Over Christmas, I went to the local church in the very small parish near where we stayed. The Christmas collection had been stolen on Christmas afternoon while the families of the parish were having their Christmas dinners. At this point, I expected some noble words about loving the sinner and hating the sin and that we should pray for the thief who must be an unhappy person. Instead the priest advised parishioners to lock their doors and give particularly generously to the collection. Somehow unsatisfying.
What Goes Around Comes Around
Michael: How would you like it, if I threw your hand mirror in the bin?
Me: I wouldn’t like it at all, now put it back in my bedroom please.
Him (waving the mirror menacingly): Then STOP putting my stuff in the bin.
Pedants’ Corner
Spotted on the way to work this morning: a van emblazoned with the words “Clean and Glean – Window Cleaners”. Hands up, if you think that they know what glean means. This should separate the wheat from the chaff.
What are we to make of this?
When I came home from work, Michael looked up from what he was doing and said, “Mum, the babysitter kicked me.” He then went back about his business. I protested feebly, “Don’t call O “the babysitter” Michael, she has a name.” And then I turned to O and asked “Ahem, did you, eh, you know, eh…” to which she said, no.
Nevertheless, the children have not taken a shine to her and, certainly, she is not as good as her predecessor who was terrific. But she seems ok. And she will be finishing in the next couple of months in any event to go back to France for the ski season. So, I suppose we will tough it out.
I discovered that the children have other plans. The boys’ teacher took me aside this morning. She said that the boys had told her that they were working on a secret plan developed by their sister. At her signal they were to scream and only to stop when she picked up the cat. I see a number of difficulties here including both the objection of the cat and the Princess’s choice of co-conspirators. Still, I am experiencing definite unease. This evening the Princess asked me why I can’t sack the babysitter.
Oh dear. Do you think that the babysitter will tough it out?
A Neighbour’s Child
While driving through Co. Limerick to visit my uncle over Christmas, my mother and I had the following conversation.
Her: You know that woman who had an affair with an English politician?
[Here I spare you details of how we whittled down the list of potential candidates until we came to Christine Keeler]
Me: Yes.
Her: Her people come from in there [pointing through hedge at farmland].
Me: I thought she was English.
Her: Well, yes, but her people were from here, her aunt was the reverend mother in Charleville.
I thought that you would like to know.
Campaigning
Background: The Government is spectacularly unpopular even by the standards of incumbent governments. A general election looms.
A young man came to the door the other night campaigning for one of the parties in Government. He looked damp but smiled gamely. My withers were wrung. “How has it been?” I asked. “Not as bad as I expected,” he said enthusiastically, “nobody has kicked me yet.” He handed me a leaflet extolling the virtues of his candidate. The Princess surveying this new form of doorstep interaction somewhat dubiously asked me, “Should I get your purse, do you want to give him a tip?” “All donations welcome,” replied our undaunted campaigner.
