For obvious reasons, I have been thinking about Brussels all day. It will always have a special place in my heart. I still have lots of friends living there all of whom are safe and well for which I am very thankful. It is very chilling to see this happening somewhere you have lived and in the most banal and everyday places.
Reading
“Funny Girl” by Nick Hornby
About a female comedian making it in the 60s. Very readable like all Nick Hornby but a bit forgettable.
“La vérité sur l’affaire Harry Quebert” by Joël Dicker
This is a story about a young author helping to solve a mystery involving an older author. I did not like it. I read it in French but the effect was disorientating as it is set in North America and it felt like I was reading an English book in translation rather than a French original. Only merit as far as I was concerned is that it may have improved my French.
“To Kill a Mocking Bird” by Harper Lee
I haven’t read this since I was in school but I reread it recently after Harper Lee died. I think it is a much better book than I realised when I read it the first time. Well worth re-reading.
“Futebol” by Alex Bellos
I started reading this when the World Cup was being held in Brazil to get a feel for Brazilian football. It’s a bit out of date and I didn’t enjoy it but over many months made my way slowly but surely to the end. Perhaps more entertaining for those with a greater interest in football.
“Darkmouth” by Shane Hegarty
These are books for children written by an Irish Times columnist I always liked. Daniel absolutely loved them. I read the first two because I was curious. They’re fantasy books where you can get into a parallel world from a North Dublin seaside town (essentially Skerries). Not for me but very acceptable for the young people.
“Lolly Willowes” by Sylvia Townsend Warner
This is a curious book. It’s set in the 1910s. It’s about a woman who never marries and lives happily in the family home with her father until he dies. Then she ends up living with her brother and his family in London and it’s all a bit grim in a reasonably affluent way. That’s about three quarters of the book. Then she ups sticks and goes to become a witch. I thought from reading descriptions it was going to be a hilarious romp but it’s not. On the cover, John Updike is quoted as saying that it is “eerie” and it is. Worth a read though.
“The Shepherd’s Crown” by Terry Pratchett
Sadly, the last Pratchett. And, it pains me to say it, not a particularly good one. It’s alright and it’s quite sad when poor old Granny Weatherwax dies (about page 2, I’m not ruining it for you).
“Career of Evil” Robert Galbraith
Third in this series about a detective and his beautiful sidekick and quite enjoyable. As good as the first and better than the second in the series. I will certainly read number 4 when it comes out.
“American Gods” by Neil Gaiman
This is a clever novel about all the gods from the old world who find themselves in America where people don’t believe in them much anymore and the new American gods (reality TV, money, whatever you’re having yourself). A bit too long (part of the problem may have been that I had the “author’s preferred text”) but clever and worth a read.
“City of Bohane” by Kevin Barry
This book is superbly written. The language is fascinating and brilliant. However, the plot leaves a great deal to be desired. It’s set in a parallel, terrifying Ireland in a city in the west. Notwithstanding the flaws in plot (i.e. hardly any) I would definitely read another book of his.
“Stones of Dublin” by Lisa Marie Griffith
I won this book by filling out a form at a book fair. Very thrilling – it arrived out of the blue in the post. I really enjoyed it. I find generally that books of Dublin history are pitched at the wrong level for me, either much too general containing information I largely already know, or far too specific containing information I’m not sure I really want to know (you know the kind of thing – a detailed history of the lives of the inhabitants of numbers 73-75 Ranelagh Road between 1900 and 1911). For me, this book hit the rather large middle ground between these two extremes perfectly. A good history of Dublin and well worth a read.
“Disclaimer” by Renee Knight
This is a thriller with a twist. I don’t normally like this kind of thing and I didn’t like this. I thought the whole premise was utterly ludicrous and couldn’t get over that.
“Tea with Mr Rochester” by Frances Towers
These are lovely short stories about slightly neglected women. It made me remember how much I enjoy a good short story yet, I so rarely look to take them out of the library or buy them. I’m not quite sure why novels hold me so much in thrall when there are such wonderful collections of short stories out there including this one.
“The Priory” by Dorothy Whipple
This is an epic tale of what we in Ireland would call a “big house” family. It covers the lives and loves of all the members of the household upstairs and downstairs and I really enjoyed it although (spoiler alert) my heart sank when the housemaid who got herself into trouble tried to drown herself. Things more or less work out for the upstairs denizens but things downstairs are a bit grim.
“A Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire, Book 1)” by George R. R. Martin
I can’t believe that I have started reading this series. I felt that “Game of Thrones” had captured the attention of the world and I knew nothing about it so I might as well try one of the books. 800 or so pages later, I’m not sure that I entirely see the attraction. It was fine. I will probably read the other volumes but I wouldn’t be entranced, now. The pedant in me did not like that on page 1, the author used “disinterested” when he meant “uninterested” or “indifferent”.
Maybe I need to watch the TV series to understand the attraction? Mr. Waffle is strongly against this, if this means he has to watch it too.
Somewhat reading related; did everyone in the world know this extraordinarily clever guessing game thing, Akinator? It’s amazing although very weak on Georgette Heyer heroines, I note.
Enterprising Free Range Child
Email from a friend:
From: Him
To: Me
Subject: RE: GuessWhat our [youngest child] did on Friday?
Went on the mitch all day.
Herself and a mate took themselves off to the playground, shopping centre, McDonald’s. Even brought a change of clothes!
Turned nine last week. She fessed up this morning. Panicked about not having a note [for school].
47
I was 47 on Thursday. It was a bit unsatisfactory. For a range of reasons. Firstly, I was at work, having decided that it would be inappropriate to take a day’s holiday too early in the new job. I think that was a mistake. Secondly, I had arranged to meet someone for lunch when, really, I would have preferred to go somewhere nice on my own and then a couple of other people came and even though all of these people were very nice, I ended up being the conversational glue holding everyone together and that is tiring.
Thirdly, when I came home that evening, I turned around and headed out the door with Daniel who was singing at the school first confession that evening. We were there about 7. The priest was late. We only finally emerged about 9. Daniel got to sing a verse of one of the hymns with a smaller group and it all went well, so he was pleased. I had hoped to have a celebratory birthday take-away (the excitement!). But, fourthly, by the time I got home after 9 it was really too late. Then, fifthly, I trudged disconsolately to the fridge to get a birthday dinner of cheese and crackers only to find that the cat had got into the fridge and food was scattered everywhere and she was wolfing down some chicken scraps. Under the pile of chicken, inevitably really, was the cheese which I had been hoping to eat.
All in all, sub-optimal. On Friday, Mr. Waffle proposed that we go out for a nice dinner on Saturday to make up for the debacle of my birthday. Babysitter and restaurant were booked. Poor Mr. Waffle, this morning he had to do some urgent work thing and around lunch time he started to feel ill. He retired to bed. About 4 we cancelled dinner and babysitter and, as I type, he is still in bed having eaten nothing since lunch time. Oh woe.
Inauspicious, I feel. However, if you sent a card or an email, please know that this year of all years, it was welcome. Also, herself bought me Toffifees which was pleasing. Daniel and Michael made me a card. Daniel tried to give me €50 of his money and Mr. Waffle bought me this picture. So not all bad either.
Updated to add: I forgot to mention my birthday message from vodafone –
Please note you have reached 100% of your monthly data and will not be able to use data until your next allowance begins on 15-03-2016. To purchase our best value data freetext INFO to 50226 or for more details visit www.vodafone.ie/datacharges. To continue using data for the remainder of your billing period, freetext NO DATA BAR to 50226.
I moved on to a new tariff last month and the man said I had more data than I would ever need. I see.
Updated to add: My father said to me when I told him of my various woes “forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit”. I had to look it up (having only done Latin for a couple of years and never having liked it much). Possibly, it means, one day you will look back on this and laugh. Thanks Virgil, not yet though.
Update
Hello, cruel world. A fortnight into the new job and I am absolutely flattened. I have gone from knowing everyone and everything to knowing no one and nothing. It’s very tiring. And I lost all my swipe cards on Friday night, so I may not even be able to get to my desk tomorrow. Quite the achievement.
So what news, I hear you ask. Well, the boys and I went to Cork. We went to Charles Fort and the Bulman for lunch. It didn’t rain on us. I call that a success. Then we saw a seal near the slip way beside the car park. Very exciting.
Nevertheless, probably the highlight was passing a shop selling holy statutes. Daniel looked dubiously at Padre Pio and asked, “Is that Obi Wan Kenobi?”
While the boys and I were in Cork, herself was in Rome for the week. Actually, Rome, Pompeii, Sorrento, Montecassino and Naples. Notwithstanding the exhausting programme, she had a wonderful time. She liked the Trevi fountain and the Map Room in the Vatican Museums the best.
Early on in proceedings, I got this email.
From: Herself
To: MeHave successfully ordered McDonald’s in Italian. Forgot to ask for ketchup and was thrown by the choice between mela and kiwi but all in all quite successful.
Clearly, the trip was not entirely about expanding culinary horizons.
The boys and Mr. Waffle featured briefly on Irish language television talking about house swapping. I was at work and the Princess was at school but the boys were off being minded by their father so they got to star. Actually every word they spoke was edited out so they were a bit crushed. Former colleagues of mine (husband and wife team) saw it and when they saw the photo albums (to show the TV people the houses we had stayed in), carefully labelled they said in unison “That is so typical of Anne.” My filing fame has spread and in the most positive way, I’m sure.
Last Monday night was a bit hideous. Daniel had GAA, Michael had scouts and herself was in a massive Dublin archdiocese concert. They were bringing 600 secondary school students together every night last week to sing a range of hymns. 2,000 years of liturgical music and the focus was very strongly on those pieces composed for saxophone and guitar. Sigh. Some of the pieces were composed for the event. I particularly enjoyed the combination of jazzy upbeat music and the very old testament type lyrics “If the just strike me down, it’s done out of kindness” and “Let all that stray from what is good, be thrown a rock of judgement”. I did not get any dinner but I did have a large packet of maltesers at the concert.
On Friday night, Daniel and herself had speaking parts at some ecumenical event. The service was “prepared by the Christian women of Cuba” and it was held at the local Protestant church. Michael refused point blank to attend saying that he was not going to Mass on Friday and Sunday. The booklet giving the details of readings etc. also featured a couple of prayers like our prayers of the faithful. This one caught my eye:
” We recognize that we did not lift up our voices sufficiently to denounce an injustice like the economic blockade that affected the Cuban people for more than 50 years. We recognize our responsibility in allowing walls to be built up which destroy community.”
In the end Michael had to go as I couldn’t and Mr. Waffle brought them all. Daniel and the Princess carried out their roles with aplomb but attendance was poor. Elderly local Protestants and Catholics turned out but not many of them. Mr. Waffle feels that the women of Cuba may have been expecting a different kind of congregation when they decided to put the butterfly hymn on the programme. Apparently, you haven’t lived until you have heard a group of elderly people singing: “If I were a wiggly worm I’d thank you Lord that I could squirm/ If I were a fuzzy, wuzzy bear /I’d thank you Lord for my fuzzy, wuzzy hair”.
Daniel got to deliver the immortal line: “We will now collect our butterflies and bring them to the Scared Prayer Space”.
I was, alas, not in attendance at the Cuban prayer gig, because on Tuesday morning, my poor father fell and broke his hip. My parents are now the proud possessors of four plastic hips. I went down to Cork to see him on Friday night. He was remarkably cheerful given that a) he had a newly inserted plastic hip b) he is nearly 91 c) he spent about 24 hours on a trolley in A&E, and d) he has acquired the winter vomiting bug while in the hospital. My sister and I left him with the paper which he read and my sister tells me he has started to eat again today. He is remarkably resilient.
Final news items. We had parent-teacher meetings for all three children. They are all fine. All of the secondary school teachers told us that herself makes regular announcements over the school intercom. They were more impressed by this achievement than any other as far as I can see. All to the good, I suppose. Also, unrelated, she has won a 1916 poetry competition.
That is all.
Updated to add: I forgot – the dishwasher is broken. A new pump is said to be coming but in the interim we are washing the dishes by hand. The novelty has worn off.
That really is all.
Leaving
I had my leaving drinks at work last Friday. I was scarred by a leaving drinks I once had in Brussels where nobody came for the first hour and I hung around with a couple of colleagues until some more arrived and took the bare look off the thing. When there was a reasonable crowd, my Finnish boss came up to me and said, “Yes, I can leave now as there are finally some other people here.” I love the Finns but their frankness can be alarming.
My colleagues assured me that there would be a good crowd and I need not fear. They were right. I left event management in the hands of a colleague who is also a member of the social club and due to an unfortunate misunderstanding which was no one’s fault etc., I ended up having my leaving drinks in a sports bar. It was loud. As someone said to me, sarcastically “When I think of you, I think dozens of large screens, cricket and rap music; it’s perfect.” Another observed that it was the first time in many years that most of us had been to a venue where they were carding people coming in. But, you know what, it was absolutely fine, if a bit loud – some of the speeches may not have been heard. But that’s not necessarily all bad. People came, and they stayed and they presented me with cards and a fountain pen and a bank draft even though I explained that I was not retiring. After a while the music in the sports bar started getting louder and the strobe lights started up and the middle aged group in the corner began to look a tiny bit out of place. So we went on to the pub and I wasn’t even the last to leave.
Friday wasn’t actually my last day. I came in for three days this week as well and only finally finished today. There’s nothing like running into people in the lift on Monday when they have said an effusive goodbye to you on Friday night. It was a busy couple of days and today, in particular, was frantic but I have done my best and now that in-tray is someone else’s problem. The personal contents of my office, however, which I finally managed to decant to my car at 8.30 this evening are my problem. I am slightly appalled that I seem to have been carrying around so much paper for years including several large, heavy dictionaries.
I am sad to leave but, it was probably time for a change. I did feel sadder and sadder over the course of this afternoon as people came up to my office to say goodbye.
I have had a wonderful boss who has been very, very good to me and hugely supportive; I will particularly miss working with her and she is really sad to see me go, as well, I think. But since she told me to go for the new job; rejigged my CV for it and practice interviewed me for it, it isn’t really a massive surprise to her that I got it (she is like a juggernaut and rarely baulked; though I had my doubts I would get the job, she never did). I have a lot of friends in the organisation I’m leaving and I hope I will manage to stay in touch with some of them at least, I suppose that is the best you can hope for. Last time, I left a job, I changed country as well, this is definitely easier.
On Monday, I start the new job where, doubtless, even now, someone is happily reflecting that his or her overflowing in-tray will shortly be the new woman’s problem.
In the interim, I am feeling popular:
One of these bunches of flowers is, admittedly, from Mr. Waffle for Valentine’s day but still, it’s a pretty good haul.
Upadated to add that despite thinking my office was minimalist and nearly empty, it was not. Alas.
