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Siblings

By Our Mistakes We Learn

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Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Siblings, Travel

Last year we went on holidays in late August/early September and I hated it. Too late. Never again.

Part of the reason was that we booked very late. June 16, in fact. Have we booked our summer holidays yet? I’m glad you asked. We have!

We are going away for three weeks in August. For the first time since herself was born, it is just Mr. Waffle and me. Though we have posted our itinerary in the family group chat and said if anyone wants to join us for a bit we will cover flights and accommodation but they’ll have to arrange it themselves (unless they want to join us in Flåm, they just can’t join us in Flåm, too expensive, too complex and no accommodation and no train tickets – more anon). So far, the response has been…lukewarm. And we are going on a thrilling odyssey in my view.

We will fly to Gothenburg, from there we will go by train first to Oslo for a couple of days, then onwards to Flåm (bet you’re excited to hear about Flåm now) and to Bergen. From Bergen we will fly to Reykjavik and then home. I am so looking forward to it.

Before we began the booking process, I had never heard of Flåm but there’s a fjord there and it’s a good thing to see apparently and I became determined to go. Mr. Waffle wrestled with Norwegian rail and bought us tickets from Oslo to Flåm. Not easy, they are very much in demand. We are spending two nights in Flåm, possibly one too many but we will not dwell on that as due to a severe shortage of accommodation we will be spending more per night on our hotel in Flåm then we have ever spent on a night’s accommodation before. When I tell you that Mr. Waffle refused to stay in a shared room in a hostel (we’re too old for that) and that was €250 per night, it will give you a slight inkling of the cost of the hotel. It had better be good is all I can say. We took a few days off after the excitement of the Flåm booking and then realised that we would want to leave Flåm by rail and perhaps those tickets might be difficult to get also. We got our tickets out.

Mr. Waffle has been reading a lot of Nordic crime in preparation for our trip. I hope it will not be directly relevant. More practically my sister has been to these parts very recently and given us her insights. She has a friend who lives in Gothenburg and is a big Nordic traveller. Still, I was a bit surprised when she rang me and said, “I’ve booked my summer holidays and at the start of July I’m flying to Bergen then on to Oslo by train and then on to Gothenburg also by train.” Great minds etc. I am pleased with her tips but since she didn’t go to Flåm (her loss) no insights on that one.

Please give me your Nordic tips.

A Question of Taste

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Posted in: Middle Child, Siblings, Twins

My brother of whom I am fond when he is not driving me crazy has firm views on what size a television should be and his view is that it should be the size of one wall of your house. This is not a view I share.

Before we moved to this house he very kindly bought me a present of a television. I didn’t want a television, I thought my normal sized non-slimline TV was fine. In our old, small house, the new television loomed in the downstairs room where we basically did everything; I did not love it. When we moved to this house which is mercifully bigger, the new TV looked a lot better and I am now pretty pleased with it and would not part with it. It is about 15 years old but it has worked faithfully for us all these years with no problems of any kind. “What a successful present!” you say.

However, my brother is unhappy. Television technology has advanced and this TV which he kindly bought all those years ago is now too small he feels. It is a 32 inch screen (I’ve just measured it for you, you measure diagonally apparently). It drives my brother bananas and I would be lying if I didn’t say that this was, perhaps, not the least of its attractions. In his own house he has an enormous television which feels like it’s following you around the room. We enjoy regular free and frank exchanges of views on television sizes. I honestly thought that he was the odd one however some alarming evidence that there may be something in what he says has come my way recently.

Middle child had some friends around and reported to me the very unwelcome news that they said, “Why is your TV so old and small?” SMALL? What is this craziness? One of the offending children looked around the room and said, “It’s because they spent all their money on lamps.” Who doesn’t like mood lighting and despise the harsh central light? 20 year olds apparently. So long as my brother never finds out, we’re alright, I suppose. Might I ask, what size is your own television?

It’s a Social Whirl


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

It was my birthday in March. Herself was home (day after her poor great Uncle’s funeral) which was great. We were to go for breakfast together but alas, a logistical issue with an application arose for her and we spent much of the morning trying (unsuccessfully) to resolve this before heading off for breakfast at 11 and then on to the airport after a short walk. While, obviously, it was delightful to have her here, it’s hard to say that taking your daughter to the airport so that she can return to the land of her exile is a complete highlight but, as she pointed out, she was due back at Easter so I would probably survive.

My family delivered on my birthday with a number of subscriptions including cheese (sister) and flowers (middle child). Very thrilling. Even youngest child remembered and sent a card (dates wouldn’t be his strong point). This only scratches the surface of the excellent presents received from all parties. How I love my birthday.

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To recover from dispatching the exile, I went in to Bewley’s for a restorative cup of tea and the waitress recognised me from previous adventures and basically asked why I wasn’t at work. “It’s my birthday, I’m off!” I said. She gave me free tea. God, I was thrilled.

Mr. Waffle also has a birthday in March so the Dublin contingent went out to dinner to celebrate. I don’t know that he really enjoys his birthday as much as he should. I think he feels he’s too old for this but I will never be too old.

It was sobering though to go to a friend’s 60th birthday drinks. That is old. Because Ireland is small a former colleague was there who turned out to be the birthday boy’s sister in-law’s daughter’s husband. Try to keep up.

I have been out for dinner a number of times with my tennis buddies moving on from the more challenging on court engagement to an arena where I truly shine. Speaking of tennis, on Palm Sunday I went to an early mass in a church where there are a number of regular crazy people in the congregation and the environment can be a little exciting but it had an early and speedy mass which I needed to get to a tennis match at 10.

To my surprise in the pew along from me there were some very clean cut enthusiastic Americans (mid-Westerners, so wholesome) responding clearly and crisply throughout (not a feature of the Irish congregation which is given to the holy mumble) and I felt that they might have gone astray in this city so I talked to them afterwards and it turned out their son was studying in Dublin and they had come to visit him. “It’s actually my first time…” began the son. “At mass since you came to Dublin?” I inquired based on knowledge of other people of his age. He was shocked. “No, in this church, I usually go to the pro-Cathedral.”

I scooted on to tennis and told my opponent about the encounter. “You go to mass??” said she. “Yes,” I said, a bit defensively. Apparently, I am not a beacon for the faith. “I’m amazed,” said she, “it’s just that I thought you were a Protestant.” Honestly, with my name I could never be; it looks like sectarianism may be on the way out. Or maybe she just thought I looked like I would be good at crafts (I am not good at crafts).

On that self-same day, I then had breakfast out with my husband, went to my bookclub for the afternoon and returned to welcome my sister to our home like the gracious hostess, I am. A bit too much perhaps.

Is this why I’m losing my mind? I went to Carlingford with Mr. Waffle a couple of weeks ago and I said to him, “Can we go to that place I like?” “What place, a walk, a sight, a cafe?” he asked. “You know, you know,” I said. “I do not,” said he. I rummaged deep in the recesses of my brain and said, “You know… Mornington Grove”. There was a long pause and then he said, “Do you mean Strandfield?” Truly, that was impressive work.

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Burying the Lede


Posted in: Siblings

I went for lunch with my brother for his birthday. He was just back from his skiing holiday so I asked how it went. Himself and a bunch of guys from school plus one random Dubliner had gone together. A great time was had by all. Loads of snow. His friend W (with whom he shared a room in their accommodation) had insisted on a fancy hotel and my brother dwelt for some time on the waste of this when they would only be using it for sleeping. He’s not a big believer in a luxury hotel.

He hurt his knee on the last day (taken out by one of the more inexperienced skiers in the group who the other lads had taken on a black run, no one but himself to blame – though when he clarified that the injury was acquired by the guy skiing into him when getting off the chair lift I was v mildly sympathetic). Anyway you will be pleased to hear that it is much better now.

We chatted some more. We consumed lunch. Then he said, “You know your friend J from school?” Obviously I do. “Well her brother was on the trip.” “He was in the resort with his family and you saw him?” I asked. “No, he was on the trip with us, he was the year ahead of me in school and one of the guys in my year was friends with him.” I exclaimed over the amazing coincidence. “Did you talk about me and J at all?” “No,” said he. Fine. Pause. “I asked him whether he’d ever been over to Vermont (where she lives) to ski with her?” Fine.

We left the restaurant to walk back to our offices. He was limp free so my knee sympathy had entirely expired. “How did you find sharing a room with W anyway?” I asked just before we went our separate ways (I am a grown-up I no longer share rooms with my friends when we go away and I like it). “Oh well, it wasn’t for long, he got wiped out on the first day, broke his collar bone, went to the hospital and had two pins put in. I thought he’d stay on but he went home.” Was he stretchered down the mountain? He was. As he was being trussed up, my brother, the Job’s comforter, remembered an article I had read him from the local paper when I visited him in France a couple of years ago. This article was about a skier who had an accident on the slopes and was being skied back to safety by someone pushing a stretcher; as he was being taken down the mountain a skier took out the guy pushing the stretcher and the stretcher went flying down the mountain where it was finally stopped by some trees but having started with a simple broken leg the skier had much more serious injuries after this. And obviously trussed up like a chicken there was absolutely nothing he could do in his stretcher to halt its breakneck progress. Some people might have thought this wasn’t a great story to tell a friend about to be taken down the mountain to hospital in the exact same way but not my brother. I suppose they have been friends for well over 40 years so this won’t be the end of it but surely W was sorely tried.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that maybe a great time was not had by absolutely everyone.

Important Jigsaw Update


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Siblings

I finished the cat jigsaw. I am re-gifting it to my sister. We’ll see how she gets on with it. In fairness, I think she likes the cat more than I do. Certainly since doing the jigsaw. I do feel a bit of an ingrate but I am very grateful for her other gifts including a notebook with my name embossed on it which I forgot in my listing of her largesse the other day so, look, you can’t win them all.

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Mr. Waffle’s cousin and his three very cute Spanish children came to visit yesterday along with the in-laws. We made some further slight inroads into our Christmas cheese supply but we still have a mountain of cheese in the fridge. Michael was a hero with the young Hiberno-Spanish crowd taking them off to play card games in the dining room and saving them from expiring from boredom with the grown-ups where, to be fair to them, they had been politely listening to the very dull grown-up discussion.

I had to leave a bit early to go to a removal. A former colleague of mine has died. He was only 58 and it was entirely unexpected. He went out for a walk on St. Stephen’s Day and keeled over. Bit of a shock all round.

When I got home we had a zoom call with the London relatives which was surprisingly fun given the inevitable Covid memories it brought back. After that Mr. Waffle and I, wringing every minute out of the day, went to the cinema to see Eternity which I am pleased to pronounce quite good though a bit long. My new year’s resolution for 2024 was to see more films which we did. We fell off the wagon a bit last year but we are now back for 2026 (I mean, so far so good, it’s only January 2 we might need to see where we are in a couple of months).

Today Mr. Waffle and I went out to Howth for a walk along with the millions of tourists visiting Dublin (really, if you had time off between Christmas and New Year is this where you would come?). We were all rewarded as it was a beautiful day with spectacular views. If you are interested in these things the conical mountain in the distance in the picture (an extinct volcano, hence its shape), is the Sugar Loaf which we climbed on Wednesday. I’ve said it before and I will definitely say it again, Dublin has many, many flaws but its spectacular location is not one of them.

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We went back into Howth village for a bite of lunch but were thwarted by the huge numbers thronging all the restaurants. I had really not anticipated that it would be impossible to get lunch in Howth at 2 pm on January 2nd but so it was. Annoying. And hungry making.

How is your own new year going so far? Any resolutions?

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.