Pushing the Boundaries of Time

Well, last week was quite a week! Robbie announced his new venture to the world and after spending a couple of days earlier in the week 'getting all his ducks in a row' concerning the admin side of his company he is now hard at work. It was nice having him at home for a week or two, but it is good to get back to something like a normal routine.

Unfortunately 'normal' involves some very early starts. Getting up at 4.30am on a dark and dismal October morning is a bit of an effort, but once I'm up I'm okay. Getting up is the easy bit, getting Robbie out and to the station on time is more of a challenge. He always plans well and has everything prepared the night before, but in the morning there is always a frantic few minutes with Robbie trotting around on 'fast forward' dressed only in socks in the style of Benny Hill. Then having tested my stress levels almost beyond endurance he is suited and booted and ready to go.
   
It is one of those unfathomable things about men is that they consistently over estimate length except when it comes to journey comes to journey times - then they think they can achieve the impossible! Robbie seems to forget that I drive a Ford Galaxy not a time machine. He is so precise when it comes to train planning, so why can't he cope with allowing enough time for a car journey. His habit of providing time checks during the journey does nothing to ease my stress levels, I don't know why he does it but it doesn't get him there any quicker!

Many a small thing has been made large by the right kind of advertising. Mark Twain

Yesterday evening I put a huge smile on Robbie's face - I brought home several packs of the newly released Lego Olympic Minifigures. He had been waiting for them to be released and they turned up several days early, so when I gave them to him he was really surprised. He sat down at the table with a cup of coffee and set about making his first Olympic minifigures. His little expressions of excitement caused my son and daughter to shake their heads and exchange exasperated looks. My son made two posts on facebook which supped up the situation perfectly.

"You know you're set out for a career in mental health care when your stepdad sits in the corner calling a Lego man beautiful...and you don't question it"

"I would worry when my stepdad says he can feel the difference between a weightlifter and a an athlete... Until I realise he is on about Lego men."

As far as I am concerned it is harmless, it is not especially expensive and it gives the kids something new to disapprove of, it takes the 'spotlight' of my perceived failings. When you think of it that way the minifigures seem much less irritating! 

Men do cry, but only when assembling furniture - Rita Rudner

Who would have thought that the simple act of erecting a gazebo could cause me to have homicidal thoughts! Now that the monsoon season appears to be over my mum wanted us to put her gazebo up so that she and my step father can have a bit of shade in the garden. I had my first encounter with that gazebo last year, it is allegedly a pop up gazebo. It weighs a ton and the one thing it doesn't do is 'pop up' it needs a lot of attention and encouragement and if you are very lucky after half an hour of hard labour the thing will be up. It is absolutely huge, my mum has a big garden, but that thing takes up a lot of room.


This was Robbie's first experience with the gazebo and when I asked him to help he had a 'how hard can it be' look on his face. It didn't take him very long to find out exactly how hard it could be! Simply getting the enormous box out of the shed was a challenge. Then when we got it out of the box there were no instructions, so my mum went off to sort through her vast collection of instruction manuals (for everything that she has ever owned in her adult life!). A little thing like no instructions didn't bother Robbie he began the task with enthusiasm until I pointed out that he was assembling the frame upside down. Why do men think that possessing a 'third leg' gives them superior ability in such matters? It is rare for Robbie to come over all macho and I didn't like what I saw. Undeterred by his error he took charge, barking instructions at me, do this, hold this, fetch that. I kept my temper with great difficulty, he had conveniently overlooked the fact that I had erected this thing before - he was the novice!


To compound my irritation, every so often he would walk across to me and kiss me on the forehead. I could hardly contain my annoyance and when my mum returned with the instructions and a mallet (to peg it into the ground) the temptation was overwhelming. I stood there obediently passing him the parts according to his instruction, but in my head I was considering other uses for that mallet!


Despite his irritating ways I was very grateful to him for helping to sort out the gazebo. Hopefully my mum and step father will be able to enjoy lots of sunny days in the garden. 

Apparently Size Does Matter!

Mr B has been doing his Dr Dolittle act again. On Sunday evening he had a word with me on behalf of the guinea pig. According to Robbie she is not as satisfied with the new carrots I bought because they are the wrong shape! I told him that she is a guinea pig and as long as she has enough to eat she is not bothered about size, to her three small carrots are just as good as one large one. I could tell by his expression that he wasn't convinced, he told me that he was sure that she found the larger ones more satisfying. 


Usually I buy 'saver' carrots for her, but last week they had some small 'finest' organic carrots on offer. They were cheaper than the saver carrots so I chose those for the guinea pig along with her curly kale and other vegetables. I am fairly sure that she didn't even notice the difference, I think it is Robbie who has the problem not the guinea pig! Why do men have to obsess about size all the time?

10 Ways to be Wicked

I am used to all sorts of weird and not so wonderful suggestions finding their way to the junk folder of my email account. Several emails each week invite me to part with obscene amounts of money in order to enlarge my 'manhood'. They obviously know nothing about me! My mum made absolutely sure that I understood that a woman can do anything better than a man, because we take time to read the instructions! She is now a sprightly and determined 81 year old who can run rings around people half her age. Only a couple of weeks ago she announced that she has always been able to touch her toes with her hands flat on the floor and she would not going to give up doing so now, then just for good measure she gave a demonstration!


Today I received an email addressed to Robbie claiming to be from a regular blog reader suggesting that an article s/he had just written would dovetail well with the interests of those who read the blog. One look at the title, something along the lines of  '10 Ways to be Wicked' showed me that it certainly was not something I wished to publicise. In any case 10 ways seems rather limiting, I am sure Robbie could think of 110 ways!!


Robbie provoked an interesting discussion on facebook   with his appreciative comments about Shameless, one of his favourite television programmes. He referred to it as 'class', I don't watch it but I couldn't resist challenging him on that point, surely it is the very opposite of 'class'. I was pleased to find that there were one or two people who agreed with me. I know it is not real but I don't want to watch a fictional portrayal of the dregs of society failing as parents and most importantly of all failing as parents. I am not one for unnecessary rules and rituals but it troubles me that standards in this country seem to be eroding faster than our coastline. How hard is it for people to say please and thank you, to eat quietly with their mouth closed and to be aware that their behaviour can impact adversely on other people. It must be obvious that playing music through a mobile phone without headphones drives other people mad (especially on the bus or train). It must be obvious that holding a phone conversation while going through the supermarket checkout is downright rude and irritating to others in the queue who are being held up. So I must assume that people know that their actions are thoughtless, but they just don't care and that troubles me greatly. When I was little my grandma would occasionally tell me not to do something such as 'don't sit on the radiator or you will get piles' or 'don't pull faces, if the wind changes you will stay like that'. Once in a while I would dare to tell her that I didn't care and her response was always the same 'don't care brings care'. She may have been wrong about the piles but I think she was right that not caring has consequences.

Acceptance of prevailing standards often means we have no standards of our own. (Jean Toomer)

An Early Start.

The insistent bleeping of the alarm clock roused me from sleep, but 'Sleeping Beauty' slumbered on oblivious of the cacophony of sound that filled the room as all three alarm clocks demanded attention. I shook him and yelled at him to turn it off, he said "yes dear" and carried on snoring! Clearly it was going to be one of those days. Trying to get Robbie out of bed is like trying to raise the dead - even when (as today) it is something he wants to do.


It took a minor miracle but at 7.55am we pulled out of Northampton on the London Midland service to Birmingham. It was a double set 'blue' train so Robbie had nothing to moan about (for a while at least!). As soon as we arrived at Northampton it was clear that this was no ordinary Saturday morning. The 'socks and sandals brigade' had donned their winter uniform and turned out en masse for the annual gathering of the weird, the worrying and the downright certifiable - otherwise known as the Warley Model Railway Exhibition. 


We left the train at Birmingham International and when we entered the National Exhibition Centre we were herded towards the exhibition hall. We waited for the exhibition to open in a tightly packed and ever growing crowd. I felt very small and outnumbered lost in the crush of men with backpacks who all had the same thing on their minds - trains! The crowd surged forward and I was carried along with it, down the stairs round the corner and in to the exhibition. Robbie was like a kid in a toy shop, he didn't know what to do first, but in true Robbie style he insisted that we had to stick to the same route that we take every year! 

There was lots to look at and Robbie's wish list grew by the minute. I wanted to look at things too but there were some very rude and hostile men around. Several times I was deliberately shoved out of the way and on many occasions men pushed in front of me as I was looking at stalls. Even Robbie noticed the hostile looks I got, as if they thought I had no right to be there. I got sick of dodging rucksacks. Being short is always a bit of a hazard in a crowded situation, but today was worse than usual. They are not going to get rid of that easily, my money is just as good as theirs and when necessary I have sharp elbows (at just the right height) so watch out!


Before long Robbie was walking around with a 'Roy Cropper' shopping bag as well as his rucksack. We bought some lovely books, one for me and four for him, as well as a stash of magazines a couple of little shunt engines and two very nice Hornby circus trucks. As I looked around I noticed that most of the other men were now armed with shopping bags as well as their rucksacks. It was rather like a Roy Cropper convention, or perhaps Where's Wally in reverse - If you looked hard enough you might be able to spot someone 'normal'. People watching is always fun, but at Warley it takes on a whole new dimension!


I am not sure how long we stayed at the exhibition, probably not much more than an hour but we managed to see everything and by the time we left we were absolutely exhausted. I enjoyed it, but I don't think it was as big or quite as good as last year. My favourites were the book stalls and the Stall selling Ivor the Engine books and mugs - I love Ivor the Engine! There was one other highlight, the ladies toilets, they were clean, practical and there were no queues, in fact they were almost deserted. If only it was always like this! 


Robbie and I left the exhibition exhausted but content and keen to take a closer look at our purchases. It was still early so we caught a train to Birmingham with the intention of having a day on the railways - but that is a story for tomorrow, I'm tired now. 

The Differences Between Men and Women

I met a really nice man a couple of weeks ago. We had an interesting chat about all sorts of things including trains. He observed that men tend to obsess about things and women tend to obsess about people. That made a lot of sense to me because Robbie notices things such as minor changes if product packaging, bus numbers, car numbers, the design of post poxes and lamp posts, that sort of thing. I hardly ever notice those things, but I notice if someone is wearing odd socks, looks sad, or seems worried, things that Robbie  would probably not notice. 


Yesterday I received further confirmation that men and women have a different way of looking at things. My son announced to me that his English homework had been to consider gender stereotypes and to analyse the way that Robbie and I use language, then to present his observations to the class. Apparently is caused his teacher considerable amusement when he told the class that I'd told him that men almost always consider their cars (and trains) to be female, but I know for sure that my car is male because it is unreliable and expensive to maintain! He went on to tell the class that our use of language indicated that Robbie is submissive and I am dominant because I use imperatives and Robbie uses tactics such as hedging, fillers and hesitation in response. I have to admit that it feels a bit creepy to think that our use of language gives away so much about us (assuming his observations are accurate) we will have to be more cautious in future!

Shopping for Men

Why is it so hard to buy presents for men? It is my step father's birthday today, and I really struggled to find a suitable present for him. In the end I bought his favourite aftershave and a book of old photos of our town and the surrounding villages. He loved the book so at least the effort to find the right thing was worthwhile. At least I don't have that problem with Robbie, he is very easy to buy for. I find the easiest thing is to stick with the train theme, there are lots of options, a ride on a train, a model train, a visit to look at trains, a book about trains, maps showing train routes, paintings of trains, train DVDs, train pictures, train jigsaws, in fact he even likes bits of old trains! In the unlikely event that I ran out of train related options there are other possibilities, Dr Martens, gadgets or anything that he can eat - he loves to eat!

To Tell the Truth ...................

Robbie fell over as he was getting off the train yesterday morning. He had only bought a new suit a few days ago and I am ashamed to say that when he told me about the fall I enquired about the suit before I asked about him. The suit survived unscathed but Robbie hurt his hand and his dignity was seriously affected; the platform proved surprisingly resilient. It could have been much worse, I do worry about him, I wish we could find a way to keep him upright.

Why are men such dreadful liars? OK I know that is a huge generalisation, but I am cross so please make allowances. Just for once I am not having a go at Network Rail, but come to think of it the same thing applies to them, if they want to mislead us, at least they could make the effort to do it convincingly instead of treating us all as if we are fools! I was actually getting at Robbie. He knows from bitter experience that I have a built in lie detector and it is not easy to pull the wool over my eyes, but it doesn't stop him trying! This week I caught him in out, there was no disputing the 'evidence', it had his fingerprints all over it, but he clung stubbornly to his version of the situation. Establishing the truth really is like pulling teeth. It makes me so cross that he assumes I a stupid enough to accept his version, as far as I am concerned the original 'misdemeanour' is never worth a lie, because most things can be put right or overcome. I wonder if it is a case of arrested development, you know that phase when a toddler learns to play hide and seek and they think that if they can't see you then you cant see them - they don't realise that their rear end is poking out from behind the sofa for all to see! I wonder if men ever progress beyond that stage - or maybe they just enjoy getting caught! I have found that admitting a mistake or omission, apologising and asking for help to put it right will get a much more favourable response than denial or trying to blame the others. Maybe Network Rail should give it a try sometime, we would all be shocked into stunned silence, so at least they would have a quiet few days! Just for the record, Robbie has been forgiven!

Robbie was on form last night in terms of random statements. We has just been shopping at Morrisons and he got into the car after parking the trolley and said "I will have to wash my high visibility vest before April". I expect he was thinking about trains and charters, but it made me laugh because it made me think of Harry Potter and the invisibility cloak. Robbie is high visibility all the time, vest or no vest!

When in a Hole Stop Digging! 21.07.07

Robbie decided to live dangerously earlier in the week. I was annoyed, not because he was late home, but because he didn't notify me promptly about the delay. By the time he phoned I had already accepted several other commitments all based on the assumption that he would be home at the time he had planned. Somehow the irritation was perpetuated, I think it was partly due to Robbie's habit of digging furiously when he finds himself in a hole. It is silly to get annoyed about lateness that was obviously not deliberate, but a simple sorry and an acknowledgement of the difficulties his lateness caused would have worked wonders, the combative approach in the style of John Humphries was less successful - I must stop him listening to Radio 4 every morning!

Harmony seemed to elude us, I could feel that it was within reach but it just kept slipping through our fingers and the longer the situation persisted the more frustrating it became. It was at this point that Robbie very bravely (or stupidly) clung to the higher ground and told me it was about time I started to toe the line!! Maybe my expression gave it away, or maybe he genuinely had used the wrong words, whatever the cause a look of terror spread over his face and if he hadn't been in the car at the time I think he would have actually run for cover! I don't recall exactly what I said, but it involved him acquiring a much higher voice!

We never stay cross for long and harmony reigns once more. Robbie had a day off work yesterday and he came up over to me and gave me a big hug, he then asked if we could please buy the latest British Film Institute Railway DVD. When he got a favourable response he decided to make the most of the moment and he announced that he was going out to play trains next Saturday - apparently he absolutely has to go on an HST to Newquay and when he gets there he will turn round and come back again! Men! If you didn't laugh you would cry!