belgianwaffle

First World Problems


Posted in: Siblings

When my sister goes to London, she likes to spend all her money in Fortnum and Mason’s. Because she is kind and generous, she brings me presents. Last time she went she brought me back lapsang souchong jelly. I like lapsang tea but I was dubious about its crossover appeal as something to spread on your toast. The first time I tasted it, I didn’t like it but I persisted and now I like it very much. It’s clearly an acquired taste. This morning I finished the jar. I am regretful. Where in Dublin am I likely to get lapsang souchong jelly we ask ourselves?

Would you like to submit your own example of what a friend’s brother calls “my bourgeois hell”? Go on, you know you want to.

Outraged etc.


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

The Princess has been singing “Ireland’s Call” around the house. This is the song which is played when the Irish rugby team takes to the field. As our rugby team is an all-island affair, both the Irish national anthem and God Save the Queen were not allowed for fear of offence. “Ireland’s Call” is an unhappy compromise. Herself learnt it at school – ours is not a rugby household. So, with St. Patrick’s Day approaching and in the middle of seachtain na Gaeilge (technically caicís na Gaeilge but inflation is everywhere) there was the anodyne “Ireland’s Call” ringing in my ears. “Do you not know the Irish national anthem?” I asked her. No, apparently not. “But it’s in Irish, you go to an Irish language school and they teach you a poppy meaningless rugby song in ENGLISH and they don’t teach you our national anthem in Irish?” I squeaked. She was gone before I’d finished, singing happily to herself “Come the day. And come the hour. Come the power and the glory. We have come to answer. Our country’s call..” I trust that that Amhrán na bhFiann’s days aren’t numbered.

Meet the Neighbours


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

I was at a residents’ dinner recently and I was sitting beside a charming elderly lady. She had an Italian surname and I asked her about it. Her mother had emigrated from Italy when she, the mother, was a little girl (about 100 years ago) and her father had emigrated from Italy to Ireland when he was 17 and married her mother. Then she herself had married an Italian boy and brought him home with her. What’s more, she has four children and three of them have married Italians. The fourth married a Quebecois, for variety I suppose. All of her grandchildren have Italian names and are busy, like proper ambitious migrants, climbing the social ladder working as lawyers, doctors and accountants.

All of her generation were in what she referred to as “the business”. On closer investigation, this turned out to be chip shops. There is a very odd phenomenon whereby the majority of chip shops in Dublin are run by Italians from Frosinone. They have an association: the Irish Traditional Italian Chipper Association. Not you will appreciate, adjectives that you expect to see running together. One of our other neighbours commented that she had been to Italy and it was impossible to get chips. Given her Dublin background, she had expected the Italians to be chip specialists. All Dubliners recognise the names: Cafolla, Morelli, Fusciardi Borza, Macari (though my neighbour doesn’t think much of the last two families – Johnny come latelys apparently).

She spoke about working in the shop with her husband while bringing up her family in the flat upstairs. She speaks Italian as do her children and grandchildren. I was a little curious about whether they spoke dialect and Italian or just the former but lacked the nerve to ask.

She was the most charming person and I wished she lived on our road. However, she has assured me that several of the residents on her road are very elderly and a house should come on the market just as we are able to afford to move. She will be watching like a hawk on our behalf.

Very miscellaneous


Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

Last weekend we split the children up between parents on Saturday and had the most successful Saturday on record. No more family outings for us. I took herself to a cafe in the morning while the boys were at the GAA with their father. I bought her a magazine and me the Irish Times and the pair of us sat and ate our tea and buns and read our newsprint. Really, very satisfactory. In the afternoon, she was at a party and I took the boys horse riding. While I am mildly concerned that the Princess is eschewing all forms of exercise, it is much less tiring not to have to drag her unwillingly to the GAA and watch her sulking on the sidelines.

The children and I planted two apple trees, a pear tree and two gooseberry bushes on Wednesday week. At first, I was bitter that the garden centre had forgotten to pack the 10 raspberry canes I ordered but once I had dug five holes in the ground for the other plants, I was relieved. My efforts were somewhat hampered by 3 eager fellow diggers with plastic spades and a bag full of compost. When asked to hold the tree upright, Michael let go, saying it was too tiring. All of the children inadvertently stood on the plants as they lay flat, roots on the ground waiting to be dug in. The cat joined in the excitement also and added her mite to proceedings by hopping into the holes as they were dug and having a look around while the children and I tried to insert the trees and plants. I am not entirely optimistic about this adventure.

A woman from Junior Achievement visited the Princess in primary school. The Princess is unimpressed by the stickers they are offering. She and her extraordinarily named friend have invented their own stickers for their own club and are developing an online forum for their work. She is convinced that this is far superior to anything that might be offered by a well-meaning NGO. Who knows, maybe she is right. Her friend is a boy and this has been a source of some unhappiness to her. Although her school is mixed, she and this boy appear to be the only people in her class who have made friends across the gender divide. The other children tease them and that old classic “K-I-S-S-I-N-G, A&B up a tree, first comes love then comes marriage etc.” has been getting an outing. Does 6 seem a little young to you for this kind of behaviour to manifest itself?

We had parent teacher meetings with the school last week. I raised the Princess’s difficulties with her friend with the teacher and she said that she thought that sometimes this class were like teenagers. She had seen something in the past but thought that on foot of teacher disapproval, it had stopped but she will keep an eye out for it again. Otherwise, they’re all fine although only one of my three children appears to have any degree of application. Still, they are all under 7, they have time, I trust.

Multi-modal


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Mr. Waffle

Sometimes I cycle to work; sometimes I get the bus; sometimes I drive and sometimes my husband drops me off. This is how I was able to have the following phone conversation on the bus home the other night.

Me: Where are you?
Him: On the way home.
Me: I’m running late. Could you ask the childminder to stay a bit later and take the cat up to the vet.
Him: I could take the children with me, oh no, you have the car with the child seats.
Me: I have the car? [Reflective pause] Oh feck, yes, I have the car.

That is why after bedtime, I had to take the bus back to work and rescue the car from the car park at work.

Smart Economy


Posted in: Ireland, Siblings

Email received by my sister, who works in the cutting edge of the knowledge economy [at least I think she does, I can’t understand what she does and that’s often a sign], from one of the people who report to her:

Hi,

As you know X and I have just moved upstairs today. I am unable to see my computer screen clearly due to a lack of daylight which is straining my eyes. Can some of the blinds in the room be opened? Thanks,

[Team member]

The author of this plaintive plea is a graduate in her mid-30s. Words fail me.