Monday, 23 June 2014

Today's observations 23.06.14

1. We've just returned from the "Elite Holiday Villa". Most of my "Today's observations" are actually about our jolly to Hunstanton.
2. When it comes to kid's holidays, weather is king. You are simply not allowed to sit in the pub all day when you have eager sponge-minded children with you. It's not really acceptable, or even practical, to sit in a non-licensed venue (caravan, tent, QD) with them all day either. It really pays for your children to get out in the fresh air; with a bit of luck and cunning planning, they'll find another family to adopt. This chance is maximised by loitering near another family (or a childless couple!) who own a dog, a remote control gadget or a type of mechanical apparatus. If the new family (or couple!) don't do anything weird or religious with your precious offspring within 5-7mins, then they are consequently fair game to be left with the kids for the afternoon whilst you and the old man head off down "The Sundowner's Lounge" to partake in the most excellent promotion of BOGOF Sol.
3. I read Russell Brand's Booky Wook on holiday. It made me most enlightened to a few things; all of which spurred a fairish and comforting relief in myself. Amongst these things: he writes great and despite slandering his education (or contribution hereto), his vocabulary and prose is actually mesmerising. Also, you will never again feel guilty for your weekly 10 Marlboro Lights or the bottle-and-a-half of Sauvignon that you drank on most nights of your Norfolk jolly. You cannot feel guilty for this when Brand's consumption of the most alien and exotic of drink, drug and solvent stuffs to such extreme measures over such a long space of time has rendered him, nevertheless, a successful and profound bloke. One more thing: his writing style makes you want to say "parody", "cock-spurring" and "saucy!" a lot.
5. It's the right thing to do on holiday; relax. Most people do this. It's average and normal. Lots of folk like to sit and just chill out. Watch the world go by. Admire the view. Take a deep breath and soak up the scenario and the seaside vibe. Smell the chippy air and soak up the Whippy. I'm not very good at this. I do try to sit down. But it seems like we are waiting for something. And I get angsty. Like, what are we *actually going to do now?*. How long do we plan on sitting down, then? You know, just a ball park timeframe? Shall I go to the toilet now or after we've finished relaxing? Shall I take my shoes off? Would it be ok to do this in the pub with a drink in hand?
6. Perhaps I need to take some relaxing drugs like Brand.
7. It was a nice parenting moment. My kids, for the first time, went to a children's entertainment show in the clubhouse of the caravan site. Basically, of those of you who don't know (I bet everyone knows this), the prologue of the night's respective cabaret, magician, comedian  etc is a group of young adults from Cork, Hull, Leicester and Hull who try to entertain the kids whilst up on stage, waving their arms around, investing in dance routines, and talking "a lit-le bit like *this!!"the kids love it.  I remember it as a kid too (Although i don't remember liking it much, nor being able to really see much through the Silk-Cut fug). Anyway, my kids were great. They teetered up to the dance floor, fiercely holding each other's hands for moral support (or to establish their gang colours and territory, perhaps) and sat down. My oldest, who is 3, systematically rubbed her little brother's back for comfort and reassuring him that she wasn't leaving without him. I was overwhelmingly proud of her maternal instinct. I was disproportionately overjoyed and choked at my son's terrific behaviour. They had a flappy clappy dance with the "Sunshine crew" and tried to win me over for the adult dance. I did it of course, but only because I was a bit pished and had a nice top on.
8. When announcing the start of the adult dance, one of the "Sunshine Crew" told the kids that if mum and dad didn't want to dance it meant that they didn't love you anymore. I can see how the guy was trying to be funny. It was a good attempt at some "nudge-nudge ain't I a Joker!" humour but I didn't think hit the spot to be honest. Perhaps I am a little overprotective of what my pre-schoolers hear due to humour being generally a little lost on their SpongeBob minds at the moment and heaven forbid, they might've believed that dipshit Sunshine Stu.
9. The following night, my kids were cutting some shapes on the dancefloor again. My daughter excellent particularly, and her moves were most likely visually improved by the fact that her dance partner brother, didn't move at all and just stood, even through Carly Rae Jensen's "Call me Maybe" (a fav of mine) and stared at the stage with big eyes. His sister, although seriously digging her own moves, didn't move from his side and tried on several occasions to get him to participate by pushing her own face really close to his and stroking his back again. Another couple of kids started dancing nicely nearby and Annie grooved her way over and did some rather fantastic jazz hands whilst nodding her head like that fat-insurance-dog-car-toy. The other kids were accompanied by their adults and looked to them for reassurance that they could dance over to mine. These adults didn't know that we were sat right next to the dance floor and were in ear shot of them. I was a little surprised to hear (or watch her mouth - perhaps a combination of the two) that these kids there are travelling children. I think she meant mine! Oh dear.
10. I'm a little ashamed to admit that I bowed to the pressure and tried to indirectly assert my non Romany roots. I swiftly sashayed over to my gyrating daughter and statue rock-son and spoke to the kids in my absolutely dripping with regality Sloaney (and very made-up) voice *very loudly* so that the bitch knew I actually had a fixed abode. I said something wanky and unnecessary like "Do come on feather-britches, our Quail's Eggs are almost certainly al dente!" or "Bumpfy, darrrlling! Mummy would really like to to finish off your Almond Milk *before* you start your crevettes".
11. Of course, and entirely accurate retort to the (unfair!) accusation would have been "Annie, Mum has got a little tiddly and probably heard that woman totally incorrectly and has managed to actually piss herself off".
12. The following night, the "Sunshine Crew" brought out their mascot to cheer up the kids, who were no doubt a bit bored of Stu and Siobhan and their crappy dance moves, which were actually way too difficult for the kids to mimick. The mascot was a Seal called, actually, it might not have had a name. Shoddy. Anyway, he for sure *did* have mixamatosis or had previously had an unsuccessful run-in with a boat propellor.
13. A 7-seater hire car has no regard for the sheer amount of luggage that my aunty has to take with her for a 3-day holiday.
14. Our own car feels a bit shit now. Like a go-kart.

1 comment:

  1. Jess, your observations are how I like to think I think. Except for that you really are that funny and I am probably not.