From: Me
To: Mr. Waffle
Subject: What “Meow†Means
From: Mr. Waffle
To: Me
Subject: What “Meow†Means
I see. It may also mean “I’ve been peeing under the lego box for months and I want to be there when you find out”
Mr. Waffle
Guilty Conscience
Mr. Waffle is going to a 20 year college reunion on Saturday night. 20 years ago, he paid a classmate a fiver for a class photo but she never delivered. He had written it off some time ago but he remembered the incident, if not with bitterness then definitely with…rememberedness. This was, of course, “when money was money” as my parents would say and a fiver would buy you an entire summer’s worth of entertainment.
Anyhow, he clearly isn’t the only one who remembers because she contacted him the other day and said, “I still have your class photo.”
Not Metaphorically but Literally
We have sown new grass in the back garden. It is growing very slowly. There are still large bands of brown earth. As I looked up the garden from the kitchen, I commented to Mr. Waffle, “It’s definitely greener over there at the end of the garden.” “Famously,” said he.
Nice, Polite Boys
I was in Cork alone (!) recently. As I sat in to my seat on the train back to Dublin with my newspaper in my sweaty little paw, I was distressed to see that every other seat in the carriage was reserved for school boys. As it happened, 13 year old school boys from my husband’s old school. I felt that my quiet reading would be disturbed.
But I had nothing to fear. Mr. Waffle had always assured me that his old school was full of nerds but I didn’t really believe him until the moment I saw the young men pull out their chess boards and timers and start playing while singing Ave Maria. Unless Ave Maria is sitting high in the charts at the moment, I find this detail particularly baffling.
Pedantic not Sexist
Michael: A woman can’t be a schoolmaster.
Me: But Michael, your own teacher is a woman.
Michael: No, a woman can’t be a schoolmaster.
Me: Of course she can.
Mr. Waffle: Can a woman be a schoolmistress, Michael?
Michael: Yes, of course.
Further Birthdays
March is full of excitement. Mr. Waffle’s birthday falls on the 19th. On the 16th I was scheduled to pick up the large copy map I had got him from the framers. The night before, I said casually, “I might drive to work tomorrow, the forecast is for rain.” Note my cunning.
When I arose from my slumbers, Mr. Waffle proudly informed me that he had taken the car to the garage to get that wonky light fixed. “You don’t mind cycling, do you?” “Not at all,” I said untruthfully as I contemplated the prospect of walking home from town in the rain with a large picture under my arm.
You’ll be pleased to hear that he really liked the map.