We had potatoes from the school garden for dinner. It’s not often you get to eat a potato reared in the centre of a big city. They were very nice thank you. Organic but with a significant exposure to exhaust fumes.
Ancient Rome
Herself is doing a project on ancient Rome at school. She’s really enjoying it and has already stripped our local library of its books on Rome and cost us a fortune in printer ink. So you can imagine that I was very pleased when this popped into my inbox last week:
My Museum: A Roman Invasion!
This Sunday, Legion Ireland-the Roman Military History Society of Ireland, will rally their troops and invade the first floor of the National Museum of Ireland-Archaeology! The R.M.S.I. are a society dedicated to portraying the Roman Army and it’s Celtic allies and foes in the first century AD. They use highly accurate reproductions of the equipment and dress of the first century Imperial Army and drill and display, through the use of Latin.
Drop-in to speak with them, try their swords and helmets on for size, explore our Life and Death in Ancient Rome exhibition or have a go at hand-to-hand combat and drill formations!
All ages welcome.
Free of charge!
www.museum.ie
www.romanarmy.ieKind regards,
Education and Outreach Department
National Museum of Ireland-Archaeology
Kildare Street
Dublin 2
We took ourselves off on Sunday. It was a qualified success with the target audience. She talked to the lads in their Roman gear and looked at their extensive kit. She played “Nine Men’s Morris” with a nice legionary and had a go rolling his bones. However, she didn’t have half as much fun as her brothers who spent a good three quarters of an hour in gladiatorial combat directed by a man in a tunic.
My Husband Says I’m Obsessive Compulsive
Why would he say that?
Not for Joining
Herself is keen to drop out of tennis lessons. You will remember that she left ballet and that she no longer comes to GAA training. On the plus side she likes cycling and her swimming is improving. The coach has offered to give her lessons alone as he thinks that she feels that the other children are better than her and this is why she wants to give up. Incidentally, this is not the case, they are all quite dreadful. She has agreed to give this a go and we will monitor progress.
I am reminded of our friend M who said recently that when he was a child, he just wanted to read “Swallows and Amazons” in peace but his parents kept trying to drag him out for sailing lessons. Maybe I should leave her in peace.
The Poison Pudding
I decided to make a plum pudding for the first time this year. I got a recipe in the paper and I bought the (lots and lots of) ingredients.
On Friday night I soaked the fruit in stout and brandy.
On Saturday I added the other ingredients. On Saturday afternoon, I realised that I would need some pudding basins.
On Monday, Mr. Waffle ran plastic pudding basins to ground for me.
On Tuesday, I realised that I needed ceramic basins but, after consultation with my sister, I shoved the plastic basin in the oven and put it in a roasting tin of boiling water for three hours. Then I lost my nerve and took it out. The plastic bowl was very, very hot but not melted. The middle of the pudding was cold.
On Wednesday, I put the pudding gloop in a metal pot and put it in the oven in a basin of water for an hour and then I lost my nerve and took it out – largely still cold – re-transferred it the pudding bowl and stuck it in the fridge.
On Thursday I went to the shops to buy a steamer. I could not find one large enough for my pudding bowl. I bought one of those metal things you steam vegetables on. I put it in the bottom of a large pot over a couple of centimetres of water over a low heat. I went out to dinner with a friend and instructed Mr. Waffle to make sure that the water was topped up. I came home to find Mr. Waffle had gone to bed and my pudding was sitting in the pot up to its neck in tepid water (tepid as he had turned off the heat when he went to bed). My instructions were, he explained, unclear also, he had three children to feed and put to bed. And the wretched thing still wasn’t cooked even after being boiled for three hours.
It’s sitting in the fridge as I write. I am going to make a last ditch attempt at steaming in the morning. Do you think that heating gently then cooling several times over a period of a week is going to mean that everyone who eats it will get gastroenteritis? Those of you who studied home economics might raise your hands first.
Family Photos
I found this confirmation picture of myself the other night. The Princess has already condemned my dress sense, so there is no need to add your voice to hers -in my defence, it was 1981 and I was 12. What she didn’t notice was how like 12 year old me she looks. When you look at my picture side by side with this picture of herself from over the summer, I think you can definitely see a resemblance. Though I seem to have been happier and cleaner. And, also, I have a pointier chin.
And here’s a picture of my mother as a little girl; it’s a bit difficult to make out but I think she looks somewhat like us as well. I’ve also posted the rather glamourous one taken of her when she got her degree – people, look, white gloves. I have never, alas, looked like that.
And here’s a final pair: pictures of my paternal grandmother and my great aunt. In the older one, my grandmother is on the right (ah, the pointy chin explained). And in the other picture are the same women photographed by my father in the sixties; there, my grandmother is on the left and my great aunt is on the right. Isn’t that nice?
That’s probably enough for you for one night.