belgianwaffle

It’s a Social Whirl

15 April, 2026 Leave a Comment
Posted in: Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Twins, Youngest Child

It was my birthday in March. Herself was home (day after her poor great Uncle’s funeral) which was great. We were to go for breakfast together but alas, a logistical issue with an application arose for her and we spent much of the morning trying (unsuccessfully) to resolve this before heading off for breakfast at 11 and then on to the airport after a short walk. While, obviously, it was delightful to have her here, it’s hard to say that taking your daughter to the airport so that she can return to the land of her exile is a complete highlight but, as she pointed out, she was due back at Easter so I would probably survive.

My family delivered on my birthday with a number of subscriptions including cheese (sister) and flowers (middle child). Very thrilling. Even youngest child remembered and sent a card (dates wouldn’t be his strong point). This only scratches the surface of the excellent presents received from all parties. How I love my birthday.

To recover from dispatching the exile, I went in to Bewley’s for a restorative cup of tea and the waitress recognised me from previous adventures and basically asked why I wasn’t at work. “It’s my birthday, I’m off!” I said. She gave me free tea. God, I was thrilled.

Mr. Waffle also has a birthday in March so the Dublin contingent went out to dinner to celebrate. I don’t know that he really enjoys his birthday as much as he should. I think he feels he’s too old for this but I will never be too old.

It was sobering though to go to a friend’s 60th birthday drinks. That is old. Because Ireland is small a former colleague was there who turned out to be the birthday boy’s sister in-law’s daughter’s husband. Try to keep up.

I have been out for dinner a number of times with my tennis buddies moving on from the more challenging on court engagement to an arena where I truly shine. Speaking of tennis, on Palm Sunday I went to an early mass in a church where there are a number of regular crazy people in the congregation and the environment can be a little exciting but it had an early and speedy mass which I needed to get to a tennis match at 10.

To my surprise in the pew along from me there were some very clean cut enthusiastic Americans (mid-Westerners, so wholesome) responding clearly and crisply throughout (not a feature of the Irish congregation which is given to the holy mumble) and I felt that they might have gone astray in this city so I talked to them afterwards and it turned out their son was studying in Dublin and they had come to visit him. “It’s actually my first time…” began the son. “At mass since you came to Dublin?” I inquired based on knowledge of other people of his age. He was shocked. “No, in this church, I usually go to the pro-Cathedral.”

I scooted on to tennis and told my opponent about the encounter. “You go to mass??” said she. “Yes,” I said, a bit defensively. Apparently, I am not a beacon for the faith. “I’m amazed,” said she, “it’s just that I thought you were a Protestant.” Honestly, with my name I could never be; it looks like sectarianism may be on the way out. Or maybe she just thought I looked like I would be good at crafts (I am not good at crafts).

On that self-same day, I then had breakfast out with my husband, went to my bookclub for the afternoon and returned to welcome my sister to our home like the gracious hostess, I am. A bit too much perhaps.

Is this why I’m losing my mind? I went to Carlingford with Mr. Waffle a couple of weeks ago and I said to him, “Can we go to that place I like?” “What place, a walk, a sight, a cafe?” he asked. “You know, you know,” I said. “I do not,” said he. I rummaged deep in the recesses of my brain and said, “You know… Mornington Grove”. There was a long pause and then he said, “Do you mean Strandfield?” Truly, that was impressive work.

Month’s Mind

14 April, 2026 Leave a Comment
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

Herself came home very briefly in March to come to her great uncle’s funeral. He was a lovely, lovely man. She was a prime favourite with him as he was a teacher and you know how a teacher loves a clever child. He was also absolutely hilarious and we all found him great company. The Christmas before last we were all together and, honestly, he was the star of the show.

This Christmas he came to our house just before Christmas and he seemed absolutely fine. His son was home from Spain for Christmas with his young family and the great uncle picked up a camp bed from us while he was here. I mean, just to show. And though he was 85, he was sharp as a tack and, just…well. But apparently not. He got sick after Christmas and went into hospital in late February and died in March.

His poor son in Australia flew home (36 hours as the Middle East was closed) and just missed seeing him before he died which was very sad but they were very close and spoke regularly so not so bad, I guess.

My sister-in-law came back from England as well and it was very nice to see her and the extended family. Poor old youngest child wasn’t able to get home from his Erasmus exile but watched the live stream from his student bedroom; I wouldn’t call it ideal.

The last surviving sibling in that family – my husband’s uncle was there as well. He’s really like his brothers and reminded me so much of my late father-in-law – just a very funny, charming person. It made me sad but he also made me laugh. He is almost 90 and seems very hale and hearty. Let us hope Mr. Waffle has these genes. The funeral was in the chapel attached to the school where the deceased uncle had attended himself, taught, and where his sons had also gone to school so he was very well known to the (pretty good) turn out of priests who were there for the service which was a good one. A clatter of young men from the school attended also which was a nice touch and came and dutifully shook hands with the relatives afterwards.

Outside the crematorium, keen eyed Mr. Waffle saw a memorial to Oscar Wilde’s father. Small world, eh?

We went for lunch with the mourners after and said goodbye to everyone. I really felt for the immediate family, they all seemed a bit shell-shocked. It’s definitely better for everyone when someone is well (and old obviously) and dies quickly but it’s such a shock for relatives in the moment; alas.

Ennis Book Festival

13 April, 2026 2 Comments
Posted in: Ireland, Travel

I went to Ennis book festival with my Sunday book club last month. It’s a book festival aimed at book clubs. They know what side their bread is buttered on.

Friday March 6, 2026

I had a cold all week and woke up on Friday morning, sick as a dog. A wiser person would have cancelled at that point. Am I a wiser person? I think we both know the answer to that. I took the train down, snuffling the while. Ennis is in Co. Clare and, if you knew the geography of Ireland at all, you probably wouldn’t go there via Co. Galway but that was the train route that was available at the time I wanted and I took it. It was long. As we were outside Athenry, I saw this from the train window.

The “Fields of Athenry” were not quite what I was expecting.

The train journey was uneventful except for my belief that I might die. I went through several packets of tissues. It was awful. Not helped at all by a group of women up the train who, in contrast to everyone else in the carriage , were having a grand loud chat, had lots of opinions (not all of which I agreed with, is Malta really only for pensioners?) and generally drove me bananas.

I had a surreptitious look at them when we were changing trains – they looked like me and my friends. Do you know how the people you dislike the most are the ones who other people might think are like you but you know are very, very different. The narcissism of small difference is the expression I’m reaching for. I found it ominous that they too were going to Ennis.

I was amused to see this poster at the entrance to the railway station when I arrived. I’m not sure I would be bigging up my links to the West Clare Railway.

Ennis itself is really delightful. It’s like some kind of platonic ideal of an Irish market town. The centre is largely car free though this does lead to the outskirts of the town being basically several big car parks. Public transport in Co. Clare doesn’t seem to be what it might be.

I crawled into bed when I got to the hotel. For reasons that were unclear to me, I was upgraded to a suite in the slightly old-fashioned but perfectly acceptable hotel. Just as well because (spoiler alert), that was mostly where I was going to be for the weekend.

The others arrived and the whatsapp was full of discussions of dinner in the bar – one of our number had just arrived from Luxembourg and I was keen to hear her news – but I knew my limitations and ordered room service. Ominously, although the steak sandwich was excellent, I didn’t fancy eating it and only had a couple of mouthfuls before retiring again. I then spent the night throwing up. Between the cold and the food poisoning (or could it have been norovirus, if so I am very sorry for the mostly elderly people on the train whom I may have taken out), I thought my final hour had come. It was unbelievably miserable.

Saturday March 7, 2026

I got up and had a shower. Something of a triumph. I went downstairs for breakfast and had some unbuttered toast and tea forswearing the delights of the breakfast buffet.

We had a book quiz to partake in as part of the festivities. I was disgusted but unsurprised to see my nemeses from the train at another table. This, however, only added to my delight when we won the quiz (€25 book voucher each) though. And I didn’t throw up. I was thrilled but still a bit delicate and constantly blowing my nose. We had a terrible team name (forgotten) and when explaining this subequently to my loving family they suggested we should have been called “Pride and haven’t read this” and I respectfully submit this to you in case it might be of use to you some day.

We went to a session with Cecilia Ahern and Bryan Dobson where each of them recommended and spoke about five recommended books. I really took to Cecilia Ahern (none of whose books I have yet read but I might) but that view was not universal in the group. Anyhow, if you’re interested, these are their recommended books.

We all went for lunch but that was a mistake on my part and having thrown up my lunch I left the group and went back to bed while they went off to explore the town. I regretted the necessity of skipping this adventure but I just had to go back to my sick bed.

Revived by an afternoon in bed I went to a session in the hotel on historical fiction with Andrew Miller, Sarah Waters and Nuala O’Connor which was interesting and quite enjoyable and, best of all, I started to feel a little hungry.

We had booked dinner in a nice restaurant – the Old Town Hall – should you fancy a nice dinner in Ennis, I can recommend. Most of the speakers seemed to be staying in the hotel upstairs and, indeed, Andrew Miller was peacefully eating and reading his book at the table behind us. I ate an entire dinner, I didn’t throw up. Sadly, I still felt a bit under the weather and retired early leaving the others happily chatting over dessert. Truly the lot of the invalid is not a happy one.

Sunday 8 March

I woke up feeling, to be honest for the first time since the previous Monday, really quite a bit better. Unlike my travelling companions I was still unable to face the full Irish breakfast but I had toast with butter and marmalade which represented a real improvement.

The last thing I went to see was a live recording of the radio show Sunday Miscellany. Many, many people are Sunday Miscellany fans and it sounds like the kind of thing I would like but it’s not. I’m not really a big listener to live radio and somehow it only really fits on a Sunday morning – it’s a bit of new writing read aloud and some music – generally pretty soothing but not for me. I only went along because some of the others were going. I don’t know whether it was my rapidly advancing recovery or the impact of live music and live reading (I am generally not a huge fan of live music though, I know myself to be a philistine* in this regard) but I found it absolutely enthralling, it was my highlight of the weekend. If you wish you may listen back here and here (they divided it into 2 shows). I expect it is not as good to listen back to as it was to listen to in person but there it is.

I then took the train back to Dublin by the more direct route. Should I have gone? On balance, I think probably not. Will I remember this conclusion another time? I doubt it. Would I go to the Ennis book festival again? Certainly.

*Do you ever think about the Philistines and the unfairness of how they are remembered?

A Londoner

12 April, 2026 6 Comments
Posted in: Princess

Herself is working in London. She spent some time living in Chelsea (delightful part of the world in my view) but it was a bit pricey for her (and perhaps a bit staid) and she is now ensconced in her happy place (North London, since you’re asking, leaving behind the groves of Chelsea Physick Garden). She loves London.

The job in the City seems to keep her in until all hours. I often get a call from her at 10 or 11 at night in the taxi home from work. It is a bit grim. I wouldn’t say she loves it. But a steady income is not to be sneezed at. I have spent many years telling her not to stick at a job she hates, I hope I haven’t been too persuasive in that regard.

She spent a good while last year supporting herself by tutoring and although it did allow her greater flexibility (when she was in Italy on holidays she enterprisingly rented a room and kept tutoring- only about €16 an hour to rent a small office, who’d have thought it?), it was a slightly precarious existence. Perhaps she is destined to return to it, at least temporarily.

Swings and roundabouts, I guess.

I do wonder whether she will ever come home – and she may yet move further afield than London.

Among the many things that have flooded into my house from my parents’ house like a tidal wave are letters. The letters my mother wrote home to her mother from England and my own letters to my mother from Belgium. Although the Princess and I have the, basically free, video call, in a throwback to an earlier age, I still send her letters occasionally. Three generations of emigrants, right here. Admittedly, relatively affluent, lucky emigrants, going for exciting opportunities rather than necessity but emigrants all the same with all that that entails.

These thoughts are prompted by her birthday which is today. 23, who would have thought it? Not me for sure.

It turns out that the years are, in fact, short.

Not Oiling the Wheels

11 April, 2026 4 Comments
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

The centre of Dublin and many of the main roads around the country have been closed by protesting truckers and agricultural contractors (they are annoyed about the price of petrol and diesel, aren’t we all? I await my next electricity bill with some unease). They are also blocking some of the access to oil from the refineries/ports and we are beginning to run out of oil on the forecourts. As you know, I am a cyclist and I have been able to whizz around the city with less traffic than usual but this is all a bit weird. It reminds me a little bit of Covid; especially with the difficulties people are starting to have getting to hospital appointments; getting home help visits and so on; mercifully the schools are still off for the Easter holidays. I’ll tell you what, I’m not sure we’ve reached peak oil in this jurisdiction; a lot of things seem to need petrol to run. Here are some photos live from the front lines (commute to work).

Turbulent Times

7 April, 2026 4 Comments
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

Mr. Waffle and I climbed the Sugar Loaf on Good Friday. It was extremely windy and we were nearly blown away. I have never before experienced such strong wind on that mountain which, despite the excellent views and impressive appearance, is generally an extremely straightforward climb. I once met a pre-school class on the top and one of the little girls had brought her bag on wheels (just to give you the picture).

Still, despite the wind, it was a very satisfactory day out, all the more so as when we left Dublin it was absolutely lashing and we nearly didn’t go at all. In the end we brought our rain gear and didn’t even need it.

I bought some linen napkins in Enniskerry afterwards. Middle aged thrills.

You might have thought that as my youngest child had returned to these shores (briefly, for Easter) from his Erasmus placement abroad, I would be spending all my time with him but you would have reckoned without his extremely full social calendar. He came back on Wednesday morning (April 1) and immediately plunged into a social whirl.

I was delighted with myself on Wednesday morning when I sent a message to the family group chat saying “Aaargh, youngest child’s flight is diverted to Heathrow, first born can you help?” Herself rang straight away with many questions and I revealed it was an April fool. Mr. Waffle was using the flight tracker and utterly baffled. Middle child sent a message saying, “You infidels have no need to blow up my phone before 8 in the morning” so not everyone was fooled. It was my greatest April fool ever and no one was even cross with me (which can be a risk).

Herself was due to come home on Saturday evening and I was dutifully waiting at the airport when looking at the flight tracker I saw her plane doing pretty elaborate loops. It was extremely windy and, alas, they took her back to London without landing. I was so relieved that she was alive that I resigned myself to her not being here for Easter. It was all pretty hairy she told us afterwards: “I’ve never been on a flight before where everyone screamed at the same time.”

She spent the night in the Radisson in Heathrow airport (congratulations to Hamish and Nishal on their wedding which was going really well judging by the background noises). And, thrills and delight got in to Dublin the next morning. Middle child and I had an extremely elaborate breakfast waiting for her (youngest child still in bed, note social life comments earlier) – see those new napkins getting their first outing.

Weird aside, there were about 30 young men from an American school from Ohio at mass in their blazers and the priest said that they were here to play rugby. I have many questions.

We went to the in-laws for lunch (oh happy day) and spent the day with the extended family. It was really nice to see everyone and even though the children played monopoly together which, in my experience, is generally not a recipe for a good time, I think everyone did, in fact, have a good time.

On Monday we saw Mr. Waffle’s sister and her family for lunch; went for a walk; and then dropped herself to the airport. This was not without its alarms as BA had cancelled the return leg of her flight for their own obscure reasons but all was well in the end.

Today, Mr. Waffle and I cycled to Howth and although it was pretty pleasant it is quite far away and I am exhausted from my efforts.

Our beloved youngest child is joining us for dinner tonight before he flies back to his Erasmus exile at the crack of dawn. It’s my last day off work and I guess the Easter excitement is nearly over.

How was your own Easter?