Royalty awaits

Tonight my six-year-old, is one of six kids from the International School in Oslo, going to meet the King. They will be presenting paintings they were asked to produce on Friday – I guess you could say they were commissioned – to a group of people, one of whom is the King of Norway. Another is the Minister for the Environment & International Development. It’s in connection with a conference on the environment, taking place in Oslo today.

So she goes off to school with her hair braided, ready to unleash her curls on royalty later in the day, while I polish her black patent shoes (‘Are you sure they match, mummy?’ Of course, they do!) and try to get the stain, which looks suspiciously like glue, out of her red velour party dress.  The chipped green nail polish from Saturday has already been removed from her fingers.

She’s not in the least bit fazed by the fact that the King is finally getting to meet her. Of course, I’ve hung out with him before when the Irish president was here, but today I’m just acting as lady-in-waiting/dresser/chauffeur/agent. I’ve a feeling I might as well get used to it. 

St Patrick's Day Memories

There’s been a little discussion among some of my Facebook friends about what they’ll wear to next Saturday’s Oslo St Patrick’s Day Parade: wellies or skiis in any shade of green being the current options. I haven’t been to a St Patrick’s parade since I was a teenager; we’ve been away for a the past few, missing the Oslo gig.

The parade days of my childhood were always wet and cold; so cold that I was forced to wear a thermal vest underneath my Girl Guide uniform while marching. Lord, I didn't know what cold was. 

I don’t know what I’ll wear this coming Saturday. It doesn’t matter because no matter what I wear, I’ll always know that once I wore worse. Oh, so.. much... worse.

My Dad has always been an active citizen involved in various organisations in Kilkenny, some of which have entered floats in the local parade. One year, as you can see, I was tortured and forced to wear the above ‘thing’ and stand on a float, waving to all and sundry. I guess I was about 12 or 13. They probably told me to smile too but I somehow doubt I managed that. My youngest brother was too young to care, the other one must have got away scot-free and marched with the Boy Scouts. As you can see I was lovin’ it. No wonder I haven't been to a St Patrick’s Day in twenty years. 

For anyone interested, here are the details of this year's Oslo St Patrick's Day Parade:

The St Patrick's Day Parade will take place on Saturday 14 March, starting at 1200 from Youngstorget and finishing with ceremonies, speeches and activities at Universitetsplassen, Karl Johansgate. All welcome!