We are all in the gutter but some of us are doing our homework.

Was Oscar Wilde ever a teenager? Did he ever have conversations like this?

Me: Got any homework?
Son: (silence}
Me: Have you got any homework?
Son: Uuuunnnghhh?
Me: Homework?
Son: Err...no
Me: No homework?
Son: No. Yes.
Me: Have you got homework?
Son: Yes.
Me: What is it?
Son: Dunno.
Me: WHAT is the homework that you have to do?
Son: Er.. well...erm. I've got to do a thingy about a wotsit......

Fashion Victim

I went into a shop today and looked on a clothes rail. Is it me or
is current 'fashion' designed to make you look like a glum, baggy
extra from a BBC WW2 costume drama.

I know I am a jeans type - but if the alternative is a brown ruched
nylon above the knee skirt or some kind of vile spotty big girls
blouse that ties on the HIPS! Then I'll stick with denim (and some
pre-Columbian Primark jewellery.)

Guardian Angels

Last Friday A was cycling home from work. A journey
that takes him from London Bridge to East Dulwich
via two monster three-lane roundabouts at Waterloo and Elephant
and Castle, then through Brixton to Herne Hill.
Coming into Brixton the traffic is funnelled into smaller, slower
roads. 

A had stopped at the lights in Brixton.The lights changed. As
he put pressure on the pedals and pushed down on the low
racing handle bars, the metal snapped. The bars had sheared
suddenly into two halves that crashed to the tarmac throwing
A forward with them. Miraculously, with only grazes to elbows
and knees, he picked himself up as the cars behind him
remained stationary at the lights. A few people asked if he was
OK as he dragged the bike to the pavement to begin a shaky
trudge home.

This could have happened absolutely anywhere along that route.
But it didn't.

One of our favourite films is 'Der Himmel Uber Berlin'
by Wim Wenders - the one with the guardian angels.
 

Tools

What do all these spanners and pencils mean all over
my blog?

PS check out http://catsmother-grannys-house.blogspot.com/

All Work And No Play.....

So our kids are the unhappiest in Europe.
Why? we know how to show 'em a good time.
We spent half term researching their Egyptian project
when it was too rainy to go out - and we did all that
maths and literacy homework that had been set for the
week. We even found time to visit family in Cambridge
- and ended up in the museum's Ancient Egyptian section looking at
dead cats. Wow it were great.

Thing is, when you are an eight year old boy - what you
remember most about the Fitzwilliam Museum is 
that to get to it, in Cambridge on the train, you have to
pass the new Arsenal Emirates football stadium.

My Funny Valentine

So in he comes.' Honey I'm home.' ( says Homer
simultaneously and quite amusingly from the telly.)
A rustles in a plastic bag- and reveals a dozen
red.....four cans of Carlsberg and today's paper.

Totally Wired

I'm back. Seem to have momentarilly flickered back into existance due
to A having reloaded Windows for the 5th time in 2 days - a shimmering
figure in the transporter room. Not him, me. He doesn't shimmer. Sparks
are flying as he finally makes it to 'The Fall' website to offer obscure
comments about his nylon clad alter ego.

I'm surprised at how much of a pain all this is. While in post office
looked longingly across road at a sign saying Cyber Cafe. It sounded
good. In there in the warm with state of the art machine - no smeary
old moniter recued from a skip. And a frothing cup of ......er, nothing.
Peering into it's depths could see no sign of coffee. Just feverish
geeks tapping away. Feel like marching in.
Trade Description etc...Cheese shop etc
Realise am in England - where word cafe could mean,
possibly, slight hint of an atmosphere of someone having put
the kettle on 3 blocks away. Depressed caffeine addicts shuffle past
the cyber non cafe in the rain. I wend my way to the library with two
kids for another English experience. Library computers. First of all you
have to give the librarian your card so they can register you. Then you
log in with your number. Then you google interesting facts about the
Rosetta Stone. Interesting but not as interesting as the incendiary
count down that seems to be going on in the top right hand corner.
' I've got 8 minutes and...3..2..1.. 7 minutes...' ' Right 7 minutes..
quick, mummification.'. 6 minutes now to learn
about funeral rites that existed in a corner of North Africa several
thousand years ago. Was that before or after the Tudors?
Oops- time's up. And even if you have got a few minutes left after all
that study..and you didn't spend it paralysed by the clock like L.
The protestant work ethic pooter won't let you play games on it!

Just go home. Just go home to a Laurel and Hardy film.