Michael: Do you know when Christmas begins for me?
Me: When?
Michael: November 1.
Mr Waffle: You are at one with the retail trade then.
Archives for November 2013
Cellar Infill Works
They’re building a new tram line in Dublin. As part of the works, they’re backfilling old Georgian cellars.
It’s a little odd to think of these old vaulted cellars under the road for centuries. They are all that remain of once grand houses long since pulled down and replaced by unlovely corporation flats. Many of the flats themselves are now boarded up and abandoned.
The Irish Georgian Society is displeased.
I can’t help but remember when Mr Waffle and I were dumbfounded many years ago in Canada by a chance to inspect grain silo number no.2 which was preserved as part of Montreal’s industrial heritage. Mr. Waffle feels that this is better than a cellar but I am unconvinced.
So is this
a) wanton destruction of Dublin’s Georgian heritage or
b) necessary for progress after all they are only cellars for God’s sake.
Your views in the comments, please. Ah go on.
A Lot of Lemon Meringue
Herself made lemon meringue. No one need go hungry. I would post a photo but the technology is being uncooperative. Not a classic post but it’s 11.15 on a Friday night after a long week.
Updated to add – the lemon meringue:
All Change
On Friday morning we got up half an hour earlier and walked to school [we almost always drive, alas]. It was a lovely morning. Michael had floated the idea in the first place having been to a talk with the school for sustainable energy week. However, on hitting the pavement he was less keen drooping visibly and complaining of a sore leg. As good luck would have it, at the first traffic light we met a group of other parents and children and Michael was miraculously restored to health and they all went running off together sharing the scooters out amongst themselves.
One of the fathers who often organises vouchers for the teachers for Christmas, said to me, “We’re going to get a voucher for Máistir A [the boys’ teacher], fiver a head.” “Great,” said I mentally applauding his advance planning but not, you know, handing over the tenner on the spot. When we got to school it transpired that the Máistir had got a new job in Kerry [where he is from] and was starting on Monday. Although the school had been told a month previously, the children weren’t told until the day before to avoid distraction.
Apparently on Thursday a note came home in the school bags. But there was no homework on Thursday as the Sam Maguire and some of Dublin’s winning all-Ireland team had come to the school, so we hadn’t opened the bags. The children had been told but when asked whether there was any news from school they answered as follows:
Herself: No
Daniel: No
Michael: Yes, I was put on the balla dána by Múinteoir S [a cruel and unusual punishment that you may have to google].
Not a word about the máistir’s departure which I take it means that they are untraumatised. I’m a bit shocked myself but that’s life I suppose. The boys are getting a teacher who is very popular – he was out for the start of the year having surgery on his leg and he is just coming back now. 3rd class are the envy of the school. It’s an ill wind, I suppose.
Bookish
Yesterday we cycled up to the library en famille. Some of us went on the pavement but that’s ok because the stretch between the top of our road and our local library must be one of the busiest roads in the country. When we came home, this was the happy scene:
Have I mentioned how much I wish that our budget would stretch to either changing the previous owner’s sofa or her curtains [Mr. Waffle describes the combined effect as “do not adjust your set”].
Then today we went to the launch of “The Hatching” at the Dublin Book Festival and it was terrific. The author [a ghost-writer for 12 year old Annie Graves] gave a couple of great readings and the children were spellbound. We then went to the book clinic where the book doctor diagnosed your reading needs and gave you a prescription for books you might like. The Princess particularly enjoyed this as, having read everything, she put them to the pins of their collars. She was interviewed by the man doing a documentary on the festival and she enjoyed that too.
I was particularly impressed by the man who worked with Michael and seemed very familiar with the work of Dav Pilkey and other authors Michael particularly enjoys. Have you not heard of “Captain Underpants”? You haven’t lived. Daniel did not go to the book doctor as he was curled up on a beanbag reading and preferred to stay where he was.
And then we went for pizza.
There are More Things on Heaven and Earth, Horatio
Daniel got to read a prayer of the faithful for the first time on Sunday which he did with aplomb, accuracy and great bravery [and speed]. Meanwhile Michael was off at the children’s session where he was busy looking for proof of the existence of Jesus. Apparently, the woman in charge told him that the Romans were terrific record keepers which may not be a theologically accurate response but did the job as far as I was concerned until his sister said, “Well, of course, we know he existed from Roman records but whether he was the Messiah or some kind of mad man remains unclear.” “If only we could travel back into the past and check like the Termoonator,” said Michael. “I think you mean the Terminator,” I said. “Is he a cow?” asked Michael.
