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Confusion

24 June, 2008
Posted in: Family

I sent my mother a belated little parcel for mother’s day.  At the same time, I sent my friend D a present for her new baby and her three year old daughter.  This is why my mother telephoned me and said “thank you for the miniature stove with doors that open and close”.  I hope that little A likes the Villeroy and Boch bonbonnière that is winging its way to her.

Trilingual

23 June, 2008
Posted in: Belgium, Ireland, Princess

The Princess is terrified of going to her Irish language school in September.  She is excited about moving to Ireland, being closer to her relatives and having a house with a garden but the prospect of school is hanging over her like a dark cloud.  Any conversation about moving to Ireland ends with her in tears saying she can’t speak any Irish.

We have begun introducing her to the odd Irish word, though, unfortunately, this isn’t fooling her into thinking that she has an excellent command of the language.   I think that it will be easier for her to pick up Irish because she already speaks two languages but I’m not the one who will have to face a classroom of strangers and interact with them in a foreign language.   When not in the company of her parents, the Princess is, I think, a great conformist and she is concerned that she won’t be able to follow the teacher’s instructions.  However, she can now say “ciúnas!” with great authority.  I have emphasised that this will stand her in good stead as my memory of primary school is that this was the command most used by teachers and the one that they were most anxious to see obeyed.

I assume that it is progress of a sort that this morning she uttered her first trilingual sentence: Can I have a cáca milis in my boîte à tartines, please?

Interesting times ahead, I daresay.

Random examples demonstrating that my husband knows everything

22 June, 2008
Posted in: Mr. Waffle

1. At the mini train extravaganza.

Me: What does BNSF stand for on the side of the train?
Him: Burlington North Santa Fe, I’d say [on later inspection, this was quite right].
Me: How do you know that?
Him: Good guess?

2. On the radio

Me: Who sings that?
Him: David Bowie.
Me: Oh yeah, talk about selling out, remember that perfume advertisement?
Him: Well, David Bowie is the man who turned his back catalogue into a financial instrument.
Me: What?
Him: Complex explanation.
Me: How did you know that?
Him: Everyone knows that.

3. At the supermarket one morning.

Him: Interesting, that lorry is from Slovenia but the drivers’ friends are obviously Romanian.

Me: Eh?

Him: Well, it has Slovenian number plates, see from Maribor which, as you know, is Slovenia’s second city.

Me: Eh…

Him: But in the window he has Romanian plates with his friends’ names on them.

Me: Ah right.

To be fair this last touches on two of his specialised subjects: geography and number plates.   But generally, my husband is good on facts. When we have dinner at his parents’ house and a question comes up, everyone swivels towards him which I find mildly amusing. In my parents’ house (the home of the patriarchy as Mr. Waffle wistfully refers to it from his equal opportunities outpost), everyone swivels to my father. Though my father really does know everything.

What is it they say about women marrying men like their fathers?

Pasta

21 June, 2008
Posted in: Twins, Youngest Child

Michael loves pasta.  His diet largely consists of pasta and pesto.  My first mouthful of pesto only passed my lips when I was 19 years old and spent a summer as an au pair in Naples.  I do wonder whether, if I’d paid a little more attention to the whole picking basil from the garden of their country house and sticking it in the blender with pine nuts and so on, I might have been Ireland’s answer to Nigella.  I digress.   So intrinsic is pasta and pesto to the modern Irish child’s diet that when I went to Perugia a couple of weeks ago, it was to find that my cousin had brought pasta and pesto with her from Ireland to feed her children.  She was a little defensive about this decision but it’s hard not to sympathise.

Anyhow at the supermarket Michael, took a packet of pasta from the shelves and clutched it to his bosom until we got to the check-out whereupon he briefly handed it to the cashier and then reclaimed it and carried it tenderly to the car.  “Mummy,” he said to me hopefully “me eat pasta after my dinner?”

Help, they’ve got us surrounded!

20 June, 2008
Posted in: Belgium, Ireland

A couple of weeks ago Mr. Waffle got stuck behind a group of fishermen protesting about the price of oil.  It took him an hour and a half to get into work.  When he got in, he sent me this email:

From: Mr. Waffle
Sent: 04 June 2008 10:56
To: His loving spouse

Subject: FW: Demonstration, Wednesday 4 June, rue de la x – avoid the area
Importance: High

Note the useful timing of this message.

______________________________________________
From:   The Secretary who sneers at everyone

Sent:   Wednesday, June 04, 2008 9:39 AM
To:     Everyone

Subject:   Demonstration, Wednesday 4 June, rue de la x  – avoid the area
Importance:     High

Demonstration, Wednesday 4 June, rue de la X

The Belgian police have warned us of a potentially large demonstration by fishermen tomorrow morning. They are expected to gather around 10am.  Major delays and traffic disruption are anticipated. Staff are advised to avoid the area unless absolutely necessary.

This isn’t strictly relevant as it wasn’t really a blockade but last weekend we went to this must-see before you leave Belgium attraction and it was almost impossible to get in. “Fortress mini-Europe” said my witty husband. Jon Bon Jovi was playing nearby and all the car parking places appeared to have been reserved for him and his fans in tents.  You had to admire their perseverance as they sat there at 9.30 in the morning.   One assumes that Jon was still in bed.  And not in a tent either.

Then, this Wednesday, Brussels was fenced in by tractors.  There were half a dozen blocking traffic on my way into work. There were hardly any cars in the city and it was very pleasant for me on my bicycle.  I spoke to one of the farmers and he told me that he was up at 4.00 this morning to drive his tractor to Brussels.  The Belgian police wouldn’t let them drive on the motorway so it was a long old trek.  I assume that he has to drive back as well [though perhaps he could strike a deal with the hauliers who were blocking traffic on the city’s main traffic artery].   I asked, with what I hope was endearing faux naïveté (note to self, does this work, if you’re nearly 40?), what they were protesting about and he said the price of fuel.   I pointed out, very bravely I thought, after all he had been up since well before dawn, that food prices have soared recently which was surely compensating him for this loss but he was having none of it.  I am not entirely sure what he and his colleagues are hoping to achieve.  Though I gather that the Commission has folded and given something to the fishermen (I suppose that having rampaging fishermen outside your door focuses the mind of the average fonctionnaire), so, who knows, maybe they’ll get something too?  Though, as the Princess pointed out to me, they were inconveniencing everyone and what did they expect her to do for them?

Finally, today and yesterday traffic was held up to allow the 27 European heads of state and government and their courtiers and acolytes to whiz in from the airport with their police motorcycle outriders.

There will be much less of this in Dublin.  I understand that there traffic never moves regardless of whether there is a demonstration or not.

Long Dark Night of the Europhile Soul

13 June, 2008
Posted in: Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc., Work

Only read this, if you have the faintest idea about the Lisbon Treaty. Really, it’s better for both of us this way.

In Brussels, they think all Irish people are like de Valera who, I believe, said that he only needed to look into his heart to know what the people of Ireland were thinking. At coffee breaks at every recent event, people here would break the ice by asking me what I thought that the outcome of the Irish referendum on the Treaty would be. I would look into my heart and confidently predict a victory for the yes side by a narrow margin. It turns out that I am not de Valera.

Ireland joined the EU* in 1973 and my father started coming to Brussels for expert meetings shortly thereafter. From about 1980, every family holiday would be preceeded by a trip to Brussels. We would camp in Heverlee outside Brussels and drop him in every day for his meeting, my mother gaily navigating the Brussels ring with the three children squabbling in the back. Once his meetings were over, we would pack up the tent and head off to France which was generally sunnier and more congenial, though I still have fond memories of the lego and table tennis in Ter Munck. I suspect he was the only committee member staying in a tent. We used to go and join him for lunch in the Rotonde occasionally. This was the restaurant in the basement of the Berlaymont which is now, alas, defunct. The glamour, the excitement: self-service food, pillars, tap water.

My father became good friends with many members of his committee and they stayed in contact over the years. I even did a language exchange with a daughter of one of the committee members (unsuccessful, her English was much better than my German). My father was still coming to meetings when I started working in Brussels in 1993 and, when he came over, he would meet me for a drink in the Metropole and slip me some very welcome cash.

When I was a student, I was funded under the Erasmus programme to study for a semester in Italy. Almost all of my professional life has, in one way or another, been related to EU affairs. I suppose that I could hardly be called a neutral observer. I love the EU. I suspect that I am a bit of a minority but there it is.

When Irish women were barred from working after marriage in the civil service (and in the banks, just because they wanted to join in) who made them stop? Well, yes, it was the EU. When the Irish Government on accession sought a derogation from this draconian provision and the wretched equal pay legislation which was going to bring the country to its knees who said you must be bloody joking? Well, yes, it was the EU.

When the Irish economy was going down the toilet in 1987 and unemployment was spiralling out of control and the IMF was on the doorstep, who do you think gave us a great deal of money to spend on turning the country round? Well, yes, it was the EU.

When Northern Ireland was a basket case who pumped money into co-operation programmes through the PEACE programme? Well, yes, it was the EU.

When the divided continent of Europe was reunited, when we realised that, actually, having half of the continent behind an iron curtain was like having lost a limb, who gave assistance in money and governance to those countries so that now they are starting to do better and better? Well, yes, it was the EU.

And how come we can work anywhere in Europe and we have a single market? How come Europe can punch its weight in the WTO negotiations? Well, yes, that’s the EU too.

I believe in the EU as a potent force for good for Europeans. I believe it brings us together and helps us to learn about each other. I believe that Ireland is much closer to Berlin than to Boston.

So, the Lisbon Treaty. Well, it wasn’t a particularly clear or lovable treaty. Jon Worth has a copy of the Jason O’Mahony summary on his blog and for my money, that’s probably the best explanation of the contents. Not that anyone cares now.

The purpose of the Treaty was to finally put a close to the institutional (and very dull) angst which the EU has been going through since some time before its expansion to 27 member states. That was broadly it. It was also supposed to answer the Kissinger question, “Who do I call, if I want to speak to Europe?” Frankly, I’m not sure it provided an answer to that. Was it ideal? No, it was a compromise between 27 sovereign states. Was it the best agreement that we were ever likely to get on this subject? Oh yes, I would think so.

Why did Ireland vote no? Looking into my heart has proved ineffective in finding an answer to Irish questions, but let me share my suspicions with you.

Firstly, I suspect the press. The Irish Times which, as you know, has a place close to my heart, had an editorial on Lisbon last weekend entitled “Are we out of our collective minds?” Now, while I agreed wholeheartedly with every word written, I couldn’t help but feel that the tone was a teensy bit unhelpful. I can’t help wondering whether this was also the tone of the political parties, almost all of whom strongly advocated a yes vote. Then, the British media which is almost uniformly eurosceptic is widely available in Ireland and, in some cases, produces Irish editions (Irish Sun anyone?). I have no idea what these papers’ stance was on the referendum but you know what? I can make a good guess. I believe British coverage of EU issues is hugely biased and I don’t believe that this is a fault of the Irish press (I can tell because Irish coverage of EU matters is invariably crushingly dull). I really suspect the British media of stirring up the sovreignity issue which is not something that I have been aware of as a particular concern in the past.

Secondly, people didn’t know what the Treaty was about. I saw the text of the referendum question. Dear God in heaven, that was complex. But, you know what? There was a lot of information out there. I’m not saying it was a particularly straightforward message to understand but certainly a lot of time and effort was spent trying to explain it all. If you wanted to know, you could have found out. But people couldn’t be bothered, they didn’t care enough, they wanted to give the government a bloody nose.

Thirdly, there was the ludicrous scaremongering the European super-state, abortion, prostitution, army, locking up your three year olds bringing in the death penalty end of things. The problem for the yes campaign seems to have been that they spent so much time refuting the more outlandish claims of the no campaign that they had very little time to explain the (oh so dull) merits of voting yes.

So, I reckon, that’s it. Oh yeah, of course, fourthly the farmers were pretty annoyed about Mandelson’s position on the WTO negotiations, that probably didn’t help much either. Particularly since farmers always vote.

I’m gutted. I was really looking forward to the end of the institutional debate (yeah, yeah, I should get out more) and the EU getting to grips with the substantive issues which people actually understand. I believe that a stronger EU is vital for Ireland, vital to ensure that we maintain our position in this globalised world. And I trust the EU to deliver that, it’s not a bunch of faceless bureaucrats, well, yes it is, but they’ve done a fantastic job, the EU has achieved so much but it needs to do even more. And, wretchedly, it’s our fault that we’re going to have a weak, inward-looking, demoralised EU for the foreseeable future. More soul-searching, more “we must communicate with the citizen” (I mean nothing wrong with that per se, just that the citizen doesn’t seem to care), less actually doing things. Mr. Waffle points out that nobody has died and they will hammer out a solution based on the European model: peace through boredom. This is strangely uncomforting.

Any europhiles out there feeling sunny? Please tell me the upside.

*Yes, yes, I know the EEC as it then was.

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