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Princess

No Favours Received etc.


Posted in: Princess, Reading etc.

I listen to a podcast called “As the Season Turns” which I enjoy in a mild way. It comes out on the first of every month and talks about what will happen over the month (nature wise not events). It’s sponsored by Ffern perfume and as I listened over the years I became more and more curious and eventually signed myself up to the “Ffern ledger” (I am alarmingly susceptible to advertising). I had to wait to get on the ledger, mind. Notions: queuing to buy something. But I did get on and eventually I was able to get my own barrel aged, small batch, whatever you’re having yourself, perfume made in Somerset. It comes with various small items and, unboxing, as I believe the expression is, is a joy. There’s also a short film every quarter. I don’t how much they pay the likes of Ruth Wilson and Bill Nighy for the slightly twee English material but there must be money in flogging stuff to me and my ilk.

I quite like the perfumes (they come quarterly on the 21st of the month) but to me they are heavy very adult scents like my mother used to wear. The first time I wore one, Herself said, “Is that your Ffern perfume – it smells very young!”. I guess everything is cyclical (insert your own joke here about the turning of the seasons).

Gloom, Gloomier, Gloomiest


Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

Last night herself called about 9pm from her job in the City in London where she was waiting for some data to come in – a regular 10.30 finish genuinely seems normal, she is resigned but she is not loving it; middle child was lying on the sofa suffering from a really bad dose of food poisoning (origins a mystery); and youngest child rang from his Erasmus destination to say that he is still stuck in the middle of nowhere and the speedy bus service he was promised remains illusory as the buses are all on strike. And it’s still raining.

Driving me Crazy


Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

Progress towards full driving licences for all three children is slow. They’ve all passed their theory test including herself who finally did it last summer. To be honest, I was never very worried about the theory test even if there were a lot of hard questions about tractors (the licence also equips one to drive a tractor something I don’t expect to be a major feature of their lives but who can tell?) – I think they might all have got 100% – it’s the practical test I was more concerned about and I am right there. Herself is in England and so beyond help essentially – she’ll have to sort herself out, I think. I regret this but there it is.

The other two are at home and on our insurance policy at enormous expense (two twenty year olds on provisional licences, of course the expense is enormous). One of them has taken the test and failed. The other hasn’t taken the test yet. Part of the problem is that they don’t have much practice as our lifestyle does not involve much driving. Because of where we live it is almost always easier to cycle or take public transport. If we are going for longer distances we tend to take the motorway where learner drivers are not allowed. And, of course, they have to be accompanied by a qualified driver so we have to go with them when they drive which is a bit tedious and occasionally alarming. I suppose we will get there in the end.

We had a friend who lives in the Netherlands to stay recently (home for a month’s mind for a man she knew from college, very depressing, only in his mid-50s with young children). Her children are of an age with our children so we were asking about progress on driving and her eldest has passed the test. We were suitably impressed particularly when we heard about the Dutch system. Apparently the people who give you your lessons also pass you on the test. The lessons cost a fortune so the incentive to pass people is low. Her son passed on his third or fourth attempt and it is not at all unusual to have a lot of attempts. On one occasion, her son turned up to take his test but could not do so as the test centre had been burnt down by someone who had been failed 14 times. People, there’s a whole world out there.

Thorny Theological Questions


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Princess

Some time ago we had the tale of Lazarus and Dives at mass. You know the one, the rich man is at his table, the poor man at his gate begging. Then they both die and things are reversed – well the rich man is in Hell begging the poor man – who is in heaven – for a drop of water. I think we can all work out what the moral is there.

There is a slightly crazy older woman who attends mass regularly, she tends to walk about a bit but when she perches beside you it is slight purgatory as she speaks loudly and often asks for money (she lives in some kind of half way house near the church, I think). On this particular Sunday as the priest was sermonising away about Lazarus and Dives she sat beside me and asked me had I any money. As it happened I had €20 but that was all I had and I thought, “If I give her this €20 note she will literally sit beside me every time I go to the church ever.” So, quite untruthfully, I said, “No, I’m afraid I haven’t.” It all felt a bit on the nose. I was telling herself later on the phone and she said, “It’s not a lie, really it’s a mental reservation i.e. I have no money (for you).” Did I feel better? Can’t say I did really though I appreciated the vote of confidence.

Christmas Update


Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Twins, Youngest Child

Still alive. A bit challenging this year. We had my brother and sister on Christmas Eve which was nice but I was starting, alas, to feel a little under the weather. Did 2 solid hours in Dublin’s newly minted Catholic cathedral make me feel better? It did not although the singing was beautiful and the archbishop gave a pro-migrant sermon of which I strongly approved. My brother was beside me and it is hard to believe that he had ever been to Christmas mass at all as he kept saying, “Surely, it must be about to end now.” Herself commented sagely that the flower arrangers etc. still had to be thanked. She was right although the thanks were mercifully less extensive than they tend to be in our local church.

We had exchanged presents with my sister earlier in the day as she was spending Christmas Day with her partner’s family. I always feel she does quite poorly out of this as she is very generous to the children and doesn’t get so much from us. She did not disappoint this year and I gleefully pocketed a blue book voucher and a nice candle and the children got untold largesse. She also gave me a novelty jigsaw which was a blown up picture of our cat. I think it’s going to kill me. And I’m also feeling a lot less enthusiastic about the cat.

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Comparisons are odious but this jigsaw which I received from my middle child was much more satisfactory.

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You’ll see there’s a piece missing. We spent days on our hands and knees on the floor looking for it but finally a couple of days ago we swept the jigsaw into its box and decided the piece was lost. This morning middle child found the missing piece. In a trouser pocket. Was I delighted? I was not.

Back to our chronology here, I felt ok when we got up on Christmas morning and v much enjoyed the present giving (good haul thanks) and receiving. Mr. Waffle does a treasure hunt for the children on Christmas morning and that was great too.

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We were having the in-laws and my brother to Christmas lunch and the children were a great help in prepping and the table looked fantastic; the food wasn’t bad either. All in all pretty satisfactory though I am, if possible, even more grateful to the in-laws who host almost every year. This year they have moved out of their house to facilitate very significant renovations. If you pray to a deity, please remember them in your prayers, they’ll need it.

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By the time evening rolled around, we were all a bit exhausted though we did play one game of 110 with my brother. Wouldn’t say everyone was totally into it.

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I’ve no idea what happened on St. Stephen’s Day. I whined about being ill. The Princess admired the spectacular bruise which the dentist’s butchery had left her with. My brother hit the sales and we put him on the bus to Cork.

On Saturday I was still ill. So sorry for myself. Herself and myself went to look at the antiques shops on Francis Street (all still closed) and had lunch in the Argentinian place on Meath Street. I was exhausted after my mild outing.

To everyone’s horror we realised that we were booked in to see Dublin Gothic in the Abbey that evening. A three hour play about one Dublin building. And two, yes two, 15 minute intervals leading to a total run time of 3 and a half hours. While there were varying levels of enthusiasm when this Christmas treat was booked, I think that it would be fair to say that on Saturday night we all shared the exact same enthusiasm level namely zero. To be fair to the play, it wasn’t too bad but it was too long and we weren’t in the form to appreciate it as we might. It gave us something to talk about and there were some very interesting ideas and funny bits but you know, 3 and a half hours is a lot even when you want to go and you are in the whole of your health neither of which necessarily applied.

On Sunday I felt just well enough for a mild stroll around the Botanic Gardens. Very sorry for myself still.

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On Monday I finally started to recover. We rejoice. Herself and myself and Mr. Waffle had a look at the antiques shops many, but by no means all, of which were open.

Then we went home and she packed and we dropped her to the airport to go back to London. Gutting. I felt very sad. But there you are, this is the lot of the Irish mother. I did it to my mother and she did it to her mother so I suppose we can only hope that some day she’ll move home again like my mother and I did. She’s starting a job and moving flat in January so exciting times ahead and I guess London isn’t so far.

Today my recovery continued apace and we climbed the Sugar Loaf. These pictures give the impression that we were there alone but in fact this was not at all the case and every family in Dublin appeared to be on the mountain having a health giving walk. It was a beautiful day and you could see snow on the higher mountains in the distance and all the way across to Snowdonia in Wales.

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I am delighted to report that I have no plans for this evening. I hope that your Christmas passed off peacefully also and that you are recovering from the inevitable illness of the season. A very happy new year. More blogging in 2026; something for you to look forward to.

The Christmas Hits Keep Coming


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins

Last week I went in to Trinity for carols. I did it last year and it was lovely. The child who is in Trinity had an exam (at 5 in the afternoon, does that strike you as peculiar?); the other Dublin based child has no interest; and Mr. Waffle was busy at work so I went alone. I sloped out of work a bit early and headed in. Here is my news for you, if you want to go to the carol service in Trinity chapel at 5.05, don’t arrive at 5. This was the queue. Did I get in? I did not.

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From outside the church I heard that great advent hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” which could usefully have replaced some of the numbers I had heard other choirs deliver. Alas.

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I gave it up as a bad job and, pausing only to note the bat signal

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and the attractive Christmas tree (regular readers will recall my disastrous attempt to get to the lighting ceremony), I left Trinity in a state of damp gloom.

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On my way home I passed Dublin castle which was advertising winter lights. They weren’t as good as the truly spectacular Collins Barracks lights that we saw last year but they weren’t bad and I pretty much had them to myself.

Speaking of lights – did I tell you we had a lighting up session for all the vulgar outdoor lights on the road? Well, we did. I used to hate outdoor lights but now I love them; you see change is possible though I remain slightly unsure about the large inflatable Santa across the road. It’s a lovely event usually but this year it was freezing, squally and wet and no amount of mince pies, mulled wine, gas fired braziers and neighbours could keep me beyond about 10 minutes but the lights are on now and I like them. Yes, probably even the Santa.

We had some carols at work and they were surprisingly good despite my expectations being extremely low.

We hosted Christmas drinks on Saturday afternoon which were broadly successful. Top tip though, if you are hoping to have your Christmas drinks catered, you need to start ringing around more than a month in advance. We did not have our drinks catered. It was nice but it also nearly killed me. We are fully stocked for Christmas (also, I note our floorboards need re-sanding).

One of our guests commented that she liked the ivy around the mirror. “Did you forage that?” she asked. “Um, yes, I suppose,” said I. “Sorry, I’m using my Dublin dialect, I meant did you strip it off the walls?” she clarified. Accurate.

We only got the tree up on Friday afternoon – everything was a bit late this year but it is a fine specimen even though we had to lop off the top. Every extra foot costs a tenner so Mr. Waffle would like us to think harder about our needs before sending him out to invest in a tree in future.

On Sunday we had middle child’s Swedish friend to lunch before she went home to Sweden. St Lucia is a big thing in Sweden at this time of year and she described the white dresses with the red sashes and the crown of lit candles that young girls wear. “Is it a bit dangerous?” I asked. Apparently it is; she described with some enthusiasm the various times young women’s hair had caught fire. “Would they not consider artificial candles?” I asked. “Only for very young children,” she said reprovingly. I see that, despite everything, the Viking spirit lingers on.

The house looks nice for Christmas and the Swedish friend commented, “The old core style you favour works really well for Christmas.” True. “Sorry,” she corrected herself, “I meant old-fashioned.” Probably best not to provide clarification there.

We have finally passed the winter solstice and the days are getting longer. It was always a holiday my father liked so I thought of him fondly on the day.

Herself went to the dentist yesterday and he gave her two fillings. He also seems to have made some kind of mistake with his injecting as her jaw has swelled like a balloon and she has the beginnings of a spectacular bruise. Alas. Even when I got my root canal done, I had nothing like this. She is sore and peeved. Herself, myself and Mr. Waffle went out for breakfast to cheer her up and then on a slightly overcast walk on Dun Laoghaire pier and a reviving cup of tea afterwards. She remains a bit glum. She’s just gone in to town to meet some school friends and show off her jaw.

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It would not be Christmas if we did not need a tradesman who ignored us. The fan in the upstairs bathroom has gone and Mr. Waffle has already been available for three full days when the electrician faithfully promised he would come. Did he come? He did not. “Godot and Co. have still not arrived,” said Mr. Waffle gloomily on enquiry. Realistically, is the electrician likely to come before January? He is not. On the plus side the drains man came when expected (don’t ask) and I suppose if one tradesman out of two is going to let you down, I would much rather that the electrician was the disappointing one.

I trust your own Christmas preparations are proceeding apace.