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Celebrations (Various)

8 April, 2025
Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel

I forgot to cover Valentine’s Day. We don’t usually do much but we had dinner out this year. And Mr. Waffle bought me roses. I was slightly discombobulated.

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Proof of love, of course, but not as much proof as this cheeseboard that he put together for me one evening when I was exhausted. Tea and cheese, the perfect combination. Fight me.

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Hot on the heels of my birthday comes Mr. Waffle’s. Everyone’s a bit exhausted from the celebration of mine but we rally. He seemed reasonably pleased with his presents (an enormous pile of books) and I took him out to dinner.

Mr. Waffle and I went to England for the St. Patrick’s Day weekend to visit herself. Low levels of celebration of the national saint but a good time had by all.

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After all that goes before, Mother’s Day (where should that apostrophe go? an abiding problem) is generally a bit of a damp squib. As Mr. Waffle put it – there are only a certain number of chips to go around and I have definitely cashed mine in on my birthday. Noble Mr. Waffle bought me flowers and chocolates all the same. A better show than the priest at mass; it was the parable of the prodigal son and he said, “There’s a lot of talk about the father in this gospel reading but no mention of the mother.” Thanks Father. I thought of my own mother who died in 2019; it seems a long time ago in some ways but in others not so long at all. Time is funny that way. I do miss her.

Nach Berlin!

12 March, 2025
Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Travel

At the start of February to celebrate the new St Brigid’s Day long weekend (a Covid dividend, finally) Mr. Waffle and I went to Berlin to visit friends who moved there from Ireland last year.

Day 1 – Friday, January 31, 2025

Our friends live in the beautiful Grunewald a very genteel suburban part of town in the forest which we had never visited when we were in Berlin in the baking hot summer a couple of years ago. In retrospect, that might have been a good idea.

After admiring our friends’ very luxurious house where (oh my goodness yes) we felt we would be very comfortable for the weekend, we all went out to a local pub for dinner admiring some charming and many large houses as we walked to our destination.

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Day 2 – Saturday February 1, 2025

February 1 is my mother’s birthday and it was nice to be with a friend from childhood who had known her very well. We had a nice chat about her over breakfast. My friend’s husband is a bit of a breakfast guru and made us all a delightfully elaborate breakfast.

Then off we went to the station to get the S-Bahn into the city. On the way we passed Judith Kerr‘s house.

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There’s a plaque about her father but, sadly, no reference to her. I think it is time to trot out one of my favourite Judith Kerr stories. When she wrote the first Mog story her German publisher insisted on making Mog a male cat despite her objections. In the next book Mog was pregnant. I don’t know, if this is true but I really hope so.

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The train station in the Grunewald has a memorial to all the Jewish deportees. It’s sad and really well done.

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It seems almost unbelievable that they deported more than 50,000 people from here to the camps and almost certain death. The last deportees went in February 1945.

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The cute little station is, I imagine, largely unchanged since then and it is incredible to think of such vast numbers of people being herded through here to their deaths not so very long ago.

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We pushed on into town. We were keen to revisit our Place Savigny stomping grounds from when we were last in Berlin. What a really lovely part of town. Just outside the airbnb where we had stayed, we noticed for the first time Stolperstein with details of some people who had fled to Ireland. In fairness to the Irish Times, they had a great article about the family.

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We had lunch in town. Then, we decided to go to the Gemäldegalerie. Honestly, it is impossible to find. Even though I forget everything, I vividly remembered how hard it is to get there as I nearly died in the attempt in 2022 trekking miles across a soulless, sign-less concrete desert in 40 degree heat. It’s absolutely excellent when you get there. A really superb collection and you have it to yourself because, obviously, no other tourists will be able to find it.

There was a temporary exhibition there with paintings from Odessa and, no shade to Odessa which I would love to visit and which is obviously having a tough time at present, it is the collection of a regional museum with all the limitations that implies. However the main collection was, as ever, superb.

I enjoyed this picture painted by the subject’s husband, a man called Lampi, who honestly, I expect got a piece of her mind as soon as the sitting was over.

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I am a big fan of the quiet charm of Chardin and I loved this beautiful little portrait which is typical of his work.

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Who isn’t a fan of Botticelli? Nobody, that’s who.

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This picture by Joshua Reynolds of an East India company grandee and his family has faded rather badly but it’s interesting for lots of reasons – you know, Joshua Reynolds, always good value; the Indian maid and also, the mother who was née Austen and an aunt of the more famous Jane.

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This guy was a former governor of Ireland – 1st Marquis of Camden from whom I presume we get Camden street in Dublin where the young people like to go of an evening – by Hoppner. It may well be a flattering work but I wouldn’t really be delighted if I were him.

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I’m not a massive fan of Rembrandt myself but a Rembrandt self-portrait is always interesting.

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All I can say about this one is you would have to feel sorry for the inbred Hapsburgs. Even my children instantly recognised this picture as being a Hapsburg due to the extraordinary chin. I bet it was even worse in real life. It’s King Charles V by Christoph Amberger in case you’re wondering.

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There was lots and lots more – amazing paintings in a nearly deserted gallery. I cannot recommend it highly enough provided you can get there.

We were a bit exhausted after all the culture but fortunately our hosts had a voucher for dinner in a lovely restaurant which they chose to spend on us so we were all picked up by this. Incredibly, our waitress was from Kuldiga the tiny town in Latvia that we had visited over the summer. It was like meeting someone from Leitrim: so unlikely because almost no one is from there.

Day 3 – Sunday, February 2, 2025

The following day we went to Potsdam. Poor Mr. Waffle who bought train tickets for us both made some terrible error with the ticketing and ended up spending €50 rather than about €10 due to some difficulties with automatic ticketing. We move on.

Potsdam is very pretty but somehow feels quite Eastern European though, I am pleased to report that Berlin specialty Curry Wurst is available there. A classic.

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We’d gone to Potsdam to check out Sans Souci the summer palace of Frederick the Great. It’s impressive. Great grounds but, just so as you know, the palace closes at 4.30 in winter.

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We had a rather hurried inspection of the interior of the principal palace but, honestly, pretty good for our needs. Many more palaces are available for inspection on a future visit but I believe we saw the main one. Pretty luxe for a summer palace, I can tell you. We had it pretty much to ourselves except for the security guards who followed us from room to room locking each door after us. It felt a bit…pointed but I suppose they were keen to finish up work for the day like the rest of us.

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After our cultural experience we went for a reviving cup of tea and a wander around Potsdam. We got a bit lost on our way to the station and Mr. Waffle asked two German ladies whether they knew the way to the station and one of them said grumpily, “Haben Sie kein Google maps?” Definitely not feeling the love from the locals. But the centre of the town, doubtless reconstructed by the East Germans because they did a lot of that, is very attractive. Though kind of weirdly empty.

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We found the station eventually with the aid of google maps and took ourselves back to the Grunewald where our hosts gave us dinner.

The next morning we were up at cock crow to get back to Dublin. Our hosts warned us that security was really slow in the airport. Never was a truer word spoken and myself and another Irish woman in the queue bonded about how they made Dublin airport security look like paragons of efficiency. Anyway despite waiting an unnervingly long time, we made our flight no bother.

My friend will, I’m sure, be delighted to learn that I’m contemplating an annual trip to Berlin. It’s so nice there, lads, and there’s lots more to see.

The Schedule

30 November, 2024
Posted in: Princess, Travel

When the Princess was at Oxford, I used to visit occasionally and at some point in this process, herself introduced the schedule.

This has been the best thing for our relationship and everyone’s sanity. Term is busy at college and she would always have lots of things on and need to write essays and study as well. Before the schedule, these things would arise at short notice for me anyway (there is no point expecting me to remember details of a social or academic engagement conveyed to me some time ago) and it was a bit unsatisfactory for both of us. Part of the problem was that I was coming for a relatively long time. I was visiting from Ireland so always came for a couple of nights at least rather than a day or even an afternoon which was much more feasible for parents based in London, say.

The schedule changed all this. I knew when she was available and when not. I was able to get dropped off at the lovely little art museum in Christ Church (recommended) or go to the shops or some other fun thing suggested by herself while she went to her tutorials or whatever. It was, as the annoying expression goes, a game changer.

I am visiting her this weekend (bringing this to you live from a glamorous airport bus station) and the schedule has just dropped and it looks amazing. I am v excited.

The schedule is now a fixture. For example, in summer 2023 I was supposed to join her in Florence for the weekend after she finished her art history course and below is the schedule she prepared. Alas, neither of us got to enjoy it. My favourite aunt died and we went to her funeral instead. But maybe we will live the Florentine adventure another time. As my London sister-in-law says, “Life is long”.

Thursday 20th DOWNTOWN

1pm Arrival 

1:17pm Il Santo Bevitore for lunch

3:30pm Uffizi 

7:30pm Osteria Antica Mescita San Niccolo 

9:45 pm Romeo and Juliet at the Uffizi

Friday 21st SANTO SPIRITO 

Brancacci chapel

8:15pm Loggia rooftop

Saturday 22nd NORTH

Museo di San Marco

8pm L’Ortone

Sunday 23rd DOWNTOWN

Market

2pm departure 

It’s a lot of work for her but honestly I think she thinks it’s worth it. It’s an opportunity for her to show off a place she knows to me and both of us know what to expect. The effort she puts in to planning and booking things she knows I will like fills me with joy. In some ways no one knows me better than her and she can always judge what I will enjoy so in addition to the warm feeling I get from all her effort, I really look forward to doing the things proposed and they always deliver.

I say all this in case anyone else out there thinks spontaneity can be a bit overrated sometimes.

Also it’s the last day of Nablopomo. Posts next month will be more…spontaneous.

You Gotta Hoooold on for One More Day*

29 November, 2024
Posted in: Ireland, Travel

I am nearly at the end of November. Content is very limited indeed. I played tennis last night and woke up this morning with a sore shoulder, a sore wrist and a sore lower back. I recovered over the course of the day but I would describe this as an ominous development.

Today is the general election. I voted.

A man came and cut back everything in our garden. I am simultaneously delighted and horrified. I suppose the weeds will all grow back in due course. I took a before picture but it’s too dark for an after picture. Something for you to look forward to next week.

Tomorrow at the crack of dawn (10.00), I fly to England to visit herself.

*Just in case you need the reference. Unlikely I feel but you never know.

Home Again, Home Again

10 November, 2024
Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Siblings, Travel

And I’m back from the fleshpots of Cork.

I had an exciting day. I went to the Glucksman for my breakfast (a gallery cafe – not bad but not at all as good as the old Crawford Gallery cafe for which I will probably grieve forever). They only had seats outside where I went with some trepidation but despite slight drizzle towards the end of breakfast, it was actually fine even though there were no outdoor heaters.

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Thrillingly, the Christmas craft fair was on in the Glucksman. I mean, I love any old craft fair but this one is really good. All the people manning the stalls had made the stuff themselves, which I really enjoy. I bought a Christmas decoration from a potter and a tea towel from a lovely man who draws lighthouses. We had a little chat, he’s originally from Antwerp. Not so many lighthouses in that neck of the woods. Honestly, I could have stayed for hours but I did not because I was already running late for my next event.

My sister had a spare ticket to an interview with some director from Cork I’d never heard of and I agreed to go with her. It was in the Triskel, Cork’s premier arts venue once a church and, still boasting the slightly uncomfortable benches which are part of any church experience. There were about 50 people there.

The director appeared, a guy called John Crowley. He was really interesting, a genuinely fascinating man; he was about the same age as me and a year behind me in college (I learn from Wikipedia but this is not quite how it describes his college career) and a stalwart of the Dramat but I can’t say I remember any productions in which he was involved. He talked about the films he had made (loads) and then I realised he was the director of Brooklyn and the Goldfinch (as he said, “one of those much more successful than the other, kind of you not to mention it”) and Life After Life and the second season of True Detective and tons and tons of stuff. He was super-understated and just very pleasant as well as knowledgeable. It was a revelation, he has a new film out which screened as part of the Cork film festival (We Live in Time) which I will definitely be going to see when it comes out. It struck me that if he were from Dublin I would definitely have read about him in the Irish Times and indeed this event but the Irish Times does have a tendency to gloss over people who don’t live in or come from Dublin. Is it any wonder Cork people are, I don’t want to say bitter, but bitter adjacent.

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And one final, thing as Columbo would say, a very famous chipper in Cork called Jackie Lennox’s closed down. It was such big news that it was even covered in the Irish Times. My brother queued for about three hours for fish and chips on its last day of operation.

Anyhow, when I was visiting my parents’ cemetery on Tory Top road (Cork word for a pine cone, unknown anywhere else), I passed the establishment in the photograph below. It has (you will have to take my word for it) the same lettering as the closed down chipper. It has obviously been here for some time. What is going on? A real mystery.

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The Boat to England

8 November, 2024
Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel

Mr. Waffle and I drove herself to England at the start of October. Having finished a degree in foreign parts you would think she might come home but no, she is doing a master’s as well. The whole thing was rendered a great deal more stressful than it might have been by having the car booked in for a service the day before departure. It was going to be ready, then it wasn’t, then they were waiting for a part. It was a roller coaster during which we looked up hire cars (not actually very easy to find car hire people who will let you take the car out of the jurisdiction) and investigated how to change the ferry booking. There was a great deal of trauma which is frankly being skimmed over in this paragraph.

This was the first time Mr. Waffle had done this trip and he kept commenting on how onerous it was. “It’s even worse when you have to do all the driving yourself,” I kept saying grumpily.

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