1. Our family are starting to create our own rituals. My parents/sister family didn't really have anything specific; we didn't have Sunday roasts, holidays or established friends to see. It's nice to note that my family are starting to have a Sunday ritual. We nurse off our hangovers, every Sunday without fail, in McGintys. It's a strategic location choice; they make tea in a pot and sell Cadburys Twirl. In addition, it's relatively close to Crown Pools car park to top up the car park should, y'know, we want to stay a bit longer to toy with having a cheeky beer.
2. Regional accents are funny. "Open that!" demanded my toddler of a Kinder Egg "open that, what?", I requested. "Open that, Pur. Lee. Urze." she said. Pur-Lee-urze? I asked my son how his Kinder Egg was faring. "Noice". Gotta love the bumpkins.
3. I notice lots of young guys are sporting beards. I have to say, I'm rather partial to face hair. There was one guy in a doorway in Ipswich today that had a beard so full and voluptuous, that I wanted to test it's form and malleability. I wanted to probe it to see if it crackled. Like pubic hair.
4. In fact, there was so many beardy men in town today, it was like a Game of Throne set. The foul language contribute to my theory further.
5. I'm trying to get the kids to help me tidy up after them. I use a kindly form of bribery to get them to tidy away one lot of activities to make way for the next one. I think they are old enough to do this. After a couple of attempts, it's confirmed to me that they are old enough. It's also confirmed that they just don't want to. My son, for example, was told that if he helped to tidy away a jigsaw (when I say help, I'd have been happy for him to put one solitary piece in the box), that I point out he had emptied from the box for no reason, then he could have a Kinder Egg. Kinder Eggs work well usually. However, his blank face- void of any expression at all - told me that he wasn't even listening to me. I'd wager that as soon as I knelt poised over the scattered jigsaw puzzle and held the open jigsaw box as a gesture to fill it, he completely zoned out. You could almost see the shutters form over his brain. No amount of Ferarro plastic crap was going to tempt him into being helpful.
6. He did help a little later. The Haribo was Plan B. He filled the box with the jigsaw. He picked up the filled box to show me his achievement (and no doubt, claim his award). Unfortunately, the box had been also opened from the bottom (likely by him) so all the pieces fell back out again over his feet.
7. I saw another baby-wearer in town yesterday. She had a young baby in a ring-sling. I was embarrassed to make eye contact. I felt that we were supposed to be an alliance against the world. I felt that the toddler strapped to my strained spine meant that we were on the same team. But that assumption made me feel like a dickhead. And her toddler was chewing on a yoghurt bar. And mine was eating a Kinder Egg. She likely right slagged me off at her Sling Meet, which was no doubt where she was headed.
8. If a giant hand (let's say for God's for example) gathered up all the country's traffic lights with one fail swoop and held them like a giant bouquet, turned them all onto red light, and then dropped them all in Ipswich, then that would be the same as it is now.