Me: Well done everyone, we’re in good time today. We’re going to be early for school. [Glancing at the dashboard clock] Well, maybe not early but we definitely won’t be late.
Herself: It’s called “being on time” Mum.
Life’s Rich Tapestry
I am pulling together a pub quiz team. My friend R and his wife have said they will come though he has warned me “our knowledge is more likely to be largely congruent rather than complementary.” I am keen to get a sporting expert for our team. R asked could he bring his [adult] children? By all means, bring offspring, said I, particularly if sound on Gaelic games.
His reply: “Believe it or not, S played on the Hanoi team at a South-East Asia Gaelic football tournament in Saigon. I don’t think I would have regarded this as a likely prospect when I was reading about Viet Nam in Time Magazine every week in 1968.”
Mildly Disturbing
Michael [apropos of nothing at all, I assure you]: Mummy, do you know how chemotherapy works?
Me: I do, I suppose, if somebody has cancer, it kills the cancer cells but it kills other cells too. So it can make people really sick.
Michael: No, it kills the fast growing cells; that’s why all their hair falls out. Would you like to know about GHD?
Me: Um, no, that’s ok. Have you been reading the Medikidz books again?
For When He’s in Therapy
In the middle of the night, Daniel started to cry [aside from illness this has never happened before]. I went in to comfort him and he fell back to sleep. The following evening I asked him whether he remembered his bad dream. “Yes,” he said, “I went to a rugby match with Daddy and Uncle G and my cousin. Daddy and Uncle G were chatting and I interrupted them so Daddy took me home and I cried all the way. Except when we got there it was the library and Mummy was waiting. And then she took a picture of me. Because, Mummy, you’re always taking pictures.”
Impressive Customer Service
We have to transfer the electricity in the new house from the vendors to us. The task of ringing customer service in the electricity company fell to me.
Them: Ring, ring, ring. Thank you for calling Airtricity customer service. Please input your account number. Please dial 1 etc etc. Eventually a human being comes on the line.
Me: Hello I’m ringing about moving an electricity account.
Him: You must be Anne.
Me: Sorry.
Him: Aren’t you Anne?
Me: Yes.
Him: I was talking to [the vendor] this morning and she said that you would be calling.
Me [faintly]: Oh right.
Him: Do you want it in your name or Mr. Waffle’s?
Me: How do you know my husband’s name?
Him: Did I get it wrong?
Me: No, no, you’re right, I’m just a bit surprised. Eh, my name please.
Him: Do you want to pay by direct debit?
Me: Yup.
Him: Give me your bank account and sort code details there.
Me [Give numbers]: But don’t you need me to sign something?
Him: No that’s grand. You’re all set up now from December 18th. That’s the day you closed, isn’t it?
Me [by now unsurprised]: Yup that’s right.
Him: I have the readings from the vendor; do you want to double check them or are you happy enough?
Me: That’s fine. I really hope that they are recording this conversation for quality purposes.
Him: Ah you’re very good Anne.
Utterly painless: Airtricity, I salute you. Although, if I ever acquire a stalker you will be the first people I will put on my list of suspects.
The Trials of the Cat Owner
Michael yelled in alarm from downstairs, “A mouse! A mouse!” Mr. Waffle rushed downstairs. The Princess and I cravenly hid in a bedroom with the door firmly closed. Mr. Waffle finding the cat with a live mouse clamped in her jaws at the bottom of the stairs tossed both out the front door. It was a wet day so the cat did the sensible thing and ran straight to the cat flap at the back door and let herself in with the expiring mouse still clamped firmly in her jaws. Mr. Waffle threw them out the front again and rushed to the back door where he put his foot against the cat flap. The cat, with the, now dead, mouse in her mouth succeeded in getting in despite his efforts. He managed to separate her from the mouse and throw it out. She was very peeved. Rather disturbingly, she spent the remainder of the day with her head buried in the back of the bookshelf. What rather unwelcome conclusions may we reach from this?
