For dinner last night I had:
1 packet of Monster Munch
1 packet of chickatees
1 packet of crisps
3 fangtastics
1 miniature packet of love hearts
1 bite of wagon wheel [turns out they are revolting, who knew?]
We have three large shopping bags full of loot in the utility room.
For costumes, we had Wally:
and a bat:
and an elusive third child.
What excitements did you have?
Last weekend I went to Cork with the children. We left at 11 on Saturday morning with a view to arriving about 2 for a late lunch. We all had a bite to eat before we left but we were going to be hungry when we arrived. My saintly sister said that she would have lunch ready for us.
Regrettably, the Jack Lynch tunnel which guards the entrance to Cork from Dublin* was operating a contra-flow system due to works. Apparently the bank holiday weekend was the best time to do this. It took us two hours to cover 6kms and we arrived into my parents’ house at 4 starving and cranky.
My father, rather tactlessly, said, “Oh yes, I knew about that, it was in the Examiner.” “You didn’t think I might be interested?” I asked bitterly. Of course, this was the kind of news item that was never going to be covered in the Dublin Intelligencer. Anyhow, we recovered. I was amused to receive a, somewhat contrite, letter from him during the week with a cutting. The Dublin Intelligencer continues to be above matters in the second city so no news likely from there.
*Obviously, very easy to seal off when the revolution begins.
I do not like to keep things in the attic. My parents’ attic is full of stuff. Mr. Waffle’s parents’ attic is full of stuff. He said that when he was growing up, broken things were put in the attic to “self-heal”. I know what he means. I have never been in the attic of my house and, as far as I know, it is entirely empty. And I’d like it to stay that way.
I love things to be tidy. Colleagues have been known to recoil when entering my office. It’s tidy. My family are not tidy. If you don’t give things away, you cannot be tidy. I am like a changeling. I have been trying, with absolutely no success, to make the Princess tidy. She suffers from the twin issues of loving stuff and believing that it is not a problem, if you let stuff lie where it falls. She and I fundamentally differ in this regard.
For some time she has been waging a campaign to get into my parents’ attic. I have been a regular visitor as I have been looking for the leg of a table, the top of which is at the back of my parents’ wardrobe and the whole of which I am hoping to get to my house in due course. You would think that a large Victorian table leg would be easy to find, but you would be utterly wrong. I looked – several times; my sister looked; even my brother looked. To no avail.
On this last adventure, the Princess finally got her heart’s desire and came up to the attic with me. Her objective was to retrieve my Great Uncle Dan’s gas mask [given out during the war and definitely in the attic – but where?]. I didn’t hold out high hopes as, if a whole table leg could disappear, then finding a gas mask was a practically insuperable problem. We did not find the gas mask. We did, however, find the table leg under the eaves on the left. Rejoice. Here’s a picture of the table leg [currently residing in the utility room until the top can be brought up from Cork].
I stood there in the attic looking at the mountains of stuff and I said to my daughter, severely “Look around you; this is what happens, if you never throw anything out.” Then, I realised that her eyes were shining and the attic was possibly the most magical place she had ever been. She brought back to Dublin: an old dial phone, a mug with a rose, two boxes and a china bowl with a hole in the bottom. She is desperate to get back up. I may not quite have conveyed to her the message I was hoping to get across.
Due to the works to which, apparently, the whole of Dublin city centre is subject indefinitely, the children’s school has no water tomorrow and will have to close.
Time this information was conveyed to the school: 2.00 pm
Time that Mr. Waffle and I learnt this information: 6.30 pm
Number of meetings Mr. Waffle and I have tomorrow morning: 1 each
Number of days which the children had off last week: 5 (mid-term)
Sentiments of children: Overwhelming delight
Sentiments of parents: Distinctly less delight
Any domestic crises yourselves?
We have been visiting secondary schools with a view to finding somewhere the Princess might like to attend next year which would also have room to have her. More challenging than you might imagine.
She and I went to see an establishment set in the middle of several playing fields. “Ah,” I said inhaling, “the smell of school: grass and chalkdust.” She sniffed dubiously, “I don’t think so, school smells of tarmac and spit.”
I was cycling along a quiet road while also using my phone. A passing motorist stopped in the middle of the road and got out of her car to upbraid me. Feeling slightly guilty, I stood there by the side of the road meekly apologising as this threatening middle aged woman roared at me.
To my amazement, a passing young woman in her little beanie hat interposed herself between me and the driver and said, “Leave her alone, stop shouting at her.” Then she turned to me and said, “Are you alright?” as the vanquished dragon drove off still seething. I was very touched. As someone pointed out to me later she probably thought I was a little old lady who needed to be defended.
Abuse about cycling while phoning in the comments please.
