Thursday, 15 November 2012

A Public Apology

Following the Post titled "An All Time Low" it has come to my attention that an official, public apology is needed.

While, at the time of the incident foretold in above post, it was unclear to me as to the true nature of one Mr. Michael Mouse's intentions, it has now, after some investigation become all too clear.

Regarding the accusation of Mr Mouse 'looking for a fight' by approaching me with a fixed grin and using the line "So you wanna join the Mickey Mouse Club?!" I have now been informed that this was not an insinuation that he had replaced me in Annie's affections, but merely a catchphrase Mr Mouse is well known for. Rather like Buzz Lightyear with "To infinity and beyond", Grandad's with "pull my finger" and Ron Walker with, well, "Catchphrase", Mr Mouse's "So you wanna join the Mickey Mouse Club" is his own identifiable quip and was not intended to cast aspersions of any kind.

Regarding the 'sing-songy' "Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggady dog" It appears this is Mr Mouse's theme tune and the hip swivelling, the accompanying dance that goes with it. It was not intended to 'goad' in anyway, and Mr Mouse would like it pointed out that he is fully aware of the differences between a dog and a cat, and that it was never in question, in his mind, that I am indeed the latter.

It should also be pointed out that the copious references to Mr Mouse's oversized ears was uncalled for and discriminatory to those with larger lobes.

I would like to categorically state that all the actions of Mr Mouse were of a friendly and allied nature and not intended to offend, subvert my authority or in any way cause the events that followed.

On another note Ted Bear would like it formally stated that he would have stepped in regardless of what he was wearing and it had nothing to do with 'proving he was still Boss'. He would like it to be noted that he is fine with his new attire and others need to come to terms with the fact that "Ted Build-a-Bear now comes with pink knitwear"

With that in hand, please be aware that no toys were harmed long term by the events that befell us a few weeks ago, and any toys that did have subsequent nightmares have been referred to CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Team).

Thursday, 1 November 2012

An all time low

So things have hit an all time low this week as the battle for Mu's affections came to a head. Now am not saying that all Yanks are the same, and would like to make it abundantly clear before I set off on this post, that I love America as a country and it's people I have found to be very friendly but that Mickey Mouse had it coming...

It all started with, as mentioned last week, Mu doling out kisses and hugs to any cuddly toy that passed her way, apart from me. Undeterred I didn't take it personally and vowed to persevere with the situation, safe in the knowledge I had Mam on my side. That was, until Sunday afternoon...

Due to an oversight, I had been got out of the cot in the morning but in the rush to get to church on time I was left in the living room until Mu returned - which happened to be the duration of the day. Seeing I was in for the long haul I decided to make the most of it and hang out with the other toys whose home is in the Play Tub. All was going well until that Oversized-Eared-Mouse sauntered over with a fixed grin across his face (which he couldn't seem to wipe off). I'd like to point out, it was clear from the off that he was asking for a fight as his opening line was "So, you wanna join the Mickey Mouse Club?!" Well, I knew what he was implying, that he was now Annie's Favourite Toy and I would have to join his gang in order to get any look in with her. I replied with a gentle roar to show him who was boss. Sadly he didn't take the hint...

His reply to my reply was plain and simply goading "Hot dog, Hot dog, Hot diggaddy dog" he said, in a sing-songy type manner, well, that really got the ribbons on my mane up, I'M CLEARLY A CAT AND HE KNEW IT! As if that wasn't enough it was accompanied by some form of dance routine, which, I will say, left a lot to be desired. However, I have to admit with that three fingered rodent grinning and swinging his hips in my face I'd had it and launched at him with a full roar...

...What happened next wasn't pretty, Mickey - still grinning - fell backwards off the sofa giving me the chance to perform that wrestling move I'd been practicing for some time now. He however he rolled at the last minute, whipping me in the face with his tail and causing me to face plant the floor...

What happened after this was a bit of a blur but I do remember lassoing my hoops round one of his giant ears and swinging him above my head till he spun off, this was countered by him pulling off his gloves and trying to plait my ribbon mane...there was some scratching I will admit, and yes, even some hair pulling, and I was thankful for all those Aqua Zorbing lessons I'd been having as my skills at wild thrashing of the air and blindly spinning round and round came in quite handy. And, I will say, for a guy who insists on wearing shorts and no shirt (no-one likes that guy) the rat put up a good fight.

We were eventually pulled apart by Ted, a giant Build-a-Bear who has recently been dressed in a pink jumper by Annie and Mam, and so, obviously looking for a chance to show he's still boss. He, when questioned, stated "There are no winners in this.." Well, he obviously didn't see the whole thing...

Now I'm not wholly proud of what happened. I'm normally a pacifist. In fact this is the only fight I've ever been in (The White Witch doesn't count...) and while I am nursing some superficial wounds I do feel that I came out on top as from Monday Annie has started to hug and kiss me... SO HOT DIGGADDY THAT MOUSE...

Thursday, 25 October 2012

Back in the game...

(This week's blog is brought to you using sentences from the coursework of students studying English - spellings have been corrected for ease of reading*)

So it's been a while, due to the fact that I've been slumming it in the dark ages and we have only just got the internet at our new house - so I guess technically we've been hanging out below the poverty line for a few weeks - according to the government...haven't felt any benefit of that fact.

Life continues to run on like a dog chasing a cat. Mu, now sporting two teeth, has mastered crawling and is stubbornly refusing to use this new skill in order to master walking instead, which she clearly sees as the cooler thing to be seen doing.

She has also taken to giving kisses and hugs to all her toys, apart from myself that it is. I still get a huge THWACK! from a jigsaw piece on my head and while I am laid on the floor and cant see nothing, a stamp on my cheek. Not sure how I haven't made the cut for her affections as I, unlike the wooden spoon, the cars and the teething ring, have really put the effort in in terms of trying to win her love. Sadly, it seems my efforts have been wasted like someone what is cut down in their prime by an unknown attacker on the way to the shop for your mum.

Mam's trying her best to help my cause by hugging and kissing me in front of Mu, then handing me to her, however, this is now just looking like I'm Mam's Favourite Toy, which, at her age, is just embarrassing.

While this turn of events is saddening I will not be defeated like a woman what is got out of a car crash but without her arm why without her arm cos her arm was crushed in the car door and when they cut her out the car with heavy duty machines her arm got stuck and they couldn't get it out. I will persevere undeterred by the current state of events...think it's time I pulled out the big guns...

(*and yes, I mean GCSE coursework, and English is their first language...think the government should be looking into the education system in this country not how many kids have access to Wikipedia...)

Thursday, 23 August 2012

Mu's First Tooth say this one snook up and bit me on the bottom is an understatement...

Wednesday, 1 August 2012

Thursday, 26 July 2012

Why dust balls are my new friends

We are moving house. Well, we don't actually have a house to move to but we are, nonetheless, moving. Cue Mam on a mamoth packing spree and to say she's like Monica from Friends is an understatement. The mere suggestion by Dad that she just "empty the draw into the box and shut the lid" prompted a 7 min rant on how much he didn't understand the ins and outs of packing and removal, which left him, quite frankly, speechless.

Each box is labelled on all sides and twice on the lid. All items contained within the box are wrapped in bubble wrap or (and in some cases and) kitchen towel. Those items deemed 'Extremely Fragile" the thresh hold of which is anything made of a natural fibre, have had made for them a specialist cardboard divider so they sit snuggly in the box allowing space for their allocated bubble wrap, kitchen paper and towel, they are then packed with shredded paper, just in case.

She has also gone mental with Vacuum Bags...basically if it fails to meet the Fragility Thresh Hold, it gets vacuum packed...and while we have all been amazed at the bags capacity to reduced 2 double duvets and bedding to the size of a gnat, Annie has started to cry whenever the hoover is produced out of fear one of those bags has her name on it.

All this brings me to the title of this post. While Mam is rigorous to say the least in her cleaning routine (again, Monica...) the recent pack down has resulted in an inexplicable amount of dust. And I'm not just talking on the top of picture frames, it's everywhere...and seems to be gathering itself together in what I can only think is an attempt to form a carpet. What's more worrying is that Mam doesn't seem to have noticed, as the hoover is busily condensing the towel filing system to flannel size, the dust balls are billowing round the house like tumble weed but the hoover is never turned on them.

The frightening pace at which the dust has materialised and, subsequently multiplied has led me to conclude that this dust is organised. It is not your everyday, genteel, snow covering-type dust, that all of us find nestling snuggly and harmlessly on top of the skirting board, unmoved. This is dust with a purpose, a vision and and end goal, striking fear into the hearts of unsuspecting spiders and small lions alike.

And as our home becomes every more a Health and Safety nightmare - boxes piled so high, they would kill a lion if they fell, the constant worry that if I sit still long enough I might have a first hand experience of what it's like to be a supermarket packed smoked mackerel, and the disconcerting presence of over ambitious dust - my only solution is to try and befriend the dust balls, as, come the revolution, I'm not sure I want to be against them...

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

The Clothes Show

So Mu is being Dedicated at church this Sunday and my biggest question of the week has been what does one lion wear to such an event? After all I am the mane man! (credit to Dad for that one).

For those not familiar, Mam and Dad have chosen to have Mu Dedicated rather than Christened or Baptised as they want her to chose for herself whether she wants to be a Christian. In having her Dedicated, she won't be formally a Christian, or formally a member of a denomination but it will be an opportunity for us to give thanks to God for her, and for Mam and Dad to promise to teach her about Jesus as she grows up.

Thus poses the seems this is the sort of occasion which falls below a Christening/ Wedding/ Funeral type affair, but above a Slobbing-Around-On-A-Saturday-In-Your-Joggers type affair, and I'm not going to lie to you, I can only do one or the other.

Now I'm not a dedicated follower of fashion in any sense of the word - my fur is yellow and purple - but I don't want to look stupid on the photos, with Mu (and any other subsequent siblings) asking - "What was he thinking??!?!?!" Nor do I want the photo's to be brought out on a significant occasion in my own life, for all who have gathered to 'surpise' me, to laugh at. So I'm faced with but two options, do I dress-up my 'Slobbing' outfit, or dress-down my Wedding garb? With both these options still leaving the eternal conundrum of, to hat or not to hat?

Mu herself has been through several outfits - Mam being the most indecisive of dressers on an average day - and Gran only adding to the wardrobe chaos by purchasing new items to throw into the mix. It doesn't help that in light of our move to Yorkshire (that mission trip finally got legs - see earlier post on Cultural Exchange) Mam is either vacuum packing anything that stands still long enough or tossing it out completely. Dad's still reeling over the fact that he didn't answer the "When will you next wear this" thresh-hold question quick enough and lost all his pants to the Bin Man. By that I don't mean the Bin Man is now wearing his pants. All this means that Mu's options in what to wear are not unlike my own (minus the yellow/purple fur angle, and what to do with her ribbon mane)

Anyway, answers on a post-card if you care enough to assist. I'm off to try and bling up my Kappa Poppers and see if a top hat set at a jaunty angle will suffice...think Dad'll just be happy if he's not commando.

Tuesday, 10 July 2012

On A Serious Note...

Ephesians 3:20

"Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think according to the power that is at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus, throughout all generations, for ever and ever, Amen."

Since taking this job and watching Mu grow at the rate she does, I am drawn to thinking not only about life P.M. (Post Mu) but more increasingly about life B.M. And not as you might expect - in longing for a lie in, or not to have my ribbon mane chewed beyond any kind of style - but with the hindsight of seeing what God has done already. Although Mu will never really know it, most of us in this family had a life before we were who she see's us as. Mam was someone before she was Mam - she even had a name - Dad was someone before he was dad - and I believe people thought him cool - I was king of a fictional universe, revered by many, feared by all, and yet to Mu we will never be those people/lions, we will be who we are now always in her mind.

In many ways this is right and good and a testimony to our adaptability, slotting freely into these new roles. However there is a small part of me that wants her to see a little of who we were, not because our egos need a bit of T.L.C. now that we spend our days covered in sick and poo and having our heads mashed into banana repeatedly - but because God has done so much for us already.

I look at this verse and can hold up my paw and say He has done more than I could ask or think, I was once a very different lion, with a very different life, going a very different way. And for all my story telling of those good-old, bad-old days, I can't seem to do God's job on me justice. Seemingly I am doomed to only give Mu a poor, washed out picture of all that He has done, and therefore can do. How can I teach her about what it's like to know God, when I can only use cliches, poor metaphors and ramblings about when I was a cub?

I guess it's a good thing that He hasn't finished His job yet...

"And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on until completion at the day of Christ Jesus"
Philippians  1:6

Thursday, 5 July 2012

Getting The Most Out Of Dad's Taxes

This week has been mainly full of screams, poos and sniffles. My paws have been sucked in comfort so much, Sophie la Girafe is having to scribe on my behalf for this post - which in itself says how much my paw pads are aching, as typing with hooves is no mean feet!

Off for a lie down in a darkened room, a foot bath and a whole bar of Dairy Milk as still not quite recovered from the late night at A & E due to Mam's conviction that Mu had a serious and significant unknown illness mid week - 3 hours and a shot of Calpol later, doctors confirmed a soar throat.

Still, was worth it for moment Mam realised, in her hurry to get dressed to go to the hospital, she'd forgotten to put any pants on...

Thursday, 28 June 2012

An Ode to Mam

(To the tune of "It's all Part of Being a Pirate" By Don Freed - Here's a link to a poor version of the song, for those who aren't familiar... Being a Pirate is all Fun & Games)

Being a Mammy is all fun and games, til someone is sick in your hair.
Though you've just washed it,
Conditioned and brushed it,
That 'vom' will still find its way there.

And you may not have noticed,
On the back of your coat-is,
A sick stain, don't know how it's ther-rrrrrre,
Being a Mammy is all fun and games, til someone is sick in your hair-air.

It's all part of being a Mammy
(A Mammy, A Mammy)
You can't be a Mammy,
Without sick in your hair-air-air
It's all part of being a Mammy
(A Mammy, A Mammy)
You can't be a Mammy, 
Without sick in your hair.

Being a Mammy is all fun and games, til somebody poos on your clothes.
It's when you're alone,
With no-one to phone,
Telling yourself it 'smells like a rose'.

You're out with the Mam's
To the park with the prams
When you see it's splashed into your toes,
Being a Mammy is all fun and games, til somebody poos on your clo-ooooooooothes.

It's all part of being a Mammy
(A Mammy, A Mammy)
You can't be a Mammy,
Without poo on your clo-ooo-ooothes
It's all part of being a Mammy
(A Mammy, A Mammy)
You can't be a Mammy, 
Without poo on your clothes.

Being a Mammy is all fun and games, til someone wakes up in the night,
It might be from hunger,
Or to sing you a song or,
Because it's just got too light.

You fall out of bed,
Give them a pat on the head,
Tell them it will be alright,
Being a Mammy is all fun and games, til someone wakes up in the ni-iiiiiiight.

It's all part of being a Mammy
(A Mammy, A Mammy)
You can't be a Mammy,
With a full night of sle-eee-eeep.
It's all part of being a Mammy
(A Mammy, A Mammy)
You can't be a Mammy, 
With a full night of sleep.

Being a Mammy is all fun and games, til somebody catches a cold,
You might be quite normal,
Quite rational and audible,
But that sniffle, well it just won't go. 

The only answer -
You're convinced they've got cancer,
Despite what you have been told,
Being a Mammy is all fun and games, til somebody catches a co-oooold.

It's all part of being a Mammy
(A Mammy, A Mammy)
You can't be a Mammy,
Without losing your mi-iiiiinnd,
It's all part of being a Mammy
(A Mammy, A Mammy)
You can't be a Mammy, 
Without losing your mind.

Tuesday, 19 June 2012

Cultural Exchange

Recently, Mu and I went as part of a team to Liverpool on a Cultural Exchange. The idea being to share some of our North Eastern ways with Scousers. That said, the numbers on our "Team" had had to be made up by Mam, (due to a late drop out) who's from Yorkshire, which needs a cultural exchange all of it's own, so we were down one man from the off...

Visiting the Capital of Culture 2008 I had high expectations, and our merry band of Mackem's had received significant training in how to make the most of their time.

Arriving late on Friday evening we were treated to dinner, however, it turns out that it's customary in Liverpool to engage in some form of Krypton Factor style challenge before you are allowed to eat. This took the form of Dad and his counter-part on the Scouse side, wrestling a travel cot out of one bedroom and into another. This, you may think was a 5 minute task, however, Dad got caught out by the collapsable drop sides and had to be rescued by Uncle Dave, who, although a trainee father himself, was not versed in this particular make of Travel Cot, and thus the two of them only managed to fold down 2 out of 4 sides and neither one put up the 'bonus points' black out blind...That said, standards are clearly low over there, as we were allowed to eat regardless of the incomplete nature the task was left in...wouldn't have been allowed in our house.

Dinner was lovely, in fact, food over the whole weekend was exceptional, I would like to speak very highly of the chicken I sampled on Sunday, and while some team members did voice doubts over the chicken, both I and the digestive systems of those who par-took of it speak for itself. Can't say the same for the vegetarians who, due to an oversight, were given a papier mache chicken breast and no gravy...

The church service on Sunday was like coming home. Mam particularly enjoyed the fact that the drummer in the worship band actually kept time, something which seems to ironically escape a lot of drummers. Dad's church service highlight was the fact that the 86 year old lady sat next to him had an iPad. All of the Mackem Team was impressed with the Scousers commitment to Sunday Lunch, where not even the built-in oven falling on a pregnant woman got in the way of us being fed. Commendation to the Scouse Team.

Overall the weekend was a success, with both parties enjoying the foibles of the other. The Scousers misunderstanding the Mackem's when they addressed women as "Man' - which in some cases was really quite awkward. The Mackem's wondering what exactly was 'fair' about Fair Trade Tea served to them throughout the weekend...both sides were, however, united in their confusion over where the relevance of the woman leading the Sunday morning services' menopause came into any of it, despite her speaking about it during a period of the service entitled "Good News"...

And while those Liverpudlians will always have a place in my heart, with their sing-songy accent and ever increasing need to calm down, and the North East now being my adopted home, I will say life isn't quite the same when everyone you associate with has legs that match their bodies...

Tuesday, 12 June 2012

On A Serious Note...

To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David.

Lord, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
    you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
    and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
    behold, O Lordyou know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
    and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
    it is high; I cannot attain it.
Where shall I go from your Spirit?
    Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
     If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
    and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 even there your hand shall lead me,
    and your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
    and the light about me be night,”
12 even the darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is bright as the day,
    for darkness is as light with you.
13 For you formed my inward parts;
    you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
    my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
    intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
    the days that were formed for me,
    when as yet there was none of them.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
    How vast is the sum of them!
18 If I would count them, they are more than the sand.
    I awake, and I am still with you.
19 Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God!
    men of blood, depart from me!
20 They speak against you with malicious intent;
    your enemies take your name in vain.
21 Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord?
    And do I not loathe those who rise up against you?
22 I hate them with complete hatred;
    I count them my enemies.
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart!
     Try me and know my thoughts!
24 And see if there be any grievous way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting!

It's been 6 months since I started this job and I thought it about time I reflected on the task so far. As I watch Mu, now 6 months old, I can't help but marvel at what she's achieved. In the time I've known her she has learnt the following...

  1. To see things
  2. To sit up
  3. To grasp objects
  4. To eat food
  5. To laugh
  6. To smile
  7. To chat
  8. To sleep through the night
  9. To kick her legs
  10. To roll over
  11. To turn her head
  12. To hold her head up
  13. To twist her body
  14. To choose her preference
  15. To communicate when she has had enough of something
  16. To recognise people
  17. To be tactile
  18. To blow raspberries
  19. To know when she has made someone laugh
  20. To understand facial expressions
This list comprises a small part of the differences in her between when she first arrived home and now, some of these aren't learnt by fully grown adults and she has mastered them in just 26 weeks...while I could go on to extoll the genius of her as an individual (Mam is convinced that she is an actual genius), it has brought me back to the Psalm above countless times over the last few months.

This was the first glimpse of her (left). Then we didn't know her name, what she looked like, even if she was a boy or a girl, and yet Mam talked endlessly about this person whom she had never met and whom she was instantly in love with. I watched as she studied the picture like she would be tested on it marvelling at how clear it was even though to the outside world it wasn't even obvious she was pregnant.

And yet, as I think of all we didn't know about her, it astounds me that God did know her. More than that was "...knitt[ing her] together"He knew her eye colour, her hair colour, her smile, her name.
And now I look at her just 6 months on, thinking how much she has changed from that small, wrinkled ball of hunger to this huge(!) giggly young lady with excellent deportment and wonder what the next few months and years hold for her. Who will she become, what will her voice sound like, what will make her laugh, what job will she do, who will she marry, and as I ponder these things, I am reminded again of this Psalm...
"Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
    the days that were formed for me,
    when as yet there was none of them."

As her mother becomes more neurotic, and her father becomes more of an emotional wreak, wondering and fearing for her over the coming years, it is comforting to know that it is not all in their hands, and it never has been. Mu is on loan, gifted to them, inadequate as they are and ever increasingly will be. But perhaps given to them to help them understand something of how God feels about them as a Father, and something of his sovereign grace and power over all.
Which leaves me thinking of the words spoken of another mother...
"But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart." Luke 2:19.

Wednesday, 6 June 2012

Food, Glorious Food

Mu has started to be weaned. A process that involves Mu being re-fed her regurgitated food more than once, in a head to head battle with Mam and Dad. They feed her the food and Mu raspberries it out at them. Mam has been pretty evenly covered on a daily basis but she almost took the advantage recently when Mu nearly stuck her eyelashes together with broccoli meaning she was unable to defend 3 full spoons of puree. Suffice to say it was pretty much evens as we entered Step 2 of the Weaning Plan and introduced a breakfast routine.

Dad's face as the first spoonful went in was cross between him realising he'd forgotten to put the bins out (why do dad's love bin day so much?) and what I imagine to be his face when being told that Mam had left the baby on the bus (an event that has not happened...). Mam on the other hand looked like Christmas had come and she'd been given free reign in the Lakeland Kitchenware Shop.

Mu was unimpressed but now seems to have accepted that her protests are going un-noticed and is now devouring whatever is given her and asking no questions. 1-0 Mam and Dad, although the resultant nappies take that score back to evens again...

The lastest addition to her menu is that of Wheetabix (other brands also available), which is her current favourite. I have to say it's my least favourite as being caught in the cross fire of soggy wheat biscuit has resulted in matted fur, as that stuff sets like concrete if left for longer than 3 minutes.

In the clean up process I apparently fall low down on the list of cleaning priorities which means my ribbon mane is now stuck together in a way that makes me look like Johnny Rotten - off to consider whether the only answer to this issue is to shred my t-shirt and pierce my ear with a safety pin....God Save the Queen.

Thursday, 31 May 2012

Aqua Zorbing

Mam sprung a new one on me this week and announced that I'd be taking up a new extreme sport - Aqua Zorbing - in which Mu would not be participating. I was torn between appreciating some time off and wondering if I was still carrying some Christmas weight, but none the less I was excited.

The fact that this announcement came soon after I had failed at maintaining my presence inside the pushchair and made contact with the wheel during a hair-pin corner - thus creating a possible dog poo contamination scenario on my paws - was unrelated.

For those who are unfamiliar with the concept, Zorbing is you, in a life sized hamster ball, pushed down a hill.

Aqua Zorbing is you & this same life sized hamster ball filled with water and pushed down a hill.

Now I understand this may sound like some kind of punishment, and, while I can't confirm or deny it's origins from Guantanamo, as it is something you pay money for the privilege of experiencing, I think that puts it as least one step back from Chinese Water Torture, but perhaps one step ahead of Aqua-Robics.

What Mam had failed to mention was that I would not be in the Zorb alone, she also failed to mention that this was a home-made Aqua Zorbing experience, which does call into question where my particular experience of this sport lies on the aforementioned Sport-to-Torture Scale.

What followed was me, surrounded by clothes, soap suds and, yes, water, in what I can only describe as 30 minutes of vigorous thrashing, wrestling thin air and generally fighting for my life - so in many ways not unlike Aqua-Robics...

To say it was the worst 30 minutes of my life would be an exaggeration. To say I enjoyed it would be a lie. To say I won't be partaking in this activity again is, apparently, not an option...

The experience as a whole left me clinging to Mu's dribble bib like Jack in Titanic and for the first time in my life seriously considering those Slim Fast Shakes...

Wednesday, 23 May 2012

Life after Narnia

...Today's been a hot one, and, for once, I was glad of the opportunity to be constantly drooled on by Mu, who knew the toothless gums of an infant could be like water in a parched land...

Spent most of the day suspended in the pushchair, the reasons for this several-fold;

1) Need to be in constant reach of Mu while she she is being couriered hither and thither by Mam...
2) The pushchair seemingly only has 2 speeds - break neck & breaking...
3) Haven't quite mastered the art of staying in the pushchair as we negotiate left & right handed turns, kurbs and dog poo...
4) Haven't a clue where we were going...

Also have very patchy sun burn due to Mam's slap-dash approach to 'creaming up' before letting Mu see the sun. Pending her gaining control of the 200ml bottle of Simple Sun Cream for Kids, t'would seem only way to ensure Mu's TOTAL and COMPLETE coverage from the sun rays is by coating anything within a 3 metre radius in Factor 50. Apparently Mu wearing a long dress, sun hat and being placed in the shade for the duration of her time outside wasn't enough in itself. Still, no such thing as a 'healthy tan'.

 Not saying my decision to leave an entire kingdom in the hands of adolescents while I experienced some 'real life' was wrong, just saying life was drier and less confusing in a land that was always winter...