belgianwaffle

Socialising


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess

I was just about to finish a really excellent entry, no truly, when I lost it all by going to check on Google whether the Czech foreign minister really is Polish or whether they were just laughing at me at the party on Saturday night.  I’m not sure whether I have the heart to start again. And I still don’t know whether the Czech foreign minister is Polish.

To summarise. Went out Friday night to Glam Potter’s where she had foregathered a selection of her glam friends and me. Prize for glamness goes to the girl who’s just managed to get herself seconded to Miami for work. On full pay. To do research. Plus a per diem allowance. She wants us to know that she also applied for Pittsburgh. Second prize for glamness goes to the GP herself who launched into an anecdote as follows, “when I lived in Miami, I had this convertible…”

Saturday saw myself and the Princess loyally supporting Mr. Waffle and his team in their attempt to win a work tournament. They lost. They must continue losing for a number of weekends before they can stop. Let’s hope the weather stays fine.

Saturday night myself and Mr. Waffle went to a party upstairs. The Anglo-Czech couple on the top floor sent everyone in the building notes inviting us to come and asking us to let them know, if they made too much noise. Since they are the only people in the building who make no noise, this was particularly endearing. We got an oral invitation as well, because I feed their cats when they are away. I thought the cats were named after a flying beast and a fast train respectively but my sister-in-law the publishing exec tells me that they are in fact called after 16th century English choral composers (and a small prize is available if you can tell me their names based on these hints alone). Despite the undoubted pretension of their cat naming policy, they are very pleasant, so we were happy to trip along on Saturday night. It also gave us a chance to see what they had done with that awkard space behind the sofa (bookshelves, since you ask, but, you know, I feel, behind the sofa is a bit unsatisfactory for bookshelves).

Everyone at the party was either English or Czech. There was also a three week old baby who was both. There are a lot more Anglo-Czech couples out there than you might think. I now know a lot more about the Czech republic than I did last week. I offer you the following:

Women from Prague are very pretty;

The same cannot be said for the men;

Czech women get a year’s maternity leave on 70% pay and up to three years in total. During that time, they do not leave their children. At all. I was an object of wonder because my baby was downstairs with a babysitter – Fluid Pudding, there is a nation out there that relates to you;

Ostrova is the third city and good for mining and clubbing. People from Prague do not go to Ostrova and laugh uproariously at the suggestion that they might. I tested this theory on the sample available to me and it seems to be true. Comparisons between Cork and Ostrova are unhelpful and unworthy, now obviously, if someone were to compare Limerick to Ostrova, we might be getting somewhere;

John Kerry is Czech.

Their foreign minister may be Polish.

They’re a friendly bunch the Czechs.

On Sunday we finally tried to book something for next weekend. It’s a four day weekend (if you’re American, you should know that in May, Europeans hardly bother working at all) and the thought of spending all of it in Brussels was unappealing. Obviously, we are not the only people who think this because everywhere is fully booked. We finally got a room in a chateau near Lille for Thursday night. That’s it. I have determined that to prolong the holiday spirit through the w/end we will get a babysitter on Saturday night and go to see Troy. If you feel that this is a terribly bad idea, please tell me and make a better recommendation. Note, however, that you are speaking to a woman who intends to watch “Noi Albinoi” on DVD tonight. Yes, that’s right an Icelandic film. Hmm.

Comments
belgianwaffle

on 19 May 2004 at 09:14

Entirely correct. You are a brilliant Belgian with a bizarre knowledge of English choral composers. As prize, I will tell you that the other one is Byrd.

Thierry

on 19 May 2004 at 12:42

Thanks!
In fact, I just had to goggle a little bit ! (?_-)

Renee

(Homepage)

on 19 May 2004 at 14:43

They have a cat named Byrd? That’s funny!

belgianwaffle

on 19 May 2004 at 15:27

Renee, this aspect of matters had not occurred to me until now. As you observe, it is funny.
Thierry, am impressed by your googling though your reputation in the field of English choral composers is now in freefall.

Ethnicity


Posted in: Work

I got an application form for a job with a UK public body in Brussels. The application form came with a further form which I was asked to fill in. I was assured that the form (the latter form, do try to keep up) would be kept confidential. It was for the purpose of monitoring the recruitment process only. Question 4 was as follows

Ethnic Origin

White 1

Irish 2

Black African 3

Black Carribean 4

Black other (please specify) 5

Indian 6

Pakistani 7

Bangladeshi 8

Chinese 9

Yes, obviously, my ethnic origin is Irish, but I am Irish. I appreciate that it’s for UK domestic use, but it is a little odd. And is the order of ethnicity relevant? Why is white first? Is it because there are more white people than anyone else? Does this mean that after white people the second largest ethnic group in the UK is Irish people – possible I suppose. Very strange. I suppose that it is done with the best possible motives.

And another thing, why do people assume older people need extra special advice – there was a feature on this on the radio. Someone was in saying they should be specially warned that people giving investment advice in banks are tied to the banks. They’re old, they’re not stupid. My father, who is, of course, not old as such, but certainly older, could buy and sell me and had to eventually give up in despair after many vain attempts to explain to me what exactly p/e ratio means. I remember when e-voting was piloted in the last election, a reporter descended on an ancient nun asking gleefully whether she’d had any difficulty casting her vote. She replied scornfully “of course not, it’s simple, sure a child of six could do it.” Good woman.

And finally, do check out the link to Everquest on Jack Dalton‘s post. Outstanding.

Cough cough


Posted in: Princess

The Princess has a cough. She woke up last night at 11.00 coughing. She refused to go back to bed and stayed in my arms dozing and coughing until 1.30 when she finally agreed that it was probably time to consider going back to her own bed. She woke again at 5.00. She was convinced that it was morning.  It was bright and she was ready to party. Tried to put her back to bed but she roared. Soft hearted Mr. Waffle said “bring her into our bed”. She was delighted, she waved and clapped her hands. She practised her new found standing skills using her parents’ prone bodies as climbing frames. She stuck her fingers up her father’s nose, repeatedly. This is an exciting new game which gets an excellent reaction. Picture the scene, her Daddy is drifting off to sleep, his defences are down, a small digit is thrust up his nose accompanied by the sound of a manic chuckle.

At 7.00, I decided that there really was no chance that she would go back to sleep and she and I got up. There are few things more fun than Dr. Seuss at 7.00 in the morning. “Mr. Brown can moo, can you?” At 8.00 Mr. Waffle appeared. A very flat Waffle. At 8.15 her imperial highness said “Minion, I am tired bring me to the royal cot”. It is now 12.00 and she is sleeping still. Is there a sign of a cough out of her?  No, there is not.

After she went back to sleep, Mr. Waffle and I chatted.

“I’m very glad that I got the new soap dish in the bathroom, now that we have two…”

Mr. Waffle lifted his head from the table where he had been resting it between mouthfuls of cereal and interrupted my fascinating discourse on soap dishes “What are you wearing?”

“My dressing gown”

“It’s got porridge encrusted on it”

“Well, you know, I wear it when I give her her breakfast.”  I peered at the offending garment. I sniffed it. “I think it’s also faintly smelly, want to smell?”

“No, I do not. Oh my God, what have we become? There’s a word for it. Oh yes, parents”

I have decided that it’s time my dressing gown went in the wash.

A long distance call for you


Posted in: Princess

The phone bill has arrived.  Somebody was on to Djibouti for 7 seconds at 10.30 on April 8.  I don’t know about you, but I suspect that the Princess has contacts in distant lands.  That child will have to be kept away from the phone or we will be beggared.  I suspect we are looking at the beginning of a long term problem here.

If you live in Djibouti and on April 8 had to get out of bed to answer a caller who hung up immediately, sorry about that.

“The Amateur Marriage” by Anne Tyler


Posted in: Reading etc.

Just finished this. Very good. Took a while to get into but worth the effort. It had been sitting on my bedside table for some time saying “I’m a hardback and a birthday present, are you ever going to read me?”Am now looking at the remainder of my bedside pile with some alarm; it is somewhat worthy. Which of the following should I tackle:

“The Bridge over the Drina” by Ivo Andric

“Le Bébé” by Marie Darrieussecq (in French please note, a pressie from the French mama)

“The Blindfold” by Siri Hustvedt (I know that I thought that “What I loved” was brilliant but this is from her back catalogue, suppose it’s disappointing)

“No Vague Utopia” by Emily Cullen (a book of poetry, ok maybe not for reading cover to cover at a sitting).

“Guns, germs and steel” by Jared Diamond (this is very good, but you need to stick with it and every time I get about 100 pages in I abandon for a couple of months and have to start all over again and, to be honest, I’m getting a little tired of the first 100 pages.)

Maybe I’ll just leave them all fester a little longer and reread “Pride and Prejudice”.

Comments
Wow, Jack, two minds with but a single thought between them (conveys, I feel a subtle difference to two minds with but a single thought), see my comment in your Cher thingy. Might buy Shade but as discussed am a little dubious. Thing it might end up stockpiled.
on 11 May 2004 at 15:29

Eh? 15 what? 0
Sweetie(s) given ���

jackdalton

on 11 May 2004 at 15:31

Andy Warholics….
God, some people don’t even read their own postings…
😛 0 Sweetie(s) given

belgianwaffle

on 11 May 2004 at 15:39

Well, I’m a busy person. I see, Andy Warhol, 15 mins etc. Yes, please do be one of my 15 people. I don’t think that I’ve actually made it to 15 yet so you’re getting in on the ground floor. Furthermore, I think that you are the ONLY person who reads this part of my weblog and, as such, you certainly deserve to be one of my 15.. 0
Sweetie(s) given

on 11 May 2004 at 15:45

Ahh, you’re nice.
You confused me, by the way. That was my Guts & Tripe posting, not my Cher one… 0
Sweetie(s) given

belgianwaffle

on 11 May 2004 at 15:52

Oh dear, well, there you go, as discussed previously, motherhood melts the mind, speaking of which, I should log off and bond with my baby.

Further car parking difficulties


Posted in: Belgium

I ran into trouble in the car park again.  I don’t think I should be allowed to park downtown on my own any more.  I lost my ticket. I rang for someone to come and help me. I pushed the button at the entrance to the car park. I pushed the button at the car park exit. I pushed the button on the pay machine. The car park rang with ringing noises but no one appeared. I kicked the pay machine. An attendant came hurrying up. Oh dear.  I explained that I had lost my ticket.

“It’s going to cost you lady”.

“Yes I know”

“Are you sure that it’s not in your bag?”

(Was that question idiot proofed?).

“Eh, yes.  Can I pay by visa, debit card…”

“Ah no, cash only”

Of course, back up to the shopping centre. Queue for cash.  Back down to the basement car park. Does your man have change? No, of course, not.  Back up to shopping centre, get change. Fill in long form giving my name, id card no., car reg, make and model and swearing that this is not a scam. Am free to go.  Blah.

Round at Glam Potter’s yesterday. She had had a difficult day. She had gone to IKEA to pick up a shoe baby L had lost there earlier in the week. As IKEA is planned so that once you’re in you have to see everything, she did a tour of the shop and bought some 99 cent chopsticks. She said that she felt a little odd in the queue as other people bought large items of furniture. Anyhow, on the way home, she ventured into the Brico to get wood to make bedheads (honestly, does that woman not have enough to do, she is disastrously creative).  She asked the man at the check out to help her put the wood in her car. He said no, maybe his colleague would help when he returned from his break. Baby L felt that this was bad news and began to wail and continued to do so until the colleague came back from his break. Then she redoubled her efforts.  The GP drove her car to the door and with the help of the Brico man started to load up her car. A random punter turned up with a trolley (please insert soundtrack of wailing child as background to the following dialogue)

“Please move your car” he said.

“I will, just as soon as I’ve loaded this up”

“Please move your car”

“I’m just going to finish loading this, or, you know, you could walk round the car”

(At this stage, sensing confrontation, the Brico man sidles off).

Conversation which has been in French up to now, starts being conducted in English.

“Your car is in my way”

“Yes, I know, I’m just finishing…”

“I will shoot your car, if you don’t move it”

“You’ll shoot my car, will you? With what?”

At this the man begins to ram our heroine’s car with his trolley. She hastily stuffs in the remainder of the wood and drives off with baby L still roaring. Very traumatic.

And finally, may I recommend that you check out Fluid Pudding for an excellent haiku on breastfeeding and mother’s day.

Comments
BykerSink

(Homepage)

on 08 May 2004 at 00:52

New visitor to your site.
My dealings with Belgians are limited but I find that saying the words “Phillipe Albert” usually swings things in my favour.
Try it next time.
You never know.

belgianwaffle

on 11 May 2004 at 15:18

Ok, BykerSink, am willing to give it a go. Will let you know results. Do you think it works in Flanders too or only in Wallonia?
Jack, someday you will have to load a car with a small child wailing inside and these flippant words will return to haunt you…

jackdalton

on 11 May 2004 at 15:28

🙂
Somethings are only ever understood from the inside…
[Pity there’s not a smiley to indicate playfully ironic comment from one who knows…]