On 28th of July 2001, my husband and I got married. And now, eight years later, we have three children and, a real triumph this, are still happily married. Rejoice with me.
It is also the first anniversary of the day we left Belgium. I am surprised how little I miss it. Although I do miss some things as do the other members of the family. The other day the Princess asked whether I would be going to Brussels for work at any point. No. Why? “I miss the tarte au citron from the Pain Quotidien“.
Me: Doggy’s cousins have arrived.
Her: You said Ian was Doggy’s brother.
Me: OK. Doggy’s brothers.
She treated them with utter indifference. The boys, on the other hand, were delighted to see them both and exclaimed “Doggy’s back”. Obviously, Doggy was a big figure in all of our lives.
The computer died. It went pop and smoke came out from behind as I was sitting playing with it at 2.30 am when I should have been in bed. I feel quite nostalgic. We bought it in 2003 cheaply, second-hand from the people downstairs. I had wanted a cool apple computer but my husband reined me in. I am quite pleased that he did. It was not beautiful but it was functional. And now it has died at a very opportune moment because we have been thinking of getting a new one for some time but felt we couldn’t justify it while the old one worked fine. We have a new one, twice as fast, half the size and half the price and amazingly silent.
We discovered that in the privacy of her bedroom, the Princess has been working on some alternative models:
Do this child’s parents spend too much time playing with the computer?
The other day while I was languishing at home on my sick bed, two lovely old men from the Legion of Mary called to the door. God help them, the catholic religion is a bit of a hard sell in Dublin these days.
Recently I took a day off and the Princess and I explored the delights of Dublin.
I took her for a bun (queen of tarts), then to Marsh’s library (where she was allowed to write with a quill and elderly Protestant ladies smiled at her with unmerited indulgence), then to St. Patrick’s Cathedral where she chanced her arm, then to Hodges Figgis on Dawson Street where I brought her two books and then to Milano’s for lunch. I am the best mother in the world. While I am writing of the joys Dublin has to offer residents and tourists, can I mention that we went on the Viking Splash again recently and it was very successful. The best bit is roaring at innocent passers-by. I am not making this up.
Temple Bar is Dublin’s “cultural quarter” (insert hollow laugh and any number of pubs here) and is almost entirely filled with tourists. Irish people do not go to Temple Bar except as a short cut to elsewhere. However, we were lured into Temple Bar recently for a free outdoor circus. As it was bucketing rain, we also took in Temple Bar’s “The Ark“, a cultural centre for children which, if you ask me, is a bit dull. As well as not going to Temple Bar, Irish people do not wear raincoats either (bear with me, I have a point). They are a sign of weakness. On looking out at the weather, the normal Irish reaction is either “it’s definitely clearing” or “it will hold off”. Regular readers (she said hopefully) and relatives will be aware that my husband was born in Canada and this can out in his use of rain gear. We were wandering around Temple Bar in the rain looking for the outdoor circus (found, incidentally, and, because it was in Dublin, pictured in the Irish Times subsequently) and the children and Mr. Waffle were all bundled up in their rain gear. As a proper Irish person, I was soaking in my non-waterproof summer coat. A Polish woman with leaflets approached us encouraging us to go for the early bird special in La Caverna. As she wasn’t a native English speaker, she couldn’t tell we were Irish by our accents. It is odd to be treated as a tourist at home but clearly, her instincts were spot on, wandering Temple Bar in rain coats, we could only be tourists.
The Princess invited twins to her birthday party in April and each brought her a fiver inscribed “Happy Birthday love from..”. It struck me as an odd kind of present and I wasn’t sure whether it wasn’t some kind of offence to deface notes of the realm, but who am I to knock other mothers of twins. The Princess preserved her treasures carefully regularly asking about their purchasing power (she’s holding out until the economy hits bottom and she can get a house). Last night she decided unbeknowst to me that her treasures should sleep under the stars; under the brambles in the back garden to be specific. This morning she learnt a valuable lesson about minding her money. I suppose that kind of knowledge is worth a tenner.
