POLISH AIRPORTS

Since the EU expanded a while back we seem to have been hearing a lot about Polish workers taking over the UK. At first I didn't notice any, then the odd car on the motorway with a Polish number plate, then I heard our factory at HarperCollins Publishers was bussing in Poles to do all the distribution work but interestingly, the one place where you see it overwhelmingly, not just in the UK but also Ireland, is in airports.
When I was passing through Stansted last month going to Rome, I first noticed on a toilet stop that all the cleaners were speaking Polish, then I went for lunch in the 'Irish pub' in Stansted and all the waitresses were speaking Polish, finally Ryanair's check-in staff also all had Polish names. Then last Sunday I noticed the check-in staff in Dublin were also all Polish...I wonder what the fascination with airport jobs is - it is almost like they fly in but never make it any further!

A MILLION MILES AWAY?

Every time I have turned on the news for the past week, all I have heard about is flooding and disasters. Half of the BBC news front page is taken up daily with tails of communities cut off from civilisation, whole towns with no water supply, no electricity. I must admit I feel like I am reading reports about what is going on in America or Australia, it seems so remote. Still today the photos of doom and gloom keep coming while we in Glasgow seem to be basking in a heatwave. Today we were having a whale of a time in the Botanic gardens. It's a million miles away from down south, no?

WHAT FASCINATES ONE YEAR OLDS

Isn't this cute? Gordy and Pudge climbed up on two chairs this afternoon to look out at the street and beyond to Kelvingrove park. Gordy saw a dog. He turned to Léon, pointed and said "wuff", Léon nodded, pointed at my car and replied "car: mummy car", Gordy looked and nodded and repeated "wuff", and so the cycle went on, uninterrupted for 10 minutes. Fascinating, hmmm, maybe not...

ITCHY, SNEEZY AND MISERABLE

I have been sneezing non-stop now for a week or two, or so I thought, until I checked back some old emails to pals and realized it was closer to 10 weeks. This cold hasn't got any better, and strangely no one else seems to have caught it from me, and this week it is definitely getting worse if anything. When I go outside my eyes instantly start to look like that one on the left. It is so bad I can't sleep most nights so am getting more and more exhausted. When I lie down for a nap because I am exhausted my nose instantly blocks, my eyes puff up and I can't breathe...so I am slowly coming to the conclusion that I am suffering both bedbug allergies and hay fever for the first time ever in my life. Ironic that, given I can't take anti-histamines at the moment, no? Why is life such a bitch?

A FUN EVENING

Glasgow city centre at 11-55pm. People waiting to get into a night club? No not likely, waiting to get into Waterstones and WH Smith for the last Harry Potter book! And who would be crazy enough to do such a thing? I can't think of a single soul...

A BUGBEAR FROM CHILDHOOD

I was enraged yesterday to hear that a major bugbear from my own childhood 30 years ago is still being perpetuated in this day and age...though in retrospect, why am I surprised?
When I was a kid, there were 3 channels in the UK - BBC1, BBC2 and in Scotland STV. Scottish summers, you may be surprised to hear, aren't always the sunniest, and when I was a wee girl there were no holiday clubs or holidays abroad, not much to do really apart from that 2 weeks at the Glasgow fair (around July 20th) when you went camping in Blackpool to enjoy different rain. So you really looked forward to the special summer telly programmes laid on for kids for a couple of hours every morning. I still remember my favourite 'Why don't you?' The problem, of course is that Scotland is a place that exists when you live in it, but when you live in England, especially southern England, it simply doesn't exist. England, you may be amazed to hear, doesn't let its kids out of school for summer until July 20th, today to be exact...why? The rest of Europe slowly slips into the summer break over the last few weeks of June and while every kid in Europe, including Scotland is out having fun, England is still sending its little guys off to school. I have never understood that - especially given the climate, but there you go - the poor wee buggers get to miss what is potentially the only sunny month by not starting their holidays until the end of the summer. So us poor little Scottish kids used to drag ourselves out of bed every morning, turn on the TV and get boring political programmes, boring women's daytime telly, the news but not a single arts and crafts programme, no one telling us what we could turn yogurt pots and washing up liquid bottles into, not a single hint of Tom and Jerry or Scooby Doo - because no one in London realised or cared that 5 million Scottish people existed and were on holiday for 4 weeks before the English kids. Then Glasgow shut down the last 2 weeks of July, so when the kids' programmes finally showed up we all went camping, returning just a week before the Scottish schools went back. I used to sit seething all those weeks in July, not because I was a major TV lover but because the telly was telling me I didn't matter, I didn't exist, I didn't count. It is not nice to be a kid that doesn't count.
So there I was having coffee with mum yesterday with my kids watching the Disney channel and at every ad break they were blasting out 'Schools out tomorrow', from tomorrow we'll have super quiz shows for kids to win great prizes', from tomorrow there will be an afternoon kids' movie every day of the holidays' Grrrrrr! Do they know what size of a chip they force on to people's shoulders with this arrogant behaviour? Is it time to dig a big channel along the border and let the water flow in?

GORGEOUS BOY

a beautiful boy with his frog
Originally uploaded by phyl1

I took this photo of Marcel on holiday and really like it a lot. We'd been out in the forest collecting wild mushrooms, which he seemed to be enjoying immensely but once he caught sight of this frog, all he wanted was to take it home and keep it. It was nice to see how much pleasure he could get from a slimy, loveless creature, instead of the more common pre-teenage stroppiness we sometimes get at the moment! He is so desperate for a pet and yet Charlotte seems to hate all pets with a passion, unfortunately. I guess we'll need to find a solution.

FINAL CHAPTER

Not very interesting I know but just in case you can't sleep for wondering - Ashleigh rang me at 1-15pm to tell me she'd printed out my new parking permit - I guess she was fed up with her little power game by then - phew!

UPDATE

No murder charge yet - she deigned to process my application after seeing a council tax bill dated a month before the one she considered invalid yesterday - don't you just love logic? (Though she hasn't actually produced the sticker yet and the other one runs out in 1 hour and 28 minutes :-( )

WELCOME HOME?

Coming back your holiday is never easy...I woke up at 5am, mentally not wanting to oversleep...not a great start. Got into the office a bit after 8am and tried to log in, my machine decided to hang for 20 minutes, cool.

I then dropped in to the hospital to book a blood test as they'd cocked up the one they did just 3 weeks ago, they asked if I was sure I had been to that hospital before as they'd lost my case notes??? I had 3 little guys with me that proved for sure I had been to the maternity hospital before, not to mention their letter telling me their last blood test had been unsuccessful. While there, I noticed signs everywhere mentioning parking charges were coming into force next week, on Sunday (odd choice) no less! That is really handy - they have those meters you have to prepay the number of hours you expect to stay. Given a 20 minute appointment can drag out to 2 hours, that is a problem in itself, but what are you actually meant to do when you arrive for either Yorkhill casualty (guess whether you will be there the usual 4 hours or be admitted for 18 like happened to me last month, or worse still for the Queen Mum's - are you meant to be dropped at the door in labour and left to make your own way in while your partner searches for a parking space while trying to guess the length of your labour? It seems to be about £1 an hour so I guess my kids would have cost me about £20-£22 each. Grrrrrr!

Then the day got even better! I had received a parking permit renewal letter while on holiday. To start with I feel nothing but venom at having to paty £12 a month to park in front of my own house when I pay council tax anyway - fine make parking permits necessary, it is the city after all, but issue me it free with my council tax bill, please! Anyway, I struggled across the city in the heat with all 3 kids, handed over my renewal letter and my carlog book to a snooty 18 year old who told me I needed proof of residence. I asked what my log book (with address) and their letter (with address) were if not proof. I got the standard answer - I needed a 'utility bill' - for heavens sake come into the 21st century - NOBODY gets bloody utility bills anymore - we get e-bills. And even if people do get utility bills, they often live with people who have different surnames from the one on the car log book...

So I took another half an hour to drive back and pick up my council tax bill - which had to be dated within 3 months. I checked - 2 days to go - so I rushed back across the city to show them that. The same snooty wee girl then looked at it and told me - this is a bill for a council tax adjustment to last year's total so I can't accept it. I protested in vain that it was still within the 3 months and she then said she would rather see my other bills - dated 4 months ago but showing this year's total bill. Where did logic go? They want a month older bill from the same department, but can't accept a month younger one. At this point she suggested I sprint up to John street, 15 mins away and back to get a printout proving where I lived (25 degrees, 3 kids in tow, no buggy). I offered my road tax reminder letter from the Department of transport, dated 2 weeks ago, no not enough proof. I offered my driving license, no not proof enough. I wanted to reach across the partition and ring her smug little neck by then - silly child. As I stormed out she called after me - And even if you bring me a utility bill tomorrow, it might take me 10 working days to process it. So if I don't blog tomorrow night, you'll know I am starting the life sentence for murder!

I came home and renewed my tax online, by the way - no problem - I gave one number and it found my address, car insurance (without me telling them who I was insured with) etcetc. It does make you wonder - given everyone who pays council tax is registered and the jobsworths at Glasgow City Council insist on seeing half a dozen proofs of that, why, in this day and age, can't they just type my name into their computer to have my current address confirmed the same way as the Department of Transport did a few hours later - wouldn't that be sensible?

MISERABLE MAN

Léon didn't understand...
Originally uploaded by phyl1

What we hadn't foreseen when we took the kids to Legoland the other day was Léon's initial reaction... he cried and cried and rolled on the pavement distraught for the first half hour, totally unable to comprehend the idea of being surrounded by toys that weren't touchable. Lots dumbfounded us though - she calmly took him aside and explained to him that these were special toys you were meant to wave at, not to touch. He brightened up and then had the time of his life for the other 9 hours waving like mad... how wise Lots can be some times...

THESE SHOES NOT BAD!

Léon wearing Bjørn's trainers
Originally uploaded by phyl1

Still on holiday so not much time to blog...but had to remark on how good Léon's language is becoming. From trying these on and commenting these shoes not bad on Sunday, his new favourite phrase, usually directed towards his sister in anger seems to be 'La-lo bad boy!' sweet :-)

THE FUN BEGINS!

I always knew it was only a matter of time before the kids started having fun with it...
What? Language of course! I left the kids in Tesco with the trolley at a checkout while I ran to get some forgotten item on my shopping list. I returned 2 minutes later to two evil grins - Tell mum your new words Pudge, they urged. Pudge turned, grinned and said Vendetta! Revenge!, and we know it can only get worse, no?

SURPRISED BOYS

 

Isn't it funny how sometimes you take a photo and as soon as you see it you remember a similar one you took years previously? Léon was fooling about on Charlotte's bed the other morning when the smoke alarm in the bedroom went off (Marcel was cooking pancakes in the next room). He looked very surprised. I instantly hunted out this other photo of Marcel himself, taken in 1998 when he was shocked to see an alien TV presenter (Bill from TF1's Bigdil) one night on a French games show.

ITSY BITSY EAVESDROPPERS

 

I dropped by my parents' house today for 15 minutes. Mum was upstairs, dad was at the computer having just come in from golf. He mentioned to me in passing that he was parched and wouldn't mind some coke. Pudge seemed just to be wandering around aimlessly, but obviously wasn't because his face became serious and intent. He disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments then returned trying, with difficulty to carry a 2 litre bottle of fizzy apple juice that he had taken, himself, from their fridge. He put it down carefully at dad's feet and announced 'pumpum juice!' (My kids all call my dad Pumpa.) Isn't that just the cleverest wee guy in the world? Makes you wonder though just what else he's soaking up of the conversations around him...looks like I'm going to have to ban Marcel from watching Gordon Ramsey in his presence!

DECEPTIVE WEATHER

Ryanair B737 London Luton
Originally uploaded by kpmarek

The sky was blue, the sun was shining - basically it looked like perfect flying weather last Friday. Surprisingly, the London - Rome flight was amongst the two or three worst of my life! By the time we touched down in Rome, I felt I'd been on the spin cycle in a washing machine - the turbulence was so bad the air crew even dived into the back of the aircraft, hooked up their drinks trolley and strapped themselves down. I remember flying into Heathrow at Christmas ten years ago in a gale force wind that had delayed the flight 48 hours, lightning was flashing all around and the sky was a weird rust colour...even that flight wasn't this bumpy. Odd...

LANCIAS

Italy is hoaching with Lancias as always, I noticed two models in particular - this fancy saloon model - the 'Lancia Thesis' and the equivalent in their range to the Nissan Micra or the likes called the 'Lancia Ypsilon'. What puzzles me as that they don't seem to sell in the UK market, or if they do no one buys them. I imagine the likes of the Thesis would appeal to the drivers of the Toyota Avensis, the Alpha Romeo 156 or equivalents and the Ypsilon to the drivers of all medium range cars - Fiat Puntos, Nissan Micras, Ford Fiestas etcetc. So what's the story?

FURRY JEANS?

 

It was 32 degrees celsius in Rome and yet the clothes shop was selling these!? It is too hot for normal jeans let alone furry ones! (And I thought Italians were generally known for their good dress sense ;-) ) What are they thinking about?

WEAPONS AND AIRPORT SECURITY AGAIN

Well that's even more stupid! I am on about that gap again... You may have read on Friday that huge shops like Boots don't sell toiletries that correspond to the crazy new airline rules, well I was wrong! They do - but only in the airport branches, isn't that clever? You try all your local stores before your holiday, you can't get what you need so you make up a bag for the hold of the aircraft unnecessarily or you decant toothpaste into old aspirin bottles etcetc only to find that the shop where they are selling it is the airport Boots at Stansted. This is completely the wrong place! By the time you are at the airport you have either given up or found and alternative solution - the Boots in the airport needs to send this stock to the local branches - come on, think about it logically! Oh and Stansted is a rip off - they are trying to charge you £1-65 for an empty 100ml bottle - you need 1 for shampoo, 1 for conditioner, 1 for suntan lotion, 1 for liquid soap, 1 for toothpaste etc - it'll be cheaper to pay Ryanair to check your handbag into the hold! And then there's rule number two - you can only have 10 bottles and they have to be in a 'resealable plastic bag'...why resealable? I saw people having bottles of the correct size confiscated because they were in a transparent bag with no sealing top, I also saw one woman have 1 100ml bottle of shampoo confiscated because it wasn't in a bag - she protested that she only had 1 bottle so didn't need to keep them together and was happy for it to go through x-ray - she was told to buy a 20p bag off the airport or bin it! Bureaucratic nonsense! Why have meaningless rules? Why was her shampoo ok in a 20p bag but not on its own? Oh and to make a mockery of all their poly bag and toiletry nonsense - when I got back I realized I had inadvertently got through the x-ray in Glasgow, Stansted and Rome carrying not one but two nail files... pretty good if you want to go for the jugular with something other than a tube of toothpaste, huh?
Actually, come to think of it, are these new rules meant to make us feel safer? We are now allowed 1 litre of liquids each, decanted into little bottles, but 1 litre all the same. I think this is to stop someone bringing on board enough chemicals to blow up the plane, no? Well, think back to 9/11 - weren't there something like 19 terrorists per plane, surely 19 litres of something lethal is enough to cause chaos? So all the queuing and checking and mountains of waste created by these new rules don't make us any safer at all, do they? Time for a rethink...

A GAP IN THE MARKET?

Last year's nonsensical flight restrictions don't seem to have improved any - would you just look at this rubbish? But one thing I have to ask is why the high street doesn't seem to have caught on to this gap in the market. Even in the largest Boots in Sauchiehall street, it is impossible to find toothpaste, shampoo, soap, and suntan lotion in tiny 100ml or less bottles, nor do they stock little travel bags selling all of these in a transparent, resealable bag. Why not? Do they presume people just put such things into their hold luggage these days? But that is shortsighted. I mean, the beauty of Ryanair is that weekends away are reasonably affordable once or twice a year but when you only go away for one night or two, you don't have hold luggage but still need clean teeth, deodorant, and a skoosh of sunblock if you are going somewhere hot. And the last thing you want to do is buy all these items in 1 litre bottles on arrival to bin the next night on departure - surely that is that last thing this planet needs, waste-wise?

PHONE RAGE

I was up half the night with a runny nose, a thumping head, and a sore throat. I ran the kids to Newton Mearns at 6-30am then collapsed on the bed. I wasn't going to make work. I took some paracetamol and cough sweets and slipped back under the duvet. It was about 8-30. I had probably been asleep less than half an hour when the phone rang. I was disoriented when an Indian-sounding voice asked if I was Mrs Widmann. 'No, sorry', I said. He introduced himself as Imran and asked who I was. I told him in the croakiest, sleepiest voice that I was 'the person who lived with Mr Widmann'! He then inquired whether there was anyone elderly in my house having trouble with the stairs? Emm, well at 39, I am the most elderly, and it's a ground floor flaming flat. 'So no one is likely to want a stair lift fitted?', he continued politely. 'It's a GROUND FLOOT FLAT', I repeated exasperated and now fully awake. He wished me a happy day and hung up.
An hour later as I was about to drift off again, the phone went. A voice, English this time, asked if I was Mrs Widmann - god here we go again, 'No I'm the person who...' They informed me that if I could quote the correct bonus product code (whatever that is) I would win a makeover for my bathroom...give me strength! I gave up trying to get better by sleeping and got up for a coffee.
(Oh, and Thomas, go ex-directory, please for the sake of my health!)

DONALD DEWAR'S STATUE

 

We went to the West End Festival on Sunday afternoon. At first Pudge fell asleep and I was scared he was going to miss the big parade. I should have known better with all the drums and samba dancers. He woke up and looked puzzled as soon as it started. The kids seemed to enjoy themselves, though I managed to catch a cold somewhere :-( When asked individually the highlight, both Marcel and Charlotte said they liked the guy dressed as the Donald Dewar statue best. Funny, neither think of Donald as a person or politician, I doubt they know he was Scotland's first first minister - they simply know him as the statue with the broken glasses!

MIDGES

We're just back from a weekend camping trip to Oban, which I will blog all about once I have uploaded the photos. In the meantime I have to ask? Are midges the ultimate proof us atheists need? Having walked around outside after sunset and been devoured by these evil little bastards, I have to conclude there can be no ultimate, all-loving creator - firstly because a God evil enough to have created midges is not worth worshipping, secondly if a God had created them in a moment of weakness, I'm pretty sure he'd have caused the extinction of the species within hours once he'd discovered quite how intolerable they are. I even prefer mosquitoes - at least you hear them coming and they don't hunt in packs. These little buggers are half the size, silent and attack in their hundreds. I am sitting here scratching my the back of my neck, my left elbow, my right shin and foot and wondering how they got under my clothes when I was only outside the tent long enough to go pee :-( 

AN EXPLOSION OF LANGUAGE

  

I mentioned that Pudge's short stay in hospital last week had improved his vocabulary no end and I think it has been the booster and inspiration he has been waiting for all these weeks. From his simple 'no want' and various synonymous commands last week, he's decided to parrot most of what we've been saying since Monday. It started Monday lunchtime with 'phone' when the buzzer went in the nursery, then later he said 'spoon' when he had one of the dozens of snack yogurts he's been eating to build himself up since his illness. Today he was running around the house pointing at doors saying 'door', picking up shape-sorter shapes and saying 'star', 'moon' etc. And next he picked up an apple and said 'pomme' (granted he also called a mango and a peach a 'pomme' too, but they are round fruits.) This evening he started trying sentences and asking questions. He asked Charlotte why she was crying when she was fighting Marcel over a bowl of ice cream. 'Lalo what oh-oh?' even with a raised intonation at the end of the sentence. He also told Charlotte to 'No, no, no Lalo go away, no!' So far, Marcel and Charlotte are so thrilled, they are going with the flow and trying to get him to repeat everything, but it can only be a matter of days before they realize exactly how much fun they can potentially have manipulating their new pet parrot. (We've all seen 'Meet the Fockers'.)

CONCERT PRODUCTIONS INTERNATIONAL AKA CPI - THE EXPECTED RANT

As I mentioned last week, I'm having a wee bit of a fight with Concert Productions International:
When I bought the original tickets for Rome, I of course went on the webpage, deliberately, within half an hour of the sale starting so I could buy the cheapest ones. I would have loved the dearest ones of course, but my bank manager wouldn't agree to that ;-) so I settled for the cheapest. When Rome was cancelled I received a nice message from someone named Ilaria explaining I shouldn't worry as I would be given a chance to buy tickets for an alternative European venue. I was dubious, of course but waited the 8 days it took for Ilaria's colleague Erica to get back to me. Then at 5-45pm, it turned up: an email listing all the tickets still available for all the European venues - of course no cheap ones left in the UK - they now want me to pay £265 per ticket. So I'm to pay tickets at 2.5 times the original price, lose the airfares to Rome and re-pay for new airline tickets to London.
I have sent a nice compact email entitled 'your unacceptable offer' to Erica asking the email address I should write my official complaint to.
Watch this space...

A PERPETUAL PROBLEM OF EMBELLISHMENT

You probably remember the little blow-out I had on my old car a few months ago. That resulted in one wheel missing a hubcap, sorry the Citroën handbook insisted on calling it an 'embellisher', a word which is taking on 'jalt'* status in my family now, for several weeks. I kept passing what I thought might be the one I had lost every morning unable to stop on the motorway. In the meantime, my kindly (if crazy) parents, who were equally offended by the sight of my unembellished wheel, were picking up every embellisher they saw by the side of the road until finally they found one that fitted - it said Vauxhall on it but at least it covered the mucky wheel. So, needless to say, one of the things to make me happy when I picked up the 'not grey car' was its full compliment of matching Citroën embellishers.
Obviously, when I returned home from work last night and noticed one was missing, I was livid. I dragged Thomas and the kids on a trip round everywhere I had been during the day twice and with relief we found it (I think it was the third one we tried and there it was on a verge near Lenzie, phew. I decided to buy cable clips on my way back from nursery today (however ugly they are, these things cost £30 each so I wasn't going to lose it again).
When I got to B&Q car park at 1-10pm, it was bloody missing again! Pudge and I went on another expedition all the way back to nursery where it was lying slightly mangled, but hopefully not beyond cable-clipping on on another grass verge. It is however staying in the boot until I've been to B&Q this time.

*At the age of 3, I once referred to a JCB digger as a jalt, not knowing the word for it, I simply made one up - I had lexicographical tendencies even then - and since then my entire family have always called diggers 'jalts'. It is hard to remember that isn't the real word for them!

A YUMMY EVENING

This has to be the best meal my naked chef has made me in months - from Jamie's book - the 'roasted sweet garlic, thyme and mascarpone risotto with toasted almonds and breadcrumbs'. Divine!

HOW (NOT) TO MAKE A WEBSITE

Rome-Florence train
Originally uploaded by tofeset

I was curious yesterday about the price of a train ticket from Rome to Zürich (ok indulge my stupidity - you all know from last week's postings why I might want to come home from Rome via Zürich).
I had first looked Ryanair but they don't fly there and then I remembered I had often taken that very beautiful train ride in my students days, so on to Trenitalia.com I went. This has to be one of the worst websites I have ever tried to use in my life. It asks if you want it in English or Italian so being lazy I opted for English. It asked where I wanted to go from and to - I typed Rome-Zürich - it gave me some wee village miles from Rome called St-Rome-de-something-or-other, I realized that though the website was in English, you were meant to know the Italian place names. Fine, Roma is easy enough but if you are average Mr Thick-Englishman, with the linguistic aptitude of a jellyfish, then will you guess Firenze or Venezia? Anyway I am also not convinced Mr Thick-Englishman wouldn't have clicked on 'buy' for St-Rome-de-wherever-it-was...well, that is of course if he could find 'buy' to click on. I spent a whole half hour trying to find how to ask the simple question - how much? I seemed to have to register (God save me - this means I will be bombarded with crap from them for all eternity), then 1 minute after registering it told me my password, issued by them, had expired and I needed a new one - huh? I tried in vain clicking 'cart' - it told me my cart was empty. Having told me 3 times there was a train at 23h every Sunday, that timetable suddenly disappeared and I was being told the train was at 20h40, then it told me when I arrived at Zürich Flughafen - give me strength - who mentioned the bloody airport? I want to go to the town. I know Zürich well, I lived in Konstanz for 6 months. I just wanted to go to the bloody city. Every time I typed Zürich, it told me that for the airport I had to change in Zürich - aaaaaaaaaarg - and still I couldn't get a price. I'd tried the purchase button, the pricing button - every obvious place. It even had a column marked price but it wasn't clickable! Oh and then it became more fun - I had a 5 column chart at one point, four of the column headings in English, the fifth in Italian. It was definitely one of those English interfaces you couldn't use unless you spoke Italian (20 year old rusty uni Italian was beginning to fall back into place after half an hour on this 'English' website).
Eventually I pressed something, I have no idea what and a price appeared as if by magic. It was too expensive, which is probably just as well as I would never, ever have been able to find it again even if my life depended on it!
It really can't be this hard - I've used the SNCF webpage from time to time and it is so intuitive, you could do it in your sleep, even if you don't speak French. What is the Italians' problem? At this rate, the entire train network will need to be shut down in Italy because no one will be able to use it. Maybe Ryanair should jump in to even more Italian towns and help the poor buggers be able to travel intercity!

SMART CARS

 

These days cars are getting smarter... or are they? I hadn't read the full spec on mine when I bought it so was very impressed the first day when the headlights switched themselves on as I went through a tunnel and off again at the exit. I was again thrilled skinny the following day when the windscreen wipers detected the rain and wiped slowly then quickly depending on the severity of the downpour. Today I was zooming along the motorway when the sun came out. I reached for my sunglasses, but they were missing from the car pocket. I remembered I'd forgotten to take them off the other day so picked up my handbag to feel for them while driving. My bag was overfull and I quickly concluded that driving and searching together would result in my premature death so tossed my heavy handbag onto the passenger's seat. The car instantly started beeping and flashing - oh shit what have I done? Then I looked more closely - it was telling me my overweight passenger had forgotten to put on his seatbelt! ;-)

A SCARY SIGHT!

Check out the photo (no.10) published on the BBC news today - I thought my old Gramps (pictured here in 1984, right) died 10 years ago but apparently he's a vagrant in Fife!

AL GORE: AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH

Al Gore: An Inconvenient Truth
Originally uploaded by jotape85

Ok, I admit that anyone who knows my politics, knows I'm hardly likely to be welcome down in Orange County anyway... But I must say, as I watched Al Gore's movie the other night, I couldn't help wonder, slightly tearfully, how much better a world my kids would be growing up in now had that ridiculous Floridian fiasco gone the other way back in 2000.
I hope this movie becomes compulsory viewing in High Schools.

PUDGE'S INHALER

 

 

You may be wondering why Pudge is holding an inhaler and I look 10 years older and more exhausted than I did a week ago? What a week this has been. From Tuesday's Poxy rant, you'll have gathered that Léon fell ill again and was back on antibiotics.

On Wednesday he was no longer hot or pointing at his ears as he had been on Tuesday, but was wheezing and coughing a bit. I did mentally note it was weird he seemed to be developing a chest infection while on penicillin, but he's so ill so often I went with the flow.

He coughed himself awake just after 2am Tuesday into Wednesday and I was alarmed to notice he was breathing twice as quickly as normal and his whole ribcage was really struggling to breathe. Enough - I got up and drove him to Yorkhill just before 3am. They tested his oxygen blood saturation level on arrival and it was at 89%. His heart rate seemed a little fast too. Normal oxygen levels are 98% or above I am told, below 84% the monitor reading goes from blue to red and it starts beeping - I didn't need to ask what that meant. He was taken into the casualty ward at first where I got a chair and he wandered up and down gasping and puzzled. It was the middle of the night but lights were on and toys were everywhere. He didn't really know what to do with himself. They first gave him calpol and steroids, then 10 blasts of an inhaler. His chest went from wheezy to clear and he perked up, though his breathing was still too fast and his oxygen still only 91%. They said if it stayed ok for 2 hours I would be allowed to take him home. I was shattered, still a bit sleep deprived from Tuesday's 5am start and late evening at the out of hours surgery. After 2 hours the wheezing was back so I was told the same - he'd be given 10 blasts of inhaler and we'd get home at 7am if he was clear. At 7am he was asleep but from the chair I'd been given I could hear the wheezing was back. They then decided he could stay in casualty no longer so admitted him to ward 7B. (As an aside what a view - floor 7 of the hospital has a spectacular panorama of Glasgow's West end - mental note: if he ever has another asthma attack pack the camera).

Ward 7 is great - each child's bed comes with a fold away bed so a parent can stay the night with their child - the only rule - the adult beds are to be folded away from 8am as a space saver - it was 7-45 and I'd had 2 hours sleep - they said I could unfold my bed at 8pm if we were still in :-(. The second problem was food. They feed the patients of course, and, I'm told have a lovely subsidised canteen on floor 1 for the parents. So if your kid is floppy, lying-in-bed, hooked-up-to-machines sick you can go get breakfast, if however your kid is wandering-about, wheezing-at-your-ankles sick you can't go eat because you can't take them with you and if you leave them, though it is safe to, they scream for the 15 minutes you are away. Who needs breakfast anyway? Especially when you are 11 weeks pregnant and feeling sick and dizzy. Léon was given 1 weetabix and half a slice of toast, I pilfered the half slice of toast.

Problem number one was arising at home. The kids were in the flat and André was expecting them for breakfast around 7-15am. Of course their driver was in hospital so Marcel had to get André to come into town to pick them up.

The day passed slowly with the same inhaler and oxygen tests at regular intervals. I had only 2 20p as I had not been expecting Léon to be admitted. I wasn't dressed either so was wandering around in my sleepwear and a pair of jogging bottoms all day! I tried late morning to ring André to tell him I couldn't pick Marcel and Charlotte up at 3pm and I couldn't get a substitute either. He wasn't available. I rang Thomas in a panic to tell him the dilemma - he wasn't available. No more 20ps. At 2ish, thank god, Thomas walked through the door having sussed all by himself that I had no one to pick up the kids and offering to sit with Léon while I went. I was practically in a coma by that point food and sleep-deprivationwise but at least it offered a solution. He offered to take my mobile outside and text André for me and at the last minute André was tracked down and put of schoolrun duty. Thomas went out to get me some food. I couldn't see for my migraine by then so sat tight and waited.

Sometime between 3 and 4 my breakfast arrived - sandwiches, lucozade and paracetamol. Fortunately it was another few hours before Léon was discharged because I couldn't have driven even if I had needed to by then, I was so shaky, was seeing double and couldn't stand.

We came home with our asthma kit and instructions and collapsed. I was no longer at all worried about taking time off work sick, as I genuinely was very sick by then myself. I collapsed on the bed while Thomas dealt with Léon and food and we got dinner around 10pm.

I took a long time to calm down enough to sleep at bed time. The stress must finally have been hitting me. I am off today too. Every bone in my body aches, my head is throbbing - stress? sleep deprivation? parenting? I don't know. I just hope I am well enough to do some proper work over the weekend to catch up.

And Pudge? he's been asleep now for 12 hours solid, and I can't hear any wheezing as yet.

On a more positive note, Pudge's 18 hr stay in hospital has had a mushroom effect on his language development. From mainly single words on Tuesday, he's now learnt, 'no way, no want, don't want, don't like' and after the nurse's umpteenth blast of inhaler, he even learnt to count, that is to say, if you say 'one', he replies 'oo, ee, oh'! Awwh! I wonder if he'd be reciting Shakespeare by now if they'd had to keep him in a week!?

ANOTHER POXY RANT

It's time for yet another rant - this time about the NHS or the Minister for Health or whatever skinflint is in charge of the NHS purse strings. I am slowly coming to the conclusion with child number three that it is more than scandalous that there is a cheap, effective vaccine for chicken pox that from my trawling of the internet is the norm in the USA but we are still putting our precious little people through this unnecessary nightmare.
When Marcel and Charlotte got chicken pox back in 2002, they both got really mild doses. That is to say they had a couple of dozen spots and a temperature for 1 day. Charlotte being an exceptional child decided to catch the uncatchable a second time in February 2005 causing me untold problems: blood tests etc as it is dangerous to pregnant women who haven't had it and of course I was 5 weeks pregnant with Léon and no one could remember me having had it - more hassles. Again though Charlotte had a mild dose - perhaps as few as 10 spots and no temperature, so I wasn't overly concerned from a health point of view - simply from the hassle point of view that when you only get 5 weeks holiday a year you really don't want to be taking 10 days off each time a kid gets chicken pox.
Léon though, if you have been following my poxy saga, has changed my view of the need for vaccination. Léon got one of the worst doses of chicken pox I have ever seen. (Maybe because he is so young, I am not sure). He was unwell and had to be off nursery 4 May through 15 May. He had a temperature, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat, he was up every hour for days and nights on end. I had the hassle value of arranging places and people to look after him, the hassle of working from home 3 days making sure I fitted in my 4.5 hours of work sometimes by working long after everyone was asleep in bed. I was stressed, tired, no exhausted and I was also worried sick about a really ill wee man. After only one day back at nursery, he started vomiting profusely and was sent home again. I too was on the verge of illness by now after 2 weeks of this level of stress. Two days after the vomiting started he was burning up and the emergency GP appointment diagnosed an ear infection in each ear and a chest infection all caused by the fall out from the chicken pox and what it had done to his immune system. He got antibiotics and was finally starting to eat and smile again by last Tuesday. Of course when the antibiotics finished on Thursday night the inevitable happened - Friday he was ok, by Saturday his nose was running and today he was roasting, not eating, pointing at his ears and wailing. A 24 hour trip to the hospital diagnosed 2 ear infections and a throat infection - all further complications of the bloody pox. How long is this wee man going to have to suffer - all for a vaccine that would probably have cost tax payers 50p? He's been ill for the best part of a month, can hardly stand, I am shelling out £350 for a nursery place he is never well enough to attend and I am stressed out my mind trying to work at 3am so I don't lose my job.
It's truly wonderful our NHS - isn't it?

CONCERT PRODUCTIONS INTERNATIONAL AKA CPI

Well if you think I am usually a bit of a ranter, prepare yourself for a whopper of a rant...
Barbra, as I mentioned last month, is coming to Europe for the first time in 13 years. And when does she choose to come - right in the middle of my bloody (unchangeable- because-of-a-wedding) summer holidays. So I'm left with about 3 of the dates that I am actually available for. I check flight prices and decide since it is equally expensive to go to London or Rome, I might as well pop off to Rome. I go online and actually manage to get tickets, great - result! So I book flights to go to Rome for a weekend - Ryanair of course - cheap and non-refundable but why would I need it refunded...unless the useless, arrogant, idiotic promoters pull out of the Rome date, thinking they can easily just swap 15 June Rome for 18 June in Zuerich at 2 weeks notice without causing anyone any inconvenience...What are they thinking about? Ok this will slightly upset 200 Italian fans but what they fail to realize is that with Ryanair being fairly reasonable in price, half the tickets will have been snapped up by people who are going to be flying in from all over. She isn't going to every country so this is going to piss off a hell of a lot of people.
I have just zapped off an email to 'CPI' asking where I apply for my flight and hotel refund and when they will forward me tickets at the same price for her London concert...I will keep you posted with the no doubt unsatisfactory answer I receive! (Oh and apparently it is going to take them 20 days to process my refund - by which time I will no doubt be too late to spend it on any other venues - they are going to become more than fed up with me in the near future - believe me.

POSSIBLY THE HUNGRIEST BITSY MAN IN THE WORLD

Léon, as you know, has been very unwell - 10 days of really bad chicken pox complete with pox in his mouth and throat etc making eating a painful trial. Thereafter, with a much weakened immune system, he caught a vomiting bug for the best part of a week, not to mention a seriously high temperature caused by both a chest and ear infection. All this meant he spent nearly 3 weeks eating very little other than a yogurt a day. On Tuesday this week however, with the pox almost gone, the sickie bug at bay and the antibiotics kicking in, he discovered eating was once again a possibility. And he got down to serious, making-up-for-lost-time eating, serious better-eat-today-in-case-I'm-ever-ill-again eating. He tends to go to his high chair approximately once an hour and stick his hands up to be lifted in. If that is ignored for more than 5 minutes, he opens the Welsh dresser, takes out a plastic plate (even tugging on one if 10 china ones are balanced on top - we've had very few breakages so far) puts it on his tray and sticks his hands up again. So we've been feeding him a little more than usual to build him up a little. Today was a prime example. Before work he asked for a yogurt, a digestive biscuit and a piece of banana. At 8-15 he had a bowl of weetabix at nursery, at 9-30 he apparently downed a plate of breadsticks, a box of raisins and a biscuit, at 11 a piece of toast and cheese, at 12 he had a bowl of soup with a roll, a bowl of chili con carne and then had the cheek to hold out his bowl to be refilled. He ate a second full of bowl of chili before his juice and fruit and at 12-45 when I arrived he was in the toy kitchen trying to put plastic pieces of toast into a toy toaster... a hint? I drove him at 1-30 to mum's where (as you can see here) he managed a plate of bacon followed by a packet of dolly mixtures and a chocolate biscuit - something he's only been allowed once or twice before. Tonight he's with André - I wonder how much he's conned him into feeding him!? I did hear today about a snake that exploded trying to swallow an alligator...I wonder if a baby has ever exploded?

LIBDEM PRATS

I'm not usually a great blogger of politics but I have to have an itsy bitsy rant about the libdem party. Maybe I'm politically naive/apathetic but it seems to me that the libdems have spent the last 20 odd years (or however long it's been since the two Davids got together back in my student days) campaigning for 2 things:

• proportional representation
• to be taken seriously as a political force

Over the past 3 weeks they have single-handedly, more or less destroyed both. In both the Scottish and Welsh parliaments, they have refused to even enter coalition talks, therefore showing everyone why first-past-the-post is the only workable solution and they have dismayed all their voters, losing their political credibility. Well done them on what has to be one of the least successful three weeks in the history of UK politics! :-\

DADDY DEAREST

My dad, aka Victor Meldrew himself, has the cheek to blog that I'm a ranter! My God, has he reread his own stuff! ;-) Rant rant rant!

SKODA FABIA

It isn't often I comment on adverts - I usually find them mind numbing or annoying but I have to say if I needed a smaller car than the one I bought last week, I might just have considered the Skoda Fabia because its advert is so sweet. I hadn't noticed it till yesterday when the kids shouted me through to watch it - both announcing they'd like to try a piece! Well done Skoda for making a car ad, unlike any others.

THE 'NOT GREY' CAR

As promised, here is a photo of my new baby! Isn't this cheerier than a cloud-coloured car? For anyone who is interested, it is the beautiful Citroën C8. I will let you know more about it later in the week as it has so many buttons and knobs, I haven't quite worked out what it can do yet! (There are a few other photos on my flickr page too, if you want to see them).

INSPIRATION

The planet Léon
Originally uploaded by viralbus.

So inspired by Thomas' latest photographic achievement, Lots has finally blogged her next chapter.

WHY MAKE THE DREARY DREARIER?

Car Park
Originally uploaded by Pete Ashton.

I decided last week after my car's little gearbox problem, that the time had come to buy a new one. Sure it isn't that old at 5, but I'd rather have something I don't need to repair from time to time, buy new tyres for etc. I decided I would prefer a 7-seater this time as I often need to take my 3 kids plus say my parents to the shops or for a day out, which is just much less hassle when I don't then have to force them to bring one of their own cars along. So on to the internet I went to surf myself a nice new people carrier. I tried the obvious in Scotland - that is to say Arnold Clark, and he had a wonderful selection of 1 year old 7 seaters, all makes - the Seat Alhambra, Peugeot 807, Ford Galaxy, VW Sharan, Citroën C8, Renault Espace, Kia Sedona etcetc - you name it - dozens of them - great, but 90% of them were grey or silver.
Why?
Scotland is often a grey, cloudy, dreary and depressing land where you feel you could catch a cloud just by reaching a few centimetres above your head. This isn't like Greece or Italy or the South of France where you are greeted every morning by brilliant blues, sunflower yellows, explosions of purple bougainvillea. We spend 80% of the year looking at grey. So why do we paint our houses grey and fill our roads with grey cars? Can't we have pink houses and yellow cars to make our life a little less dismal?
Anyway as luck would have it, one of the best cars I found on sale at Arnold's with the lowest mileage and highest spec wasn't grey so I bought that. Call back in a few days if you want to see what colour I am trying to brighten the world up with!

INCOMPREHENSIBLE INCOMPATIBILITIES

I've been using Vista now on my new laptop for a couple of months and it is really nice. It looks pretty, works well, the new office programs like WORD are lovely. I can't fault it...well except for one incompatibility that I find surprising to say the least. There seems to be one website Vista isn't too happy to let me in to - go on guess? WRONG! Hotmail, believe it or not! For the first few weeks it was fine but in the last 3 weeks, I get a login error approximately 40% of the time. So on those occasions, I am forced to log on to a second computer in the house, running either Windows XP or UBUNTU linux and read my mail from there - how ridiculous is that? Now am I being thick here, or is Vista a Microsoft product as is hotmail? If there was one web mail service I would expect to work on Vista without a hiccup - surely it should be hotmail, no?
Anyway - if they don't fix it over the summer, I will seriously be considering dumping the email address I have had for the past 10 years in favour of a googlemail or yahoo equivalent. So Microsoft - GET IT FIXED NOW, please!

DISABLED PARKING

Disabled Parking
Originally uploaded by Up Your Ego.

I have to have a rant about disabled parking. I was in Tesco today. Thomas nipped out for some shopping and as neither I nor Pudge were feeling great, I waited with him in the car for 20 minutes.

I happened to park opposite 10 disabled parking bays.
I have a very special friend with a disabled child. She can't walk so her mother has to try to carry her from the car to a buggy and after shopping get her back into the car. That needs enough space around the car to open the doors, that needs the parking space to be near the entrance to the shop. Anyone who has tried carrying a sleeping 4 year old can just about imagine how awkward that would be if for some reason you couldn't get the doors open wide enough.
I sat for 20 minutes becoming more and more infuriated with lazy, selfish people using these bays not as disabled parking but as I only need to get a few things parking. The first culprits - 2 twenty something females in jogging suits - jogged in quickly and returned 5 minutes later with 2 20 packs of beer, the next a father who zoomed in in a people carrier, left all the kids in the car and rushed in and bought one bag of stuff, again and again the pattern repeated itself till at one point all 10 bays were filled and not a single disabled badge was on display. Because they were rushing, everyone of the 10 had literally sprinted into the shop, no doubt feeling what they were doing wasn't a great crime as they'd be quick. Imagine for one minute my friend had arrived at that moment and could get her daughter out the car, had had to carry this large child to the entrance in the rain from a far corner of the carpark? I felt like getting out and punching them. I wish people would think before being so selfish.

VERY SENSIBLE

driving
Originally uploaded by kimi & fer & flor.

I picked up a prescription for Léon today while I was out shopping. It was prescribed by the doctor for his cough. They printed a very helpful label on the bottle: For Léon-Olivier Gautier, aged 19 months, do not drive or operate machinery if this medicine causes drowsiness. I guess I had better watch him carefully and adhere to the advice should he seem at all sleepy ;-)

GIVE THAT CAR A KICKING

I have not had the least stressful week of my life. Léon (as you know) decided to get a lovely dose of chicken pox so I couldn't take him to nursery. I had a big report to write for work so I couldn't take a holiday. André is away on holiday so I had no one else who could babysit and could hardly ask any friends or relatives with kids. Also with André away,I had to be in several places at the one time - schoolrun on the south side of the city, babysitting in the middle of the city, work on the north side of the city. (When are they finally going to invent human cloning?) So I was stressed. I was trying to work from home, working from 8 or 9 till nearly midnight so I could care for a crying baby when he was awake. I was exhausted and stressed.
So why did the bloody car decide to play silly buggers? I drove the kids to school on Friday and it felt odd, the gears were a bit wobbly. After working I drove back and the engine growled and banged, the gears jumped into neutral, I tried to do a 3 point turn and the car refused to go into reverse. I burst into tears and may have uttered the 'F' word. I don't need a £500 bill for a new gearbox a month before the summer holiday. Waaaah - why is life so hard? I knew it had to be the clutch or the gearbox. Dad had a shot, and suggested we asked our mechanic friend Ian. He took it for a spin and confirmed something was going on. He stuck it up on a ramp and looked underneath and announced - the bolt the holds the gearbox in place has fallen out - it is a 2 minute, free repair job! RELIEEEEEEEF!
Thanks Ian! I can definitely highly recommend 'Thornliebank Motor Engineers' to any stressed motorist.

WEETABIX

Weetabix
Originally uploaded by qwertyuiop.

I'm not a great weetabix fan - I can just about stomach the mini ones with the chocolate drops in but the plain stuff isn't really food (for humans anyway, is it?) It occurred to me this morning clearing up after breakfast that maybe I am using it for the wrong purpose. It isn't cereal for small kids, it's wallpaper paste, it's mortar for housebuilding, it's tile adhesive and grout, isn't it? Have you ever tried to get it off the walls? off the high chair? or worse still off the baby's face? Dried-in for 5 minutes, it is stuck so fast I am afraid I will scar him for life by cleaning him. Obviously, I can't hold him under water long enough for it to dissolve without killing him, but if I rub it (with the sandpaper necessary to remove it) I will pull the heads off all his dried up chicken pox and leave him with a complexion that may mean he's still single at 50! :-\
Dilemmas...

POXY UPDATE

Today the wee man slept from 7am to 3pm waking only for 10 minutes 2 or 3 times. Yesterday evening, see photo, I thought he was on the mend. But it seems he must have developed some new sores inside his mouth overnight. For breakfast dad tried to feed him toast and cheese to no avail. By 1pm we were worried enough to try sweets, chocolate and ice cream but all were spat back out. He pointed to his mouth each time and wailed. At dinner time he managed about 3 teaspoonfuls of soup. But the worst moment came at bed time. So desperate for some comfort he practically jumped into my arms for his once a day slug of breast milk, only to find whatever sore inside his mouth had meant he couldn't eat all day, also meant he couldn't suck. Devastated he cuddled up in my arms and sobbed his way quietly to sleep, doodahless :-(

OBVIOUSLY I DON'T GET OUT ENOUGH

I had a very strange experience on Saturday night. Derek and Amanda were round for dinner and Thomas had cooked a lovely three course meal. As usual I was being a more or less teetotal bore - sticking to my half glass of wine and fruit juice. Derek had brought beer. I didn't bother with this because I have never liked beer - after all it's a bitter nasty drink, or is it? Derek let me taste this weird beer he'd bought - cherry beer to be exact - and it was lovely, Thomas then proceeded to take both peach and cassis beer out of his cupboard - both equally lovely - not only did I not mind these drinks but I actually liked them! I would go as far as to order them in a pub - wow - at the ripe old age of 39, I finally discover I like beer after all. How sad am I?

POOR POXY MAN

.

Well he isn't a happy man today. He was up most of the night burning hot and only really happy when he was being held. When he cries you can see his lips, tongue and gums are covered in spots. He just can't understand what is happening to him. Poor wee man.

THANK HEAVENS FOR BANK HOLIDAYS

I went to bed at midnight but was woken at about 1am with Charlotte crying - she had a sore stomach. I sat and hugged her on the couch for 15 minutes till Léon woke up screaming because of his chicken pox. So I packed Lots off to bed and went in to Léon. He was hot and clingy and itchy. He woke up again at 2ish and 3ish and 4ish and 5ish and 6ish and by 9am Thomas and I had aged 10 years each. Thank heavens today is a bank holiday because I'm definitely not fit to drive to work or think once I would get there.

OH NO - CHICKEN POX!

On Friday after nursery I noticed Léon had one tiny blister on his torso (see the note if you click on this photo). I said to Thomas immediately - Pudge has chicken pox. He thought I was quite mad, I think. I was more than surprised on Saturday morning when very little had developed but still thought my hunch had to be right. Saturday we'd to give him calpol twice as we was a wee bit hot. This morning it looks like my GP skills have been proved right though. He's laughing and singing but definitely not looking his prettiest today. I guess I now have to work out where to put him all week as nursery isn't going to welcome him with wide open arms!

PEANUT ALLERGIES - A HOME-MADE PROBLEM?

 

I read this article on the BBC today with interest. I have wondered for some time now whether we in the UK aren't actually causing this explosion of nut allergies we are seeing. I know several kids with severe nut allergies. Given I work with foreign languages and am known for it in Marcel and Charlotte's school community, I have lost count of the number of parents who have come to me over the years. The question is always the same - My kid has a life-threatening nut allergy, could you translate this into French/German/whatever so I can take it on holiday with me. Invariably the piece of paper I am handed says something along the lines: Can you cater for my child's nut allergy? Can you guarantee your products and kitchen surfaces haven't been touched by nuts? Almost always after the school break, the same parent rings me, thanking me profusely for the translation but saying that the restaurant in France, Italy or Germany has looked at them as if they were from another planet and given them, at best, a plate of pasta with a tinned tomato sauce. The reason being these countries don't seem to be suffering the same explosion of nut problems. When I had Marcel I was told strictly to avoid all nut products throughout pregnancy, breastfeeding and until he was 3. I completely ignored this advice, ate my crunchy nut cornflakes, even when I was in labour and often as he suckled at the breast - why? Because I had eaten nuts all my life, all of my family had and I thought this was extremist scare-mongering. Marcel has no problems with nuts. I did the same with Charlotte - she doesn't like nuts but has no allergy either. Interestingly, while being given this terrifying advice by UK GPs, I was over showing Marcel off to the French family when he was 16 weeks old. I decided to buy the odd jar of baby food for him as it was too much hassle to home-cook on a 1 week trip. And what were they selling in the French supermarket (a country which struggles to understand the concept 'nut allergy' as very few have it?) Nut-flavoured baby food suitable from 4 months old, of course. It doesn't seem like rocket science to me. I will watch the outcome of the study with interest.

WIND, SAND, SAUSAGES AND MADNESS

It seemed like a good idea when I looked at the BBC Scotland Weather webpage.
I guess the background is something very Scottish. When you are born in Scotland, you come to sense how transitory nice weather can be. I once knew a Californian guy who would get up on a Saturday morning (while living in Hyndland for 5 years) and see it was raining - he'd then declare he'd go shopping 'when the rain went off'! It doesn't work like that. You could potentially starve to death if you limit your supermarket trip to the next dry day. Equally sunshine is something you don't overlook. If you get up and it is sunny you don't finish the ironing, or do the dishes before running outside. You run outside carrying your bowl of breakfast cereal with you because if you stop to finish it first, you might miss the only window of warmth and light for weeks.
So there I was on Sunday morning looking at a weather forecast with a big yellow sun and 20 degrees. Not bad for April. Obviously, we had to go to the beach. We drove to Prestwick and walked to Somerfield to buy sausages. The kids did ask to put on a jumper, jacket and hood to go for that 5 minute walk because although the sun was shining there was just a little bit of a north wind blowing.
We played some rounders on the beach, successfully while the disposable barbecue heated. We put on the bacon, sausage, and pork chops. I think the flimsy paper plates didn't really help either - you see when Marcel put his chop on the plate he was holding in one hand, it promptly folded in the middle leaving the beautifully cooked chop to fall on the sand. We'd no water, only coke so we couldn't clean it. Pudge was getting hungry and had a little cold. He wailed, the tears ran down his face, the snot joined in, the wind blew sand that stuck onto the tears and snot, the sand went in his eyes, he cried some more and rubbed his eyes with his now sandy hands. We tried to give him a sausage because he was hungry, the sand from his hands and face stuck to the sausage and he sat crying and crunching simultaneously. Yuck, yuck, yuck.

I guess we learned a valuable lesson - barbecues are what you do in a garden, at least 50 miles from any sand, with no wind and when your kids aren't extremely hungry. Beaches are for building sand castles, collecting shells, playing sports, walking the dog if you have one but never ever ever for barbecuing sausages in the wind!

ANNIE LEIBOVITZ

Did you happen to see Annie Leibovitz's new portrait of Elizabeth II today? I really liked the photo. As I mentioned last week, (or was that on Thomas's blog?) I am fairly indifferent to the royal family - I tend to think they'd be better off if we were a republic because the poor buggers could lead a normal life, but I have no strong feelings about them either way in general. However, as a fan of some of Annie's photos - I particularly like the Whoopi Goldberg, the John Lennon (of course) and the stripy guy (who was he again?) so I took a look at the new Queen thing. I really like it. The sinister sky outside, the very regal Queen - I think she's captured something very timeless there.

THE CHANGING FACE OF SCOTTISH POLITICS

I don't know about anyone else but I will be glad once this Scottish election is done and dusted. In the old days we had 4 parties: Labour, Libdem, SNP and Tories and that was about it really - with a 'first past the post' system the weirdos tended to stay well tucked under their stones. Now, however, when they actually stand a chance, we are having to put up with all sorts of filth and madness being posted through our letterboxes from the Independent loonies standing for election on a single issue such as 'please don't have fortnightly refuse collections', to the highly objectionable BNP, whose policies I won't repeat, to the nutters who posted us a leaflet today - they seemed to be calling themselves the 'Scottish Christian Party' but if you read their leaflet they seemed to actually be the 'Scottish Homophobic party', campaigning on the main issue of making homosexual teenagers have to sit through lessons explaining to them what an abomination they are in God's eyes. Give me strength!
Well I suppose it helps to know the spectrum of objectionable people we have to walk the face of this Earth with.