Mr. Waffle

Travel Round Up

21 October, 2023
Posted in: Cork, Hodge, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel

I mean not super exotic travel but travel nonetheless.

Mr. Waffle was in Bruges, at a college class reunion thing; a broadly good time was had by all. Except the cat. She is fed by Mr. Waffle, inter alia, before bed. At 10.30, she takes up her position on the corner of the rug and begins looking at him imploringly. In his absence, she stared at the couch, clearly hoping he was going to materialise and having zero faith that I would feed her.

Herself, before returning to England, went to Cork where she was feted and petted by her adoring uncle and aunt.

An otherwise uneventful trip was made exciting by the travel arrangements. She needed a 19-23 id card for the student ticket for the train. It only arrived on the morning she was leaving but, sadly, after she had actually left. I had driven her to the station in the driving rain and heavy traffic and there was no way we would have time to turn back. I was resigned to buying a full fare ticket at the station but then her father – like a superhero in waterproofs – cycled to the station and gave her the ID. Honestly, quite a bit more thrilling than it sounds.

Also, in public transport news, my children keep losing their travel cards and while Mr. Waffle was in Bruges another one was lost. Looking at the account there are about 16 cards called things like Michael2018(2). Poor Mr. Waffle, the administrative duties of a father are many. Anyway thrillingly, following this latest loss, Mr. Waffle found that he was sitting on a gold mine. There was about €100 sitting on the various long lost cards waiting for him to recover (after considerable effort – order of administrative labour, first class).

Then, like the extremely saintly mother I am, sherpa-like I drove the Princess’s stuff back to England while she flew to attend a conference, the logistics were almost unbearably complex.

Before driving to England to my intense chagrin, a tree crept up beside me and broke the side mirror on the car. It worked ok but slightly suboptimal for my long drive. And 500 of your earth euros to repair it. I’ve decided not to fix the scrape I gave it going in the gate in Cork, there’s only so much I can afford.

The offending tree with its victim:

My trip to England was grand. I ensconced herself in her, frankly, palatial student accommodation and then turned around to get the ferry home. I spent two nights with my friends in Shrewsbury. It is such a lovely town. Look at it.

I am unclear whether the best shopping in England is to be had in Shrewsbury or my friend really knows what is likely to attract a fellow middle aged woman. They have a lovely indoor market there and I spent like there was no tomorrow.

On the way back to the ferry , I stopped in Conwy in Wales. So lovely, so utterly unknown by me until the ferry to Wales became such a big part of my life.

I am back to work on Halloween (not ominous at all). Expect less gallivanting thereafter.

Ailing

20 October, 2023
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

I have a nasty cold which is finally starting to get better. I had the dentist this morning at 8.40 (why, why did I pick this time?) and in fairness to him, I felt I’d better do a Covid test in advance. Negative but mood not improved by waggling Covid test stick up my nose at 7 in the morning. Annoyingly Dan and Mr. Waffle both had this cold and are already fully recovered, Michael, who despite his slender frame appears to have an extraordinarily vigorous immune system, wasn’t sick at all. In far off England, herself, who clearly shares my level of disease resistance, had been felled by freshers’ flu which is hard when you’re a sophisticated third year.

And as well, a couple of weeks ago, I got the most horrendous thing. I have never had a stye on my eye so why, the first time this happens to me would I get a hordeolum? This is a stye inside your eyelid. It’s as revolting and as painful as it sounds.

Is it going to be a long winter? Quite possibly. Note to self: get the Covid booster and the flu jab as soon as possible.

Mid Week Break

12 October, 2023
Posted in: Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Travel

Mr. Waffle and I found a blue book voucher on the bookshelves and decided to go away mid-week. The excitement. If you gave us the blue book voucher, I am really sorry because we have no idea who gave it to us.

We went to Hunter’s Hotel where we last stayed in January 2003 just before we moved to Brussels. The hotel is nice but the food was terrible then. My sister-in-law who I normally find very reliable on these matters said, “But it’s really improved in the intervening 20 years”. I regret to inform you that it has not. Still a lovely setting though and a good spot for afternoon tea or breakfast but definitely not for dinner.

And we went for a walk in Glendalough. All of the pines on the way up to the Spinc – which is a walk we sometimes do – have been cut down and replaced by native trees. I am sure it will be lovely in 20 years but at the moment the walk up is the abomination of desolation.

You win some you lose some. Still nice views from the monastic site:

and from the top.

And I am very excited about the mid-week break as a concept. I suppose this will dissipate when I return to the salt mines in the near future.

Driving Lessons

8 October, 2023
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

We missed the boat with herself and, due to Covid, she went to England without ever learning to drive. I was determined to get the boys sorted. It took a lot more bureaucracy than I expected.

Firstly they needed to get public service cards. As they were under 18 at the the time, I had to go with them to the centre where you get your public service card. I was confused by the queuing system in the centre. I asked another person waiting whether we needed a ticket and she responded in Ukrainian, that she didn’t understand. Well, this was the opportunity I had been waiting for. My lessons, my duolingo and my time spent listening to Ukrainian in the cesspit that is YouTube shorts were about to pay off. I repeated my question in Ukrainian. She looked baffled. Her teenage sons sniggered unhelpfully. My teacher said that part of the difficulty might be in the way I pronounce “ticket”; apparently, it sounds like “flower”. Alas.

Anyway, eventually, we sorted Dan’s card and Michael was the beneficiary of the scoping exercise I had carried out with Dan the previous day. The next day Michael and I were in and out in 10 minutes. One of the officials was the mother of a friend of his from school and while this made no difference to the speediness of the operation, it made us feel very well connected to the corridors of bureaucratic power.

Later, I was appalled to see that the cards ran out on their 18th birthday in September. The idea of going through it all again was very distressing. I am, however, pleased to report that following their birthday, new cards arrived automatically in the post. The relief.

Once they got PS cards they were able to do the driver theory test. If you have just done your Leaving Certificate, prepping for the driver theory test presents precisely zero difficulties. They sailed through it unlike their mother who failed the mock test they made her do online. In my defence, I would say that I answered some questions with what I thought they would like you to do rather than what I would actually do and, it turns out, what I was doing was actually right. Who knew? It was ironic that I shortly afterwards received a notification that my own licence was due to expire. However renewal is, in fairness to the driving licence people, extremely easy, if you have a licence already. Crucially, no resitting of any tests is required. I mean, maybe it should be?

Once they had their theory tests and PS cards, the boys could apply for provisional licences. Daniel, as a glasses wearer, needed a piece of paper from the optician following an eye test. We did it. Then I realised that everyone who wants a driving licence has to do an eye test, not just people who wear glasses. On balance, a good thing but back to the optician with Michael, of course, on the morning of our flight to Argentina. The optician’s credit card machine was broken. Extra trip back. Sigh. Anyhow, Michael’s form in and everything in order. Hurrah.

Then we got a message about Daniel’s form. Due to his eye condition, he needed a medical form as well within ten days or the application would not be progressed, his fee would be forfeit and he would have to start again. I rang the helpdesk, they were helpful. “We’re going on holidays today, we won’t make the 10 day deadline,” I said. “You can go to any GP at all,” said the nice man at the other end of the line. “We’re going to Argentina,” I said. A pause. “Look,” he said, “I will flag it on the application and maybe they will wait but it might be rejected.”

When we returned from Argentina, Michael’s provisional licence was there waiting for him. We went to the GP with Dan as soon as we could get an appointment (she got to look at his injured shoulder as well, so a win as it is €70 for a GP visit and it is nice to get more than a quick once over and a form filled in) and put in the form and, hallelujah, it was accepted and he too got a provisional licence. Though the physio said that he couldn’t actually drive for at least a month so no urgency really then.

Michael had his first actual lesson on the road at the start of September and was genuinely horrified by the power of fourth gear. He has to have a number of lessons with an instructor before he can be put on our insurance and drive with a parent (something that will be possible at the end of the month and, quite frankly, something we’re all dreading).

It’s funny that Michael is the most advanced in his progress towards actually having a driving licence because he has zero interest in it really, it’s just something useful to have. The other two are much keener. The physio has finally cleared Dan to have lessons and I actually think he will quite enjoy it. This will make a pleasant contrast with Michael who heads out to lessons with the demeanour of a condemned man and comes back a shadow of his former self. When these lessons are costing you a fortune, it is hard to take this with equanimity.

A friend of Mr. Waffle’s points out, most unhelpfully, that it is hardly worth their while to learn on a manual gear stick as they will be phased out for all cars by the end of the decade. However, our current car, on which they will be learning to drive, is a manual car so I really don’t think we had a lot of choice. It’s much harder, of course, but it will make them mentally strong, I am sure.

They’ll both be on our car insurance in the next month or so. That’s two 18 year olds. I shudder to contemplate what the cost will be. Good job I’m planning to go back to work. I don’t at all remember learning to drive being so administratively challenging when I learnt. Although, I did nearly send my mother to an early grave with my near misses (favourite expression deployed on my rounding a bend too quickly in the city centre, “What would you have done, if there had been a cow lying in the middle of the road?”). I vividly remember her clutching the door handle and pumping an invisible brake with her foot. At the time, I thought she exaggerated but I did notice that as I became a more experienced driver those behaviours disappeared. I suppose it is all ahead of me.

London

7 October, 2023
Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel

Saturday, August 26, 2023

We went back to the airport AGAIN. I’ll tell you this, I feel rather differently now about a flight of a mere 50 minutes.

We were travelling to London for our friends’ 25th wedding anniversary. Very generously they were putting us up at the Caledonian club which is where they were having their party. It is in a very salubrious part of London. We went out for a slightly pricey lunch and were pretty excited to see a statute of San Martín on the way.

Not to mention the Argentinian embassy or possibly residence. We pressed on and I bought a signed copy of the new Kate Atkinson book of short stories in Hatchard’s (which it turns out is now Waterstone’s, who knew?) – spoiler alert, a bit disappointing.

Thrillingly, on the way back, we passed the house of Chips Channon. I had read volume I of his diaries earlier in the year and bored everyone about it. He has a lot of content about 5 Belgrave Square and the Amalienburg dining room he installed at truly staggering expense.

I posted these pictures to the family group chat and they got the level of enthusiastic response you might expect. Herself did offer the information that that she was staying around the corner from us. Our paths did not in fact cross in London as we went to our assorted parties for different ages.

At our party, each anniversary guest had got a personalised letter from our hosts, welcoming us and saying how glad they were that we could come. They are setting a pretty high bar for future celebrations.

My expectations for dinner were quite low (club, big group) but the food was excellent. The evening was fantastic also. The guests were all about the same age, and it turned out, shared a lot of interests. Both Mr. Waffle and I knew loads of people there (always a formula for a good night out) but met loads of interesting new people as well. Our hosts had a quiz which was surprising but such good fun. There were a lot of academics present and one round was about who had written various books and articles. My favourite moment was the man who had forgotten that he had written some article and whose table hadn’t got the question right. I might just mention that my table won the quiz. Just saying.

Sunday, August 27, 2023

The following morning we had a sustaining breakfast at the club. Our hosts had arranged for anyone who was interested to go on a tour of Buckingham Palace which was nearby. I was interested (more grist to the mill for my children who say I have bootlicker tendencies) and Mr. Waffle tagged along as well. One of our hosts led the group to the Palace holding the tickets above his head and we all dutifully followed in his wake. I was quite impressed by the power of holding tickets in the air. People just let us through as a group and a policeman even cleared a path for the stragglers in the group to catch up. There was an unnerving moment when it looked like we might miss our slot due to the press of people admiring the changing of the guard, but a policewoman from Northern Ireland chivvied us through a gap.

Buckingham Palace was heaving but there is an audio guide and it’s all very well managed. They have an absolutely stunning art collection.

I enjoyed the trip very much and we had lunch in the garden café afterwards. What’s not to love? Mmm, lovely shoe leather, so tasty, so delicious.

Mr. Waffle said to me later in tones of horror, “Did you see how much the tickets were?” £33 apparently. I suppose King Charles needs the money. You could convert your day ticket into a season pass at the exit but since it’s only open for a month, you’d need to live in London to get value for it. It seems an odd way to manage things.

After lunch, Mr. Waffle and I peeled off to go to Hazlitt’s hotel where we had booked ourselves an extra night. Very nice.

I was quite struck by how clean the streets of Soho were. I mean, how can Soho be cleaner than Dublin? The receptionist in the hotel was Italian and we had a little chat in Italian which I enjoyed. I was still in “io parlo Italiano” mode.

Monday, August 28, 2023

We went out for breakfast to a nice café. “Why are there so many people here when they should be at work?” I asked indignantly. Ah, it was a bank holiday in England. This makes the spotless streets of Soho even more impressive.

We had a very relaxed trip out to the airport and passed peacefully to our gate. There was a huge crowd from the last flight. “Poor souls,” I thought blithely, “there’s obviously some problem with their flight.” As time marched on, there was no sign of our flight being called. “I’m just going to ask someone at the gate what’s going on,” I said to Mr. Waffle.

I nabbed a man at the gate. “Your flight’s cancelled and it won’t be leaving today,” he said. “Nothing is leaving today, air traffic control is down all over the UK. Go back to arrivals and pick up your luggage.”

I scurried back to Mr. Waffle and told him the news, urging him to speed along so we could beat the inevitable queue at the Aer Lingus desk. “But there’s nothing on the monitor,” he quibbled. This was the greatest test of our marriage. “Do you trust me?” I asked. Notwithstanding his belief that I might well have misunderstood and that there were no notifications on the monitor or anywhere else, he got up and followed me. Ladies and gentlemen, a triumph for trust.

He went into baggage reclaim to get our luggage back and I pressed on back to departures to see whether I could rebook our flight or find out what was going on. It was beginning to get a bit chaotic; people were in big queues trying to check in; no sign of anyone on an Aer Lingus desk. Eventually a woman in Aer Lingus kit, stood up and addressed the milling hordes. “Go home, nothing is flying out today, Aer Lingus will contact you by text with alternative arrangements.” I managed to re-book us in to Hazlitt’s, it’s an ill wind etc.

Meanwhile, Mr. Waffle was trying and failing to find our luggage. “Ask someone,” I said firmly on the phone. “But there’s no point,” said he. I insisted, he did and he was pointed to a big pile of luggage in the corner including ours. It was my day of triumph.

We went back into Hazlitt’s and then contacted Mr. Waffle’s sister.

One of the things I like about her is that she is a very calm person and never seems to get annoyed; she reminds me a lot of my mother-in-law. We had told her that we would be in London but our schedule was too busy to see her but now we wanted to spend the afternoon with her. “Come round,” she said cheerfully. And we had a very pleasant afternoon in the sunny suburbs of North London. And they made us cake.

She and her husband gave us two excellent recommendations as well: go to Zedel’s for dinner and take the Elizabeth line to Heathrow in the morning. Zedel’s was great (unprepossessing at street level with an amazing dining room underground) and the Elizabeth Line (around the corner from our hotel) was the business.

By late that evening, however, we had received no word from Aer Lingus. I rang the help desk after dinner and didn’t really expect to get through at 10 on a Monday night but I did eventually and they stuck us on a flight at 10 in the morning.

Tuesday, August 29, 2023

Can I again recommend the Elizabeth line? So shiny, so new, so handy. We had breakfast at the Perfectionist cafe in Heathrow. Quite a hard name to live up to, particularly in an airport, but actually, in fairness, pretty good, though pricey.

The flight home was painless and that was that.

I put in a claim to Aer Lingus subsequently and to my absolute amazement and with a minimum of paperwork they paid for Hazlitt’s (not cheap), Zedel’s (only cheap if you go for the prix fixe menu, we did not) and even the Perfectionist café. Chapeau. Delighted with Aer Lingus. Will I fly Aer Lingus again? You betcha. Just, ideally, not anytime soon. I’d like to stay home for a while.

Results Day

6 October, 2023
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

So, you will recall that we got back from Argentina on Wednesday August 23?

On Friday 25 we had Leaving Cert results for the boys. This is, obviously, the most important examination they will ever do in their lives. Sometimes I find that it is hard to convey tone in writing but, for clarity, this remark is dripping in sarcasm. It is, however, a very, very important Irish rite of passage and the main gateway to third level. God, we were all delighted. They did super well. We all went out to breakfast to celebrate and even though Michael ate nothing and had fortified himself with cornflakes prior to departure, the crowd was in very good form.

I am so glad for them both. It has just been a horrendous year with teacher supply shortages and after school classes or video classes or no classes. Their results made it a practical certainty that they would get their first choice in college (and to spare you the weekend of very mild suspense that we enjoyed, I can confirm that that is in fact what happened when first round offers came out the following week). They’ve both started their courses now – in two different universities in Dublin, one arts student, one science student, but both living at home (which is pretty standard in Ireland and pleasing for me) and, fingers crossed, it all seems to be going pretty well.

There were various rites of passage to follow results day, including a breakfast at school and the graduation dance which is known as the “debs” though, I think it’s fair to say, the students don’t really think of themselves as debutantes. This event is big business and a bus load of teenagers was taken to the midlands (you would think there would be venues in Dublin) at five in the evening; they partied all night and were deposited back in Dublin at five the following morning. When I went to my debs, neither today nor yesterday, you had to bring a partner but this seems to be strictly optional now which is all to the good, I think. Neither of my guys brought a partner but I did get to admire some of the other students’ dresses in the car park where they were waiting for the bus to take them away to their swanky destination. Notwithstanding the considerable stamina required, a good time seems to have been had by all.

But back to Friday 25, where did I have to go that afternoon? That’s right, the airport again. Herself was off to a friend’s party in London. Honestly, if I never saw another airport again, it would probably be too soon. This was unfortunate because, in a piece of poor timing, Mr. Waffle and I were off to London on the following day. Stay tuned for more details.