her presidency. How satisfactory. 22 years of book club and it was the first time we haven’t had frozen pizza at a meeting.

One of our members who is cautious insisted that we all take an antigen test in advance. I was sure one of us would be felled but no, we were all clear. It was such a lovely evening and we all waxed nostalgic remembering early meetings, members who had come and gone and favourite books. Also the food was fantastic.

Herself also came back from her trip to Marbella on Monday evening. As I cycled home, I thought, “If I were a good mother, I would have a vegan feast prepared for her instead of going out for dinner for myself.” Happily, I am not a good mother because it transpired that she had rung her father and asked him to iron her evening dress, bring it with him to the airport when he was collecting her at 6 and drop her into Trinity for 7 where she was going to a ball with her friends. People, if I had prepared a vegan feast I would have been incandescent.

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Feeling Popular

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Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

The school is having a fund raising quiz night next week. We asked Daniel and Michael whether they would like to be part of a family team of 4. They instantly declined.

We asked two friends of ours who love quizzes and who have no children (so no babysitting or school events of their own to support) whether they would like to go. Yes but that night one of them has bridge and the other has poetry appreciation club (it’s our age).

I texted herself in the fleshpots of Spain where she is currently enjoying herself, to see whether she would come with a friend. Two days later I received a curt monosyllable in reply. No.

I suppose we’ll have to go on our own. We’re doomed for the popular culture round though to be fair, I’m not saying that the bridge and poetry appreciation crowd would be delivering there either.

Alas.

Mother’s Day

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Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

I always think about my own mother on Mother’s Day. I still miss her. I suppose it would be strange if I didn’t.

My little family dutifully delivered for me despite the fact that it comes hot on the heels of my birthday which is always a big effort. I had a very nice breakfast, flowers and a card and, best of all, I didn’t have to get up at 6.30 to drop herself to the airport as her father kindly did so.

I trust you had a satisfactory day yourself, if you celebrate.

Further Birthday Content


Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Michael, Mr. Waffle

Today is Mr. Waffle’s birthday. A very happy birthday to him.

At the start of lock down, he got out his year book from his European masters some 30 years ago and started sending birthday wishes into the whatsapp group to cheer everyone up. Obviously, no one else has the year book (ladies and gentlemen, I give you my very organised husband) so he didn’t get birthday wishes on his own birthday. Last summer, I said this in passing to the Dutch Mama who was also in that class. Once we got over the initial awkwardness (there’s a whatsapp group?) and I asked Mr. Waffle to add her to the group, she promised faithfully that she would send a message when the big day arrived.

A couple of weeks ago she contacted me to double check the date of his birthday. This morning she messaged me that she got her cymbals out of the cupboard and was good to go, this was her moment. However, there were about 37 other messages to him on the group chat – his Scottish friend in Vienna having somehow discovered his birthday and messaged the group early in the morning. Mr. Waffle was pleased, the Dutch Mama put her cymbals back in the cupboard.

We exchanged some further texts. Her second born is applying to college and it’s taking a lot out of her mother. She, the child, has just finished her final school exam in English. Not so hard for her you might argue with her Irish mother. However, apparently she chose to study the Irish gothic – Sheridan Le Fanu, Bram Stoker, Maria Edgeworth’s “Castle Rackrent”. To be honest that sounds a challenging enough project for Irish school children. I am pretty impressed by the standard to which Dutch children are held in their foreign languages. Meanwhile here, we are still trying to find the train station in modern foreign languages, literature having been surgically excised from the curriculum some time between when my mother finished secondary school and I started. Alas.

Mr. Waffle seems pleased with his day so far. As I write he is out in the hammock – the weather having turned delightfully, and most unseasonably, fine – reading one of his birthday present books.

In other news, I reorganised the presses (or cupboards as they are known in other countries) and it was thrilling. Judge away.

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We may venture out later for a mild walk with the boys but having been inspired by the sunshine to go for an epic cycle yesterday, we may just stay home peacefully reading the paper and recovering from our exertions before waddling out for dinner this evening.

A four day weekend is a superb innovation. More like this please.

The Bread Basket of Europe


Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Mr. Waffle

When I was growing up my mother often talked about the man made famine in Ukraine in the 1930s. I have to say, I was not particularly interested at the time but it occurs to me now that my mother was born into a farming family in 1936 and that that famine probably had a direct impact on her family and her neighbours, at the very least in terms of what crops they were growing. No wonder she spoke about it, she must have heard a great deal about the damage that central planning did to Ukraine.

My cleaner is Ukrainian. She’s about the same age as me and I do think about what she has had to put up with in her life time compared to me. To talk to her is awful, I feel so helpless in the face of her misery and distress. She has relatives stuck over there and I think she is going out of her mind with worry and I can’t do anything useful. She said sadly, “All the Irish people are being very kind but it is too terrible.” It is indeed.

My neighbours have taken in a Ukrainian family. She’s a doctor and there are apparently close links between Irish and Ukrainian doctors (who knew?). Herself and her husband who lived in a grown ups only house until now have been amazed just how much energy and enthusiasm a nine year old has. The child also has a medical condition which means he has been stuck at home for Covid as well. How utterly grim. It’s all just grim. The neighbourhood whatsapp group has been hopping with offers of help but it all feels very limited. I listened to a wonderful – thought very sad – podcast where people talk about their home cities in Ukraine. A man who was a couple of years ahead of Mr. Waffle in school was working in the Ukraine and was killed.

Honestly, if this were fiction, you would say it was too unlikely – a conflict with so few shades of grey, a heroic president who was formerly a comedian, a full scale invasion in Eastern Europe.

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