belgianwaffle

November


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

I am indebted to Townmouse for drawing my attention to the poem below. Hard to argue with; especially in a gloomy Dublin November. To be fair the last week has been chilly but clear so there’s that. Still the sunset view from the office at 4.05 is not exactly making my heart soar.

November by Thomas Hood


No sun — no moon!
No morn — no noon —
No dawn — no dusk — no proper time of day.
 
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member —
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds!

November!

Travel Broadens the Mind


Posted in: Travel, Work

When I was in France last week, I wanted to send a postcard. Using my secret French knowledge I went to a tabac to purchase a stamp (you can only buy stamps in a tabac or a post office and not elsewhere because the French like to torture you). There were two men ahead of me in the queue; not too bad, I thought. The second man was in a wheelchair and when he opened his mouth, it became clear that he was very disabled. He was extremely difficult to understand and you know how the French are, if you are at all unclear. But the woman behind the counter was really patient and worked out what he wanted (an envelope, size A5, it took a while but we got there). Then she had to come around the other side of the counter and get the money from his coat pocket (he had a bad tremor) and put the envelope in the satchel slung on the back of the wheelchair. She treated him with such dignity and patience (and it took ages) that it was quite inspiring to watch. Finally it was my turn. “I’d like a stamp,” said I. She shrugged, “We’re out, try the post office around the corner.” Oh France, never, never change.

I took my courage in my hands and went to the post office; you know what post offices are like. When I went in the door a young woman rushed up to greet me; what did I want? One stamp. She referred me to an empty desk. “This is more like it,” I thought but almost instantly not one but two assistants surged forward. “What do you need?” they asked in unison. “A stamp,” I said. They began pulling sheets of stamps from under the desk. “Just one,” I said slightly nervously. “But which design would you prefer?” asked the one. “This one with the croissant is scratch and sniff,” said the other encouragingly. I bought the scratch and sniff one which was carefully separated from its comrades and lovingly handed over to me. I think I have never had a better post office experience. Odd though.

For Those who have Died; a November Thought


Posted in: Family

Today is my Nana’s birthday. She never liked November much. Of course, when she was born in 1897, it wasn’t Christmas like it is now. Or, in fact, even when she died in 1984. I absolutely loved her and I loved when she came to visit. She only lived about 70kms away but it seemed like she lived on the moon. She came for lovely long visits and then we mightn’t see her for ages. I mean the roads weren’t as good as they are now but there was the train; still she had lots of grandchildren who were keen to see her and she had to divide herself up fairly, I suppose.

Anyway here we are on my first Communion; both looking quite pleased and I note the grass has been cut for the occasion to add extra glamour. My mother made my dress and had to wash it (as she frequently reminded me) three times on the day because I seem to have spent my time running around in it and falling over. Cissie who lived with us gave me the little mass book which I am pretty sure I still have somewhere. I remember her showing me how big the print was – a positive for some reason – and I pointed out that this was only at the consecration (I sometimes think I must have been unbearable) but I loved my little prayer book with its mother of pearl cover and I think she must have known that.

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A Straw in the Wind


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

I am still doing baptism preparation in the church. I will be doing this until I die at the rate things are going. My mother used to always say that it’s very difficult to get off a committee and she never said a truer word.

Anyway, we had this young couple in and they asked me to help them fill in the form, so we went through it together. There’s a bit where it asks whether the announcement of the baptism can be put up on the church’s facebook page (somehow given the demographics of the congregation, it’s bound to be facebook). “Does that mean that the baby’s name will be on Google?” asked the father. “Well, yes,” I said. “Then no, no Google.” Interesting.

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.