Me: Where is the e-reader?
Herself: I have it.
Me: I was reading something on it, can I have it back?
Herself: I’m reading something.
Me: What?
Her: I’m re-reading “Lean In“
Weekend Round-up
Herself has decided to enter a cookery competition. She made moules marinières on Friday with her own homemade bread rolls as practice. Pleasing.
On Saturday, we went to the Dublin book festival where the boys quite enjoyed seeing Alan Nolan and Sarah Webb joke about animals. Although the event was billed 8-12, most of the children fell into the 6-8 or younger category. Our two 10 year olds and one 12 year old knew all the answers to the questions the authors asked and had to sit on their hands which was a less satisfactory aspect of the adventure.
Then the Princess decamped to stay overnight at her friend’s house and the boys and I went to get new shoes for Michael who discovered that his current shoes have holes in the course of a very damp and gloomy walk to school during the week.
On Saturday night Mr. Waffle and I went out to a surprise dinner (his surprise to me) in a newly opened local restaurant. I was pleased with my loving husband. Alas, although the food was good, we found the restaurant rather noisy; clearly showing our age.
This morning, mass was all about the archangel Michael which Michael rather enjoyed.
In the afternoon, we went to Dun Laoghaire where we had a walk on the pier.
Usually there is ice cream available at the end of the pier but not today. We were all bitter, particularly Daniel:
Undaunted we took ourselves to the local ice cream shop where there was quite the queue notwithstanding that today is November 15:
Then we went to visit the grandparents and met the cousins. Now I am typing this and as soon as I have finished, I have promised the children that we will watch Dr. Who.
How was your own weekend?
Oh, the City of Light
I spent all day thinking about the Paris attacks. It reminds me of the Irish news in the 70s and 80s. This Paul Durcan poem about the 1974 Dublin bombings is apt for today, I think.
And here is a shot of Paris in happier times:
Usual service resumes tomorrow.
Domestic Challenge
Mr. Waffle and I like to watch University Challenge. He likes it a lot more than me as he knows more of the answers. I have forbidden him from shouting them out if he thinks I might know them and I seize control of the remote so that the bright young things on the telly can be paused and not get there before me. That way, I get to enjoy it too.
Sometimes I like to make this a family viewing opportunity. This is always a mistake. There is usually at least one round where the children know the answers and this is pleasing for them [there was one on the Horrid Henry books the other day, they are also very solid on Greek legends which is always a help]. So that is a plus. As against this, the following things usually happen:
The children can answer no other questions and get bored;
One of them starts to make noise by tossing something around the room [balloons have been a recent favourite];
Mr. Waffle gets annoyed with a child for making noise during the questions;
The child he is annoyed with stomps out of the room;
The offended child has to be lured back into the room;
The show has to be paused again so that one of the children can tell a random story from school;
Mr. Waffle gets annoyed;
The whole thing has to briefly be suspended to allow for the “everyone be quiet now and be good or it’s straight to bed” speech;
The remainder of the show is watched in surly silence by all of us.
Somewhat related: one evening Queen’s were on and I said, “We have to support the Irish university”. One of the children said, “Well, maybe they wouldn’t want us to support them, are they the English Irish or the Irish Irish?” This is why they say that Irish identity is complex.
Godwin’s Law IRL
Picture the scene, we are all in the car driving to Cork. We pass Kildare Village off the motorway, lit up for Christmas.
Herself: What’s that?
Me: It’s one of those outlet shopping places where they sell off things cheaply.
Her: Like a shopping centre?
Me: They can be but this one is like a little town with streets and fingerposts. Except it’s got nothing that a real town has except shops. It’s a bizarre, sterile environment; a monument to the triumph of capitalism. I really disapprove of it in principle although, I have to say that, in practice, your aunt took me here once and it was quite pleasing. I got those navy cords.
Her: How do you mean sterile?
Me: Well, nobody lives there, every shop is a chain, there are no museums or pubs or monuments, it has no history and no identity beyond commerce; it’s soulless. It’s in the middle of nowhere, so people have to drive there in their cars. There are no beggars, no buskers, no…
Her: They round up the beggars and take them away?
Me: Well, no, I assume not, it’s just not very handy to get to if you haven’t got a car.
Her: Hmm. They’re like Nazis then aren’t they? Rounding up the beggars, that’s how they started.
Me: That may be a little harsh.
Dispatches from the Classroom
As part of the new dispensation at secondary school, herself has got an iPad (I know). This has brought unexpected benefits. Before the iPad came into our lives, I used to send emails to my children and they went into the void. Now at least my emails to her are answered and she sends me some of her own.
I got this from her today.
To: Me
From: Herself
Subject: Rosa ist nicht eine MädchenfarbeRosa ist eine Mädchenfarbe
It’s from her German textbook. I was pleased that my consciousness raising work has not been wasted. I showed it to her father this evening and he said, “In this context it would be Rosa ist keine Mädchenfarbe“. Arguably, he is missing the broader point. I must, however, concede that here in the house of pedantry we regularly interrupt compelling arguments to point out grammatical errors which often goes over poorly with those making the compelling arguments.
In other news from herself, she has a new gym teacher (part of the general rotation of teachers and subjects, apparently). They did yoga today. She tells me that it is “extremely physically taxing”.