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Are you right?

3 September, 2004
Posted in: Reading etc.

I’m looking for a CD of someone singing Percy French songs. Not hard you might think. Surely, it should be easy to find someone singing the work of the man who wrote such classics as the following:

You may talk of Columbus’s sailing
Across the Atlantical Sea
But he never tried to go railing
From Ennis as far as Kilkee
You run for the train in the morning,
The excursion train starting at eight
You’re there when the clock gives the warnin’
And there for an hour you’ll wait
And as you’re waiting in the train,
You’ll hear the guard sing this refrain-

Are ye right there, Michael, are ye right?
Do you think that we’ll be there before the night?
Ye’ve been so long in startin’,
That ye couldn’t say for startin’
Still ye might now, Michael,
So ye might!

They find out where the engine’s been hiding,
And it drags you to Sweet Corofin;
Says the guard, Back her down on the siding
There’s the goods from Kilrush comin’ in.
Perhaps it comes in two hours,
Perhaps it breaks down on the way;
If it does, says the guard, be the powers,
We’re here for the rest of the day!

Spoken:
And while you sit and curse your luck
The train backs down into a truck.

Are ye right there, Michael, are ye right?
Have ye got the parcel there for Mrs. White?
Ye haven’t, oh begorra,
Say it’s comin’ down tomorra –
And well it might now, Michael,
So it might.

At Lahinch the sea shines like a jewel,
With joy you are ready to shout,
When the stoker cries out, There’s no fuel,
And the fire’s taytotally out.
But hand up that bit of log there –
I’ll soon have ye out of the fix;
There’s fine clamp of turf in the bog there.
And the rest go a-gatherin’ sticks.

Spoken:
And while you’re breakin’ bits of tree,
You hear some wise remarks like these –

Are ye right there, Michael? Are ye right?
Do ye think that you can get the fire to light?
Oh an hour you’ll require,
For the turf it might be drier –
Well it might now, Michael,
So it might.

Well, devil a bit as my mother would say. The ignorant young people in the record shops in Dublin asked whether he was a solo artist or in a band. When I explained that he was a long dead lyricist (but very famous, truly), they looked at me blankly. I had discovered from my internet searches that he was also an inspector of drains but I didn’t go into this. I even went into the Irish music shop on Nassau street and the girl there had never heard of him but she summoned a more experienced man from the back of the shop. He was familiar with the great man’s works (we are not talking obscure here, everyone in Ireland must know the tunes, even the people who had never heard of him) but said that I would find it impossible to get them on CD. He was right. Even Amazon have failed me. OK a couple of websites do seem to offer PF CDs but only in exchange for your firstborn child and all your bank details. I hesitate.

Not anchored down in Alaska

3 September, 2004
Posted in: Siblings

I’ll be back to Sicily later but in the interim, must tell you about my sister who is off on a cruise from Vancouver to Alaska. She has gone alone (this is the problem with earning twice as much as your contemporaries, you want to go on holidays they can’t afford) and is almost the only single person on board. The other passengers consist almost entirely of couples on honeymoon and elderly souls spending the inheritance before their kiddies get their grubby mitts on it.

Highlights have included lots of glaciers, icebergs and a plane ride around Mt McKinley (I told you that it was an expensive holiday).

Lowlights have included the singles night when she and 7 ladies in their sixties were the only attendees. Apparently the event ended earlier than scheduled.

Paying a positively obscene amount of money for a single supplement (of course, she now understands why they discourage singles).

Seeing staff remove the two beds from an adjoining room, remove the carpet and enter with a new one – only possible explanation someone has been very violently ill (my suggestion that a wave may have come through the window was dismissed with scorn – “we don’t have windows down here”. Mother of God, for that kind of money she doesn’t even get a window.).

Hearing an elderly couple who have adopted her for the trip describe attending an event entitled the marriage game. Given the demographics of their audience, she feels that they could easily have skipped the “where is the most exciting place you ever had sex” question.

I bring you this news from Juneau, Alaska from whence she just rang me on her mobile. I find that a little weird. She tells me that for a place that is connected to nowhere by road, Juneau has a lot of traffic. So now you know.

Ireland

1 September, 2004
Posted in: Family, Princess

It’s all so long ago now. First Dublin, grandparents were dutifully wonderful and, as far as I can remember, it was all about abandoning the Princess with her unfortunate grandparents while skipping off to town or to dinner or to shop. Princess had a fabulous time as did we. She became very interested in the picture in our bedroom (which is the pub exec’s room when she comes home) which was “The Fall of Icarus”. This enabled Mr. Waffle to do some work on his “Greek myths for the under twos” project. “Icarus flies like a birdie, cheep, cheep. Icarus is too close to the sun. Hot. Hot. All fall down. Into the water, splish, splash.”

Cork involved two trips to the beach. On both occasions the Princess threw up due to what Mr. Waffle refers to as my exciting driving style. It also poured rain. While the rain and the vomit significantly dampened our enthusiasm, they in no way impeded the Princess’s enjoyment of events. So keen is she on her bucket and spade that she has been known to sit on concrete and play with imaginary sand. The sight of the real thing and sea made her a very happy girl. Other than the rain and vomit, Cork was a lot like Dublin. My loving parents minding the Princess while we ran off and disported ourselves around the real capital. Also, we met more babies. A lot of people in Cork come pre-equipped with babies. Including one old friend who was duly mortified when his three year old spent his time with us weeping and clutching his (the father’s) arm saying “I want to go home”.

So, to summarise, we met a range of people in both locations, all of whom insisted on paying for our food and drink. Since leaving Ireland we appear to have lost the knack of paying for ourselves or anyone else. We will spend the time between now and December trying to pay for other people’s meals to get in training for the rematch over the Christmas holidays.

Comments

belgianwaffle

on 03 September 2004 at 21:49

Jack, a sweetie, I’m overwhelmed. Ta.

Bonnes vacances

29 July, 2004
Posted in: Mr. Waffle

Today we go on holidays. In the proper European tradition, we won’t be back until September 1. There is likely to be little blogging during this time, so if I were you, I wouldn’t bother checking here in August. On my return, a full account will be provided of two weeks in Ireland and the brother-in-law’s wedding in Sicily for which Mr. Waffle is already practising his best man speech. He is wandering round the house muttering “inanzitutto vorrei ringraziare – hey, are there any short words in Italian?”

Bonnes vacances then.

Comments

Locotes

on 29 July 2004 at 13:25

A whole month of holidays?? Bloody hell, it’s fine for some. Have a delightful time – I’ll keep an eye out for herself dragging you down Patrick’s Street. I might even give you a free paper – can’t say fairer than that. 😉
Have a great time!

silveretta

on 29 July 2004 at 18:43

‘Mille grazie – cin cin’ should probably do it, but enjoy yourselves anyway you lucky lucky people.

pipstar

(Homepage)

on 30 July 2004 at 03:12

Hello, I have been reading your site for a little while and love it. I don’t know what I will do with myself for the whole of August without your posts! You better have a fabulous holiday 🙂
Look forward to hearing all your stories!

dmts

on 30 July 2004 at 09:47

Have a fantastic time.

Thierrry

(Homepage)

on 31 July 2004 at 20:05

Bonnes vacances et ? bient?t !

belgianwaffle

on 01 September 2004 at 11:30

Thank you, thank you. Delightful time had by all. However, as discussed in post mountains of washing beckon and cannot rely on Princess sleeping indefinitely.

More shoes please

28 July, 2004
Posted in: Mr. Waffle

This day three years ago, Mr. Waffle and I got married. Only fancy. It was the only fine day that summer. To celebrate, I thought I might list 10 of the reasons why my husband is perfect:

1. Because he is amusing and entertaining and, better again, he thinks I am amusing and entertaining.

2. Because he’s a genius and knows everything.

3. Because he is always on my side.

4. Because he has never once reproached me for my complete inability to get a job.

5. Because he never says – what do you do all day?

6. Because he is pleased when I spend his money on shoes.

7. Because he gets up at 7.00 with the Princess every Saturday and Sunday and during the week comes home from work and gives her her dinner.

8. Because he plans everything. And insists on getting faxed confirmation of all our bookings.

9. Because when he is annoyed, he grinds his teeth (that’s it, that’s the most annoyed he can do).

10.Because he, very sensibly, chose to marry me (see also point 2 above).

Minkleberry

on 28 July 2004 at 13:52

What a fabulous husband. I’m directing Jimi over. congratulations on your anniversary

silveretta

on 28 July 2004 at 15:42

And let’s not forget, of course, that he has a splendid name. Happy anniversary.

KateEvans

on 29 July 2004 at 01:06

Gosh, he sounds wonderful. Best wishes, you two.

belgianwaffle

on 29 July 2004 at 09:22

Thank you all very much. He is perfect though having to guage your husband’s mood by watching his chin can be tricky..

Locotes

on 29 July 2004 at 13:31

This Mr Waffle – he sounds a decent chap. Which always helps. Hearty congratulations on your three years. Did you get each other presents? Or did you just buy more shoes?

Sofa tragedy

27 July, 2004
Posted in: Belgium

We have just had a sofa delivered. The best dressed diplomat and her husband are leaving Brussels and we bought their sofa (though we took most of their other stuff – the beanbag, the mobile phone, the wine, the champagne etc.). It arrived today. We had asked for an outside lift. The movers when they arrived had no lift. They said they would carry it up the stairs. They did. They got grease from the lift on the arms and back. Which is exactly what happened to our last sofa when our movers brought it up the stairs. Which is why it was rejected by the Salvation Army and now sits alone and dejected in our garage. The movers say that this was my fault because I didn’t tell them about the lift (and ok I feel a bit stupid) but I was upstairs when they brought it up and I assumed that because they are professionals (unlike the chancers who moved our stuff) they would have wrapped the sofa. I should have checked. Bitter, bitter, bitter. The best dressed diplomat and husband are gutted (because they are very nice souls) and arrived round this evening with flowers, strawberries and promises to claim on their insurance.Is this not very annoying?

And here, for good measure, is our last sofa:

Comments

belgianwaffle

on 27 July 2004 at 22:44

Have you seen my pics? They only reinforce the ghastliness of matters…

silveretta

on 27 July 2004 at 23:01

Nice lamp. Are throws fashionable in Belgium at all?

dmts

on 28 July 2004 at 08:05

I think they’re certainly going to be, silver.

belgianwaffle

on 28 July 2004 at 13:16

Hmm. Thanks people. I already have a throw but I wanted to give it to the Salvation Army but it looks like I may need to hang on to it a little longer..

adam_ball

on 17 August 2004 at 13:21

Bad luck – I witnessed our movers bodging a rectangular wardrobe through a doorway – widthways! Took three of them but they managed it in the end.

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