belgianwaffle

Stairway to Heaven


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland

My father remarked when I was in Cork recently that I had become “very houseproud”. These words were not uttered in an approving tone; not a disapproving tone either, more mildly startled.

As regular readers will know, I love my house. Over the summer we got the hall floor re-varnished and my sister gave me a present of a rug that she bought in India for me. Is it not beautiful?

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And we got the front door painted as well. And, then, I felt that it would be a good idea to polish the door furniture [yes, that’s what it’s called, who knew?] which was a much more challenging undertaking than you might imagine but surprisingly pleasing.

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I then had the bit between my teeth and decided that I would polish the stair rods, a task which I had previously scorned as something that you would want to be insane to tackle [you may draw your own conclusions at this point]. I did them at a steady rate of about one per evening. They took an hour or so each and there were 30 in total. The effort. But the effect is so pleasing for me and I hope that when I need to do them again, the grime of ages will not have set in and it will not take me so long. Note in the picture below the shiny brassiness of the lower rods while the upper rods are very tarnished. It’s very hard to take a good picture of the whole staircase so you will just have to trust me that they are now all done.

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I picked up a pitch black coal bucket in my parents attic [speculation that it came from my paternal grandparents’ house but really nobody knows] and spent ages attacking it with flour salt and vinegar which confirmed that it was copper but I failed at making it the shiny, beautiful copper in the internet instructions. It’s just very hard to get a coal bucket in the kitchen sink.

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You will note from the picture above that I have not yet turned my brass polishing attention to the fender. I think it may just be too big a job for me. The best is the enemy of the good and all that.

Then I turned my attention to the family silver.

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Polishing silver is so much easier than copper and brass. And it is so shiny.

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Here is our entire family silver collection. Maybe didn’t take hours to polish now. Those with larger collections may find it more challenging.

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Also, I love my wedding presents – those coasters? Wedding presents. Two Georgian silver serving spoons [out of shot]? Wedding presents. How delightful it is to be conventional in middle age.

Irony


Posted in: Work

My colleague organised a table quiz at work to raise money for guide dogs for the blind. After the picture round, the quizmaster hissed at my organising colleague, “You do realise that there is a table of four blind people.” I think that she died a little bit. On the plus side, she raised a lot of money for the guide dogs.

21st Century Parenting


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

We went for a walk on the west pier in Dun Laoghaire this afternoon. I said to the children that we might see seals, which we did. My evil genius prompted me to ask, “Does anyone know what the French for seal is?” They didn’t. It’s le phoque. I thought that Daniel was actually going to choke with laughter when he heard.

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This by way of background to conversation on the way home in the car.

Mr. Waffle: If we’re going to listen to your music, we’re going to have to listen to some of mine also.
Daniel: Oh French seal!
Herself: Bruce Springsteen? Is this part of your mid-life crisis again?

How We Amuse Ourselves at Work


Posted in: Work

Email 1
From: Boss’s Boss
To: Me
Subject: FW: Invitation to launch
[No content or message – just forwarded invitation]

Email 2
From: Me
To: Boss’s Boss
Subject: RE: Invitation to launch
Am I to take it you wish me to attend, o cryptic one?

Email 3
From: Boss’s Boss
To: Me
Subject: RE: Invitation to launch
Maybe

The boss’s boss is heading on to pastures new, regrettably. I think it is unlikely that the new incumbent will have the same laconic sense of humour.

A Hairpin


Posted in: Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

When I was little, if I was a bit too smart, my father’s relatives would call me a hairpin. I’m not sure whether that is unique to Cork or unique to them. It came to my mind when I discovered that the Princess has made a complete list of all of her Halloween loot which she is carefully checking against the remaining items every morning. No unauthorised mini malteaser packs for me.

In other hairpiness, consider this.

Me: Would you like a grape?
Michael: No, you know I don’t like grapes.
Herself: It’s hard for Mum to remember because we spend far more time every day with school and the childminder combined than we do with her.

And this example of metahairpiness.

Her: NabloPoMo is so hard.
Me: Why do you say that?
Her: I have to keep thinking of witty things to say so that you can write about them.

I await the teenage years with interest.

The Kids are Alright


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

I was cycling along a quiet road while also using my phone. A passing motorist stopped in the middle of the road and got out of her car to upbraid me. Feeling slightly guilty, I stood there by the side of the road meekly apologising as this threatening middle aged woman roared at me.

To my amazement, a passing young woman in her little beanie hat interposed herself between me and the driver and said, “Leave her alone, stop shouting at her.” Then she turned to me and said, “Are you alright?” as the vanquished dragon drove off still seething. I was very touched. As someone pointed out to me later she probably thought I was a little old lady who needed to be defended.

Abuse about cycling while phoning in the comments please.