Depressed road safety campaigners?

In Lincolnshire it appears that the road safety people are either very depressed or have a very black sense of humour. On all the roads there were anti-speeding signs, not your usual "drive safely" or "keep your speed down". Oh no. The two most prevalent ones were very dark.

"ARRIVE ALIVE!!!" screamed the first poster as we sped past it. "How could you arrive otherwise?" was my first thought.

"TO DIE FOR???!!!" asked the second with a picture of a motorbike next to the cheery slogan.

My, they must really need to be shocked out of bad driving in Lincolnshire.

Fishermen

We were staying in a fishing cottage so my father-in-law could spend the week failing to catch anything of note. One day a fisherman round the corner from us caught quite a big fish. Someone else had stopped to look, so I took Baby Babs to have his first look at a fish. The man didn't say anything but quite clearly didn't want us to look so we left. He was a rude man. Then it turned out he was an editor of some regional fishing magazine and thought he was the bees knees. He obviously thought I knew who he was and was trying to get an autograph or a photo or something ridiculous. "This is me with Syd, the local editor of Fishing World, do you know him?". Honestly. He swanned round the place like he owned it, shouting out to anyone in range how many fish he had caught recently. He ate for free in the cafe and had loads of free gear, obviously through his job, but he didn't half show it off. Horrible man. Most of the fishermen were a bit odd really, they really think they are it, but frankly they are all a bit sad and I am glad I am only a football widow, they don't usually have much to brag about, well not in my house anyway :-)

Strange places I have been

On a recent week away we found the Strangest Pub in Britain. In a desperate bid to find a pub that was showing the two Tottenham matches on that week (Mr Babs and holidays do not mean he will not insist on watching them playing badly) we ended up in one called the Red Lion. Every other pub was showing better matches. The first night, there was us and probably 8 other people, including the bar staff. This made the notice on the door stating that the pub had a maximum capacity and people would be turned away when reached most intriguing. Is that maximum number 15? 20? I cannot imagine it getting so full they had a one in one out policy.

The other night we were in there it was slightly busier, but there was still room for about fifty more people. It must have been sports night. There were two intensely competitive dominoes games going on in opposite corners, a closely fought darts match in another, two different football games on opposing screens, and a queue for the slot machines. It made my head hurt. We were given the evil eye all night by an odd guy called Nige, I can only think we were stood in his spot or he really hated Tottenham fans. I thought he was going to follow us home and kill us, especially as we staying in a cottage up a dark lane in the middle of nowhere. He didn't though.

The town itself was also very odd. It was all pubs, food shops, and indian takeaways. That was about it. Nowhere to buy clothes, apart from one charity shop, nowhere to buy holiday gifts. Oh and the biggest vets I have ever seen. And in the only pub we ate in, it turned out the manager used to live round the corner from my in-laws in London. How bizarre. And the amount of people on those oldie scooter haring round the lanes was nothing short of dangerous. They all think they are on motorbikes and reliving their youth. Wait till someone gets runover, that's all I'm saying Evil Knievel grandad.

Things Baby Babs finds amusing

1) Pretending to make his teddy bears smell his feet and then drop down dead.
2) Crashing things into each other.
3) Falling over.
4) Other people falling over.
5) Dancing.
6) Taking pens out of pots and putting them back in again.
7) Taking calls on his pretend mobile.
8) The theme tune to Hollyoaks.

I've either got a child genius or a slightly twisted future madman on my hands.

Why I hate London

Last week me and Baby Babs were on a bus. Unfortunately it was one of the new fangled bendy buses so we were miles away from the driver. When the bus stopped at our stop, instead of letting us off first, an awful awful woman barged her way onto the bus and shoved the buggy, leaving Baby Babs face down on the pavement and me on my ass on the bus. If I hadn't been so worried about the doors closing and me being carried off and Baby Babs being left on the pavement I would have either a) called the police or b) smashed her or c) both. She was a terrible woman and all she said was "sorry but you should have moved". If I hadn't been in shock I would have dragged her off the bus and taught her that you are supposed to let people off before forcing your way on. I am still SO mad about it and I hope that the people on the bus smashed her instead. And I hope she learnt her lesson but I doubt it very much.

And another thing...

...Mr Babs has to have an eye check up every year for his diabetes. I rang up to make an appointment for his annual check to our usual place to be told the next appointment was "18th December". December? When I queried this I was given a snotty "well there is a big demand for them" from some schoolgirl trainee. So I rang the much smaller local independent opticians and got an appointment for 23rd September. Ah ha. A 4 month wait for these eye tests can have really bad consequences, they can pick up all sorts of problems with them. How is this shop, a massive chain, so shit?! Last year it was fine. Of course I have complained :-)

Is it me?!

Recently I have had cause to contact a bank and an online shop to ask questions. Not complaints for once! But in both cases it appeared that my query had not been listened to AT ALL and they just had a standard response based on one word in my query. The shop one was yesterday, I received a watch as a gift but it needs altering. So as it came from an online shop and was a gift I wasn't sure how to go about sending it for alteration and I thought "ooh I'll just email them and ask". So I get a response telling me how to return it. I replied saying "if you actually read my message, I don't want to return it I just want it altered!". It drives me mad. The bank one was hilarious, our local branch was closed with some electrical problem and I needed to see if it was open so I thought "ooh I'll just phone them and see". But I couldn't find the local branch number and the woman on the generic number apparently didn't hear a word I said and told me I could pay my money in whenever the branch was open. I did complain about her and when I got a response from the manager saying "I believe you had a query about the opening hours of your local branch..." I gave up! Is it me or are all customer service people really rubbish these days?! Or are they tied to strict responses that are on a piece of paper and told to find the one that fits best and they aren't allowed to ad lib?!

Are the fish inside or outside?

Today we are meeting up with Miss S to go to the London Aquarium for our birthdays. It is a little more sedate than previous years, but with Baby Babs in tow and Miss S carrying one herself (currently called Clive until we know one way or the other), serious drinking and dancing and high heels are out for the moment. But they will return. Oh yes. It has been relatively nice weather up until today, but as I sit here now it is teeming down and it seems a little weird to venture out into torrential rain and then pay to go indoors and look at more water. But who doesn't love looking at fish and the promise of cake afterwards?!

What a relief...

The new series of In the Night Garden started yesterday and it hasn't changed. Goodo, Baby Babs likes continuity. My main concern was that Derek Jacobi would be sick of narrating with all the funny narrative and oohs and aahs, and would be replaced by someone like Sean Bean, but he's still there. He either has grandkids who love it or he's being paid shedloads. He sounds like he's narrating Shakespeare so it makes me feel better about littl'un watching it constantly!

But I suspect Iggle Piggle has a bigger blanket than before...

Neighbours

Our bleedin' neighbours are doing my nut in. They have put their house up for sale and although at first I was worried about who would replace them, now I'm wishing for a nice old couple who want to grow veg and sit in their garden with a pet dog. There is no interest at all in their house and I so wish there was. They were away recently and it was only when they came back that I realised how much NOISE they make! They have 2 kids which is fair enough, but if my kid spent hours in the garden just shrieking randomly I would tell him to bloody shut up, never mind if it was bothering other people! Then the bloke has a voice that could peel paint off the walls and it carries for miles and miles. We can't sit in our garden really as they are always there talking LOUDLY and there is no peace. I feel like they conned me by promising to move and then not doing! (Though when they have eventually moved and we've got worse people in don't remind me!)

I do wonder if it is me. They are by no means the worst neighbours we've ever had, that would probably be the awful couple who lived above me once in Croydon, but that's a whole other story. I just wish we could have a nice detached house in the middle of a park and be able to live in peace, and even possibly sit outside and read a book once in a while. I might just start playing music on a big boom box instead, it probably wouldn't be as noisy!

When you are tired of tv...

...are you tired of life?! Being at home and not having to enter the rat race means that over the months since Baby Babs arrived I have watched an inordinate amount of rubbish television. But now something strange has happened. Instead of leaving daytime tv on in the background, only now and then tutting at the utter banality of it all, now I can't bear to leave it on. Which in a way is a Good Thing. But now what do I do?! Even in the evenings tv is SOOO depressing, Mr Babs and I have finally broken our Hollyoaks addiction, we can't have watched it for at least a month now which is bloody brilliant and my mind feels more wholesome already. I think it was the sheer depression of everything that was happening in it, if watching a program makes you feel like crap, why watch it?! Everyone is miserable, dying, faking death, cheating somebody or something blah blah blah. I inadvertently caught an episode of Eastenders on Friday night. Some character's fiance was murdered on the night before the wedding, and his son (not hers) said that he hated her and that he would rather go into care than stay with her. She recently survived her house being blown up and a stalker and now this! Welcome to the weekend!

The only thing we watch is mind enlarging quiz shows or topical news comedy shows in the hope of at least learning something. We might have to take up ballroom dancing or something ridiculous. I can see my life ebbing away and all I'll have to show for it is an impressive knowledge of CJ's many hair styles on Eggheads.

The other half...

I was invited for coffee to the house of a mum I know. She is part of a group that are always doing expensive day out type things and I always cry off for lack of funds, but I thought I could manage going to her house for once. For one thing, Baby Babs loved playing with the other kids, and for another we all got to moan about our other halves. Anyway, I knew this lady had a lovely big house having been there once before, but when I got there this time she said all matter of factly; "Oh I'd get you a cup of tea but my cleaner's in at the moment, I'll have to wait until she's finished". I was half expecting her then to say; "and my butler doesn't start till 10" but she didn't. Then she confided that the cleaner was her husband's ex-wife, and she had employed her for 6 months before he found out!! What a ploy!! And she does her ironing. I am going so wrong somewhere...

Awkward situations...

...getting stuck at a party with a skanky married woman who your husband had a fling with years ago when he was too young to know any better and hadn't met you yet. You know about it, she doesn't know you know. She is super super friendly and confides all kinds of shit to you, then hits on the bright idea of having you over for coffee. Great. Thankfully she is so drunk she hopefully won't remember...and all your brain can do is think "I really don't like you, please leave me alone" and also "why is your face so hairy??!!". Mixed with "I know you are only talking to me to try to get to my husband but that ain't happening hairy lady!".

And where was my guilty husband? Hiding at the back of the party and not making any attempt to rescue me. Any other woman would have said something or made vague excuses and legged it. Not me, oh no, I took her phone number and promised to call. I am SO weak and pathetic, I had no intention of phoning but I didn't want to upset her. She's probably waiting by the phone as we speak...

Call the AA

We have family down this week, just in the evenings as they are doing other stuff in the day. And it seems I am funding one person's alcohol problem. Back in the day, one bottle of wine between two would certainly not be enough, but these days I can make a bottle last for three evenings at the weekend! Anyway, last night we had a bottle and a half of wine in the fridge, I was on my first glass and watched my drinking companion neck three glasses within half an hour, then polish off most of the rest of it leaving me a paltry second glass. Then as there was no booze left, they went home. I wouldn't mind if they had actually brought some wine round to drink! And I have a conundrum this evening. Am I tight and just buy one more bottle to last the evening knowing that I won't see much of it or buy two?! Damnit, they have blown my weekly budget to shreds as it is, I'm buying one of those mini bottles you can get and see how they like that!

Children's television

A strange phenomenon has taken over children's television. It seems to have been taken over by scottish people. Not that that is a bad thing, there just seems to be an abundance of cheery scots trying to amuse Baby Babs at the moment. Why is this?

a) it's cheaper to film and produce kiddie tv oop north?
b) the scots are all super lovely, cheery and funny and love nothing more than acting up for a camera?
c) all the plummy accented brits are flouncing about trying to get into "serious" acting and find children's tv beneath them?
d) all the up and coming northern actors are in Hollyoaks? (Saying that, a girl who was in Barnaby the Bear has now made the transition into "moody goth" in Hollyoaks, what a career move!)
e) kiddie shrinks have discovered that babies respond better to accents? And they are currently producing a new version of Noddy set in Birmingham?
f) I have uncovered a sinister attempt to take over the world by firstly dominating kiddie's tv to make us all speak scottish? It makes sense since Scotland made their bid for independence, it's a stealth invasion, bring on the whiskey!

Hmm, answers on a postcard please...

(PS Before any scots or indeed brums get the hump, I'm from oop north too and not slagging you off!)

Nails

I painted my nails the other day, I haven't done it for months and it was a small step to taking my life back from constantly looking after other people and neglecting myself. But in the end it caused more trouble than it was worth. All the family commented on it with "ooh, where are you going?" and "are you really bored at home?" type remarks. I just smiled and said nothing while inside I was raging "OF COURSE I AM NOT GOING OUT AND I AM CERTAINLY NOT BORED, I NEVER GET A MINUTE TO MYSELF! I JUST WANTED TO PAINT MY NAILS AND FEEL A BIT GIRLY!!!!"

And it was chipped within the hour.

Sigh...

Peace at last...

When you have spent the last 4 hours wrestling 3 young children who seem to want to fight constantly, the ones that weren't yours have gone home, yours is asleep, and you have a BIG glass of wine. Then you appreciate peace.

Lessons in being a bad mother

This week I have mainly been having lessons in being a bad mother. From confiscating cars that were flying round the room, to not letting Baby Babs sit on my knee after he smacked me in the face, to feeding him chicken nuggets instead of healthy nutritious fare. But the biggest lesson was a trip to a kids indoor play area thingymybob that Baby Babs' cousins go to quite a lot. We haven't been before but agreed to go along. It's all enclosed and they can't get lost or wander off so it was quite good really. And Baby Babs LOVED it, he ran round screaming and laughing and playing with the other kids. It was only some tunnels and padded play areas, but it was baby heaven to him. As I sat there watching him I thought "it's no surprise he's been throwing cars at the tv and hitting me, he's been bored out of his mind for the last 18 months". 18 months and never taken to a kiddie play place. BAD MOTHER! But saying that, it cost us £8 (!) for the 2 hour session so we won't be going lots! But I must make more of an effort to take him to the park or other places. He must be fed up of watching Homes under the Hammer and Cash in the Attic by now I suppose :-)

Library babies

So yesterday out of desperation for something to entertain Baby Babs we finally turned up to the library's "read and rhyme" session. I have been meaning to go for ages, it's only 1/2 an hour and free and I was curious to see what type of mum turns up to these gigs. And it was SO different to the baby group with the chav mothers we go to. There was a pretty inept children's librarian alternately reading stories and playing nursery rhymes on a tape deck. She sang so quietly you couldn't hear her and didn't really grab the kids' attention. The session is geared for kids from 0-5, which is a pretty big range to cover, so it was a weird mismatch of books she chose. Baby Babs had had enough by half way through and proceeded to run round the library in circles, he was entertained anyway! The mums were pretty much all chinese which was a bit strange, and one asked me how old my "little girl" was. This would be an easy mistake to make if Baby Babs wasn't the most boyish looking little boy ever, you could never mistake him for a girl!! So turning up for library events does not guarantee brains or common sense it seems. I'm not sure if we'll go again, the only plus is that if we turn up for 5 sessions we get a certificate! If it was a badge we would definitely be there with bells on.

Mmm, bread...

In my quest to become a better cook (there wasn't much to start with, trust me) I decided to make my own bread. Partly due to the RIDICULOUS prices at the moment, it is cheaper to make your own. Anyway, my grandma gave me a fancy food mixer at the weekend and it had a dough hook, so off we went! And it was bloody lovely! Obviously it doesn't last as long as shop bread with all the horrible preservatives and all, but it won't last long anyway! Though this new hobby (muffins last week, bread this week) is at loggerheads with my attempt to lose weight, dammit. Why are all celebrity chefs thin anyway? I don't trust a thin chef, they can't really eat their own food can they?!