Friday, 9 May 2014

Caca municipal

I am not arrogant enough to think you are missing me, but personally I like my digital distractions to be regular and get antsy when they are not (thank you in particular Ganching and Katyboo for such assiduous blogging). Perhaps you do too, so I am sorry for the recent absence of posting. I am trying to finish something (I'm not being deliberately mysterious, it's yet another iteration of my idiotic book proposal, but this has now been going on so long it's just embarrassing, so I try not to talk about it. Ever. But I'm slightly panicky right now.).  It has taken me three days to write this much. It was also L's birthday, so we spent much of the weekend making cakes (I didn't do a crap, Cakewreck phoenix, laziness won out over child-teasing), or in "City Kart", which is a concrete lined hangar of sweat and testosterone in a far-flung suburb, or driving backwards and forwards, failing to respect priorité à droite and cursing. The youths in the back of the car distracted me by repeatedly using 'fashion' as a slightly ironic compliment, telling each other 'tu es trop fashion'. 'non, Je suis fashionista'. Which was odd for a gang of twelve year old boys, but what do I know about youth, I was born aged about 45.


Got back into bed for half an hour after children went to school to finish my grim Icelandic murder and do not regret it for a second. More and more often, I find myself sneakily retiring to bed. I'm there right now, as it happens in a self-imposed lull between rat cage cleaning, making the dinner, Dutch homework and guitar practice. We have form for this in my family: my mother spent most of the early 1990s in bed and I don't blame her. The more time you can spend hiding from your family in bed, the more likely you are to preserve good relations with them, I feel.

M has just sent an email entitled "turd in a tree and a large pumpkin". There were pictures associated. She knows me so well.

Yesterday I rode a horse and then had cheese on toast for lunch which is pretty much the dictionary definition of living the dream if you are Emma. For full Nirvana you would only have to add: hmm. An eclair and a cashmere nest in the shape of Totoro? Failing that, I have a Cadbury's Caramel and my bed, so the creature comforts are pretty much covered (I basically haven't stopped eating rubbish since that hideous juice fast - link here - we're greatly looking forward to the angry comment loons weighing in on this one).

A cat running into a door during a French patisserie programme.

I have watched some excellent (ie. appallingly lowbrow) television recently, particularly 'Animal Hoarders' which featured a woman in Hull with fifty rescued ex-battery hens living IN HER HOUSE. Her HOUSE mind, not her garden. One of them was called "Twisty" and it had had a stroke which meant it could no longer support the weight of its head, which dangled around the level of its chest at a rakish angle. The woman carried Twisty around all the time and when she had to put her down, she would put her in her desk drawer. I thought they were both great.


Freezing rain, weather fit only for huddling in a cashmere Totoro nest. Apparently it is set to ran forever, so that's lovely.

The Latvian Eurovision entry "Cake to Bake" was not selected for the final and I for one am furious.

I was actually henpecked today by an actual hen (whilst trying to let it out) and it drew blood. Thanks, hen, you pea-brained asshole.

I wrote three big sections of text in the present tense in a pretentious fit of artistic fuckery and now I'm trying to restore them to the past tense to match the rest of the MS and it's horrifying.

Just sliced through my nail with a blunt knife trying to chop bacon. Not whilst in bed, that would have been stupid, I got out of bed to slice bacon. I think that was my first mistake. If I had stayed in bed this would never have happened, so that is the moral of the story.

Ongoing rat decline is ongoing. We are back to the vet on Saturday. L is prepared - again - for the worst, poor soul.

L is "doing" the Second World War (for the first of presumably 8 hundred times in the next 8 years, much like "the water cycle" and "the Egyptians"). Concretely this means that in the midsts of a conversation about eg. chocolate biscuits or why I need to give him €10 or rat care, he will suddenly say something like "why did Hitler kill lots of Polish people?" leaving me scrabbling for age-appropriate and accurate answers. Challenging. Apparently they are going on a school trip to a fort from where Belgians were deported to concentration camps soon.

Somewhere in-between

It is the Gulag gymnastics "spectacle" this evening. F is taking part. Apparently there will be over an hour of vigorous calisthenics and he has to dress as "a buffoon". So that sounds.. interesting. And perfect Friday night entertainment, obviously. One of those events for which the hipflask was created. I have to go because F is refusing to take part in the normal school end of year show, because his class is doing a Disney princess medley. Fair enough, frankly. I am also, soon, expected to go to L's "Fête Laïque" which is an curious beast: basically, they (no idea who 'they' are) have devised a sort of secular first communion for the heathens, which takes place in the 1970s concrete splendour of the Forest National stadium and which involves... I have absolutely no idea. L told me yesterday that apparently they are getting their hair and make up "done" by professionals. The whole thing is shrouded in depper and deeper mystery the more I hear about it. Will it be like the brownie's Festival of Queens at Central Hall in York? This is my only point of reference, except of course the brownies were into God (the Woodcraft Folk had no equivalent that I recall).

A picture

This plucky little soul keeps venturing out in the daytime which I know is a bad sign. She's about 700 hedgehog years old anyway, so I'm not really sure what to do about it, except keep the cat food going and not allow crows to eat her. STOP DYING, PETS.

This is really boring, sorry, I will try to do better. Or at least report back on the gymnastics 'spectacle'.

50% anxiety
20% back in black opaques
20% unable to concentrate due to dog whining at my feet
10% Twisty the hen



Anonymous said...

What a wonderful way to start the day. Your posts make me smile and warm my heart no end. Not boring at all. Good luck with the book proposal!

Anonymous said...

D'Oh, I forgot to sign that, Ash :-)

breakfastlady said...

Not at all boring. V funny, especially as smallest breakfast boy's class assembly yesterday consisted of them singing a song about the water cycle, now that they've moved on from last term's got it, the Egyptians. I await WW2 with some trepidation.

The thing in the stadium sounds vaguely sinister. Has a mass Moonie wedding been considered as a possible explanation?

Waffle said...

BL - OH GOD THEY'RE GOING TO MARRY HIM OFF, YOU'RE RIGHT. That might be fun, actually.

Anonymous said...

Try Googling Fete Laique and look at the interesting images from long ago and more recently. It's been going on a while I think - a young people's coming of age celebration invoking the French revolution's 3 ideals? Resolutely non-religious, while looking quite like a church festival - my French is not so good, so I'm probably missing some important nuances.
Heather (NZ)

Nimble said...

Bless the hedgehog.
Last week I watched 2 performances of the middle school's Alice in Wonderland. It contained very few lines written by Lewis Carroll, to my disappointment. But going big-picture to find the silver lining I did admire the way the organizers got a coordinated effort out of 50 kids on and off stage. My 12 y.o. had a wonderful time being a playing card.

Anonymous said...

Dear Waffle, you are indeed missed on the days you don't post.
This morning I was in the middle of a long walk from A to B (I happened to be wearing new shoes and my feet were getting very uncomfortable at that point) when I saw that you had a new post up. I sat down for a few minutes to rest my feet and read about your week. It was a little burst of happiness in an otherwise dreary and humdrum day, so thank you for that.
The Fete Laique sounds amazing. Can lapsed adults take part as well?

Anonymous said...

The percentage breakdown of that moment was probably:

20% another mile to go
20% why on earth did I wear these shoes today and this is getting really painful
20% oh shiny new post from lovely Belgian Waffle
20% warm sunshine and warm fuzzies
20% mid-morning contentedness, like a breath of fresh air

Xtreme English said...

fabulous post, as always. watch out for those chickens (the chicken?) how many are left??

Julie said...

There are 27 personal blogs in my RSS feed reader that have been there for maybe, five years. You are the only one that even attempts to update regularly. You have no idea how grateful I am. Better than that, you are funny and interesting.

My brother-in-law has an automatic hen house opening doo-dah that saves getting out of bed to be pecked. This may be the epitome of something.

I have spent the last eighteen years wondering what on earth is going on at various school events in more locations than I care to recall. I wish I could say it gets better.

20% forgetting I have a son on study retreat
40% thinking four days is too long to trip over husband at home on 'pont'
30% Negroni love
10% Not thinking about the future and much happier for that

Dale said...

From the description I wonder if L might be going to visit Kazerne Dossin im Mechelen? There's a newish museum there on the site of the deportation camp, but truly I cannot imagine the conversation stoppers he might come up with after the visit. Education is fearsome.

Dee said...

Of COURSE we miss you. No pressure,you understand, but a day with Waffle in it is so much better than a day without.

But what of Prog Rock and assorted etwas???

aisling said...

I see the comment loons are already out in force. The always come out of the woodwork for the Guardian!

I love your posts - best thing in my reader. A book you say..?

Patience_Crabstick said...

My goodness, your detox diet article turned out to be quite controversial.

Waffle said...

Patience/Aisling - It was horrifying. I liked the one who called us 'fucking morons'. After that I basically gave up. LA LA LA LA LA.

Izzy said...

Lovely to have a new post to read again! :)

Re the hedgehog: that sounds like the right thing to do. If she's venturing outside in the daytime it's because she's hungry, and probably not finding enough food during the night. Just don't give her milk, but I bet you already knew that :)

Anonymous said...

I definitely miss you. Your blog is a shiny thing on a dull day. I'm still trying to work out what was happening in the Year 3 & 4 (so 7,8 & 9 yr olds)Easter production of Alladin or A Lad In Trouble as I think it was actually called but hell, who knows? It was inaudible, children forgot their lines, fell off the stage and although there wasn't a punch up it looked likely for most of the hour that I spent in the sports hall gawping and laughing hysterically. Gymnastics spectacle dressed as 'a buffoon' and "Fête Laïque" sound like they have even more potential for jaw-dropping feats of WTFness.
I've come to the conclusion that there are people who only read The Guardian so they can get good and outraged in the comments, tedious tossers!
20% grumpy about The Guardian
45% curiosity about gymnastics and "Fête Laïque"
15% wondering where I've left my glasses
10% worried about work
5% rhubarb and custard cake
5% wondering what I've forgotten

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