Me (happily): Michael is going to have a boiled egg for lunch. This is all down to you miss, if you hadn’t encouraged him to have one he might never have started back on eggs. This will be your legacy!
Herself: Fantastic, other people have leadership, world peace and so on as their legacy and mine will be getting Michael to eat eggs.
Me: No, no, you are bringing domestic bliss to the world. Not to be underrated.
Her: Oh don’t go all Beth on me. The chirping of the cricket in the hearth that isn’t noticed until it is gone, is it?
Princess
Properly Regarded as an Economy
I asked the Princess to make me mint biscuits and she kindly consented. “We need peppermint essence,” she said. It was not available in our local shops. “We could make it,” I said. We looked it up on the internet. All we needed was mint (of which we had a superabundance) and vodka (of which we had none).
We rang Mr. Waffle who was at the library with the boys and asked him to get some vodka for us. He came back with a €20 bottle. In a moment of rashness, we used it all. We now have a litre of peppermint essence in preparation.
All I can say is, I’m looking forward to these biscuits. It you know me and you need peppermint essence, contact me, I can do you a great deal.
Irresistible Force Meets Immovable Object
Herself likes to argue and debate. So does my brother. She is a feminist. Despite the best efforts of three generations (his mother, his aunt, his sisters, his niece) my brother remains resistant to the idea that discrimination against women exists in any form in Ireland. He and I have been arguing about this for around 30 years and I have largely given up. Herself is made of sterner stuff. Also she and my brother really seem to enjoy the vigourous cut and thrust of debate whereas I just get cross.
In my new back seat role, I enjoyed this dispatch from the front line.
From: Herself
To: Me
Subject: If The Media Wrote About Theresa May’s Husband The Way They Write About Samantha CameronAm having an argument with Uncle Dan about whether institutionalised sexism exists.
Happy Anniversary
Mr. Waffle and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary on Thursday, July 28. As we got married before having children and when Mr. Waffle was in a different line of work, that was, then, a relatively quiet time of year. Now the children are on holidays; it is one of Mr. Waffle’s busiest times of the year and we go on our family holiday immediately after.
This year has been particularly difficult as for the last number of years, I have been able to take unpaid leave over the summer but it wasn’t possible this year. We kept our childminder on for the afternoons and signed the children up to a couple of courses and Mr. Waffle took up the slack. It was all a bit stressful. Unfortunately, herself was ill for almost all her course and the week before the boys were due to go on their course I got this plaintive email from my husband.
To: Me
From: Mr. Waffle
Subject: Re: All well at home?To my horror got a call from the sports camp I thought the boys were doing a course next week but apparently it’s this week. Will have to see if they’re willing to go for the last three days and if [childminder] can do afternoons. Also means we have no course for anybody next week…
In other words, it’s a busy time and we almost, but not quite, forget our anniversary every year. We tend to remember a day or two before when it is too late to do anything but scramble for a not entirely adequate present. For example, the internet tells me that crystal is the appropriate offering for a 15th wedding anniversary; I got Mr. Waffle a book and he got me flowers [very welcome flowers, I hasten to add].
Happily, this year, our firstborn surprised us and when we came home from work, the table looked like this:
She made us risotto for dinner with help from Daniel and Victoria sponge for desert and it was amazing.
Also, I still love my husband, which is great. He sends me funny emails. Samples below:
From: Mr. Waffle
To: Me
Subject: Signs and portentsMy laptop is being weird and currently refuses to open any files or programs.
Also five slugs in utility room / by back door.
I think I’ll call it a day.
From: Mr. Waffle
To: Me
Subject: What is the best Irish term for Brexit?Sasamach? Bréalú?
I understand someone else came up with these terms but I am always glad to be consulted on matters of national importance.
A couple of weeks ago, the cat brought another pigeon into the house. This time it was not dead. Mr. Waffle grabbed the pigeon from the cat; trapped the cat in the utility room and chased the pigeon around the kitchen (I asked Herself about it – “It was terrible, the pigeon fell in my soup”. Terrible on so many levels). Eventually he was able to usher the pigeon out of the kitchen into the hall while the cat continued to scream blue murder in the utility room. Mr. Waffle said that the pigeon was somewhat dazed but it picked itself up and waddled along the hall and out the front door, somewhat to the bemusement of passers by.
On Saturday evening he rescued the cat from up a tree where she was chased by three small yappy dogs who have moved in across the road. We are not loving them. Mr. Waffle, however, is fantastic.
The other evening I was trying to print off the childminder’s payslip and the printer wouldn’t work. Michael sidled up to me; “Sorry,” he said, “but I think I broke the printer.” “How do you think you broke the printer?” I asked. “I dropped 10 cents down the paper feeder,” he said. I shook it and I turned it up and down but to no avail. “I’m not cross,” I said, “but how did you drop 10 cents into the printer?” Apparently he had been practising coin flips and it had just escaped away from him. After the last unfortunate demise of a printer, my clever husband had taken out a guarantee. €12 well spent. We now have another new printer. I think love is in the details.
Think of us having another delightful anniversary dinner in France. After all, 15 years is definitely worth celebrating.
Luna Lovegood
The script of “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” is being released tonight at midnight. Herself has spent the past fortnight working extremely hard at turning herself into Luna Lovegood. She found a chest of material in my parents’ attic and spent hours sewing remnants into an extremely nifty cloak.
My sister lent her hair curlers. Her father printed out her Hogwarts letter on fancy yellow parchment.
She has just left to attend the pre-launch party. She is very ready.
Updated to add – it went well! And as we went back to the car at midnight, people stopped us on the street saying, “Harry Potter, right?” and looked at her new book and she was delighted.
Hubris
Herself has returned from France. Hurrah. We missed her. She had a good time in parts but I think it was a long time for her to be away eating salad regularly.
This afternoon we decided to cycle to a new crêperie. We went out to the shed only to discover that the Princess’s bike had been nicked during the week. To be fair to us, we noticed that the shed door had been forced but we couldn’t see that anything was missing. Observant, that’s us.
We bought her a new one today anyhow and she has pronounced herself pleased.
We have now added a new bolt to the shed door. Insert your own proverb related joke here.
