belgianwaffle

Mr. Waffle

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Posted in: Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Twins, Youngest Child

During the week I got a blank postcard with my name and address on one side and a picture of Costa Rica on the back. I was quite baffled. Conversation with my sister revealed the following:

  • She bought a postcard for me and addressed it when she was in Costa Rica in 2013.
  • She never sent it.
  • She brought it home.
  • Her partner’s mother has a friend who likes to send postcards of places he has never been.
  • My sister posted a lot of blank postcards to her
  • The envelope opened in the post box.
  • The post office dutifully delivered the unstamped blank post card to me.

Not vintage content, I would concede, but there it is, this week’s postal mystery unravelled.

Separately, the census enumerator collected the census form. I had dutifully divided the time capsule bit at the back into 5 for us all to fill in a bit. It was on the hall table for herself to add her bit but, alas, she had not done so by the time the enumerator came. I wanted to take a photo of the time capsule as well for…um, not posterity, for me I suppose but it was not to be. I put in as much as I could about family history (I bitterly resent that empty fifth as I had much more to say but there you go); Mr. Waffle put in a bit about us and our cat; Michael hoped that there were people to read it; and Daniel put in a line from a song. I do hope we get to do it again next census.

On the Socials


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


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


Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

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


Posted in: Family, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

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: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Twins, Youngest Child

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.