I did not update on 22 November because I came home from work and crawled into bed with a hot water bottle. But I will date this post yesterday and all will be well. I’m feeling a bit better today, thank you, but mainlining lemsip.
Dublin
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.
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.
The Pain of the Parish Pedant
We had the parable of the unjust judge at mass recently. The archbishop came. He gave a great sermon but it contained the following line: “scripture scholars tell us that it was not that this judge was corrupt or took bribes, it was just that he was disinterested”. I said to herself after mass, “Well what did you think of the archbishop?” She replied, “He doesn’t know the difference between uninterested and disinterested.” That’s my girl.
Conversations I Suspect Men Never Have
Text received from a friend: See you there at 1, I will be wearing a pink jacket to celebrate the continuing fine weather.
Upon her arrival, I said, “That jacket is more fuchsia than pink.” She replied, “Yes, I know, and I was going to say fuchsia but then I wasn’t sure how to spell it and I went to google it and then I just thought this is getting ridiculous and it’s too pretentious anyway, I’ll just say pink.”
First World Problems
As the professionals say, posting has been light. I have found the past month or so demanding as I went back to work and the children went back to school.
During my first week back at work, I found myself slipping out of a meeting with important people to rescue Michael from school where he declared himself (convincingly) to be sick. Mr. Waffle, who normally does the sick child trip, was in a meeting with no phone coverage. I went to school where a surprised and delighted (and crucially, in my view, quite well) Michael greeted me with ecstasy which was rather charming. We went home. In the utility room was the corpse of a mouse which the cat had brought in for inspection. I disposed of it. Mr. Waffle came home and I hared off across town on my bike to my next meeting.
We have a new childminder, who seems lovely, but we all have to get used to each other. And the children are still flattened from being back at school.
And then, this time of year brings heritage week (a man dressed up as Robert Boyle in the Casino Marino – excellent thanks although herself now wants a vacuum pump for Christmas); the Fringe Theatre Festival (Ashling Bea and James Walmsley – only mildly funny- and The Stoneybatter Strangler – really quite dreadful performed outdoors by a large cast with little talent and a chill wind blowing, mildly atmospheric in places); the Theatre Festival (A Feast of Bones – for children, a bit creepy but herself loved it and Sheridan’s The Critic where I struggled to stay awake for the first half but found the second half alright and the ending superb); Culture Night (where we saw a limited number of things: Tailor’s Hall, St. Audeon’s but had pizza); Open House (by now flagging, we only inspected two premises, one of them very small); and we went to the opening night of the documentary film festival where we saw “The Great Hip Hop Hoax” which was good but the interview with the Director afterwards was even better and added additional layers of context to what is already an extremely odd story; there was a fly-by (sounds more exciting than it was – lots of planes – new and old- flew up the river Liffey at quite dispersed intervals, town was jam packed and the children couldn’t be bothered to get out of the car to look); we went to the Dublin growers’ festival and got the apples from our three apple trees pressed into apple juice and possibly cider (the jury is still out on this last one); and the Princess and I went to Cork for the weekend (twice).
And I broke a molar and had to go for an unscheduled trip to the dentist.
And the boys turned 8.
And, as of today, Mr. Waffle is lame with a horribly swollen and blistered ankle. He is allergic to wasp stings and got stung yesterday. He also got stung the week before last. His parents have a wasp’s nest in the largest tree in their garden. One our children like to climb up and get stuck in.
Is it any wonder posting has been light?
