belgianwaffle

Twins

Bah Humbug


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

The Trinity Christmas tree was lit this evening. I left work a bit early to be at the front gate where I had arranged to meet husband and one child at 5.30. Chaos ensued: child turned out to be at a lecture; husband was carried away by the crowd; rain lashed with real enthusiasm; the Trinity choir tried some challenging numbers instead of going for crowd pleasers; of the anticipated mulled wine and mince pies there was no sign (to be fair, my expectations were low on that front anyhow, were they planning to feed the 5,000?).

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“Feeling Christmassy?” asked Mr. Waffle when we eventually found each other. We went to find our own cup of tea. The Westin had an event in the atrium and directed us to a noisy pub downstairs; the Palace Bar was heaving (full of men in suits drinking pints); the Joy of Cha, despite indications otherwise on the internet, was closed. We cycled home in the rain and I lost my hat of which I am very fond (herself models the hat below in a shot from this time last year, idle to deny that it looks a lot better on her than me). When we got home I went back to the shed to cycle in to try to find the lost hat but then I got a work call which I dealt with in the shed (glamour) and then somehow, I’d lost the will to retrace my steps.

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However, when I finally got home, as part of my gradual Christmas prep, I got out my Spode ware and found my Christmas tablecloths and tea towels (“Oh my favourite Christmas tea towel,” I exclaimed as it emerged from where it had been nestling since last January. I am now the kind of person who has a favourite Christmas tea towel, apparently.) Mr. Waffle turned on Christmas FM, lit a fire and made me a cup of tea. Perhaps I am feeling a little bit Christmassy after all. You?

Updated to add:

Look what I found this morning!

Cultural Exchange


Posted in: Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc., Twins

We had a Swedish friend of one of the children to stay for a couple of weeks. She was waiting for her accommodation to be released from the grasping hands of Airbnb (hypocrite that I am, how many times have I stayed in Airbnb accommodation? Many). She was a lovely guest and had lots of interesting stories.

Her grandparents came from the far north of Sweden and some great uncle in the family tired of the north of Sweden and went to Russia to join the Communists in the 1920s. It didn’t work out as he had hoped and he was sent to the gulag where he met a woman and had a child with her (conditions in the gulag were not quite what I imagined); she died (but then again) and he took the baby and walked out of the gulag back to Sweden. Impressive. On the other side her grandfather sailed around the world and was married five times which is a lot of times. Twice to Korean women called Kim (he went to Korea with the first Kim which is where he met the second). Honestly that alone was worth the price of admission but she gave me Moomin tea and an adorable gold plated Stinky. What a win.

Our Swedish visitor’s account made our own ancestors seem a bit dull so instead of talking about family history Mr. Waffle and I decided to giver her a quick tutorial on great Irish advertisements. Let me share with you, yes, lucky you.

How about this one for ESB (then electricity monopoly – why ads?)? As a country of emigrants where people came home for Christmas it’s really evocative.

This one for another state monopoly (Bord na Móna – the turf board) is charming .

There were a whole series of water safety ads.  Part one of this compilation seems to firmly point the finger of blame at mothers who speak on the phone. Then there is one with a farm safety focus (often a feature of Irish ads in the 70s and 80s – regular readers will recall that at a considerably earlier point my great-great grand aunt drowned in a barrel of cream aged 2, there’s an ancestral tale for you, no gulags though).  Irish people of a certain age will often say “It’s possible to drown in only a few inches of water” or “Where’s grandad?” though perhaps not with the exact same intonation as here.

There was a whole series of Kerrygold ads based on Franco-Irish sexual tension  Popular line from this one “There is something I can ‘elp?” Reply “You could put a bit of butter on the spuds André”

And its companion “Who’s taking the horse to France.

Guinness also had good ads always.

One of the most famous ads was for Harp lager.  It’s a terrible ad but inexplicably popular.  It’s about an emigrant again.  He says “You could fry an egg on the stones, if you had an egg” but the crowning line was how he missed the local barmaid “Sally O’Brien and the way she might look at you”.  The actress who played Sally O’Brien was actually English. A lot to unpack there.

Not a particularly old ad but the Irish Road Safety Association is known for its hard hitting ads and Mr. Waffle and I once saw one in the cinema when there were a bunch of Italians there and when it reached the brutal climax we heard a chorus of shocked “Mamma mias!”

I have so much more to give on this topic but I am concerned that like our Swedish visitor you may have already had enough.

Still No News


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Reading etc., Twins, Youngest Child

A quiet day at the ranch: tennis; driving across the city with the learner driver; art gallery and tea in Bewley’s with the middle child; and a chance to admire Dublin’s Christmas lights (it’s November, Christmas time!). For the season that appears to be in it – Santa and the Grinch driving up and down Grafton Street.

Weekend Round Up – Indoor Fun


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc., Twins, Youngest Child

Dear God, the weather has been appalling. The only comfort (she said piously) is that my siblings are on holidays (separately) in warm places and there is nothing better than being away and hearing that the weather is bad at home.

We have had biblical quantities of rain. I went to the National Gallery and contemplated this picture for a bit. I have become obsessed with rugs recently and the rug is a big feature here.

Also I enjoy that this picture which hangs nearby features on the wall in the other painting, if you see what I mean.

I drove Michael (he drove there for practice – still has to pass his test and still needs a qualified driver to accompany him anywhere, thanks for asking) to his rehearsals for a college play and called in on a friend of mine on the way home. I spent an hour or so with him drinking tea; admiring his art collection; and returning to him a piece that he and his partner had lent me for my office but which, sadly, I no longer have a home for now that I book into a different office every day I’m in (deep sigh). He has acquired a large Patrick Hennessy portrait recently and I am consumed with envy.

Mass this morning featured a sermon about Hell. Colour me surprised. This (new to me) priest, also led the congregation in singing. This led to some conflict with the (God love him) slightly odd American who spends his Sunday morning going to various churches around town and singing (solo from the pews, if there is no choir). The priest did all the hymns but when it came to Communion he was hamstrung by his other duties and our American saw his chance and gave a surprisingly uptempo Abide with Me. It was delivered at speed (possibly to frustrate the priest who might have joined in after Communion?) so it was difficult for other congregants to join in, even had they so wished. I will be watching this space for future developments.

Mr. Waffle and I went to an Argentinian brunch spot that I was keen to try out. Not bad but not everyone wants choripan and chips and 10.30 in the morning. Maybe more of a lunch spot.

I went to the Irish Museum of Modern Art (rain finally stopped but still overcast and chilly). When I arrived they asked whether I was there for the dance performance; I was not but I joined the crowd for a look. It was some kind of community outreach combined with the CoisCéim dance company (exclusive Irish lesson for you here, coiscéim is the Irish for footstep). I mean, ok, probably great if you were related to one of the non-professional dancers involved but didn’t love it. I’m probably just a philistine (as Mr. Waffle pointed out these ancient enemies of the Israelites, were unlikely to have predicted that this is how people would refer to them 3,000 years later).

I don’t absolutely love modern art but I did like this piece (those are toys) – A Portrait of Alice Liddell, after Lewis Carroll by Vik Muniz.

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And this horse was good too.

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I had a restorative cup of tea and I can tell you that the IMMA cafe (heaving) has really upped its game.

I passed the bridge near the station that used to boast a number of crowns (possibly built for a visit of George IV?). These were removed post-independence but the cushions on which they sat remain.

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The writing of this update was interrupted to go and watch the end of the soccer. The life of the Irish soccer fan (not me generally I am, at absolute best, a fair weather fan) is filled with grief and heartache and it’s full of arcane calculations like if A draw with B and we beat C by X goals then maybe we can qualify but generally we don’t. However, we had to beat Hungary to get out of our group (is this the World Cup qualifier again? so soon? who can say?) and we were 2-1 down for ages, then we equalised, then in the last minute of the game we pulled ahead to win 3-2. Our team is coached by an Icelandic dentist, apparently, and middle child said with great satisfaction, once the jumping around the room ceased, “Hungary were flossed!” Indeed.

How was your own weekend?

Parental Advisory


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

I hope that someday my three children will be great friends. At the moment each of the twins refers to the other as “the other one” which doesn’t entirely show the levels of affection I’m going for.

Over the summer, the youngest child did relatively little while the middle one got a job and went inter-railing. When challenged about his lack of activity, the youngest said “But Mum, I don’t make plans, plans happen to me”. I am not sure that this is a viable approach long term but in some ways it’s a lot less wearing on the parental nerves.

When I was 19, I went as an au pair to Naples. I set off from the south of France where we had been on a family camping trip. There were no mobile phones in 1988 and the only way my mother could find out that I had arrived was to telephone from the phone box in the camp site to the number I had given her. Unfortunately, a complete stranger who spoke no English answered the phone. This was the builder who my au pair family had doing works on the flat while they – and crucially, their au pair – were ensconced with her parents. Obviously, I couldn’t ring my parents so there we were, my mother having heart failure in the Pins Parasols campsite and me safely in a marble floored flat in the nicest part of Naples. You’ll be pleased to hear that my mother rang someone she knew in the Italian department in UCC who rang the builders who gave her the grandparents’ number who in turn gave it to my mother who finally managed to contact me. I am sure my mother had an unpleasant 24 hours (perhaps? I don’t know how long because children are heartless) but all was well. Honestly, that might as well be the motto of parenthood.

You would think that the mobile phone would make things easier but, in some ways not. Firstly, middle child missed a crucial train due to a death on the line (the first of two on the trip, grim) and had to spend an unexpected night in Paris and cancel accommodation in Barcelona. Maybe I would have been better off not knowing. Tesco mobile changed its rules on top up and the full complicated details elude me but the only way to tap up the phone was if you had an Allied Irish Bank account. My sister’s partner did and he saved our bacon by topping up for a considerable amount and refusing to be refunded which was foolish of him because I was so grateful at that moment I would have paid him anything. I spent much of my time in a state of nerves; the internet in hostels was often intermittent and I wondered why my dutiful child who is good about staying in touch hadn’t contacted me and it was never a terrible thing had happened and always that the internet didn’t work in the hostel.

The trip was lengthy including stops in Barcelona and Gothenburg which are not exactly adjacent (the itinerary was, in part, driven by where our interrailer had friends). A landslide in Italy meant that that part of the trip was curtailed, possibly not the worst outcome. The whole trip involved 11 countries and 2 days and 10 hours on trains. Glad to have done it but perhaps also glad when it was over.

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I’m Hilarious (Part 2)


Posted in: Middle Child, Twins

Our theoretical physics student: I have to do an assignment on classical field theory.

Me (hilariously): Oh I prefer the modern stuff.

Mr. Waffle (unwisely): What’s that?

TP student: Basically, electro and magneto statics and dynamics*

Me: Actually, I liked it better before it went electric.

Thank you and good night.

*Or words to that effect – electric definitely came in there somewhere.