Danger! Moving Parts

On Friday night I got off the tube at my home station at the same time as a mother and her small daughter, aged about four.  The mother was pushing an enormous buggy and the daughter was trailing a small (although it looked very large against her) pink wheelie case.  They got to the bottom of the escalator marginally before I did, and the mother urged her daughter to walk onto the escalator in front of her, while she followed on behind.  As I usually do, I moved into the fast lane and prepared to walk up the escalator.  However, as I did so, disaster struck.  The daughter made her way onto the escalator, and tried to turn to face her mother.  However, she had placed her feet just over the join of a step, and, as the escalator began to rise and the steps split, she lost her balance, falling face first back down the escalator.  There was an immediate terrified wail, as she felt herself falling, and she tried to scramble back towards her mother, but was unable to do so.  She was therefore stuck, head facing down the escalator, legs tangled up in her bag, crying her eyes out.  The mother was hampered by the buggy that she was pushing so, in a split second decision, I stepped in to help.

The girl was, luckily, a total sweetie.  I know many children that would have refused help from a strange adult, but she accepted the hand I offered and didn’t mind at all when I picked her up bodily, as being the only way to get her upright again.  We disentangled her feet from her bag handle and the wails of fear stopped, to be replaced by tears of pain, as she realised that she’d banged her knee as she fell.  There was a beautifully touching childlike moment as she pointed to her knee, just assuming that, because I’m a grown-up, I could make it all better.  As we reached the top of the escalator I took her bag and offered her my hand, which she trustingly took, and we made it safely off the top.

As we turned to look back down the steps and wait for her mother to arrive, I suddenly felt awkward.  My instinct was to give the girl a hug -  she was clearly far more shaken than physically hurt, so all she really needed was comfort – but such is my ingrained London-ness nowadays that I half expected to be given a mouthful of abuse for touching someone else’s child.  Thankfully, however, the mother was also lovely, and gave me a big smile and a thank you before comforting her daughter.  A happy ending.

Gritty Southern Drama

I live very close to Kilburn High Road, and walk along it every morning as I go to the tube. One of the interesting things about Kilburn High Road (and one of the reasons it was a bit shit for many years) is that it is the dividing line between Brent and Camden authorities, and so neither really wanted to take responsibility for it. Anyway, it received a grant all of its very own a few years ago and has been being improved ever since – although I do miss the shitness at times. It’s lovely having a Caffe Nero etc, but the character’s rather gone. Anyway, I digress.

It was icy this morning, as expected. I had worn my Cat boots in readiness. These, combined with fishnet tights and a pinstripe skirt, made me look like a bit of a twat, but at least I didn’t fall over, and I made it to work with warm, dry feet. These things matter in my old age. Anyway – once more, I digress.

I left my house, which is on a road on the Camden side of KHR. Plenty of snow still, and an awful lot of grey, frozen slush. Lovely. I stomped confidently in my big workman’s boots, sneering at the fools who had chosen to wear normal shoes. I then crossed the road, to the Brent side of KHR, and realised that there was something different about the surface underfoot. It was gritted. All at once it dawned on me: Brent have actually been gritting all winter. Camden – well, not so much. Suddenly the buses being taken off the roads yesterday made a lot more sense to me. Last night I pontificated to my mother on the fact that SURELY the main roads should all be salted and why on earth weren’t the buses running? However, when each bus is likely to be running through areas run by different authorities, there is no guarantee, if the difference between Brent and Camden is anything to go by.

Seems like local isn’t always better, after all.

Moobs’ Tenuous Connections Competition

Vote for me!

So I got nominated this year – woo! I was briefly in the lead, but due to some underhand arm-twisting by Suburban Mum, I’m now trailing a bit, so you know what to do – go vote for me!

Oh, my tenuous connection is that my middle brother threw up behind Sting’s car at his school speech day. Worth a vote, I think you’ll agree.

Taking Tea with Kingsley Amis

In response to Suburban Mum’s heartfelt plea for my return (oh, let me have my dreams!) I felt I should probably post and catch you all up on what I have been up to.

This evening I had dinner with Michael Portillo. Well, not exactly with him. Not actually even in the same room as him. But definitely in the same building and as part of the same event. I rub shoulders with all the stars, me. Actually, I did quite literally rub shoulders with him. Or I would have done were he not two inches shorter than me. Call it a shoulder to elbow brush, if you will.

The other weekend I went to a marvellous party with a traditional seaside theme, hosted by a famous novelist of Mr Katja’s acquaintance. The sun shone, we ate fish and chips, drank pink champagne, rode donkeys, and shouted at the Punch and Judy show, coming home pinkly sun-scorched and very happy at the end of the day. Ah, the halcyon days of summer. Long may they last.

This weekend I shall be riding 50 miles on my bike in aid of the Nehemiah Project. I am somewhat nervous and fear that my behind will not last the distance. I am loath to publish the link to my justgiving page here as it shows my real name, which I would rather the googlebots did not link with my blog. However, if you would like to sponsor me, there is a link on my facebook profile. Every little counts (and thank you to those that have already so generously donated).

I went off on tour recently. Just a little mini tour, taking in Newcastle and Harrogate, but it went terribly well and a good time was had by all, not least the children being entertained. Continuing the animal theme which has characterised my acting roles over the past couple of years, I played a Mexican bird (most entertaining when we had a Spanish woman in the front row for one of the shows …), a very posh hare, a westcountry cow and a cock-er-nee fly.

The cow was a very loud, panto dame-type character, and I used to run in and out of the audience, talking to the children and generally camping it up. One day we had a boy of about 8 or 9 years old in the audience, who was too old and cool for the show (it’s aimed at 3-4 year olds), but too young to get the jokes aimed at the adults, and therefore seemed pretty bored.

In the cow scene, there is the classic panto device of shouting for a character who has disappeared off stage, shouting louder and louder until they come back. I picked on Bored Boy, who very obligingly yelled his little heart out. I then exited at the end of the scene, and Sally, one of the other actors, did a little adlib about me being a mad cow. Bored boy then told her in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t MAD, I was COOL.

Oh yes, I’ve still got it …

The privilege meme

I usually do mindless questionnaires over at my other blog, but this one is a wee bit more of a social experiment, so I thought I’d put it here. I found it via Mr Frog’s blog, who came to it via Charlotte’s Web.

It was devised by PhD students at Indiana State University. The original authors of this exercise are Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, and Stacy Ploskonka. If you participate, they ask that you please acknowledge their copyright.

Bold the true statements. You can explain further if you wish.

1. Father went to college
2. Father finished college
3. Mother went to college
4. Mother finished college
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
One lawyer, one doctor.
6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home
This is a bit of a cheat, as I lived in a house which had had generations upon generations of my family living there, so we had books dating back to Victorian times and possibly further, which were never actually read, but which belonged in the bookshelves which had been built for them. Some of the maps were very interesting, but most of the time I stuck to the modern paperbacks.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent
I used to force my dad to read me The Bobbsey Twins. If you’ve never experienced these American books, about two sets of twins, both boy/girl pairs, then count yourselves lucky. I loved them as a child, but I would actively ban any child of mine from reading them, as they are hopelessly outdated and rampantly sexist.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18
I’m assuming this refers to extra-curricular lessons, rather than just the legal requirements. Piano, clarinet, recorder, judo, riding.
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
Depends who’s doing the portraying. I’m posh enough to be sneered at by large portions of society.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18
Nope. Never had a credit card in my life, and am hoping to keep it that way.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs
16. Went to a private high school
17. Went to summer camp
Does pony club camp count?
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18
Music teachers, yes.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels
No, never. We’d go camping or to self-catering cottages in Cornwall.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18
Nope. I did better than my brothers, because (a) I’m the only girl and (b) I’m the eldest, but I still got hand-me-downs from my cousin.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them
Again, this was because I was the eldest. The idea was that they would buy a brand new car which would then be passed down all four of us. It didn’t quite work out like that, but that was the plan.
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child
Mostly gloomy stuff of crucifixions and dead animals. Like the books, family paintings over which we had no control.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home
25. You had your own room as a child
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course
I’ve just looked these up, and they appear to be courses on how to do well in exams. Maybe I’m naive, but isn’t school supposed to give children that knowledge?
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school
I’m not a fan of televisions in bedrooms. There are generally better things to do in there.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16
I first flew as a tiny baby, to Portugal. There is a photograph of my mother sitting on a bench, with me balanced beside her on a wall. When you look closer, you realise that on the far side of the wall is an eight foot drop. Ah, the heady, carefree days of the mid-70s.
31. Went on a cruise with your family
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family

I’d say this probably reveals that yes, I had a privileged childhood according to this model. I wouldn’t say I was spoilt, but I do appreciate how lucky I am to have had the upbringing that I did.

Smokers

If you must continue smoking in the face of the ban, at least have the decency to stand out of the way of the door so that other people can get in and out of the restaurant.

Woman outside Browns last night, I’m looking specifically at you.

Romantic fool

Is it wrong that I laughed heartily at this story?  I do hope he had the ring insured – and also that his girlfriend doesn’t dump him for being a total numbskull …

On a totally different note, when did ‘healthful’ become part of the English language?  I keep seeing it written down, generally as part of the blurb for the latest fad diet, and it makes me cringe every time.  I SO need a job as a copywriter.  It’s the only way to save the world.

Souper Douper

Mr Katja and I were travelling by tube the other day.  As we walked onto the platform, we were faced with a large ad for Heinz Taste of Home soup on the far wall.  As one does when waiting for a train, we both stared vacantly at it for a while – and then turned to each other with identical looks of confusion and horror.  “Serial killers!” said I, at the same time as Mr K blurted out, “Paedophilia!”

When I say that the ad features a pot of soup with the words “Ingredients: Aunties and Uncles who aren’t really aunties and uncles” on the side, I think you’ll probably all see where we were coming from.

STARVING

I saw this a while ago, but have just found it again and laughed just as much, if not more, this time around. Sheer brilliance.

Literacy

I’m jobhunting at the moment. Idly perusing Monster, I saw an ad asking for a copywriter, which sounded interesting. I think I’m overqualified, however, judging on how badly the ad is written. I’m now wondering whether writing to them, correcting the myriad mistakes in their copy, would get me the job or permanent blacklisting …