belgianwaffle

Mr. Waffle

Pink to make the boys wink


Posted in: Belgium, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Reading etc.

When I was a child, little girls did not wear pink all the time.  I was a child of the 70s, so orange was the dominant tone of my childhood.

When did pink take over?  Little boys don’t have to wear blue all the time.  Why should little girls have to wear pink?  My loving husband would be the first to point out that when the Princess was a baby, I went out and bought a range of pink things.  Well, I’m tired of it now.  I note that in Belgium, pink does not dominate in the same way as in Ireland though after spotting a number of girls in hot pink at the foire du midi this afternoon, I may have to reconsider.  I am informed that in Italy, it is not uncommon to dress baby girls in black.  Trendy but a little alarming, I imagine.  I bet they get through a lot of pink all the same.
Is it all Walt Disney’s fault?  Is it easier to market to little girls, if everything is pink?  Is there a conspiracy?  Do I only care because my daughter looks better in blues and greens?

Weighty questions for a Saturday evening while my husband is off emptying out his office.  Rather ominously, he feels it will take all evening.  Where will we put everything?
In a related packing question, my husband and I were discussing what we would take with us in the car rather than leave to the mercy of the movers.  “Only important things” we agreed.

“Like the family photo albums,” I said.

“Like my degrees,” he said simultaneously.

This neatly sums up some sexist assumptions.  I don’t even know where my degrees are, I should have left them in Cork with my mother where they were safe.  Maybe I should wear more pink.

Highwater mark


Posted in: Belgium, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc.

I went to see Horton with the children some time ago.  I recognised the voice of Horton as being Dany Boon from Bienvenue chez les Ch’tis.  A film which I understood almost in its entirety (not an achievement to be sneezed at – though I was somewhat helped by the fact that the Ch’tis are essentially Belgian).  And further, I recognised that Horton was Dany Boon based on his accent in French.  This was a proud moment, I can tell you.  Then, I realised that I am probably speaking the best French I ever will and it’s downhill all the way from the end of the month.  I suppose I can pepper my conversation with French words thereby annoying my friends and embarrassing my children.

As part of our preparation to leave Belgium, I am also sorting through our mountain of medical and dental bills.   Before I had children, I never went to the doctor and now I seem to spend all my time going from surgery to surgery with my travelling circus.  It’s all surprisingly complex and, of course, it wouldn’t be, had I done it as I went along.  I wrote a letter to my insurer in my best French and got Mr. Waffle to check it.  The maestro sat down at the computer and made it perfect.  He corrected the French and reorganised the letter so that my various rambling questions were concisely stated and clearly presented.  I was awed:my husband the genius.   “Yes,” he said “I have spent the past number of years perfecting the art of writing in administrative French, I have probably reached the pinnacle of my potential in this field.” Hélas indeed.

Bad mother


Posted in: Family, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel, Twins, Work

I am on my last work trip for this job.  Frankly, this is a mercy.

This morning I left my husband to drop the car into the garage for repairs, meet movers who are coming to decide how much money they will charge us to get our belongings back to Ireland, let in more random people who may want to rent our flat and generally mind everything. I also left the country with Mr. Waffle’s mobile phone and our camera nestling in the dim recesses of my handbag. He was not pleased when I told him.

I got back to my hotel this evening to find that I had left Mr. Waffle’s mobile phone on the desk (why always keep it in a handbag, why not strive for new and different ways of making things difficult?).  This was a pity because there was a message from the Princess’s summer course saying that it was nearly 7 and was anyone coming to collect her.  I then remembered that I had told the childminder, C, that we would collect the Princess on Monday because it was too difficult for C to travel by public transport with the boys and the Princess (the course being some distance from our house).  This is information I may not have relayed to my husband.  I have just rung C who tells me that Mr. Waffle had arrived home, realised that the Princess was not there and turned around to go and get her taking the boys with him as C’s working day was over and he did not want to impose.  I would have imposed myself but I have much lower standards than he does.

Any minute now,  I am going to phone home and see how things are going and, gentle reader, I am very afraid.  I think that I will plug the line that I have specifically asked not to travel in my new job and that I do not intend to leave him alone again until the children are in their teens.

Mr. Waffle’s quotes of the week


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Work

Scruples and the city

Explaining to his wife why he drove around the block four times rather than parking in the middle of the road and putting on his hasard warning lights and running in to the dry cleaner. To those of you who are shocked by my cavalier attitude to lawful driving, please note that we live in Belgium.

I suppose it’s reached uncritical mass

Suggesting a theory as to why Place Luxembourg has become a popular spot in Brussels for the young lobbyists, trainees and youthful Euro riff raff to hang out.

Is that the lowest standard of truth, something said to have been written on the internet?

On his wife’s reading out to him this line from the Irish Times: The … terror…was whipped into a frenzy by rumours … which [were] said to have been extensively discussed on such sites. [Emphasis added].  Might it have been worth journalist Kathy Sheridan’s time to maybe go online and have a quick look around the offending websites herself?

The fusing of two terminological traditions

On hearing that a colleague of his wife’s had said that Britain was to be “hauled before the beak for failure to transpose environmental directives”.

Random examples demonstrating that my husband knows everything


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

1. At the mini train extravaganza.

Me: What does BNSF stand for on the side of the train?
Him: Burlington North Santa Fe, I’d say [on later inspection, this was quite right].
Me: How do you know that?
Him: Good guess?

2. On the radio

Me: Who sings that?
Him: David Bowie.
Me: Oh yeah, talk about selling out, remember that perfume advertisement?
Him: Well, David Bowie is the man who turned his back catalogue into a financial instrument.
Me: What?
Him: Complex explanation.
Me: How did you know that?
Him: Everyone knows that.

3. At the supermarket one morning.

Him: Interesting, that lorry is from Slovenia but the drivers’ friends are obviously Romanian.

Me: Eh?

Him: Well, it has Slovenian number plates, see from Maribor which, as you know, is Slovenia’s second city.

Me: Eh…

Him: But in the window he has Romanian plates with his friends’ names on them.

Me: Ah right.

To be fair this last touches on two of his specialised subjects: geography and number plates.   But generally, my husband is good on facts. When we have dinner at his parents’ house and a question comes up, everyone swivels towards him which I find mildly amusing. In my parents’ house (the home of the patriarchy as Mr. Waffle wistfully refers to it from his equal opportunities outpost), everyone swivels to my father. Though my father really does know everything.

What is it they say about women marrying men like their fathers?

Long Dark Night of the Europhile Soul


Posted in: Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc., Work

Only read this, if you have the faintest idea about the Lisbon Treaty. Really, it’s better for both of us this way.

In Brussels, they think all Irish people are like de Valera who, I believe, said that he only needed to look into his heart to know what the people of Ireland were thinking. At coffee breaks at every recent event, people here would break the ice by asking me what I thought that the outcome of the Irish referendum on the Treaty would be. I would look into my heart and confidently predict a victory for the yes side by a narrow margin. It turns out that I am not de Valera.

Ireland joined the EU* in 1973 and my father started coming to Brussels for expert meetings shortly thereafter. From about 1980, every family holiday would be preceeded by a trip to Brussels. We would camp in Heverlee outside Brussels and drop him in every day for his meeting, my mother gaily navigating the Brussels ring with the three children squabbling in the back. Once his meetings were over, we would pack up the tent and head off to France which was generally sunnier and more congenial, though I still have fond memories of the lego and table tennis in Ter Munck. I suspect he was the only committee member staying in a tent. We used to go and join him for lunch in the Rotonde occasionally. This was the restaurant in the basement of the Berlaymont which is now, alas, defunct. The glamour, the excitement: self-service food, pillars, tap water.

My father became good friends with many members of his committee and they stayed in contact over the years. I even did a language exchange with a daughter of one of the committee members (unsuccessful, her English was much better than my German). My father was still coming to meetings when I started working in Brussels in 1993 and, when he came over, he would meet me for a drink in the Metropole and slip me some very welcome cash.

When I was a student, I was funded under the Erasmus programme to study for a semester in Italy. Almost all of my professional life has, in one way or another, been related to EU affairs. I suppose that I could hardly be called a neutral observer. I love the EU. I suspect that I am a bit of a minority but there it is.

When Irish women were barred from working after marriage in the civil service (and in the banks, just because they wanted to join in) who made them stop? Well, yes, it was the EU. When the Irish Government on accession sought a derogation from this draconian provision and the wretched equal pay legislation which was going to bring the country to its knees who said you must be bloody joking? Well, yes, it was the EU.

When the Irish economy was going down the toilet in 1987 and unemployment was spiralling out of control and the IMF was on the doorstep, who do you think gave us a great deal of money to spend on turning the country round? Well, yes, it was the EU.

When Northern Ireland was a basket case who pumped money into co-operation programmes through the PEACE programme? Well, yes, it was the EU.

When the divided continent of Europe was reunited, when we realised that, actually, having half of the continent behind an iron curtain was like having lost a limb, who gave assistance in money and governance to those countries so that now they are starting to do better and better? Well, yes, it was the EU.

And how come we can work anywhere in Europe and we have a single market? How come Europe can punch its weight in the WTO negotiations? Well, yes, that’s the EU too.

I believe in the EU as a potent force for good for Europeans. I believe it brings us together and helps us to learn about each other. I believe that Ireland is much closer to Berlin than to Boston.

So, the Lisbon Treaty. Well, it wasn’t a particularly clear or lovable treaty. Jon Worth has a copy of the Jason O’Mahony summary on his blog and for my money, that’s probably the best explanation of the contents. Not that anyone cares now.

The purpose of the Treaty was to finally put a close to the institutional (and very dull) angst which the EU has been going through since some time before its expansion to 27 member states. That was broadly it. It was also supposed to answer the Kissinger question, “Who do I call, if I want to speak to Europe?” Frankly, I’m not sure it provided an answer to that. Was it ideal? No, it was a compromise between 27 sovereign states. Was it the best agreement that we were ever likely to get on this subject? Oh yes, I would think so.

Why did Ireland vote no? Looking into my heart has proved ineffective in finding an answer to Irish questions, but let me share my suspicions with you.

Firstly, I suspect the press. The Irish Times which, as you know, has a place close to my heart, had an editorial on Lisbon last weekend entitled “Are we out of our collective minds?” Now, while I agreed wholeheartedly with every word written, I couldn’t help but feel that the tone was a teensy bit unhelpful. I can’t help wondering whether this was also the tone of the political parties, almost all of whom strongly advocated a yes vote. Then, the British media which is almost uniformly eurosceptic is widely available in Ireland and, in some cases, produces Irish editions (Irish Sun anyone?). I have no idea what these papers’ stance was on the referendum but you know what? I can make a good guess. I believe British coverage of EU issues is hugely biased and I don’t believe that this is a fault of the Irish press (I can tell because Irish coverage of EU matters is invariably crushingly dull). I really suspect the British media of stirring up the sovreignity issue which is not something that I have been aware of as a particular concern in the past.

Secondly, people didn’t know what the Treaty was about. I saw the text of the referendum question. Dear God in heaven, that was complex. But, you know what? There was a lot of information out there. I’m not saying it was a particularly straightforward message to understand but certainly a lot of time and effort was spent trying to explain it all. If you wanted to know, you could have found out. But people couldn’t be bothered, they didn’t care enough, they wanted to give the government a bloody nose.

Thirdly, there was the ludicrous scaremongering the European super-state, abortion, prostitution, army, locking up your three year olds bringing in the death penalty end of things. The problem for the yes campaign seems to have been that they spent so much time refuting the more outlandish claims of the no campaign that they had very little time to explain the (oh so dull) merits of voting yes.

So, I reckon, that’s it. Oh yeah, of course, fourthly the farmers were pretty annoyed about Mandelson’s position on the WTO negotiations, that probably didn’t help much either. Particularly since farmers always vote.

I’m gutted. I was really looking forward to the end of the institutional debate (yeah, yeah, I should get out more) and the EU getting to grips with the substantive issues which people actually understand. I believe that a stronger EU is vital for Ireland, vital to ensure that we maintain our position in this globalised world. And I trust the EU to deliver that, it’s not a bunch of faceless bureaucrats, well, yes it is, but they’ve done a fantastic job, the EU has achieved so much but it needs to do even more. And, wretchedly, it’s our fault that we’re going to have a weak, inward-looking, demoralised EU for the foreseeable future. More soul-searching, more “we must communicate with the citizen” (I mean nothing wrong with that per se, just that the citizen doesn’t seem to care), less actually doing things. Mr. Waffle points out that nobody has died and they will hammer out a solution based on the European model: peace through boredom. This is strangely uncomforting.

Any europhiles out there feeling sunny? Please tell me the upside.

*Yes, yes, I know the EEC as it then was.