belgianwaffle

Mr. Waffle

Not Biblical


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

A couple of weeks ago I was cycling along in the rain and did something that I haven’t done in about 20 years. I got my bike caught in the tramlines, a deeply unpleasant experience. However, when it happened to me in Brussels, I was younger and fitter and I remember coming down quite hard. My usual cycling pace is now just faster than a walk and I knew that would be a good thing at some point. I fell over gracelessly but very slowly, sprawling full length on the damp cobbles. The only injury sustained, other than to my dignity and my coat, was a nasty bruise on my ring finger. Two passers-by rushed to help me up. As I thanked them, I recognised them as fellow parishioners.

I told Mr. Waffle about the mishap that evening. “And guess who the good Samaritans who picked me up were?” He failed to guess. I told him. “Rather, entry level good Samaritan isn’t it: someone you know from the parish, not very badly injured.” Fine.

Turn of Phrase


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

When two cars have a minor collision, I refer to it as a “tip” or even “a little tip”. Mr Waffle has said that he has never heard anyone else say this and it must be a Cork expression. Can this be possible? Everyone in Cork I checked with was aware of the expression but no Dubliners. Anyone else use this outside the Pale or further afield? Answers appreciated; I’m at the desk-based research stage of this argument.

Digital Detox or Intimations of Mortality


Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Michael, Mr. Waffle

Did you know that my thumb started to get sore from reading things on my phone and constantly refreshing twitter and instagram? How embarrassing would it be if I gave myself arthritis from playing on my phone? So I cut back a bit. I was using my phone so much less that I went to Cork for the weekend without a charger and my phone died. I discovered that I am not ready to go entirely cold turkey either.

Then the night before the boys’ confirmation on June 9 (more details in a further post, something for you to look forward to), I was sitting peacefully on the sofa when my neck got stuck and was really, really sore. The day of the boys’ confirmation it was pretty painful and, aside from when they were in the church being confirmed, I had a heat pack on my neck the whole time. Woe, alas, alack. My neck got better but the pain spread to my back, so I went to visit a physiotherapist who suggested that basically, my problem was looking down at my phone the whole time. So further detoxing.

And then the computer died. We now have a new one, momentous day. So, with one thing and another, posting has been light. But now, with the new PC, I am back. Stay tuned.

However let me polish off my back related news in one post; Mr. Waffle slipped and fell down the stairs at work. He was spectacularly bruised and also completely immobile for ages. As he started to get better, he said to me, “I’m still sore, though, and it’s been a week since my fall. Am I old enough to say ‘my fall’ now?” I don’t think so but I suppose it’s only a question of time.

The Magic of Poetry


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess

Mr. Waffle is fond of Yeats’s poem, In Memory of Eva Gore-Booth and Con Markievicz. He often quotes it, particularly in the summer, although it’s not a particularly summery poem overall. The other evening, Herself drifted in to us wearing her dressing gown at bedtime, “Ah,” said Mr. Waffle, “Two girls in silk kimonos, both/ Beautiful, one a gazelle.” “Huh,” said Herself, “What was the other, a badger?”

83:17


Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

I went to a talk recently by a distinguished American scholar on behavioural economics. It was grand. I managed to restrain myself from going up afterwards to tell him that his wife’s first cousin was a good friend of mine from school (welcome to Ireland) although based on his (possibly too extensive for his audience’s liking) introduction about his wedding, I think he would have liked that.

One of the things he mentioned in passing was that it was a rare household where when you asked husband and wife how domestic work was divided between them the total came to 100%. I decided to test this hypothesis at home.

Here are the scores that were returned.

Me – Mr. Waffle 60%: Me 40% [I was being generous]
Mr. Waffle – Mr. Waffle 50%: Me 50% [He is very right on]
Herself – Mr. Waffle 60%: Me 40% [My work is less visible than his]
Michael – Mr. Waffle 60%: Me 40% [Really, my work is less visible than his]
Daniel – Mr. Waffle 83%: Me 17% [Seriously?]

I was outraged by Daniel’s score, the root of which is clearly that my work picking up shoes, laundry and other dropped items is completely invisible. Bitter.

In a, probably not entirely helpful, development since the introduction of the American economist’s aside into our lives I have taken to saying in a bitter undervoice as I go about my alloted tasks, “All part of the 17% service.”

It’s a fun game for you all to try out at home. Let me know how you get on.

The Essence of Romance


Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Mr. Waffle went away for work on Thursday and came back on Friday. Sadly, this meant he missed the boys’ service of light which is part of the new super duper extended disco remix of the confirmation ceremony (they will be making their actual confirmation in June – fun fact, the Irish for confirmation is “dul faoi lámh an Easpaig” literally meaning to go under the hand of the bishop but when herself was confirmed the bishop was not available, am hoping boys will do better – I was only confirmed by an auxiliary bishop myself so we have poor form here).

The ceremony was held in the school which I was a bit dubious about but in fact it was absolutely lovely. The two violinists in the class whose progress we have been tracking over religious ceremonies for many years, have really improved, the children knew their lines, they sang beautifully and the evening sun streamed in through the tall Georgian windows and lit up the beautiful drawing room which is now the sixth class classroom and features children’s collages on the walls as well as the work of Dublin’s finest 18th century stuccadores on the ceiling. Daniel and Michael had their actual baptismal candles which I regarded as an organisational triumph but sadly I should have road tested them as the wicks were a bit short and they went out. The boys were displeased although I think more generally, they enjoyed the ceremony. Not as much as they enjoyed the Domino’s pizza beforehand though.

My sister who is recovering from an operation was well enough to come up and it was lovely to see her. The Princess came along under duress but loved it. It’s been a couple of years since she has visited the school but all the teachers and the principal have been following her progress and congratulated her on her various achievements and I think she was pleased. As it happens, two of her best friends from primary school have younger sisters in the boys’ class so they were there too and the three of them ran around the school commenting on how small the desks were. She showed me where they had written their names on the wall behind the radiator. “Where’s your name?” I asked. “Further down,” she said, “I was more scared of the authorities”.

The shopping was delivered on Thursday night and on Friday morning, I discovered that toilet paper had not been included in the delivery. I gave herself a tenner and asked her to pick some up on the way home from school. My sister offered herself a lift to school which she gratefully accepted. My sister also offered to buy toilet paper but I felt that it was too much to ask a recovering patient. Normally Mr. Waffle looks after all these things as he is self-employed and flexible (as he often points out, self-employed does not mean never has to work and can do errands but it’s an uphill battle getting that message across). The boys and I went out to the shed to pick up our bikes and I noticed that the Princess’s bike was missing. Good job her aunt gave her a lift. I texted herself, “I hope your bike is in school as it’s not in the shed.” About 11.30 she called me at work. Could I collect her as she was sick? I could not as school finishes early on Fridays and by the time I had cycled home and picked up the car, she’d have made it home under her own steam. How I missed my self-employed husband. Unable to do anything for my sick child I offered, “Look, don’t worry about picking up the toiled paper.”

She made her own way home. “Your bike was in school,” I said. “Look,” she said, “I’m not proud of this but I cycled to the library after school yesterday and locked my bike outside, then I forgot it was there and walked home.” It’s quite a step. However, the bike was still there on Friday and she was able to retrieve it and bring it home. And she bought toilet paper. I let her keep the change.

Mr. Waffle came home at 10 last night. As I said to him, he should go away more often as it helps me to appreciate him even more. As I write, he is off collecting the boys’ new bikes from a soulless shopping centre and he’s already done two loads of washing. My hero.

Buy Lasix (Furosemide) Online without Prescription - from only $0.35! Buy Priligy online. Order Dapoxetine without prescription | Heals Assistants Buy Prednisolone (Omnacortil) Online without Prescription - from only $5.95! Buy Antabuse (Disulfiram) Online without Prescription - from only $0.55!