belgianwaffle

Cristesmæsse*

12 December, 2020
Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Ireland, Siblings, Work

Work has been very, very busy this past week. One night I found myself cycling home in the small hours of the morning – I could have got a taxi but I didn’t fancy it – and Grafton Street was all lit up and quite deserted and it was absolutely beautiful in a way that this photo doesn’t quite convey.

One night I had to go back to the office building about 8 in the evening and with Covid and everything else, the building was empty and dark except for the emergency lights. When I stepped into the downstairs reception in the dark (doubtless a health and safety hazard) I was overwhelmed by the smell of pine and sure enough, by the light of my phone, I saw a real Christmas tree in reception which was lovely and a lot of effort for the few of us who are left in the building.

My sister bought me a box of 24 jams and chutneys in small jars as a very welcome advent present. I deployed the raspberry jam today to make an apple and jam toasted sandwich for herself who was flying out to her applied maths class. She ate it in the car and she said to me, “You know, this is delicious.” This filled me with joy because, cooking is not one of my core skills and my children are rarely enthused by my offerings. Also, I used my mother’s toasted sandwich maker which she bought in France about 40 years ago and which she would love to see still in regular use.

We’re still sticking cloves in oranges. Note fancy patterns.

I bought gold and silver aerosol spray paint last week. This week I deployed it in the shed. Delighted with myself. I sprayed everything. Behold two pine cones which I stuck on top of the Aga. The corner of instagram I inhabit shows amazing Aga decorated for Christmas content but, I am unconvinced. If you deck your Aga or around it in foliage, it will soon be desiccated foliage. I am pleased with my minimalist solution.

I have taken the Christmas ware out of the press in the utility room and brought it into service.

Presents are flooding in. Gratifying. I moved spare school books from under a table to create room for the presents. I went to put them in the press in the hall only to find it full to the brim of Junior Cycle school books and past exam papers (some still pristine in their cellophane wrappers). As the children are all past Junior Cycle now, I decided to give them away on freecycle. I wanted to give them all to one person rather than have a stream of people coming to the house so, to discourage time wasters, I stipulated that whoever took them would have to take them all. That was a week ago and nobody has messaged me. I appear to have significantly over-estimated the potential popularity of Irish language Junior Cycle materials.

Yesterday was the centenary of the burning of Cork by the Black and Tans. I can’t help thinking about my Cork city relatives and how shocked and angry they must have been. My granny died when I was 12 and I don’t ever remember her mentioning it. I must ask my father and my aunt what she thought.

I finished my online Christmas shopping today. The relief. It meant spending much of the day sitting at the computer on a weekend which feels a bit too like work for comfort but it is done. Christmas cards tomorrow, if I’m feeling strong. And the Christmas tree. Online bookclub Kris Kindle tonight. One of those presents from under the table will be opened anyhow.

For those of you here for Gategate updates, all has gone silent. Alarming.

*Herself has got really into old English recently. This is the old English for Christmas she tells me. Apparently there are only 30,000 lines of old English extant and she is planning to read them. As a jumping off point she has bought herself a book from which she keeps quoting. I am irresistibly reminded of the elves in the Lord of the Rings films. Apparently I’m a philistine.

Further Christmas Things

8 December, 2020
Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Mr. Waffle

I ordered a present from an online shop which had been recommended to me. The owner’s name seemed familiar. I thought that she and her husband may have sat beside us at an arty Christmas extravaganza a number of years ago. This was just as well as I managed to put in the wrong email address on my order. I emailed the helpdesk and said that I thought we’d met. I got this lovely email back:

Hi Anne,Thanks for getting in touch and for ordering with us. I hope X loves her [present]! That was such a great night in Henrietta street. Would you believe we only just moved into our school house 2 months ago [they had been talking about doing up an old school and moving in in 2018]. We had so many delays and I still don’t have my terrazzo tiling down but hopefully in the New Year. Wishing you a fabulous Christmas! I’ll send your tracking number to this address.

It’s a wonderful shop run by delightful people. Have a look. Although sometimes everyone knowing everyone in Ireland can be trying, at times it is absolutely lovely.

I have made sugary orange slices to dip in chocolate and am delighted with myself. I realised this evening that I may well eat them all myself. I don’t care.

Today Mr. Waffle picked up the essential annual Christmas publication for Corkonians at home and abroad.

I am beside myself with excitement. Obviously, he’s also laid in the RTE guide so that we can record dozens of films which we will never actually watch; a cherished tradition.

It’s funny how the TV seems so wholesome now whereas when I was a child it was basically the work of Satan and rationed all year round except at Christmas when a certain amount of decadence set in.

Michael at 15

7 December, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Michael, Princess

Michael was 15 on September 27. Usually at some stage in the marathon that is November blogging, I do the boys’ birthday posts but not this year so this post on Michael is late even by my standards. But look, better late than never.

He’s still reading away. He’s very interested in books; economics, data and history in particular. We got him “Calling Bullshit” for his birthday which, despite its title, is quite worthy and he seems to have liked it very much. He’s also fond of science fiction, fantasy and detectives. My mother had a pile of 60s sci-fi books which he enjoyed very much

He loves nothing more than staying peacefully in his room playing an online game which involves him building up empires and partaking in crusades and the like.

During lock down 1 earlier in the year, he organised a games club meeting in the park which was reasonably satisfactory but he wasn’t very keen to repeat the dose.

He’s very happy in his own company and he may have been one of the happiest people in Ireland during lock down. He finds school very full of his class mates. And even home can be a bit full of other people. The other morning, he came downstairs for his breakfast and found the whole family in the kitchen. He visibly recoiled. As he retreated, Mr. Waffle intoned, “The antelope is shocked to find so many other animals at the waterhole and retires precipitously.” He laughed but he retreated all the same. In the summer, if the conversation at dinner got a bit tedious, he would head out to the back garden for a circuit; I used to call it his smoking break. The colder weather keeps him more tied to the dinner table.

To my great regret, he gave up drama at Christmas. He was good at it and he enjoyed it. But he was tired of it and when Michael puts his foot down, it is utterly useless to protest. No more drama.

He is much taller than me now and still very thin. He has a 24″ waist and a 32″ leg and, let me tell you, that is a hard combination to find trousers for. He is largely uninterested in food – sweet or savoury. A very surprising outcome for a child of mine. Corn flakes are a key part of his diet. One afternoon after school Daniel ate a bowl of corn flakes. It transpired that Michael had sacrificed his own afternoon snack to have that bowl for breakfast. When there were only “the crumby ones” left at breakfast, he was pretty irate. I wish he would eat a wider range of things and more of them but he seems perfectly healthy, if skinny, and he’s certainly growing, so I suppose it’s alright.

This time last year I was fighting an entirely unavailing battle to get him to hang up his coat under the stairs rather than slinging it over the banister. While the rest of the family now consistently hang up their coats under the stairs, Michael’s one man battle continues.

He cycles in and out to school and is the only one of the children to take the mother-approved route which involves crossing with the green man and avoiding the busy main road. Long may it continue, I don’t care if he’s fifteen.

He and Daniel get on pretty well although he is not sporty and did not love being forced by his mother to play basketball with his brother during lock down. They share, however, an interest in board games and card games.

Generally, he gets on fine with his sister but they tend to bob along in quite parallel tracks without a great deal of overlap. It does drive her crazy when I believe what he says because all of what he says is delivered in a deep voice and tones of great conviction. I can’t help it, he always does sound convincing.

He is ludicrously uninterested in material things. He never wants anything. In consequence he is very difficult to buy for and my sister, who is his godmother and would like to give him loads of presents, is driven demented.

He loved being off school between March and September and he loved his Junior Cert being cancelled. He’s finding re-entry hard. They’ve re-organised the classes for Transition Year. Michael is convinced he is in with all the messers and was a bit down about it. Nothing we can say can convince him that this is not the case and the school wouldn’t do that and doesn’t stream but after a rocky enough start, he’s finally settling down. Of course, the pandemic meant that he couldn’t go to Irish college this summer. No one could have been happier.

We bought him a guitar during the pandemic – he’d been learning at school and he seems to enjoy strumming away up in the privacy of his room.

He’s been worried about my father during the pandemic and was really upset to see a picture my sister sent me of him masked up and in his doctor’s waiting room (his cardiologist who said that he was fine and could come back in June which is pretty good when you’re 95); “What if he gets the virus?” he asked anxiously. He didn’t, you will be pleased to hear but not as pleased as Michael.

He is a wonderfully engaging public speaker and teachers and students alike love it when he stands up to give a presentation at school and so does he. What a great gift to have.

I find him completely charming and very kind. His siblings have a more nuanced view but are basically fans. His father thinks he’s hilarious. He makes us all laugh. A delight, he’s a delight.

Christmas Update

6 December, 2020
Posted in: Belgium, Boys, Cork, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Princess

So in normal years, I resist Christmas until the weekend after December 8 at the absolute earliest. This is not a normal year. I saw Heather had a post about Christmas songs and I was delighted. Here is a post about Christmas songs from me. I wouldn’t say my favourite Christmas songs as there are so many but here’s a list of some Christmas songs, anyway.

Hark the Herald Angels Sing

I really feel that you can’t beat a good carol. This is a good carol. Mind you, so is Angels we have Heard on High. Excellent work all round by the angels.

I’ve gone all out this year on outdoor lights. Even two months ago, I would have called outdoor lights tacky. No longer, people. Herself and myself drove off to a place just off the M50 which was basically a series of sheds filled with Christmas tat one of which, disturbingly, smelt strongly of urine. Nevertheless, we had a great time and bought loads of Christmas lights.

We had a street light turning on last night and had socially distanced mulled wine and mince pies outside. Very satisfactory. Herself says that I have turned into Sorcha O’Carroll Kelly who is locked in mortal combat with her neighbours over Christmas lights. I reject this characterisation. However, I can tell you that Dublin is mad for outdoor Christmas lights this year and there is a reason why we had to go to a shed off the M50 to get some.

Handel’s Messiah

Long, there’s no two ways about it, but very Christmassy. I have turned on Christmas FM which has a questionable playlist. However, I have recently become aware of Christmas FM carols and classical (or Christmas for the middle aged) and only this morning it graced us with For unto us a child is born from the Messiah. Pleasing. They are also going with Lieutenant Kije by Prokoviev on regular repeat which is, I presume, a bit longer than the bit they’re offering on the radio but I like the extract I’m getting.

We are working on our Christmas orange decorations.

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas

I think I only heard this for the first time a couple of years ago but I like it. In other Christmas news, my sister-in-law has asked us around to their house for Christmas dinner. I am delighted. It will be festive; my sister-in-law is an excellent cook; the children will love to see their cousins; and I hope it will feel more like a normal Christmas. I am so looking forward to it. Sad that the relatives in London won’t make it back this year though.

I am fond of O Come All Ye Faithful and am shoe-horning it in here even if it doesn’t quite fit given that everyone is basically staying away this year. Sigh. We’ve never done a Christmas round robin newsletter before but Mr. Waffle is actively contemplating it this year. Stay tuned for more details.

O Little Town of Bethlehem

When my father got his triple bypass in December 1985, we thought he might be in hospital for Christmas. My mother was up in Dublin at the hospital with him and my brother, my sister and I went in to my aunt’s house next door to record a Christmas mix tape for him. My sister played the piano, my brother and aunt played the recorder and I sang. I don’t think I have ever laughed so much in my life. The recorder is not an instrument that forgives hysterical laughter either. My father was home for Christmas, so we didn’t need the tape after all which was just as well.

Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

When I was small I had a Christmas record that featured this song. When you opened up the album there was a pop-up Christmas scene inside with Santa, Mrs. Claus and the reindeer. I thought it was the most wonderful thing imaginable. My friend and I spent hours trying to write down the full lyrics to this song listening to it over and over again. That was before the internet, kids. I have the record in Dublin now along with a Perry Como Christmas special LP (which I think actually belonged to my friend but which our family somehow ended up with) and I’ve been listening to both of them on the record player and they really remind me of Christmas in Cork in the 1970s. Sometimes on Christmas Eve, I’d go out for a drive with my father to see all the Christmas trees lit up in people’s windows and it was thrilling.

Saint Nicolas Patron des Écoliers

I wouldn’t say that this is an absolute favourite tune but it does remind me of living in Belgium when the children were small and whereas many of the nursery rhymes and songs they learnt in French have been forgotten this one remains fondly remembered. Today, you cry, is December 6, did St Nicolas come? He did.

Another Christmas number the children are keen on is Walking in the Air because of the Snowman and every number from the Muppet Christmas Carol which Michael and I watch every Christmas Eve.

All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name

Along with Gaudete this is a new hymn I learnt in the parish church when we moved here in 2008. Our church has a great musical tradition and it will be very strange and sad not to have a Christmas carol service this Christmas Eve. In general, the choir mistress and I do not have musical tastes in common but I like these ones and Joy to the World and the Carol of the Bells which are staples in the carol service every year.

There’s usually a slightly chilly and damp Christmas market as well where I pick up poinsettias. Again, not a 2020 event.

I have asked the children to find an online midnight mass with hymns which we can go to on Christmas Eve in the house. It’s not really the same.

On a podcast the other day, I heard someone say “We miss each other”. And it’s true, I’m missing not just friends and family but other people and the normal everyday interactions which have largely disappeared this year.

Silent Night

A classic which can be very beautiful and also quite appalling. I am thinking sadly of all the Nativity plays which won’t be happening this year.

I feel very disorganised on the present front this year. Normally, I take a day off work and buy everything in a slightly exhausting but broadly enjoyable trawl through the shops. This year, it’s basically online only which, for me, removes all the spontaneity and excitement. And also, should be done by now but is not so I am feeling regular waves of mild panic. I am half thinking of taking a day off work to sit at the computer and order but my boss, in a Scrooge-like move, has asked us not to take unnecessary days off in the run up to Christmas as we are quite spectacularly busy. He’s right, we are spectacularly busy. Define unnecessary.

Needless to say, not a solitary Christmas card has yet been sent.

Driving Home for Christmas

I’m not quite sure whether we will get to Cork this year. My sister is a bit worried that our descent en masse from Covid ridden Dublin could take out both her and a number of elderly relatives. I’m not sure what to do. I suppose that we will decide closer to the time but I will be slightly heartbroken if I don’t get down to Cork over the Christmas holidays.

We usually have Christmas drinks on the Sunday afternoon before Christmas. Preparation and hosting can make me a bit tense to be honest but I love it in retrospect. Not this year and I miss it. My friend Michael who has a lovely voice and is a born performer often sings O Holy Night in several languages which is a hard act to follow.

Fairytale of New York

I love this song. There’s something about the bitter-sweet nature of it that means that you can hear it a lot over Christmas but it never loses its magic. I’m aware that the lyrics are a bit difficult but I still love it. It somehow feels very appropriate for Christmas 2020.

30 Days hath September, April, June and, Mercifully, November

30 November, 2020
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland

I’m always completely out of ideas by the end of November. Usually on the 25th I say something about my much adored Nana. November 25 was her birthday and I often think of her around then. I remember the happiest news when I was a child was that Nana was coming to stay for a couple of days. She lived over the border in County Limerick and that was a lot further away in the 1970s than it is today. She was a fantastic grandmother: kind, clever, competent, indulgent, adoring. I still miss her.

And in completely unrelated news, I was walking along the road with two colleagues and an elderly lady wearing earmuffs marched up to us and waved at us shouting, “Social distancing, social distancing, haven’t you heard of social distancing?” We were all a bit baffled. Had we wandered too close to her without noticing? In any event, she seemed well able to protect herself from unwanted advances by the general populace. It was a weirdly unnerving encounter. I don’t think she was mad but she was certainly very angry and forceful.

Cycling home this evening, I ran into a friend and we stayed half an hour at the side of the road on a cold, damp evening chatting. God, we were delighted to see each other. We are sick of Covid.

And on that Covid-related note, I will draw November’s blogging to an end.

Maybe some December blogging will follow but for now, a pause may be warranted.

Weekends Rounded-Up

29 November, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

With the 5 km limit on travel and everything closed, weekends have been a bit similar. Last Saturday (i.e. November 21 not November 28, Mr. Waffle keeps saying that the way I say last Saturday is very confusing but I fail to see where the difficulty lies, if I meant Saturday November 28, I would have said yesterday), I went off to explore Chapelizod on my own without children saying it was very dull to be hanging around while I looked at buildings. I found a new way there through the park staying off the main road. That’s as exciting as it got. Some local history: Sheridan Le Fanu wrote a short story about the house on the right in the picture below and Lord Northcliffe was born up the road. His mother was Irish, who knew?

I came home via the Lutyens designed war memorial gardens which, in fairness, were looking pretty good.

An email arrived from the school threatening dire consequences if students didn’t have face masks. A follow up email some time afterwards apologised for giving out all the parents’ email addresses in violation of GDPR rules.

On the Sunday morning, herself and myself went to the Botanic Gardens.

Her Christmas jumper got an outing.

For added excitement we saw the actual last rose of summer left blooming alone.

Then, in the afternoon, back out on the bike to Chapelizod with Mr. Waffle and the boys. There are only so many options.

Then on to the weekend just past. I have absolutely no recollection of what happened yesterday, we went out for a mild walk, I think. We did not watch the “Late Late Toy Show“. My family are the only people in Ireland not into this. Mr. Waffle and I never watched it as children and our own children never had the faintest interest. My little niece in London watched it and loved it too. Look, I took in five minutes of the highlights: I liked the bit with the singer; the child from Cork and the hospital porter and the follow up; also the bit where the presenter was surprised by a hard to open bottle of Fanta. My cold heart was warmed but it appears we are never going to be a family in Christmas pjs watching this with a hamper of Christmas goodies. Too boring say my loving family. There you have it.

And then today, another trip to the Botanic Gardens also taking in the excitement of Glasnevin cemetery where, it transpires Gerard Manley Hopkins is buried. Fancy that. November is, of course, the month of the dead but I didn’t get to visit my mother’s grave. I might take all the children on a visit if we ever get to Cork en masse again.

Very much looking forward to moving out of lockdown level 5 and back to level 3 from next week. Maybe my weekends won’t change a great deal but the possibility of change is very exciting.