Took Princess Waffle to mass today. For the godless, today is the feast of the holy family so it was very appropriate. We felt like pillars of the community. The priest referred to Princess Waffle from the pulpit saying how wonderful it was that she clapped along to the choir. We were very proud and hung around outside to tell other members of the congregation that she is very advanced for her age. This is, in fact, the second time that Princess Waffle has been referred to from the pulpit but since last time the priest was slightly irate that she was roaring and interrupting his sermon, I would prefer not to dwell on that.
And in other news, my sister flew back to Chicago today after a brief week in Ireland. Americans don’t really believe in Christmas holidays and she had to beg and plead for the week off. She may have to give up her job in the US and come home so’s she can have decent holidays, but not, I hope, before I have had a chance to stay in her new apartment. Only slightly deterred by the thought of flying 9 hours with Princess Waffle.
on 29 December 2003 at 01:24
Your brave, I would never have the bottle to show family my weblog, in fact I would be really worried if they found it! So even if she doesnt like it, you deserve a medal for bravery!
Party on
We had a party on Saturday night for friends in Dublin. This was kindly co-hosted by Richard who agreed to let us use his house for our nefarious purposes. When I started writing this blog I was going to keep it deathly secret and build up a following by stealth on the internet but, frankly, two weeks in and with no one reading it, I felt that the party was the ideal opportunity to do some publicity. I told my friends, they were…interested. Sort of. My friend Cathy (I’m tired of thinking up imaginary names, it’s very tiring – I asked her siblings for suggestions for a code name but I just feel that their suggestions wouldn’t go down terribly well) rolled her eyes to heaven and said “My God, you’re already terminally indiscreet, are you sure you need a wider audience?” Yes, of course I do. However, I see that none of them has seen fit to comment on my blog. Very distressing. I am driven to the conclusion that they have not read it. I am quietly confident, nevertheless that a couple of days at home in the bosom of their families will force them to look for unusual avenues of entertainment and they will peruse this with, um, interest.
Party was slightly odd as Mr. Waffle was ill and we had to leave early so waved goodbye to our friends and left poor Richard holding the fort. I apologised profusely for abandoning him. “Not at all” he said affably “your friends are lovely people, whoever they are”. I understand that there were a number of exciting rows later in the evening. I particularly regret missing the row on benchmarking as the combatants were quite evenly matched…I understand it was a clash of the public and private sector titans. Richard said he was picking up glasses in the hope that the rowing parties would leave but they just dug their heels in and started to enjoy themselves while he gave up hope of ever getting to bed. A successful evening all round then.
In other news, I have done a lot of visiting since we returned. My friends are buying up the nicest houses in Dublin. I’m torn between envy and excitement. Largely envy.
Tomorrow will see our arrival in the real capital. I understand the local populace is waiting agog for the first viewing of princess waffle in some months.
Harry Potter
This is dreadful but after finishing my last book, I felt I owed myself a break and am rereading all the Harry Potter books for light entertainment. They really are very good and not at all taxing.  However, I feel the long ones are just too bloody long and I think she is losing it slightly. “The Order of the Phoenix” fails to grab me as much as earlier volumes.
Mr. Waffle is reading Pepys. At least one of us is an intellectual.
Parking
We’re off to Ireland for our holidays today. Yippee. However, despite the fact that Ireland is a digital hub access to broadband is strictly limited and am not sure I will be writing entries on a dial up line – so there may be no new entries until January 6. I am sure that you are all holding your breath etc.
In other news, we have a car parking space. Oh rejoice, no more driving around for hours looking for a space. Last night Mr. Waffle arrived home tired and dishevelled having spent half an hour looking for parking and having walked 20 minutes from where the car was eventually parked. On the minus side, I may lose my fab car parking skills. I can now park in almost any space. This morning I parked in an entrance, stuck on my hazard warning lights and went off to chat to our insurance broker for 20 minutes. I am becoming a real Belgian (illegal parking is a national sport). On my return, alas, there was a large lorry parked beside my car and the driver was tooting his horn in considerable irritation. My winning smile and baby Waffle’s cheery wave seemed to infuriate rather than calm down so we sped off before he could physically attack us.
All this reminds me of a number of Belgian parking stories.
Story 1 – The glam potter was out shopping and returned to find her car boxed in. As she had only 1 hour to go home, pack and take her train to the UK she was tense. She cursed, she hooted her horn but no joy. She paced. She noticed a slip of paper on the ground saying that the owner of the offending vehicle was in the restaurant opposite. She stormed in and identified the owner who was sitting calmly having lunch with friends. Glam potter felt that she would not be able to express her irritation properly in French so she said to the woman “Do you speak English?” Woman confirmed that she did and GP roared at her “You stupid cow”. Driver got to her feet to move car and turned out to be 8 months pregnant. Poor GP, most embarrassing.
Story 2 – When I was about 7 months pregnant I met a friend for lunch, let us call her the french horn player. When she arrived at the restaurant I asked her whether she had found parking difficult. “No” she said “I parked on the roundabout”. Yes, indeed the roundabout at Place Stephanie is often used by reckless Belgians as a parking spot. We emerged from lunch only to find that the car had been towed. Extraordinary. I went with FHP to the police station and the police were most sympathetic. I have to say that my experience of the Belgian police had not led me to expect this.
FHP – My car was towed and it wasn’t in anyone’s way.
Policeman – That’s terrible, where was it.
FHP – On the roundabout at Place Stephanie
Policeman – Oh I know where you mean, of course, you weren’t in anyone’s way, what a pain for you, but I suppose it is technically illegal.
Waffle (sotto voce) – To park on a roundabout, yes, I would have thought so.
FHP – I wonder is there any way I can get away with not paying the fine.
Policeman – Hmm (looks at me appraisingly), I see your friend is pregnant, if you hadn’t parked there, she would have had to walk a long way…
Me – But I got there under my own steam, I took the tram…
Policeman (ignoring this unworthy intervention) – Yes, she would have had to walk a long way, get a cert from your friend’s gynaecologist and I think we can get you off.
Honestly.
Anyway enough Belgian parking stories. Hope you have a very happy Christmas.
No return
I spent 52 euros on stamps for Christmas cards the other day. We have sent too many Christmas cards. So far, we have received 6. I’m not complaining. No, really. I’m sure that when we get back to Brussels after Christmas we will have 50 odd Christmas cards waiting for us.? What do you do with 50 Christmas cards in January?
My friend the glamourous potter called around yesterday. She has a baby 6 weeks older than Waffle. Her baby crawls round the place like mad and I am torn between admiration and horror (will Waffle do this? how will I manage when she can move?). Glam potter is going to be a regular feature here as she is by far the most exotic person I know. To start with she’s a potter. I mean, how many potters do you know? Then, she used to get driven to school in an open top sports car. In Antigua. That’s enough for starters.
I am busy adding to my favourite blogs bit. I am adding Locotes cos we Cork people should stick together and so on. Also can get regular updates on Cork things. Fantastic, unmissable. Also adding JoJo, cos she said that my baby was sweet. Oh yes, I am very easy to buy. Thank you JoJo. Finally I’m adding this Iranian gentleman because, let’s face it, an informal look inside the corridors of power in Iran is kind of unusual. I particularly like the picture of him as a young boy. Very odd. If you check it out today, you will see that he is pleased about the capture of Saddam. No surprises there then.
on 17 December 2003 at 18:03
Well thank you very much. Urm…my Cork update for today is that the SHARE feens are out in force…at least 3 of them every 10 meters…diving at me from all angles…it’s impossible to get anywhere without being assaulted, surely that must be illegal?
A 20six tip for you, if you ever feel the need to reply or abuse a comment someone has left on your blog, it’s perfectly fine to enter a comment of your own in the entry – can be easier than mentioning their comment in your next post. But of course everyone has their own style. I’ll stop rambling now. 🙂
[anonymous]
on 18 December 2003 at 16:52
The Republic
Illness continues to stalk our household. Most trying. However, you will be delighted to hear that we are recovering and hope to be healthy for our trip home on Friday.
Somebody asked me where in Ireland I was from. I am from Cork. We are an independent and proud people brutally subjugated by the nasty east coast Dubliners. My loving spouse comes from Dublin so our Christmas holidays will be scrupulously divided between the two locations. Well, reasonably scrupulously. More of this later.
I think perhaps the following story would help to explain the Cork spirit. I met my husband in Brussels and, despite the fact that he was from Dublin, I liked him straight away. I rang my mother and said to her “I’ve met a great guy”. My mother, like many another Irish mother was concerned that, as I lived in Brussels, I might meet a local and settle down far from the ancestral home so she said “Not a foreigner?” “No” I said.? “Ah”, she said in tones of great relief “he’s from Cork”.
Our holidays are not as fairly divided between Cork and Dublin as they might be. A friend of mine from school (the “heart surgeon”) is getting married. As a 34 year old mother of one, I thought that my bridesmaid days were over, but apparently not. I am supporting actress in the wedding which is taking place in Cork on January 1 so we are staying in Cork a little longer than we might otherwise have done.? My friend has selected really lovely dresses for her bridesmaids but there is one tiny snag. Cork is chilly in Winter and wearing a strapless dress on January 1 is definitely going to take from my enjoyment of the occasion.? Particularly since there will be a photo session on the beach.
Finally, have been surfing around and have to plug this site which tells of the adventures in Brazil of a friend of ours from Brussels.? Makes me feel most uninteresting which is quite distressing but is very funny and worthwhile.
