belgianwaffle

Work

Sodden


Posted in: Belgium, Mr. Waffle, Work
On the way into work this morning, I slipped on a paving stone and fell into a puddle.  When I got into the office I had to wave a fan heater at my bottom for quite some time before getting somewhat dry.  This is not a dignified start to the day.  However, my loving husband cycled to work and got soaked.  He emailed me:

Luckily I have my football gear, so am now in T-shirt (a bit old and shapeless), white socks and runners (as well as work trousers). I can’t tell you how classy I look. Still, it’s great having your own office to dry wet clothes

When will the summer be back?

 

Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.


Posted in: Work

Brussels is a seething mass of lobbyists for more kinds of interests than you ever realised existed and I have mostly ceased to be surprised by their number and variety. Nevertheless, when I got an invitation to an event organised by EAACA (the European Autoclaved Aerated Concrete Association) even I raised a jaded eyebrow.  People, there is a whole world out there.

Surely not cupboard love


Posted in: Ireland, Princess, Travel, Work

The Princess was in Ireland with her father last week. When she left on Monday morning, she was sad to leave me. By the time she arrived in her grandparents’ house at lunch time, she was so excited to be there that she couldn’t spare the time to speak to me on the phone. This continued for the duration of her stay. I was amazed on Thursday, when she came back, how delighted we were to see each other. Really thrilled, big hugs, much affection.

This week, I am away for work and she has consented to speak to me on the telephone which is a great relief. This morning she said “Mummy, I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight” and I was was very touched (our girl can be a tough cookie). The first thing she asked, though, when she got on the phone, was “have you got my crunchie?”

Update – She is consistent too.  The first thing she said when I arrived in the door last night was “have you got my crunchie?”  “That’s no way to greet your mother or indeed anyone,” I replied.  She paused smiled broadly, gave me a big hug and whispered in my ear “have you got my crunchie, please, Mummy”.

More reasons to regret leaving my job


Posted in: Work

Today we had a team bonding session in a beautiful outdoor adventure place.  It was sunny.  I know these things are supposed to be ghastly but I really enjoyed it.  I spent the afternoon on a lake in a small dinghy with my boss.  He had never sailed before.   I haven’t sailed in years and years and thought I had forgotten everything I knew.  It turned out I remembered a bit and I got increasingly rude to my lovely boss.  Conversations tended to go a bit like this:

Me: OK, are you going to turn?

Him: I don’t know what I’m doing.

Me: Neither do I really but we’re catching some wind now.  Stay straight.

Him (leaning back and pulling the tiller to him): OK.

Me: JESUS, I said keep the tiller straight, you are going to **** capsize us.

Him (apologetically): Sorry, I keep forgetting I’m holding it.

Me: Further choice words followed by, um, sorry, I was very rude there, I’m an eldest child.

Despite (or quite possibly because of) my shouting, we managed to capsize five times.  This is hardly a tribute to our vessel’s captain (that, I think, would be me, the bossy one).  As he hauled himself cheerfully out of the water for the fifth time and yanked me in by the life jacket he said happily “we were going really fast there!”

Oh how I will miss this job.

What are the odds?


Posted in: Work

Friend pointing to old school photo with about 200 children: Guess which one is me?

Group of us: Baffled.

Her: I had lots of hair.

Me: Everyone had lots of hair, look, even that boy has lots of hair.

Her: That’s not a boy, that’s me.

Mistaken Preconceptions


Posted in: Work

We have a new English trainee in the office; a pleasant, bright, confident, articulate 22 year old man who doesn’t read any fiction and who likes going out drinking with his mates. Are you getting a picture here?

Me: Do you belong to the generation of English children who were not taught grammar in school?

Him: Yes.

Me: Alas.

Him: I know we should really have been taught Latin as well.

Me: You laugh…

Him (indignantly): I am not laughing, it’s a disgrace that they don’t teach Latin in schools any more, it’s dead useful for learning grammar rules and stuff.

Me: Are you serious?

Him: Of course I’m serious. It’s a disgrace.

Me: Are you channelling my father by any chance?