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My Birthday – Extended Disco Remix

10 March, 2017
Posted in: Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

It’s my birthday today. Last weekend my sister took me to London overnight and she flew me business class, oh yes. I realised that it’s been nearly two years since I flew anywhere. I haven’t missed it, I have to tell you although, business class certainly beats steerage. We went out for dinner (my saintly sister-in-law and London guide responded nobly to an email saying, ‘recommend dinner venues and afraid I won’t have time to see you guys’ – she also got me a Persephone book for my birthday) and we talked and talked. We went to the National Gallery which is superb. When I did art history (diploma, spare time, pre-marriage and children), one of my lecturers said that going to the National Gallery in London is like being at an amazing party and each time you go into a new room seeing a raft of familiar friends. This is so true.

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I took the day off work today. I am feeling quite elderly although yesterday I got this comforting text from my friend R:

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[Note smuggled in reference to reading Elena Ferrante in Italian. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, my parents paid good money for these pretensions and I am going to use them.]

On the other hand, one of my bookclub members is getting married and when she and her fiancé went to the church to discuss logistics with the sacristan, he said, “You’re the mother of the bride aren’t you?” The worst thing was that he kept apologising for the remainder of the discussion.  On the plus side, she can have as many flowers as she wants. It hadn’t struck me before but, of course, I too am in mother of the bride territory. Slightly horrifying.

I got loads of cards, including two handmade ones from my sons. I was pleased. I got a cheque from my loving parents which is always welcome. The post also brought herself good news on an exam. People texted (sample from my brother: “Hey Anne happy birthday… Hope you have a brilliant day…. Am in France at the moment will call when I get back. Any requests for presents….A Chamonix stick of rock will hardly cut it I suppose”), emailed and called. Mr. Waffle got me more Persephone books and a print out of my blog which I really wanted in case the internet ever died. Are you mocking me?

That, right there, is the reason I haven’t got a PhD:
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Note cunning juxtaposition with New Yorker book of cartoons. Unintentional.

Mr. Waffle and I spent the day together. We went for a walk in the Wicklow Hills which was damp but not unpleasantly so.

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We went out to dinner to a surprise location and we arrived home about 15 minutes ago to find all the children still up so I thought I would update my blog.

Yet another very satisfactory birthday. Every birthday, about now, I realise that Mr. Waffle’s birthday is on March 19 and I have nothing planned. It can cast a pall on the end of any successful day, I can tell you. Poor Mr. Waffle.

Romance

9 March, 2017
Posted in: Mr. Waffle

The Saturday before Valentine’s Day, Mr. Waffle said to me, “Tuesday, can we declare a truce?” “Tuesday,” I said wildly, “what’s happening on Tuesday.” Our lives are filled with logistics and I was worried I’d missed some. “Valentine’s Day,” he said. “God, yes, a truce,” I agreed. I was not therefore entirely delighted when on the morning of February 14, Mr. Waffle presented me with pink card with a heart on it emblazoned with the words, “To my darling wife”. I opened it up, “Did you read it carefully?” I asked. “It’s just that on the inside it says ‘Happy Birthday'”. Oh, yes, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.

Wasting my Sweetness on the Desert Air

8 March, 2017
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Princess

Myself and the Princess drove along the lane behind our house and when we got to the end we found someone had parked a van so that we couldn’t get out. I was very annoyed. I penned a strongly worded note as follows: “Please do not park here as your van is blocking vehicular access to the lane.” I then very slowly and carefully and to a symphony of beeping (our new car beeps if it gets near walls) reversed down the length of the lane which is quite long and narrow. “I wonder if he will move?” said the Princess conversationally. “I certainly hope so,” I said indignantly. “I don’t know,” she said, “when I cycled in to school this morning, it was there and somebody had taped a note all over the window saying ‘Don’t park here you f**king eejit’ and I notice that it’s gone now so the van owner must have returned, taken it off and not moved the van.” I take it my note was unlikely to be effective then.

Cross Purposes

7 March, 2017
Posted in: Princess

Me: I see you’ve got a pink pen.
Her: I hate pink.
Me: Where did that come from?
Her: Internalised misogyny, probably.
Me: Oh, I was thinking, maybe Eason’s.

Busy Lives

6 March, 2017
Posted in: Family

I have a school friend who emigrated to America. She married a local and now lives in Vermont with her husband and four children. I wrote about visiting her in 2007 when she had fewer children. She is the busiest person I know. She and her husband work full time as doctors. He’s a hospital doctor and she works in her own practice where she stops people having heart attacks; she calls it her “plumbing” – she pushes stuff through people’s veins as I understand it. They are all very sporty and play tennis, ski, swim and play baseball all the time. She’s the only person I know whose family always travels with six tennis racquets. They go on very exotic holidays – Singapore (where her parents are living, to be fair, but still it’s a long way from Vermont), Hawaii, South America, West Cork (ok that last is less exotic but still a long way from Vermont). We usually talk a couple of times a year and meet up in the summer when she comes back to Cork.

She didn’t call this Christmas which was a bit unusual but not unheard of. I got a call from her the other week. “Sorry I didn’t call at Christmas, we’ve been busy.” “Goodness, I know, haven’t we all?” I replied. “Yes,” she said, “we’ve decided to start fostering and we have a 13 year old foster child as part of our family now. Also, we got two puppies.”

She says it’s been great and I am filled with awe. It’s a short term placement but it looks like it might become longer term and my friend is delighted. “We are so lucky,” she said, “it’s great to be able to help someone else.” Those Vermonters are amazing.

Inherited Characteristics

5 March, 2017
Posted in: Twins, Youngest Child

Everyone in our family likes Terry Pratchett. The other night, I was rereading “Carpe Jugulum” which, obviously, I recommend and Michael saw it and asked whether he could take it to bed with him as he wanted to reread it himself. “OK,” I said, “and I’ll pick it up from your room when I’m going to bed.” It was, as usual, lights out at 9.30 for Michael. When I went to bed at midnight there he was curled up in the corner of the bed, dim nightlight turning his face an unhealthy blue colour and the book, nearly finished, clutched in his paw. He leapt up guiltily. I was inclined to forgive him though having only the other night stayed up until 2 in the morning finishing off a Georgette Heyer I had read many times before.

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