Twins

Mocks

2 February, 2023
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Twins, Youngest Child

Things are a bit tense here at Waffle Towers. The boys are doing their mocks and finding it trying. Yesterday evening I made them do an online session on how to do the Leaving Cert maths paper. Given that their maths teacher is on mat leave and the newly found replacement is a masters in engineering student (i.e. not a qualified teacher but any port in a storm) who is from abroad (i.e. has never done the Irish Leaving Cert), I thought it might be useful.

I reminded them of the session over an early dinner, the news was met with the levels of enthusiasm you might expect. Mr. Waffle made comforting noises as I insisted. “Why are you always bad cop?” asked Daniel. Good question. Mr. Waffle as the child of hippies is above competition, it’s all brother bear and sister moon and let’s go with the flow. Is this attitude going to get them through the exams? I doubt it.

After the online session, Daniel arrived down to give us the review. He conceded that it was actually quite useful but that he had logged off once the questions started as they were all a bit stupid.

Mr. Waffle joked, “There are no stupid questions just stupid people.” We looked at him. “Where’s brother bear now?” asked Daniel.

Anois Teacht an Earraigh

1 February, 2023
Posted in: Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Twins, Youngest Child

Today is the first day of Spring and my mother’s birthday. I still really miss her, I suppose I always will. She was so full of enthusiasm and joie de vivre and she loved birthdays.

It’s also the feast day of Saint Brigid – Ireland’s female patron saint – and to celebrate the end of Covid, we are having a new permanent holiday on the books on the first Monday of February. My mother would have been delighted. Her grandsons currently sitting their mock Leaving Certificate examinations are also grateful to St Brigid for this relief.

And this is the poem I always think of today. Not a great translation but it gives you the idea.

Working Our Way Through the Schliemann Layers

31 January, 2023
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Twins

My sister and I cleaned out upstairs in our 93 year old aunt’s house. It was a bit weird because, as my sister pointed out, normally you do this kind of thing after someone dies but she was just downstairs. She’s moved her bedroom downstairs and doesn’t really come upstairs any more. Physically, she’s pretty well but she had a TIA a couple of years ago which means that mentally she is only alright. I mean she is alright, she’s living at home with support and she recognises us all and can chat and read the papers but her short term memory is pretty poor.

My aunt moved into the house – next door to my parents – about 40 years ago and, to be fair to her, she did a pretty thorough job of getting rid of stuff from the old house which was where she had lived with her mother and aunts and uncles. There were hardly any things left. My granny’s engagement ring, the (silver?) Douglas golf club trophy which my uncle Tommy won in 1930 and a couple of old photos and letters.

I remember my mother telling me that this was a picture of my father at school in South Pasadena, California in the late 1920s or early 1930s. I can’t find him in it but the clothes look right, I suppose, and that is certainly not Irish sunshine that the children are squinting into.

There is a description my mother began writing of our last family holiday together. She seems to have run out of steam about the time we got on the ferry which is…disappointing. However, not before pointing out that she wanted to follow a particular signpost for the ferry in the port but my father said to ignore it as these things are made for idiots and the obvious way to go was straight ahead. Sadly, history does not reveal who was right but I feel, somehow, that it was unlikely to have been my father.

My great uncle Dan’s pretty well-photographed trip to the continent in 1924 has survived as has his graduation picture. Here he is feeding the pigeons in Venice. Stay tuned for his time in Zermatt.

My great aunt Cecilia – some of whose things I have in my own house – is looking pretty jaunty in this picture from July 1921, an otherwise quiet time in Irish affairs etc. I was extremely keen to name the Princess Cecilia, even as a middle name, but was balked by husband’s point blank refusal to countenance such a thing. Alas.

My grandmother and grandfather look very young and happy in this picture. Especially my granny who by common consent was hilarious, if you were a grown up. I only knew her as a child though – she died when I was 12 or so – and I found her a bit formal and remote. I am assured that she adored me but I think she was not particularly interested in children and found grown ups more entertaining. And who could blame her?

I will not be taking questions on this at this time but for various reasons some of my parents’ stuff ended up in my aunt’s house. This, I assume, is why my mother’s piano exam results from 1946 has been preserved there. God, she hated learning the piano. She spoke about it with great bitterness; apparently the nun who taught her would rest her hands on my mother’s and every time my mother played a wrong note, the nun would dig into her with her nails. But look it got short term results – first class honours. Not sure that the long term legacy was exactly what her parents were hoping for.

There’s a picture of me aged 15 with the exact same hairstyle as I have now but, you know, a bit more slender and fresh faced. I’ve cut my brother out as, I understand, the internet never forgets and I’m not sure he wants to be remembered in his bowl haircut and Ghostbusters jumper. When I showed this picture to Daniel, he was shocked, “I sort of expected you to be wearing the same clothes you wear now, not real 80s clothes.” There you go. I wasn’t making up living through the 80s.

It’s so funny the things that survive and get passed down and the enormous bulk of things that disappear. I guess that’s the way it goes but it is strangely dismal how much is just gone forever.

Brave New World

28 January, 2023
Posted in: Middle Child, Twins

Daniel was reading an article in the paper and stepped away to clean up after his breakfast. He said that as he returned to the article his first thought was, “Oh no, I’ve been on this article for ages, the internet will think I’m interested in the Orange Order and start serving me up related content.” Happily not a feature of the newspaper whatever it’s other flaws may be.

A friend tells me that her ten year old plays a game in school break where she and her friends pretend to be apps. “How does this work?” she asks the child. “Well, we all take on the characteristics of the app we play,” she tells her mother, “You’ll be glad to hear that I’m grammarly.”

Michael at 17

25 January, 2023
Posted in: Family, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

Michael was 17 on September 27 last year. Another late birthday post, alas.

Heâ€™s still reading away. Lots of everything; fact, fiction, science fiction. He’s also often first with the political and economic news which he catches up with online. His sister got him a book of archaic words for his birthday and it was hands down his favourite present and he still quotes us little snippets from memory.

He’s a big fan of dungeons and dragons type games which seem to involve writing out long scenarios in advance of play. He went to his first Comic Con recently and found it a bit dull. “Just full of stands selling things,” he said glumly although his fellow participants’ costumes were impressive.

He is in his last year of French conversation and I think he rejoices. Still he found it useful enough when he was on a school trip to Brussels in December. I think that if he ever goes to live in a Francophone country (which is not impossible) he will thank me, at least I hope he will because he is definitely not thanking me at the moment.

He enjoys a quiet breakfast alone at the weekend but is almost never granted this particular indulgence. He sticks his head round the door and then retreats precipitously when he sees everyone gathered. “The watering hole is full again,” sympathises his father.

He is interested in museums and happy to trail around them for hours. Actually, long after I have given up in exhaustion. I mean, good, I suppose. It’s funny because he is not a fan of travel and new places in general but he is enthusiastic about museums in particular.

Last summer with me off work and his brother and sister off on their own adventures, he and I spent a lot of time exploring the country. In many ways we had a good time and we have a great playlist for the car – but I can’t help feeling he would have been better off going away with friends his own age.

He’s been growing his hair, a process I found unsatisfactory but it is pretty cool, I suppose. Just not the short back and sides that I love.

Heâ€™s still extremely skinny and I find it a small miracle that he is growing. In fact, he might actually be taller than his brother now. He has, however, made a concerted effort to eat more things which I really appreciate since he clearly hates it.

We finally retired the Gap anorak which he had been wearing for years as the sleeves were almost unbearably short. He is adapting to the new coat but I wouldn’t call him delighted. He has no real interest in clothes except for warmth and comfort.

He still cycles to and from school which he does not love – who would? – but is resigned to. As it’s really the only exercise he gets, I am keen that he keep it up. Also, it is pretty practical and he is a young man who like practicality.

He continues to get on well with his brother. They have a lot in common and play cards together and talk about school and internet fads.

He and his sister are a bit like ships passing in the night. I have been pushing both boys – jointly or severally – to visit her in England but none of the parties seem very keen. I do think it would be fun for him to visit and good for him to travel on his own but this year is a bit full for Michael. Maybe next year.

He loves his mother and has no hesitation in saying so or in giving her a hug in public. Does his mother love this? Oh yes she does.

He has no interest in things and more money than he knows what to do with so he is very difficult to buy presents for. While I applaud his lack of interest in material things, it can be a bit trying for Santa.

He continues to be a wonderfully engaging public speaker and great at reading aloud, if called upon. Stage fright is utterly unknown to him. He’ll hop up and ask a question in front of 20 people or 2000 with equal insouciance. They love this in school, of course.

He has lots of opinions which he declaims with great certainty and he is utterly convincing even when wrong. This is a gift that will serve him in good stead in the long term.

Here he is “Seeking the bubble reputation/Even in the cannon’s mouth” [I did “As You Like It” in school, this is the first opportunity I’ve had to wield this line since I was 15, sue me].

He is very soft hearted and hates to see anyone upset. He loves small furry animals and cute things in general.

This academic year is a hard one and he does worry. He was a very happy-go-lucky child so I am a bit confused that he seems to be an anxious teenager. But so it is; perhaps the Leaving Cert is enough to make anyone anxious. He doesn’t really need to be anxious as he’s bright and hard working but here we are. I think he will really enjoy college when he gets there and the emphasis on doing your own research and the absence of teaching to the test will suit him. We will see.

He is extremely punctual and law abiding. The latter is definitely from me but I take no responsibility for the former.

I feel that he still has a lot of growing up to do – the period of suspended animation that was the pandemic has made things a bit strange for this generation of teenagers.

I find him a joy to be around: helpful, easy to talk to, cheerful, undemanding. Long may it continue.

Customer Experience of Dreams or a Vision of the Future of Retail

22 January, 2023
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Twins

I am getting a new phone. It is not exactly dirt cheap. Mr. Waffle and I went into town to the Vodafone shop. There were no seats and a big wall of video. Three young people (staff) were standing in the shop and a four middle aged people (customers) were wandering around looking a bit baffled. A young woman came up to us. “Can I help you?” she asked. We explained what we were after. “You’ll need to talk to one of the people in green tops.”

There were two people in green tops. One was dealing with a customer. The other was scrolling through his phone. “I suppose he’s on his break,” I said to Mr. Waffle charitably. It was not, however, pleasing to be standing there in the queue while young man scrolled and ignored. Eventually we were seen by the other person in a green top, a young woman. “You might get it cheaper online,” she opined. I could have wished they had indicated that in the other shop I had previously browsed in but ok. Spoiler alert, I got it online, it was not cheaper. “I want to give my old phone to my son, I remember there was some complication last time, what do I need to do to unlock it?” “It can be complicated,” she conceded, “that’s why we don’t do it in basic retail outlets like this any more but let the customers do it themselves online.” To improve our service to you etc. As we left the shop, the young man was still scrolling away on his phone ignoring the customers.

“I suppose this is what full employment looks like,” says grumpy middle aged blogger.