Wednesday, 25 July 2012


When I discovered I would not be able to work for a while, I had to accept that life would need to get serious. So I sat down one morning with my dear friend Excel and tried to work out how I was going to survive without working. Being a Freelance citizen it was not a particularly enjoyable way to spend a couple of hours. However, its not impossible to get by, there would just have to be cut backs. So along with taxis, smelly candles and my deadly COS addiction, several regular treats have had to get binned. It's an expensive business being skint. One treat, that I refuse to give up easily, is fresh flowers. I don't know why, but I just like having them around particularly as I now spend so much time at home.  Why stare at the wall when you can stare at a flower I say. The cutbacks have meant I have had to make different choices with the flowers that's all. Whereas, I would regularly pick up a bunch of roses on the way home from work, or even Lillies if I was feeling particularly fruity, I am now displaying Gladioli's. Gladioli's have always reminded me of Dame Edna Everage, but in a recession, I'm looking at them in a whole new light ie they are very cheap.

These beauties cost £2.50 from M+S and have lasted 2 weeks.

And these were even cheaper, £2 from Tesco and also lasted 2 weeks. Don't forget, that's the same price as one egg at the Hackney Picture House. Bargain.

Anyway, apparently summer is here finally, which is great news. Or so one might think. However, if you are me, all the hot weather does is throw up one more thing to worry / obsess about. Body temperature. Or more specifically the body temperature of the baby. Yesterday I dared to climb down the mountain (my front steps) and venture out as I had 2 more parcels to collect at the Post Office, more presents for you know who. The Post Office is about a 40 minute walk away from home, a nice stroll in the sun I thought. However, at the first set of lights I stopped at White Van man shouted out of his window at me "It's too hot for the baby!" "Jesus Christ" I thought. He's right! It must be at least 150 degrees and although baby is in one of those body suits without legs, no socks, no blanket and a muslin clipped onto the buggy totally covering his delicate porcelain skin, White Van man is right! Baby is going to boil alive! What is the best temperature for a baby? I don't know! Should I go home and get a damp flannel to wipe over his fluffy head? What if he gets a sweaty back? How will I know? I'll just have to keep jiggling him around to feel it. Is that foam on his mouth or plain dribble? Oh my God, what was I thinking bringing him outside into the hotness! How irresponsible! I'll call Social Services myself!! (This is typical of me and my self confidence. I always think that no matter what the advice or from whom, the person spouting the advice is always right and I am always wrong). As you can see, this comment threw me into a total panic. What had started out as a nice summer jaunt had turned into a panic fueled race against time. I had to collect the parcel yesterday as it had already been there for 2 weeks and would be sent back to the sender the next day. So there was nothing for it, I had to continue my journey as quickly as possible. I somehow managed to get to the Post Office in just under 20 minutes, by walking so fast that I gave myself stitch in the process and scurrying only in the shadows like some sweaty, out of breath Batman Villain. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

The only saving grace of the entire excursion was that the baby was merciful and actually didn't wake up throughout the whole journey. He slept all the way through my traumatic trip and even let me pick up a hot chocolate on the way home. This is the first time he has let me do this in 3 weeks. He usually lets me bundle him in the buggy, lug him down the mountain (stairs), get him across the treacherous junction onto the other side of the main road, into the coffee shop, waits for me to order then wakes up and screams so loud I have to cancel my order and leave.  I think I'll just stay in today.

1 comment:

  1. Do not fret... When we lived in Copenhagen I was "shocked" to discover, that not only is it commonplace for babies to be left outside supermarkets while the weekly shop is being done, but they also dress them in several layers, and tuck them into their ginormaprams with a couple of duvets. They only get rid of the duvets in the summer. Honestly you have to see it to believe it!

    PS. They remind me of Dame Edna too, but I love Gladioli :)