If you had asked me which of my children would be the first to learn to drive, the answer would not have been Michael who always had very little interest in driving. But due to a combination of circumstances (herself was caught by Covid and then went abroad; Daniel injured himself), he was the first to do the 12 mandatory lessons and last weekend Mr. Waffle and I both took him out for a spin (he can only drive with a fully- licensed person). I was honestly petrified at the prospect but, do you know what? He can drive, it’s grand. I am amazed. With the waiting lists it will be a year or so before he can do his test and he needs some practice anyhow , I suppose. Insurance until August when our policy renews is…wait for it…drum roll…an extra €812. And Daniel begins mandatory lessons this week. I genuinely think we’re approaching the point where insurance and maintenance might be more than our 9 year old car is actually worth.
Mr. Waffle
Return to Work
I put in four days last week. Monday was a bank holiday. It definitely felt like five.
I spent the week trying to get to grips with my new role, meeting my new team, sorting out the office, the IT, the HR stuff and all the rest of it. My boss is lovely. Thank God.
So far I have identified four advantages of my return to work:
- My weekends are back. Honestly, when you’re not working, Friday evening loses all its magic and Saturday and Sunday are just days.
- I’m getting paid.
- I am no longer Santa’s main liaison. Mr. Waffle will be reprising that role this year. It’s very stressful, I assure you.
- This is probably more about me than other people but I find it much easier to justify my place in the world now that I am back at work. It shouldn’t be so , but I’m afraid it is.
Advantages or no , I am feeling strong Sunday night feelings tonight and I do not like it.
The Condemned Man
Earlier this week, I went for a cycle in the park with my loving husband. The place was pretty much deserted on a damp Monday afternoon.
We had a cup of tea at the lake.
Then we headed for home where we arrived safely notwithstanding the fact that this stag looked pretty dubious about our bikes. You have to imagine the sound effects – Mr. Waffle saying in increasingly urgent but low pitched tones, “Don’t stop to take a picture, keep cycling.”
The weather was lovely on Wednesday and I went for a swim in the sea with my friend who swims in the sea every day of the year. She has several pairs of magic little bootees which fool your body into thinking it’s not going to be unbelievably cold. I am a big fan. I think I might buy my own for summer time swimming which would look stupid but do I even care anymore? It was lovely swimming – yes really – and then we went for lunch afterwards.
We went to Wicklow overnight with the in-laws. Of the younger generation, only Michael and the youngest cousin (6) came but they both seemed to have a good time. Daniel was home alone for the first time. Delighted.
It was lovely to see everyone and my only regret was the bank holiday traffic which was horrendous. In fairness Wicklow (the garden of Ireland as it styles itself) was looking pretty good.
My sister was in Dublin for the weekend and came to dinner last night. It was great to see her. To my absolute horror I realised that her birthday is coming up in November and somehow, in all of the other excitement, I am not as on top of her present as I might be. Never mind, there’s still time. She filled me in on her extensive building works – she’s moved out until Christmas at least. Terrifying.
Today Mr. Waffle and I cycled to Howth, stopping off for breakfast on the way. I raced him back – I wanted to cycle and he was going to get the suburban train, the DART which allows you to bring your bike on board on bank holidays. I got home first but, alas for him, he had to cycle as well as the DART was undergoing bank holiday Monday repairs. I feel that correct competition conditions were not observed. Howth was looking lovely although there was a woman photographing a rat sitting up and eating some fruit and nuts on the pier. “He’s only a baby and people keep leaving stuff out for him,” she explained. He looked very large for a baby, if you ask me.
I am fully decorated for Halloween tomorrow.
Although none of my decorations are as effective as those of my neighbours up the road who have impaled turnip heads on the spikes of their garden fence.
A busy week. What am I trying to avoid thinking about? Why the return to work tomorrow. It has been fantastic being off. I’ve been lucky to do it. And the job I’m going back to will be grand, I think. But currently this music is playing on repeat in my head. As the young people say, “If you know, you know.” Wish me luck.
Travel Round Up
I mean not super exotic travel but travel nonetheless.
Mr. Waffle was in Bruges, at a college class reunion thing; a broadly good time was had by all. Except the cat. She is fed by Mr. Waffle, inter alia, before bed. At 10.30, she takes up her position on the corner of the rug and begins looking at him imploringly. In his absence, she stared at the couch, clearly hoping he was going to materialise and having zero faith that I would feed her.
Herself, before returning to England, went to Cork where she was feted and petted by her adoring uncle and aunt.
An otherwise uneventful trip was made exciting by the travel arrangements. She needed a 19-23 id card for the student ticket for the train. It only arrived on the morning she was leaving but, sadly, after she had actually left. I had driven her to the station in the driving rain and heavy traffic and there was no way we would have time to turn back. I was resigned to buying a full fare ticket at the station but then her father – like a superhero in waterproofs – cycled to the station and gave her the ID. Honestly, quite a bit more thrilling than it sounds.
Also, in public transport news, my children keep losing their travel cards and while Mr. Waffle was in Bruges another one was lost. Looking at the account there are about 16 cards called things like Michael2018(2). Poor Mr. Waffle, the administrative duties of a father are many. Anyway thrillingly, following this latest loss, Mr. Waffle found that he was sitting on a gold mine. There was about €100 sitting on the various long lost cards waiting for him to recover (after considerable effort – order of administrative labour, first class).
Then, like the extremely saintly mother I am, sherpa-like I drove the Princess’s stuff back to England while she flew to attend a conference, the logistics were almost unbearably complex.
Before driving to England to my intense chagrin, a tree crept up beside me and broke the side mirror on the car. It worked ok but slightly suboptimal for my long drive. And 500 of your earth euros to repair it. I’ve decided not to fix the scrape I gave it going in the gate in Cork, there’s only so much I can afford.
The offending tree with its victim:
My trip to England was grand. I ensconced herself in her, frankly, palatial student accommodation and then turned around to get the ferry home. I spent two nights with my friends in Shrewsbury. It is such a lovely town. Look at it.
I am unclear whether the best shopping in England is to be had in Shrewsbury or my friend really knows what is likely to attract a fellow middle aged woman. They have a lovely indoor market there and I spent like there was no tomorrow.
On the way back to the ferry , I stopped in Conwy in Wales. So lovely, so utterly unknown by me until the ferry to Wales became such a big part of my life.
I am back to work on Halloween (not ominous at all). Expect less gallivanting thereafter.
Ailing
I have a nasty cold which is finally starting to get better. I had the dentist this morning at 8.40 (why, why did I pick this time?) and in fairness to him, I felt I’d better do a Covid test in advance. Negative but mood not improved by waggling Covid test stick up my nose at 7 in the morning. Annoyingly Dan and Mr. Waffle both had this cold and are already fully recovered, Michael, who despite his slender frame appears to have an extraordinarily vigorous immune system, wasn’t sick at all. In far off England, herself, who clearly shares my level of disease resistance, had been felled by freshers’ flu which is hard when you’re a sophisticated third year.
And as well, a couple of weeks ago, I got the most horrendous thing. I have never had a stye on my eye so why, the first time this happens to me would I get a hordeolum? This is a stye inside your eyelid. It’s as revolting and as painful as it sounds.
Is it going to be a long winter? Quite possibly. Note to self: get the Covid booster and the flu jab as soon as possible.
Mid Week Break
Mr. Waffle and I found a blue book voucher on the bookshelves and decided to go away mid-week. The excitement. If you gave us the blue book voucher, I am really sorry because we have no idea who gave it to us.
We went to Hunter’s Hotel where we last stayed in January 2003 just before we moved to Brussels. The hotel is nice but the food was terrible then. My sister-in-law who I normally find very reliable on these matters said, “But it’s really improved in the intervening 20 years”. I regret to inform you that it has not. Still a lovely setting though and a good spot for afternoon tea or breakfast but definitely not for dinner.
And we went for a walk in Glendalough. All of the pines on the way up to the Spinc – which is a walk we sometimes do – have been cut down and replaced by native trees. I am sure it will be lovely in 20 years but at the moment the walk up is the abomination of desolation.
You win some you lose some. Still nice views from the monastic site:
and from the top.
And I am very excited about the mid-week break as a concept. I suppose this will dissipate when I return to the salt mines in the near future.
