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Friday, June 29, 2012

book mother


For the past year I have been trying to the drop the fact that my ten year old has finished The Fellowship of the Ring into conversation. Trying but not succeeding. I know, show offy parents are very irritating  but surely reading that book at ten is too impressive not to broadcast?

Maybe it is to my credit that I am not practised enough at said boasting that I found it impossible to crow bar the fact even into conversations with other mothers about what our  kids are reading. I don’t know, I faltered at the wrong time or the conversation drifted towards Harry Potter or else, in the case of my book club, my mouth was simply too full of cheese or crackers or cake to say anything at all. I’m more greedy than boasty I suppose.

So when said child told me that I only buy children’s books for my own gratification, I wondered. 

Sunday, June 24, 2012

I'm just fluffing my garland


“No. “ I said “ I can’t get the play tunnel, I have to fluff my garland.”

My husband was sharing out the tasks involved in the preparations for our sons birthday party. He seemed to think my answer was too hilarious for words and got endless amusement for the rest of the day saying things like..


“My dear, will you be (raise of eyebrow and wink) fluffing your garland tonight?”


Or, shouting up the stairs,


“Sorry, can I disturb you? Or would you like to be left alone to fluff your garland?”

Friday, June 15, 2012

Ireland vs Spain


Coming home from school the other day, I noticed a Spanish boy walking in front of me. I knew where he was from because the local national school runs a programme where children from Spain aged ten and up can come over to Dublin for a few weeks to live with an Irish family and attend the local school each day. English immersion, I suppose you'd call it.

It was a wet, windy day, and I was wondering when, if ever, is a good time to put away the vests and hats and gloves. We were nearly home though, and two out of three of my sons had homework vouchers, so it wasn’t all bad.

This boy was walking behind the son of his host family and to say he looked different was an understatement.  

For a start, he was walking, not slouching. On his feet were shoes. Not runners or trainers or smelly, checked vans. Actual, leather shoes. Slip-on, dark maroon, polished oxford loafers to be precise.  I could see that his charcoal grey school trousers had a crease down the front you could cut yourself on (this, after a full day at school) and with them he wore a clean, beautifully cut, navy, quilted jacket. It was buttoned up (yes, buttoned up) and his hair seemed to be pretty close friends with a brush or comb. And, he was carrying and using….an umbrella.

In contrast, his Irish classmate, who wore the ubiquitous baggy, faded school tracksuit and luminous orange astroturf boots with laces trailing in the puddles, mooched along in the rain, hair soaking and school bag (bulging, most likely because  it contained his jacket) on his back. To top it all, in place of making conversation with his guest, he was listening to music on his mobile phone.

No wonder they beat us.


P.s. To put this into context for any readers not in Ireland, we were beaten last night four nil by Spain in a pretty important soccer match. When I say important, I mean hopes were high. Some people even had specially made nylon covers in the colours of the Irish flag on the wing mirrors of their cars. 

Monday, June 4, 2012

The National Aquatic Centre or..The Woman with the Purple Nose


We went to the National Aquatic Centre yesterday and I learnt a few things. Mainly, that it is not a great setting for the vain or self conscious.