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Princess

Not for Joining


Posted in: Princess

Herself is keen to drop out of tennis lessons. You will remember that she left ballet and that she no longer comes to GAA training. On the plus side she likes cycling and her swimming is improving. The coach has offered to give her lessons alone as he thinks that she feels that the other children are better than her and this is why she wants to give up. Incidentally, this is not the case, they are all quite dreadful. She has agreed to give this a go and we will monitor progress.

I am reminded of our friend M who said recently that when he was a child, he just wanted to read “Swallows and Amazons” in peace but his parents kept trying to drag him out for sailing lessons. Maybe I should leave her in peace.

Family Photos


Posted in: Family, Princess

I found this confirmation picture of myself the other night. The Princess has already condemned my dress sense, so there is no need to add your voice to hers -in my defence, it was 1981 and I was 12. What she didn’t notice was how like 12 year old me she looks. When you look at my picture side by side with this picture of herself from over the summer, I think you can definitely see a resemblance. Though I seem to have been happier and cleaner. And, also, I have a pointier chin.
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And here’s a picture of my mother as a little girl; it’s a bit difficult to make out but I think she looks somewhat like us as well. I’ve also posted the rather glamourous one taken of her when she got her degree – people, look, white gloves. I have never, alas, looked like that.
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And here’s a final pair: pictures of my paternal grandmother and my great aunt. In the older one, my grandmother is on the right (ah, the pointy chin explained). And in the other picture are the same women photographed by my father in the sixties; there, my grandmother is on the left and my great aunt is on the right. Isn’t that nice?
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That’s probably enough for you for one night.

Lone Wolf


Posted in: Princess, Reading etc.

The Princess and I were cycling in the Phoenix Park at the weekend when we saw a man walking with a large flag. On closer examination, it was a flag with a picture of a wolf. We stopped to ask him why he was walking through the park flying a flag of a wolf. “Is it to encourage the re-introduction of the wolf to Ireland?” I asked nervously. Apparently not. We kept on guessing. It turned out that it was art. He had walked from the West of Ireland and he was going to walk all the way across Europe (he’d covered Iceland earlier) carrying his wolf flag. I was charmed by the idea and thought that it was a nice, if slightly odd, way to spend a warm November. He had no website. He gave us a card.

On one side was a picture of a wolf. On the other was the word resistance and, in Irish and English, instructions to write to a PO Box in Israel (he sounded like he was from Northern Ireland, so I’m unclear why Israel), “and tell of a woman soldier/a woman who has taken up arms/a woman who has gone to war”. The Princess and I intend to turn our minds to this matter, but if you had any suggestions to make in the comments, that would be welcome. Come on, it’s for art; we’ll acknowledge your input.

Standards? What Standards?


Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Twins

Herself: I’ve been reading this comic “X-men, First Class”.
Me: Oh yeah?
Her: It’s highly unsuitable for Daniel. There are lots of people in bed together. I assume Daniel doesn’t know what they do under the blankets, at his age, but it’s only a question of time before he finds out. And it’s also very violent.
Me: I’d say he focuses more on the violence.

Linguistic Diversity


Posted in: Princess

Her: Mummy, what’s an airing cupboard?
Me: It’s what English people call a hot press.

Derring-do


Posted in: Hodge, Princess

We were out the other night. We left the children in the hands of our very competent middle-aged child minder. When we returned, she had a tale of adventure to relate.

The cat had brought in a small mouse between her iron jaws [an event which, alas, is only too common] and the child minder had squealed and looked away. The commotion brought the Princess downstairs. Leaving the child minder quivering in a chair, the Princess got out the dustpan and brush, reproved the [v. peeved] cat, swept up the corpse and covered it in tissues for safe disposal by the child minder. She then sailed back to bed having spread peace in her dominions.

In the morning, when complimented on her daring, she said, “It was only a small mouse; and it was dead.”