...learn a bit more about parenting

Today I had coffee with my friend Rae. She's a new friend but sometimes we talk more often that I do with some of my oldest friends (thanks to Twitter and Facebook). 


Coffee and cake should be about incessant chattering, interspersed only by the mumblings of cake filled mouths and the clinking of spoons or forks on china. However, the addition of a 7 year old child, and a precocious one at that, means a longed for catch up is frequently interrupted by irrelevant requests that translate into 'give me your attention'!
So if you've read my daughter's blog post from today: 'Last Friday night', here's today's activities from my side of the fence.


Today we went to the Science Museum and we got to do lots of experiments - Today I took Bea to the Science Museum. She ran around like a 5 year old bashing the hell out of everything she could and feigning interest in the facts the 'experts' told her, generally nodding and saying yes so she could move onto the next activity. The exception to this was an experiment where she had to bounce a ball onto a metal plate and work out its trajectory, placing 5 hoops in a line so that the ball went through them all - she got it through 3 which I have to admit was pretty good. 


We met Rachel who’s Mummy’s friend and we went to the Hummingbird Cafe and we each had a cake - Bea and I met the lovely Ms Singh for coffee and cake. After a promising start where Bea educated Rae on all things Moshi, Rae and I caught up on life, cakes, French schools and our mothers. This was clearly a subliminal trigger for Bea to try every trick in her 7 year old book to be the centre of attention, ranging from 'can I have my iPod/paper/pens/magazine' to 'I need to go to the toilet now I'm SOOOO desperate'. We then wandered around a few gorgeous shops where every other sentence seemed to be accompanied by an echo that said 'Can I have this? Can I buy this? How much is this?'

I'm inside the Katsuma suit - a portable padded cell for coping with volatile youngsters

Then we went to Harrods and I had the Moshi Monster Guide signed by Michael Acton who invented MOSHI MONSTERS!!!!!!!! -  We arrived in time for Bea to be one of the first 200 kids in line and receive a special gift bag. After queuing for almost 2 hours, during which time Bea made friends with a lovely girl from SE London, we were at the front of the queue. Bea handed over her ideas for new moshlings and the Moshi Monsters press officer asked if she could film Bea for Moshi TV. The time came to leave and of course this was a completely unreasonable request. I mean why wouldn't I expect Bea to be cross, after all I had spent most of the day trying to make sure she had fun. The result was a full blown row where I of course lost my high ground by resorting to her level of commentary and Bea told me she hated me. Joy oh joy.


Then for our last dinner we went to Iberica and had some gorgeous ham and other bits and bobs of tapas - this bit is true. By the time we'd reached South Kensington on the tube, a delightful retired couple commented on how lovely Bea was and she turned the charm up to 11. I couldn't help but smile and we whiled away a couple of hours eating tapas, practicing Spanish and drinking pineapple juice (her) and cava (me). 


Basically as Rae's Mum said to her 'kids don't come with an instruction manual' but then even when things do we often dump the instructions in a drawer and muddle through without them. Tonight Bea's not in a drawer but I continue to muddle through. That said, I wouldn't swap her because truth be told I know I was exactly the same and as MY Mum would say, 'What goes around, comes around!'


Good luck to all you parents out there and here's a little something that sums up our lot in life :0) [Go to 5:16 for the bit on parenting].

...relish being a have instead of a have not

High speed BB is awesome! Well, that's a slight exaggeration, I'm not American after all. But it's pretty good. As I type I'm tweeting via my phone, watching a film online and downloading games onto my 7 year old's iPod. This may seem trivial to those of you living in urban bliss, regularly accessing speeds I can only imagine but today I have joined the 'haves' thanks to the loan of a friend's flat in Central London.

Aside from multi device access, not having to hold a phone up towards the window in the far corner of the study just to get a signal (don't even get me started on our guaranteed speed of up to 0.5M...) is a novelty I'd like to become a reality.

Guinea Fowl - West Norfolk

So over the next few days I shall revel in the speeds B and I can share as we both update our blogs (check out her first post here) and take comfort in the fact that whilst our digital lives still run at a snail's pace, our real lives are unhindered by the endless queues of traffic and stifling tube journeys.

After all how many of you can claim to see this sight on your way home? Sometimes country living has its benefits. And sometimes it's slower than I'd like.

...tick things off a list

Now properly into my 40s, like many people I guess, I'm realising there are some things in life I'd really like to experience. The usual suspects feature:

• Go tiger trekking in India
• Hike to Mount Everest base camp
• See Mount Uluru
• Visit exotic, remote islands with endless white sandy beaches and vivid blue waters
• Take the time to get in touch with family and friends

And those more specific to me:

• Buy a new wardrobe of clothes because I'm fed up of jumpers and jeans
• Wear lipstick for the hell of it instead of just when I go out 
• Finish all those stories I've started

The list is long and egocentric of course because it's all about me! 

First up on the list was a long standing ambition to go to a Springsteen gig having been a fan for more than 25 years. Finally on Friday June 22nd I saw the magic that is The Boss. Three and a half hours of raw energy that brought some of the grown men around us to tears. I watched in amazement as he pulled a woman on the stage to dance with him and she was wearing....a onesie - Courtney Cox eat your heart out! Tried not to stare when a couple arrived at 9.00pm complete with very young baby in a papoose on its Dad's chest and wearing ear defenders. We had arrived late assuming Bruce and the E Street Band wouldn't be on until at least 7.30 and had no idea who the support act was; there was no support act, just this energetic bunch of 60 year old rockers who kicked off at 7.10pm, so we missed the first song. And despite no 'Born in the USA', the set list was epic and we, his followers, united in the Etihad Stadium, sang our hearts out to the last song of the night: Twist and Shout (all the more fitting for a couple of Liverpool girls).

For now the tiger trekking and Everest trip will have to wait and I have no idea if there's a style that's particularly me but I'm wearing lipstick as I type...

... market my own business

It's late.

I've just finished work, and despite the fact I should go to bed, it's such a long time since I last posted that an extra ten minutes can't do any harm.

Life, or rather work, has picked up a notch since my last blog, which is the reason for my lack of updates but not really a decent excuse.

So work is good.

But because it's good it made me think; perhaps it's time to market myself. I spend my working life helping other businesses to market their products and services but this is the first time I've been 'client side'. Interesting.

Suddenly I'm experiencing first hand the need to make a choice and pick a brand, select a colour palette, write copy that sells what I do. It's given me a whole new perspective on how it feels to be the client.

So here's the point of this short, but at least it's here, post. If you offer a service to customers, take the time to see how it feels to be in their shoes. Hopefully you'll discover that your experience is pretty similar to their's but if you don't, at least you'll know what you need to do to make things better.

Try it; only good things can happen as a result.

Now it really is time for bed.

...remind people that their kids aren't always cute

As a mum I know how all consuming your children can be. Every parent, well every good one anyway, will at times think that their child is the best, the most beautiful, the funniest or whatever attribute, or collection of attributes they think describe their offspring.

That's fine. That's how it should be. With one exception.

Once you leave the boundary of your own home and enter the world that's populated by other people, not all of them parents, you need to get just a little perspective.

Yesterday I had breakfast at Smiths of Smithfield. My second time in 4 weeks which is pretty good going as I live in Norfolk. As a place to eat your first meal of the day it's a hit for me for two reasons:

1. I LOVE the branding - uber cool staff uniforms, loud music and the warehouse environment
2. The pricing is in fractions so it costs 4 1/2 pounds for pancakes...simple pleasures

Yesterday, a bit tired after a very late night, I arrived at SOS, following a 20 minute walk from the hotel, happy to see the doors wide open and lots of people enjoying a full English. There were plenty of children there too, not a problem, I like family dining especially at this time of day.

Shortly after we sat down, some people arrived at the next table to us; a man, woman and toddler. 

Strike 1: When asked by her male companion what she'd like to eat the woman replied 'Oh, I've already eaten.' WTF? Really? Isn't that slightly rude? (He paid and we got the impression he'd invited her.) And also why bother coming to SOS if you're not going to eat?

Strike 2: After clinging to his Mum for the first 10 minutes, the boy finally decided he didn't need to sit on his mother's lap, (most parents have experienced the limpet child), instead he wanted to lie on the floor. He was in the way of customers and staff but as she talked to him constantly whilst he was there she clearly thought this was ok. Finally, after two waitresses had to ask her to move him so they could get past, one of the waiters insisted she sit him elsewhere and pointed out to her 'It's not the most sensible thing to let him lie in the way when we're carrying hot food and drinks is it?' She look affronted, I wanted to applaud him.

Strike 3; you're out!: After drinking their coffee and settling the bill she then followed her son around, holding his reins, as he walked in between all of the tables, basically annoying the other diners for a good 5 minutes. There's a big difference between keeping a child happy and allowing them to do as they wish.

My own treasure has had many moments during her 6 years...

So all new or prospective parents take note: what you will think is cute will invariably be annoying for someone else, but rather than hide away for the first 5 years of your child's life just apply a little common sense and I guarantee most of us will be happy. 

Failing that, please avoid SOS on a Sunday morning just in case I'm enjoying their delicious pancakes and a freshly squeezed OJ. Thanks; I appreciate it.

...write about funerals

Children shouldn't go to funerals.

It's too traumatic, they're disruptive, they won't understand, we need to protect them from the reality of death, they'll be emotionally scarred...

The reasons for excluding children, from what is essentially a major family occasion, are many and in my opinion, unfounded.

The passing of a loved one is of course a difficult subject to address with a child, especially true if the death is unexpected or the circumstances are unnatural, but being involved can prepare children in a positive way for the time when they lose those closest to them and enable them to deal with their emotions in a positive and supported way.

When my Grandad died last month, we sat our 6 year old down to tell her the news. She had visited him in hospital the month before and was understandably upset, albeit in a quiet way. We answered all of her questions honestly and used simple language (with no mention of angels or heaven) and she was keen to know more about what happened next. After explaining what a funeral was (a chance to say goodbye, give thanks, be with family who would be feeling the same way as we did) she expressed a wish to go but of course the decision was not ours to make. Children were excluded and our 6 year old was in tears. Her argument, and she did argue her point, was why wasn't she allowed to say goodbye when grown-ups were. I couldn't disagree with her that this was a valid point and my concern is this: by excluding children from what is a very normal part of life, do we risk instilling in them feelings of resentment and anger in later life?

I'm not in any way saying that children should be forced to attend funerals, it's important that they understand what will happen and can make an informed decision, and this will depend on the maturity, not the age, of the child. But if they do wish to go, there's plenty of information available to help families prepare them for the experience.

During the run up to our family funeral I read lots of articles and research on taking children to funerals but the paper 'My Grandad plants people!' from the Bereavement Advice Centre sums it up perfectly. With advice on how to explain death, what happens to a body when they die and what funerals are for, it contains most things a parent or guardian could need to discuss death with a child.

I still believe my daughter would have benefited from being able to say goodbye to her Great-Grandad, because after all what is the alternative; what is she left with? Basically he was here, but now he's not. He's simply disappeared.

The decision to include children can be a difficult and personal one based on your own beliefs and values but I hope more people move away from the view that funerals are not for children and at least consider embracing the service as one the whole family can take part in - if they want to. Children have a wonderful, open view of life and their honesty is often accompanied by humour - what better emotion to share at the passing of a loved one?

...buy more art

Having just returned from an exhibition of Fabian Perez's latest collection 'Into the Night', at a gallery in Cambridge, I was reflecting on my first foray into the art world. Sadly I'm not gifted artistically, with any vision I have for artistic projects being disproportionate to my ability, but I do love art.

I can still remember where and when it started; the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool and I was 9. This iconic building houses must see paintings by many of the world's most famous artists, and after seeing Holbein's 'Henry VIII' and Hockney's 'Peter getting out of Nick's Pool', I was hooked (I'm wondering now were they hung in alphabetical order and I arrived in the H section?).

As nerdy as it was I spent many a Saturday afternoon looking endlessly at a single painting, and I totally got the scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off where Cameron stares at Seuret's 'A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jutte', but with no internet access if I wanted to know more about a particular artist I had to pay a visit to the library next door (another place I spent far too much time in as a kid).

I still have the first print I bought, a still life from Marks & Spencer, and it's a shocker. But I keep it because my grandmother gave me the money to buy it and it reminds me that this is where I started; it wasn't grand, or based on an informed opinion, I bought it because I liked it. And that's an approach that's stuck with me to this day.

Googling any artist returns all the information you could need to decide whether an artist is 'collectible' but whilst that may be good practice for an art collector with a must-have list of pieces, looking to invest money in a bid to offset tax liability, for me art remains about the sensory experience. The emotion it evokes each time you look at it. The memories it stirs when you talk about it. It's not about building a pension portfolio.

So tonight, whilst I gazed upon the sublime work of Fabian Perez, for a moment I was 9 years old again, full of admiration for the talents of one individual and filled with excitement that this time I would be taking a piece home with me to look at whenever I wanted to.

I left the gallery with a new painting, and the smallest of crushes on an Argentinian painter who may well be the next big thing, but as I don't plan on selling my copy of 'Calles de san Tellemos', that really is beside the point.