We now have 4 Ukrainian families living on our road. Herself met young Master Next Door in the course of her gallivanting and he tells her that they too have taken in what he rather sweetly called “Ukrainian guests”. Apparently they all gather gloomily in the converted shed in one of the houses up the road and listen to the news from Ukraine. It’s extremely grim. I am slightly in awe of my neighbours who spearheaded this. As well as putting up their own refugees, they are gathering up old laptops, ware, cutlery and pots and pans for Ukrainian families as well as trying to source more permanent accommodation and schools and everything else. Mr. Waffle dropped off our old bikes to a man in town who is reconditioning them for Ukrainian refugees. It is nice to feel that you are doing something, however small, but it’s only a drop in the ocean.
19
Herself is 19 today. “When,†she asked me, “will you be doing the GDPR-breaching post for my birthday ?†Not tonight but, probably before the boys’ birthday in September.
She seems to be pretty pleased with her haul of presents – many books including a first edition of a Samuel Beckett book of poetry in French. I paid good money for these notions and I am pleased to see them being used.
She was off at a session in the Alliance at the weekend on Irish and French literature. Simultaneous translation was provided for both the French and the Irish speakers on the panel and herself was the only person in the room who didn’t need to put on the headphones at all. Honestly, my work here is done. And where do you think she got her notions?
Networking Lunch
I had lunch with a former colleague of mine during the week. “Look at this,” said she and hauled out a letter informing her that she is going to be made a Chevalier of the Légion d’Honneur. I was suitably impressed. I also had lunch with an old friend who has decided to abandon retirement to head up an august (though small) body. I feel the quality of my lunch dates at the moment is high.
Still Reading
One of my Monday book club members is president of a professional society this year. Last Monday she invited us to dinner on the society’s premises to celebrate her presidency. How satisfactory. 22 years of book club and it was the first time we haven’t had frozen pizza at a meeting.
One of our members who is cautious insisted that we all take an antigen test in advance. I was sure one of us would be felled but no, we were all clear. It was such a lovely evening and we all waxed nostalgic remembering early meetings, members who had come and gone and favourite books. Also the food was fantastic.
Herself also came back from her trip to Marbella on Monday evening. As I cycled home, I thought, “If I were a good mother, I would have a vegan feast prepared for her instead of going out for dinner for myself.” Happily, I am not a good mother because it transpired that she had rung her father and asked him to iron her evening dress, bring it with him to the airport when he was collecting her at 6 and drop her into Trinity for 7 where she was going to a ball with her friends. People, if I had prepared a vegan feast I would have been incandescent.
Feeling Popular
The school is having a fund raising quiz night next week. We asked Daniel and Michael whether they would like to be part of a family team of 4. They instantly declined.
We asked two friends of ours who love quizzes and who have no children (so no babysitting or school events of their own to support) whether they would like to go. Yes but that night one of them has bridge and the other has poetry appreciation club (it’s our age).
I texted herself in the fleshpots of Spain where she is currently enjoying herself, to see whether she would come with a friend. Two days later I received a curt monosyllable in reply. No.
I suppose we’ll have to go on our own. We’re doomed for the popular culture round though to be fair, I’m not saying that the bridge and poetry appreciation crowd would be delivering there either.
Alas.
Tempus Fugit
I remember when I was an apprentice solicitor (neither today nor yesterday, my friends) one of my other apprentice friends met her master’s children when they were brought into the office for a thrilling look at the office machinery and to see where their Mum and Dad worked.
“Imagine,” said my friend to me, “they will just grow up with the fax, it will never seem strange or new to them.” We marvelled. It did not cross our minds that by the time those children were pushing 40 the fax would be a thing of the past. I remember one of the partners in my office had a computer on his desk and was gently mocked by the other partners for his dedication to this glorified typewriter which took up so much space on his desk and was clearly pointless.
But yet, the 90s doesn’t really seem very long ago at all. Related: have you noticed that the policemen really are getting younger?
