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Princess

Deep Waters

20 January, 2017
Posted in: Princess

Herself, on being forced to go to mass on Sunday, announced, “I’m an atheist martyr.” It takes a saint to live with a martyr, you know. As part of her campaign to not go to mass any longer she is asking me hard questions. I am dealing with issues that I never really considered myself and where I have no answers. In the context of the Arian heresy (obscure, but not as obscure as you might think because every Sunday when we recite the Nicene creed we refer to Jesus as being “consubstantial with the Father” which I understand is the essence of the controversy. A former colleague of mine used to refer to the creed as “the best mission statement ever”; I digress), she asked me whether the Holy Spirit has chromosomes. On balance, I’m inclined to think not, but really, this is all getting a bit beyond me.

And as though all this wasn’t enough, the sacristan nabbed me at mass on Sunday and asked whether I would like to be part of the parish’s outreach team for baptisms. One evening a month only, apparently. I fear I will have to commit as I have already avoided all kinds of things including organising tea after the family mass once a month. I will offer it up, I suppose. There will be training available, I understand. I hope they will cover all the relevant theological questions which are likely to arise.

Ominous

17 January, 2017
Posted in: Hodge, Mr. Waffle, Princess

When I checked my personal mobile as I left the office this evening, I saw that herself had called me at 2. I rang her back. “Oh yeah, it was an emergency when I called you. The cat caught a mouse and brought it into the utility room.” “What happened?” I asked. “I shut the door and called Dad and he’s going to deal with it when he gets home.” Cravenly, I cycled home very slowly. Mr. Waffle opened the front door to me. “Did you find the mouse?” I asked. He had not. We both looked again but could find no trace. Could the cat have eaten it all, including the tail? She is certainly less hungry than usual this evening. Alternatively are there mouse body parts quietly rotting in an unseen corner of the utility room? It’s all to play for, folks.

Fighting the Patriarchy

4 December, 2016
Posted in: Princess, Siblings

My brother came to stay last night. He’s not a big believer in feminism; I feel if at this point my sister, my mother and I have failed to convince him, then he’s a lost cause. Herself thinks that this is a paltry attitude and seizes every chance to point out to him the error of his ways (this is a child who accuses me of being an instrument of the patriarchy when I say that green is a nice colour on her – perhaps I have done my work too well here). Anyhow, she hauled him over the coals and routed him comprehensively before breakfast.

I can’t help feeling, therefore, that it was unfortunate that, in his presence, she had to troop up to the altar this morning to do the second reading which included the line:

For I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the Jews on behalf of God’s truth, so that the promises made to the patriarchs might be confirmed.

In other news, I have finally finished the wretched essay.

Context Clues

25 November, 2016
Posted in: Dublin, Princess

In geography (which seems a lot more interesting than it was when I was at school), the Princess’s class are doing a case study.

It was about housing and the teacher showed them a number of pictures of a place she called “Fatima“.  As the Princess looked at these gloomy pictures, she thought, “I had no idea Portugal was so rainy.”

The motto must be, if you’re a teacher assume nothing.

An Inconvenient Truth

24 November, 2016
Posted in: Princess

Herself: Superhero comics are sexist.  Female characters wear ludicrous costumes.  Name a male character who  dresses  up in a swimsuit.

Her Friend: Aquaman wears a swimsuit.

Thought for the Day

21 November, 2016
Posted in: Princess

Herself: I have a problem with baby centaurs.

Me: How so?

Her:  Well, think about it – horses can walk around a few hours after being born and babies can’t even hold up their heads for months.

Me:  Mmm.

Her: Think about it.

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