All Hail Queen Rabbitty

My mum never fails to amuse me with her resourcefulness when it comes to playing with the kids. I come home to find a polar bear asleep in its sleeping bag (jiffy bag) and I know it's her work. And when she took B & H to a cafe last week, her latte sleeve was put to very good use...

There's a guy at my gym ...

... who blow-dries his balls. And his bum crack. Absolutely astonishing. Stands there in front of the mirror in the main corridor of the changing room, legs wide apart, lazily playing the hairdryer over his knackers and arse like it's the most normal thing in the world. Middle aged fellow, and hairy. Can't decide whether he does it for reasons of obsessive hygene, or simply for kicks. Sheesh.

"I know you like multipacks"

A young colleague of mine, C, had the hump because someone nicked her last pack of crisps from the family bag under her desk. She was contemplating a passive-agressive "Dear Crisp Thief" sign when the wonderful P came back from lunch with a seven pack of chocky bars for her, uttering the imortal words above. Sheer class.

I bought a plectrum

God it was embarrasing. The wife kindly got me a guitar for my birthday so I thought I'd better get the bits n'bobs to go with. Trouble is it's just so intimidating - strolling into a guitar shop in London's Trendy West End and saying "I need a plectrum. Or is it a pick. Erm..." The guy said "help yourself", I said "what would you recommend" him: "they're all the same, just different colours" me "ok, two grey ones please, bye". None too rock n' roll...

Pride, Joy

A man who has 'learned' social confidence in adultood, and whose blood runs cold at the thought of audience participation has no right to expect his child to be a bold-as-brass 'pick me!' merchant. And indeed B is not that, and is quite often as shy and watchful as his Dad was and sometimes still is. So I practically burst with pride when he bounced up and down, paw aloft, volunteering to help in a bubble-making demonstration at the Science Museum. Took it all very seriously and remembers every detail of the experience including the name of the older girl he shared the stage with. S and I were both momentarily stricken by the whole thing. Our boy. Sigh...

And he followed it up at the lovely oval paddling pool in the courtyard of the V&A by stripping down to his Spiderman and Friends pants and marching around the perimiter, dipping his feet in and out to make prints on the stone surround, weaving carelessly in and out of other picnicers and paddlers, singing a little song to himself.

And much needed too. Horrible shit keeps happening to my friends. FF is off the chemo because there's no hope left anymore.