belgianwaffle

Princess

Everywhere I have ever lived – 1995-1998


Posted in: Dublin, Princess

With some trepidation, I moved back to Dublin.  I needn’t have worried, I found it a much more welcoming town than I had done when I was a poor student.  It was much better being a poor young professional.  God, I was so skint.  I can remember going for coffee and only having water because it was two days to payday.

I lived with (just with, not with) a lovely man who was immensely house proud.  We were happy together for two years but when he upbraided me for chopping a tomato on his draining board, I knew our ways had to part despite his very beautiful and conveniently located house.  I then moved into a colleague’s old house and had a scarlet bedroom and a bracing cycle to work along the sea front.

After a couple of years, the office wanted to second someone to Brussels and a colleague and partner in poverty (we drank tap water together two days before pay day) encouraged me to apply with the words “you have to – look at the pay”.  This turned out to be unfortunate for him in the short term as I got the job and he did not but now he has a very important job so all is well in a cosmic karmic way.

Tomorrow – Brussels II

Today – some confusion

Princess (looking at a map): What does NL stand for?

Me: The Netherlands where the Dutch Mama and her family live.

Princess: And where Peter Pan took Wendy so that she would never grow up.

Upstairs Downstairs


Posted in: Princess

Her (imperiously while lying on the bed): Mummy, MUMMY, MUMMY!

Me (toiling up the stairs, muttering mutinously): This had better be a real emergency.

Her: Utterly trivial request.

Me: Moan, upstairs, groan, three children in this family, grizzle, world does not revolve around you etc. etc.

Her: Reiterates utterly trivial request.

Me: Do you understand? I do not want you to just lie there shouting Mummy, Mummy at the top of your voice when you want something.

Her (seriously): Would you prefer me to ring a bell?

Tears at bedtime


Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Twins

Daniel (urgently): My nose is running.  Tissue, tissue.

I wipe his nose.

Daniel (crying): No, no, don’t take away the snot.

Me: Eh?

Daniel (crying more loudly): Give me back snot.

Princess (sotto voce):  For God’s sake, it’s only snot.

Me: Danny, sweetheart, it’s gone, er, why did you want the snot?

Daniel: I want it go to bed in my nose.

Probably not what the Rev. W. Awdry wrote


Posted in: Princess

The Princess was so delighted to be reunited with her younger brothers after their sojourn in Cork, she began to “read” to them “Thomas Comes to Breakfast”. As I was watching them indulgently I was startled to hear the following:

“Don’t be so silly,” said Percy.

“I’d never go without my Driver” said Toby earnestly.  “I’d be frightened.”

“Pooh!” boasted Thomas.  “I’ll show you bastards.”

Back to school


Posted in: Belgium, Princess

The Princess started school in Dublin this morning.  It was very odd to see her in a school uniform.  She looked so big.  As we are still not in our house (alas) we had to leave the parents-in-law’s at dawn to get her in – they kindly minded the boys who apparently took our absence in good part. 

It was my first visit to the school (Mr. Waffle having inspected previously) and I liked it.  There was a good social mix and the teachers and head seemed very friendly.  In contradistinction to Belgium where children are rather left to sink or swim on their own, the teachers were very anxious to introduce the Princess to other children and to give her a friend to mind her.  Although it is, obviously, all the same in the end, it did make a difference this morning, I think.

The school is housed in a beautiful (though sadly delapidated) Georgian building.  Senior infants are in a large drawing room with elaborate stucco work on the ceiling.  Having myself gone to a suburban, socially uniform primary school where I received all my education in a prefab (the baby boom having taken the authorities by surprise) , I like the faded elegance and social diversity of her city centre school.  I suppose this is hardly particularly relevant to herself and she did cry pitifully when we left.  However, Mr. Waffle has just collected her and the whole thing seems to have gone off peacefully.  I will be curious to see how she negotiates the linguistic regime but the teachers seem mercifully relaxed about using English as well as Irish.  Hold your breath out there. 

Further complications


Posted in: Princess, Travel

We are going to Sicily on Sunday.  For a week.  I have no doubt that, in our absence, the plumber, the painter, the builder, the kitchen man, the carpenter and the electrician will work in complete harmony to create a beautiful home into which we can move upon our return.  Then again, perhaps not.

Full details of our Sicilian odyssey will follow at the end of the month (yes, yes, you are on the edge of your seat).  The Princess has been studying the Guardian’s supplement on Greek monsters (many of whom resided in Sicily) in anticipation of our trip.  It’s never too early to hothouse, you know.