Tag Archives: humour

A day out with the Big Green Gummi Bear, Dragons and a Bearded Lady

It’s an all too rare occurrence but the Big Green Gummi Bear and I went out for the day last Saturday. We’re really not very good at this “going out together thing” -you’d think after over twenty five years together we’d have got the hang of it!

With Boy Child and Girl Child left at home with pizzas to cook for their dinner and a cat nominated as the person in charge, we headed off to Glasgow to see Cirque du Soleil at the SSE Hydro. After some debate about where to park the car, we finally chose the science centre car park (my suggestion so I got to pay the parking costs). It was a beautiful spring afternoon and, as we walked across the footbridge over the River Clyde, I stole a moment or two to take a few photos. (I could hear the Big Green Gummi Bear growling under his breath). Note to self – it’s not a good idea to wear metal tipped stiletto heels when trotting across a steel bridge! I’m sure my “dainty” footsteps could be heard for miles!

The Hydro is a fabulous venue but, despite my enthusing at great length about it to the Big Green Gummi Bear for the last six months, he didn’t get to experience the sheer size of it due to the subtle lighting ( or lack of light) when we entered the “bowl” to take our seats for the show.

Large Chinese lanterns hung down from the roof creating a tranquil atmosphere. It felt like sitting inside a temple from the Ming Dynasty. Cirque do Soleil’s Dralion was a fantastically colourful show. The programme explained the theme as being a “cultural fusion where Nature and Man become one in a quest for harmony. With the Dragon (Dralion) symbolising the 3000 year old tradition of Chinese acrobatic arts. In this magical world the four elements governing the natural order take on human form to defy the laws of gravity.” And defy the laws of gravity they did!

We were treated to a two hour extravaganza of acrobats, aerial pas de deux, single handed balancing, aerial hoop, juggling and the incredible crossed wheel. There’s so much going on out on the stage that at times it’s hard to know where to look. I could have watched the trampolinists all day – they really did defy gravity! The Dralions, Chinese Dragons each made up of two acrobats, were incredible but I’d have liked to have seen more of them. Like every “circus” show Cirque du Soleil has its clowns. I’m not meaning silly wigs, red noses and big shoe type clowns but more traditional clowning more akin to “Mr Bean” in some respects. The four clowns’ impeccable comic timing and forays into the audience added just the right element of humour.

We emerged from our Chinese temple back out into the early evening sunshine. Cue more loud “trotting” back across the bridge. On the way home we stopped off for a delicious meal and a very welcome glass of wine at a small restaurant overlooking Dumbarton Rock, a volcanic basalt plug on the banks of the River Clyde, and Dumbarton Castle.

All in all it was perfect day out – so how do you round off such a magical day? (Put that naughty thought away!)

We came home to Boy Child and Girl Child, opened a bottle of wine, sprawled out on the couch and watched the Eurovision Song Contest. Cheesy trashy pop music for over two hours – what more can I say! Quite appropriate though, that after our day at the circus, it should be won by the Bearded Lady.

Irreconcilable Socks and the Solidarity of Shirts

There’s one thing that never ceases to amaze me on a weekly basis and that’s the amount of clothes we go through in this house. I’m sure someone sneaks in here and deposits their laundry in my basket. It used to be a weekly ironing pile I faced on a Sunday – now it’s a veritable mountain with an accompanying mountain range of bedcovers, towels, socks and knickers!

How can four people generate so much laundry in one week?

I’m convinced that once it’s placed in the laundry basket in the cupboard in the utility room that it breeds in the dark.

Shirts! They are like magnets and attract other shirts – usually tangling themselves in each other’s sleeves as an act of solidarity in the washing machine. Between Monday and Friday the three shirt-wearing inhabitants manage to dirty fifteen of them! Grrrr

Socks are another nuisance. Pesky wee things! I’m sure they are playing games with me. At the end of last week I had three “odd” dark socks. What the Hell I thought and threw them back into the laundry basket in the hope that they would be magically reconciled with their partners. It worked! However three other pairs got “divorced” and I still have three “odd” socks!

You’d think, logically, that Girl Child would be the worst offender for generating excessive amounts of washing. True, she does that teenage girl thing – wears it once or sometimes even just tries it on and decides not to wear it – and throws it in the general direction of the washing basket.

Wrong!

The Big Green Gummi Bear is the culprit. His love of water sports and daily trips to the gym are to blame. At the weekend he can work his way through three or four sets of t-shirts, socks and underwear per day. If left unattended for more than twenty four hours this sweaty wet pile exacts its revenge and begins to emit the most foul odour of Eau d’River Clyde. (The washing that is not the Big Green Gummi Bear…well maybe occasionally)

Ironing also has its own magic powers. My rule of thumb is that “if it doesn’t get ironed on Sunday then it has to wait until next week”. I’m a bit OCD about getting it all done on a Sunday (watching MotoGP or Formula 1 does help to get through it quicker). I’ll sort it into two piles- shirts and stuff that requires a cooler iron. By the time I’ve set up the ironing board and the iron, there’s invariably a cat, Frankenstein, sound asleep in the middle of it – on top of something black of course.

I surrender! I’m away to investigate the pros and cons of joining a nudist colony.

Only joking- I’m actually away to hang out the washing!

“We could have mother/daughter day?”…..

School holidays, unless you’re a teacher, fill most parents with dread. Initially, a few years back, it was childcare dilemmas causing this sinking feeling but, as the munchkins have evolved into teenagers, it’s now a feeling of  “how many mum’s taxi runs is this going to involve?” and “how many hormone fuelled battles will rage this time?”

Tempting as it was to remain at work throughout this entire Easter break, I have in fact, bitten the bullet and taken this week off.

“We could have mother/daughter day,” suggested Girl Child, batting her long eyelashes at me. “We could go to Glasgow shopping.”

That suggestion alone was almost enough to send me running back to the sanctuary of the office!

However, I took a deep breath, and agreed to take her shopping. The pound note signs lit up in her bright blue kohl lined eyes!

So today was THE day.

Girl Child is not naturally a morning person but, armed with my secret weapon (cool blue Gatorade) we headed off to the station to catch the 9.25 train. A dose of blue juice and peace to listen to her iPod (well I was listening to mine) ensured she got off the train in good humour.

Now to improve mine – first stop coffee. Hot, black and strong!

I had surrendered all hope in my own mind that I was going to get to look in a single shop that I wanted to visit.

Caffeine levels restored to their normal high, we set off in search of the first shop on her list– a gothic/occult clothing store. I had to laugh as we walked down Queen Street, remembering a previous traumatic mother/daughter shopping day when I had asked to visit the same shop we were now charging towards. At that time the Girl Child has declared emphatically that she would disown me if I ever even suggested going into such a shop. Ah, how times change! She can’t get there quick enough….

An hour later we had browsed through five gothic style clothing shops and not bought a thing.

With the “patient mummy” smile painted on, I suggested we grab some lunch while she debated what she actually wanted to spend her money on. The idea of lunch met with teenage approval.

Someone was smiling on us as we walked into the recently opened Hard Rock Café and didn’t have to queue for a table. Extra kudos to me for the choice of eatery! We were left wondering though as we left a while later after devouring our burgers (and in my case washing it down with a medicinal beer) – when did “Dancing Queen” by ABBA qualify as hard rock? Or any other kind of rock for that matter!

A decision on the clothing had been made, probably hurried along thanks to the pop harmonies of ABBA, and we returned to two of the shops to purchase her selected items. All moods and hormone rages were still under control- they even remained under control when the one shop didn’t have her chosen top in her size. (Thank God, as on closer inspection, it did not meet with the “sensible mother” in me – too many sweary words on it!)

New clothes purchased and Girl Child declared bankrupt, we headed back to the station. Oh dear, the route just happened to take us passed the record shop…how did that happen?

Well it would’ve been rude not to go in…..

With a bag now containing three CDs (two for Girl Child and one for me) and a new addition for my vinyl collection, we meandered back to the station to catch the train home.

The sun shone down on us all day. Not one cross word was spoken. We both agreed it had been a lovely mother/daughter day out- but then again that may have been the second dose of Gatorade talking!

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MUM!!!!!!! – the modern teenage call

I never thought I’d hear myself say this but I miss the days when my munchkins would shout “Mummy” or “Mum”.

Now don’t get me wrong they do still yell “MUM!!!!!” loudly on a regular basis, their tone filled with hormonal teenage menace, and they are invariably requesting the same thing as they called for in days gone by- sustenance( snacks, juice).

Recently however they have both changed tactics- one more so than the other. Boy Child, being the elder and slightly saner than his sister, will Facebook message me from his room requesting snacks – usually a tortilla wrap and Nutella. (He must have eaten his weight in those by now)His messages are short and to the point. “Wrap please” is the norm. His sister on the other hand varies her “attacks” – sorry request strategies. Sometimes she will text my mobile, at others she will Facebook message me but this week she has also been emailing me. The texts and Facebook messages are littered with smiley faces or stickers in an attempt to convince me to comply with her requests. Her emails though are being sent with “eye catching” subject headings.

The first one arrived as I was leaving work the other day. Subject- “I have sacrificed the cat”. That got my attention! Content –” Darling Mummy can you buy me a Subway on your way home because you love me so much.”  I drove straight home.

The last so far – Subject –“You son’s corpse is smelly”. Content- “Juice please.”

I can’t wait to see what she comes up with next! Where did I get that child from?