Monthly Archives: July 2011

Pissy Pools…

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Yesterday I took my little girl swimming.

And I was dreading it…

How awful does that make me sound? Most yummy mummies out there will be dropping their delicate coffee cups at the thought of another mother not enjoying the sight of her daughter splashing about madly in chlorine polluted waters.

But I hate the thought of it and here are the reasons why:

1) The price. £4.20 for me to stand in freezing water, holding my slippery daughter and clapping like a lunatic every time she manages to lift her feet of the floor. I am NOT swimming therefore why do I have to pay the price of one. And just over £2 for my 3 year old seems excessive when all she can do is bounce up and down hopefully screaming “look at me Mummy, I’m a mermaid!”

2) The indignity. Nobody likes standing in their swimming costume, unless they are abroad, in the heat and relaxed. I am not relaxed when my hair is frizzy and my white bits are exposed and I’m responsible for a toddler not drowning.

3) The rumours. I heard a rumour once that people snuck into the Jacuzzi area at our local baths for a wee (as it’s tucked away in the corner). I can’t go in there now. And if I see someone standing in the pool, with a faraway look on their faces and a faint smile, I can’t help thinking “s**t, are they having a p**s?”. It makes my skin crawl…

4) The lifeguards. My dear nephew was one so I know they are lovely really, but why do they never smile. EVER?

5) The wet floors. They are a breeding ground for veruccas, we all know this….and we all avoid walking behind anyone wearing a fetching verucca sock or a scabby plaster.

6) Getting out. It’s hell on earth. You are cold like never before, your head hurts and your eyes sting like crazy. You never dry yourself properly in a bid to escape the skanky changing rooms as quickly as possible.

7) You feel so hungry. Or is that just me? I spend an hour standing in pool, doing very little and all I want to do when I get out is eat!

So why do I do it? Well I guess like most things we suffer for the ones we love. And I reluctantly admit that it is worth it all to see my daughter have so much fun

I just think next time I might have to nominate Daddy….

Having fun, despite Mum

Daddy’s Dirty Deviations

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There is nothing more likely to make you choke on your roast chicken than have your elderly father announce at the table that he finds John Barrowman “rather attractive.”

He said this while chewing on a brussel sprout, the thought obviously casting a nice little fantasy in his brain. I really didn’t want to be in his head at the moment, the thought terrified me.

Meanwhile, my Mum was calmly passing the gravy around, completely oblivious to this remark – so used to the daft things that spring from my father’s lips (especially when a glass of wine is clasped in his hand.)

“But I’m not sure though whether I prefer John or Dale Winton…” My Dad continued slowly, still chewing on his sprout. “Dale has always had a place in my heart. He has twinkling eyes and a knowing smile…”

“Perhaps we could have a threesome.” He suddenly declared. “That would solve it I’m sure they would be willing to share.”

My mother then replied sagely with the straightest of faces. “Would you like me to write to their agents and find out if it’s an option….?”

My Dad just continued to chew at his masticated vegetable, obviously enjoying this thought. Although whether he actually believed either would be interested in actually sharing his withered old body was questionable.

I suppose I should explain here that my father has never shown homosexual leanings, just a tendency to try and shock and surprise his audience whenever he can.

I’m sure if Dale and John did in fact arrive at that very moment with an armful of flowers and a suggestive look on their faces, he would be out of our back door as fast as his skinny little legs could take him.

But there is something very wrong in still having flashback images of your father locked in an embrace with two rather orange looking men.