belgianwaffle

It’s All Weekends


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Twins

And finally, for my last trick, I have to describe the weekend of the street party. As Mr. Waffle said, for this to be a success there would have to be four fine Sundays in a row. We did not have four fine Sundays in a row. This mattered surprisingly little. And you know, the sense of obligation to get out and do something in the [limited supply of] sunshine is very tiring.

The children played soccer in the street for hours [Daniel, who had played a GAA match that morning and got a medal for his participation in the mini-league along with a bag and a wristband and cap, spent, by my calculation, seven hours that Sunday running after a ball]. The grown-ups resigned themselves to the weather and ate from the really excellent selection of food on offer. There was bunting. It was good. It would be great all the same if, just one year, it didn’t rain on the street party.

More weekends


Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland

My friend from school came to stay with her American husband and four American children. Even though our new house is much bigger, it was still something of a squash and a squeeze. But it was lovely to see them – we last saw them on December 29, 2010 when their youngest was a very sick baby. They are all well now and particularly polite in the manner of nice middle class American children: eye contact when talking to adults! Still a skill which some of my children have not mastered. The children all got on pretty well. My friend’s two youngest boys were particularly excited by the presence of my boys’ extensive arsenal of weapons from water pistol to plastic sub-machine gun and stocked them on the landing with great enthusiasm. When the three-year-old came up to me laughing and shot me, I played dead but his parents were appalled. They have no toy guns in their house. Culturally, there seems to be a difference in toy gun control between here and the US.

So, picture the scene, they arrived off the plane on Sunday morning, hired a car and turned up at our house having been travelled from their home in Vermont at 2pm US time on Saturday. Were the children cranky? They were not. Were they tired? No. Were they even particularly grubby? Not really. Instead of collapsing into their beds, they spent the afternoon with us at the church garden party. This event was, by the standards of these things, a huge success. Crucially, the sun shone. Members of the Indian Christian community [larger than you might think] performed a dance to Shiva the Destroyer in front of the priests’ dining room and all the cakes were sold. Herself was deputed to sell raffle tickets and to her great joy, our visitors bought €20 worth.

All was well with the world. And the children all slept all night. The Americans went to Cork on Tuesday and on to a wedding in Kerry on Friday before flying out of Shannon on Saturday. The horror. But they are brave souls.

Weekend Round Up


Posted in: Belgium, Dublin, Family, Ireland

That’s actually the weekend from weeks and weeks ago. I’m behind. Anyhow, some of the people I used to work with in Brussels came over for the weekend. It was lovely to see them and the weather was spectacularly beautiful.

One of my former colleagues, T, stayed with us. She does not have children herself and one can only hope that she has not been put off the idea by Michael’s constant, mortifying whining – “How much longer is she staying?” He gave up his room, most unwillingly, and boy did he want everyone to know that he wasn’t happy about it.

Typical conversation:
Me: Michael, did you know that T is a twin also?
Michael: I…DON’T…CARE!
Me: Michael that’s very rude, say ‘sorry’.
Michael: Sorry.
Me: Like you mean it.
Michael: Daniel doesn’t say sorry like he means it.

Yes, Ireland of the 1,000 welcomes.

Fortunately, former colleague N, who is working in Dublin for 8 months, had arranged an elaborate programme as I was something of a broken reed. They walked around Howth Head in searing heat (unusual); they came to my housewarming on Saturday night; they went for a stroll around Dalkey on Sunday.

On Saturday, Mr. Waffle had to work and I took the children off to the beach in Portrane. I had never taken them there before and was a bit uncertain of the way but we made it. It is a lovely sandy beach that is shallow for miles. When I reached waist height in the water, I collapsed after the long trek and had my first swim of the season. It was all very pleasant in a mild way. When I saw those who had walked for 4 hours around Howth Head earlier that day, I knew that I had been wise to acknowledge my limitations and only walk into the sea.

Not a great shot of the beach but you can see that the sea is a long way away.
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They have also decided to go for an unusual juxtaposition of old and modern in the siting of their water tower beside the clock tower:
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On the housewarming, one of my former colleagues asking whether there were any single men coming. A rapid mental scan of my guest list confirmed that there were not. Woe. On the plus side, older married couples are great with the presents. We are groaning with fancy champagne stocks. The weather was terrific and we stayed outside until late. One set of neighbours had brought their 10 and 12 year old children and our children stayed up until 12 to entertain them – something that herself particularly enjoyed. She was hyper all evening letting people in and telling them where to put their tasteful gifts and chatting animatedly. A friend commented that it was a shame that the Princess had set her face against an Irish medium second level school as she didn’t think that her English needed further improvement. I was torn between smug delight and angst at the knowledge that herself had been letting her, occasionally forceful, personality shine forth on the guests. At one stage during the evening, she hugged me and said, “I love this party!” She is really one of these children who love to talk to adults. Also, she is very sociable, like her father.

And then on Sunday, out to Dalkey: it really was beautiful and quite unlike Ireland; my Brussels friends now have a deeply warped view of what the Irish summer is like. All to the good really.

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The Tactlessness of Youth


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

Young trendy person in shop in Temple Bar: I love your briefcase, is it vintage?
Me: Actually, I got it as a present when I finished my first job.
Her: So it is then!

Tibradden


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

We went off on an extended family outing to see the house that features in this book a couple of weeks ago. The house is open to the public a couple of times a year. My mother-in-law had read the book and enjoyed it and lent it out to most of us. We were curious. The author met us on the doorstep and showed us around. She was a delightful hostess but it was odd to be in her house and to know so much about her life. Not just the outer parts but her inner thinking also and the really upsetting things as well. I would have thought that it isn’t much fun for her either but she seemed quite cheerful. Weird but recommended, particularly, if you liked the book.

Incidentally, this being Ireland, it turned out that my mother-in-law had known the author’s mother’s parents well and lived next door to her editor’s aunt with whom the author had dined only the other day; my brother-in-law had worked with a friend of hers who had been to dinner the previous evening; and she and my husband had college friends in common.

Anti-podean


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Twins, Youngest Child

Michael: Ah, still all these posters everywhere “No to Australia”! When will they take them down?
Me: What?
Mr. Waffle: No, Michael, that’s “No to Austerity”.