Mr. Waffle

I interrupt my detailed day by day description of our holiday in Kerry to offer the following two problems for your sympathy:

1. Herself had an appointment with the dental hygienist a couple of months ago which, unprecedentedly, we forgot. They phoned us, we grovelled. We re-set a suitable date. It was yesterday. Did I remember to take her? Alas, no. Even though Mr. Waffle’s last words before leaving the country (for work, not anything more sinister) were, “Don’t forget the dentist.” My mortification knows no bounds.

2. Our new childminder who hasn’t started yet but who was perfect because
a) the children liked her;
b) she has lived in Ireland for a long time and is unlikely to leave in the middle of the year;
c) she was doing a course (childcare) in the mornings which allowed her to keep her benefits, if she worked fewer than 20 hours a week so had every incentive to stay
has texted to say that her course hours have changed and she can no longer work for us. I could weep. This, of course, is Nemesis in action as only yesterday I said breezily to the new father up the road, that finding a childminder would be no problem. And, also, I had told everyone how terrific this was going to be. I think that this is the first person who has left before she started. Back to the drawing board.

Oh yes, and Irish bonds have been downgraded to junk. It’s always worrying when your personal credit status is better than your country’s.

Updated to add: Also, we have woodworm.