I have had a cold for the past couple of days and I have been absolutely miserable. I worked my way through a full box of tissues and a Covid test (negative) while mainlining lempsip. When I am sick I completely fail to remember what it is like to be well and I think that I will be in the slough of despond forever. However, today I am much improved and the weather is a bit springy and I think I may survive after all. A corollary of my problem with being sick is that when I am well, I completely forget what it is like to be ill and think, “It would be nice to be in bed sick and just flick through a magazine”. Of course, it’s not nice because you’re sick. Though I have to say, I am quite indignant that I should be sick on my break from work. It’s like being sick on holidays; quite wrong. A further problem with my inability to remember what it is like to be ill is that I am quite unsympathetic when family members are ill. Intellectually, I sympathise but I just can’t remember what it’s really like; I’m sure I would be much more sympathetic if I could remember the pain.
Customer Experience of Dreams or a Vision of the Future of Retail
I am getting a new phone. It is not exactly dirt cheap. Mr. Waffle and I went into town to the Vodafone shop. There were no seats and a big wall of video. Three young people (staff) were standing in the shop and a four middle aged people (customers) were wandering around looking a bit baffled. A young woman came up to us. “Can I help you?” she asked. We explained what we were after. “You’ll need to talk to one of the people in green tops.”
There were two people in green tops. One was dealing with a customer. The other was scrolling through his phone. “I suppose he’s on his break,” I said to Mr. Waffle charitably. It was not, however, pleasing to be standing there in the queue while young man scrolled and ignored. Eventually we were seen by the other person in a green top, a young woman. “You might get it cheaper online,” she opined. I could have wished they had indicated that in the other shop I had previously browsed in but ok. Spoiler alert, I got it online, it was not cheaper. “I want to give my old phone to my son, I remember there was some complication last time, what do I need to do to unlock it?” “It can be complicated,” she conceded, “that’s why we don’t do it in basic retail outlets like this any more but let the customers do it themselves online.” To improve our service to you etc. As we left the shop, the young man was still scrolling away on his phone ignoring the customers.
“I suppose this is what full employment looks like,” says grumpy middle aged blogger.
Daniel at 17
Daniel was 17 on September 27. As usual, the birthday post is late. But this year is a bit of a record – I’m not sure it’s ever been later.
Daniel continues to be more like a grown up in many ways, not least physically. He is constantly training. The GAA is a bit of a trial to me but he loves it and is still entirely committed.
I am feeling somewhat less nervous about his cycling career. He can cycle to training, into town, in the dark and I can stay relatively calm. Although when he rang me one morning after cycling into town, the first thing I said was, “Are you ok, did you get hurt on the bike?” He had not fallen off the bike, he had lost his key. Although he did have quite a bad fall on the road last summer where he cut up his elbows and hips. The problem is that, unlike his mother, he goes very fast and if you’re going fast and the bike slips in the wet, you will get hurt. I did not enjoy seeing him arrive home dripping in blood and tarmac. Still, no accidents since and the bike gives him a welcome degree of freedom. You can still see the marks on his elbow in this picture taken weeks after the accident.
He did a three week course in the summer on popular fiction and he made loads of friends there who he is in touch with and the GAA provides a ready made group of friends. I think he’s really beginning to find his feet and meeting people he knows all over the place – at open days, at grinds and at other exciting 6th year events. And not just people from school. I see his world getting bigger and bigger. It’s exciting.
He is much more willing to go on a mild family walk than he used to be without experiencing any enthusiasm for these outings. We have reached the stage where he pulls me up the mountain rather than the other way around. I wonder when that changed?
He went to Rome for a week in the summer and, although it was a bit mixed as an experience, I think it was really good for him. He learnt a lot including a number of Italian swear words which he trots out with great gusto from time to time. I was a bit worried about him flying alone but I need not have been.
He is still very interested in music and has a fantastic ear. This definitely came from his father’s side of the family. It helps with languages as well – he’s putting it to good use with those Italian swear words.
He’s still doing well at school, no thanks to school where teachers are disappearing by the new time. There are three on maternity leave; one on paternity leave and one has left to go to another school nearer her home. All fine but finding substitutes has not been easy. This means that he is doing physics classes on Saturday morning in town and over zoom on Tuesday afternoons. During timetabled physics class, he sits at the back of history class. It’s a bit of a disaster. He wants to study physics in college and he’s pretty good at it but it shouldn’t be this hard. Meanwhile, there is no substitute for the excellent maths teacher who has been on maternity leave since the start of the month. Alas.
I think he will get the marks he needs to do physics in college but it is not being made easy for him. Last year I was astonished at the parent teacher meeting when the Biology teacher said he was amazing at Biology. I completely forgot and she said the exact same thing this year. He never speaks about it and doesn’t seem remotely interested which is weird right? I tentatively suggested he might like to think about putting it down as one of his options for college but he said, “No, not interested.” “How can you not be interested in something where you’re getting 100% in all the tests?” I asked. “It’s boring, the tests are really easy,” he offered. I’m baffled.
He is getting better at organising himself to get his school work done. He said to me that he wanted to do after school study in the school as it helped him to focus and it does seem to work for him although his brother and sister were never interested.
He’s still doing a weekly French conversation class at home and his comprehension and French accent are pretty good. The young man we have this year is a bit of a find and Dan is finding him very engaging.
He and his brother are still very friendly and they have loads of interests in common. As the years pass, they seem to get on better and better.
They hardly ever fight now.
There has been a big change in the family dynamic since his sister went off to England at the end of 2021. He gets on fine with her but I don’t get the sense that they are interacting regularly.
He shaved off all his hair over the summer for a bet. I was appalled.
But, you know, hair it grows back.
He continues to be exceptionally fond of the cat.
Daniel’s cooking has gone from strength to strength, it’s no bother to him to turn around a curry after school (he’s always starving) or make his own dough for pizza.
He is very helpful. You only ever have to ask him once to do something which is a really delightful characteristic.
He’s still very interested in clothes and we got him an Urban Outfitters voucher for his birthday which he received with every appearance of enthusiasm.
Overall, he’s a really good child, obliging, kind, generous and funny. It’s very strange to think that this is his last year in school. But I guess that’s how it goes for parents: slow, slow, slow and then unbearably fast.
Raising the Temperature
Like many couples, Mr. Waffle and I operate at different temperatures. He is always warm, I am always cold. I have addressed this by the low tech solution of bringing a hot water bottle to bed in winter. He objects on the grounds that I tap dance on it. I might move it around with my feet, I concede.
The other day he arrived home with what Daniel characterised as “divorce in a box”, namely, an electric blanket. As you will be aware, the electric blanket and the water filled bottle do not mix. I am now dependent on the electric blanket for warmth. Mr. Waffle goes to bed earlier than me and finds the bed too warm and turns off the blanket. By the time I get to bed it is tepid at best. This may be an insurmountable problem. Your suggestions are welcome, meanwhile my little fingers and toes are freezing.
Disturbing
When herself was in Berlin before Christmas she stayed with a primary school friend. Her friend commented in passing that on looking into our fridge, it’s always full of two bites of food in random bowls. I recognised this description and knew it to be true. Honestly, I blame Mr. Waffle. I have instituted a new plastic box regime and I am delighted with myself.
Related: I have started to keep “handy” cardboard boxes. We got a lot of boxes over Christmas. Is this going to end well? I think not. Herself considered my collection and said severely, “You know I will have to throw these out when you die.” Probably true.
News from 2023
Ok, so far, I have to concede, not very different from 2022.
January 2
Herself came back from her new year’s extravaganza with friends in Scotland. I rejoiced.
For the first time in a very long time, I booked no family theatre outing in the run up to Christmas. The palpable lack of enthusiasm doesn’t usually put me off but this year, somehow, it did. Mr. Waffle and I went to “The Sound of Music” in the concert hall. Music for middle brows, pretty enjoyable for this middle brow. The woman who was the Mother Superior was superb. How much did I enjoy “Climb every mountain”? Oh very much.
We finished the Christmas jigsaw. Apparently Michael gave it to me for Christmas last year and I never made it as he informed me reproachfully on Christmas day. Herself, adding to the gaiety of nations, said, “Oh yes, and remember the other day you said, where did this jigsaw still in its cellophane wrapping come from? Maybe I could give it away as a present.” Anyway, it was surprisingly difficult, I can tell you. However, “Mischief managed” as Mr. Waffle said.
January 3
Mr. Waffle went back to work. Did I go back to work? I did not. Hah.
January 4
The boys and I went for a walk around the National Museum. Not entirely satisfactory but not altogether unsatisfactory either. Daniel’s face does rather sum up his mood though.
I personally was very taken with this shoe relic storage system.
We then went out for a very satisfactory lunch en famille in town. Our neighbour from up the road came over to our table as we were finishing up. I had not seen her but she and her family were sitting just behind us. We passed our lunch time conversation under rapid review but all seemed broadly well – I reiterate that Ireland is too small.
Daniel went to the library to get out the Ladybird book of quantum mechanics. He has read it already but apparently it is so good he wants us all to read it. He might be a bit optimistic there.
January 5
Herself and myself went on a day trip to Belfast. She came downstairs looking extremely dressed up. I was in my jeans. “It looks like we are going to different events but it’s fine,” she said.
The cross-border enterprise is the only train in the country which still has a catering service so we went all out and ordered a cooked breakfast. It was good in fairness but served in a polystyrene box with two wooden forks (they were out of knives) so presentation not what it might be.
The only cultural element of our outing was to see a lovely John Lavery painting in a church. I really like it. Herself was a bit more dubious.
Other than that we just went to the shops and enjoyed the novelty of being, um, not exactly abroad but not at home either. I thought Belfast was pretty quiet. Good for us as shoppers but a bit grim for retail in the city generally. The market was sadly closed and lunch was fine but nothing to write home about. Food is just not great in Ireland unless you know where you are going. We did not know where we were going. Overall though a pretty successful outing.
January 6 Epiphany
I offered to drive herself to her friend’s house in Kildare for a Women’s Christmas dinner. Due to my general meanness I did not want to pay the motorway toll. I definitely regretted this and we ended up on a 3 county epic trek.
I arrived home a shadow of my former self. Just as well Mr. Waffle had cooked dinner and washed up afterwards.
January 7
Our local Eastern European shop was open notwithstanding it being Orthodox Christmas but a big group of Romanians in traditional dress carrying a pole with a tinsel picture attached were singing away which was rather nice.
Daniel went to visit a friend in Cavan. I mean why can’t my children have more friends in the city of 1.5 million people where we live. He took the bus in fairness.
Mr. Waffle and I spent the day taking down Christmas decorations which is a bit of a melancholy activity. The children took away the Christmas tree. They were thrilled to have the opportunity to help.
We wound up all the lights carefully but everybody knows that they will all be knotted up again by next Christmas.
We all went out for a departure dinner for herself which was very nice. I was pleased. Later herself went out for drinks with friends and like the absolutely saintly mother I am, I collected her and another child at midnight and drove them home.
January 8
Further melancholy, herself went off back to England. It is miserable seeing a child off at the airport. However, on the plus side, she loves it there and she has to look after her own transport needs when she goes out in the evenings. She would tell you that she is perfectly prepared to do this at home also but when I know she is out, I can’t stand the tension of worrying about when and how she might get home and might as well collect her for added peace of mind. On her flight she was sitting beside a man from Tipperary who turned out to be a nephew of the people who live across the road (see above re size of Ireland). Talking to my neighbour he said that his nephew is a pilot with British Airways so perhaps not entirely surprising that he should be flying back to work.
Mr. Waffle and I picked up a coffee table from friends who wanted to get rid of it. I am pleased. It does not go with the sofas at all so perhaps it may speed up their departure (how I loathe them, big mistake and they are very comfortable which makes other family members keen to keep them, alas, and they were expensive, God they were expensive, double alas).
January 9
The physio has inspected my knee and discharged me. It really is nearly better. Gratifying. And tonight is book club. Hurrah.
I trust your own January is going as well as can be expected.
