That's Them Dancing

One of my nephews had a birthday and my step-sister organised a party for him. It was held at one of those so-called "fun" places where masses of kids stampede through various netted-off rooms and leap into giant pits filled with bright balls. Mostly they disappear under and then resurface. I'm sure the occasional one is lost to the sea of primary colour. With any luck.

I wasn't invited because Cinderella thinks I'm great with kids*; she wanted me to bring my camera and maybe take a few decent photos of the (nutjobs) youngsters going mental in the (asylum) playground thingy. I got some shots and then retired to some kind of padded cell where the other adults were sheltering. I munched on fairy bread and watched the endless, terrifying parade of children whizzing by, shrieking and screaming and even occasionally laughing. The noise they made seemed to endlessly reverberate on every surface around us. I felt like I was being sucked down into a whirlpool of mad colour and freakish noises.

It was a wild scene, man.




*And when I am great with kids it's in a totally healthy and approved manner. I have my Working with Children check to prove it.

All the Pretty Flowers

Yesterday we went down to Bezley's for a birthday lunch - onion soup, roast turkey with a plethora of veggies and cake (not all on the same plate). Cinderella was there with my rambunctious nephews. U2 , the older boy, was putting on a shy act and pretending he couldn't speak. We tried to entice him by talking about Christmas.

"That's right," said Bezley in her best sing-song voice. "It is nearly Christmas, U2. And who do we see at Christmas time? Santa! Hey, tell Aunty Hazel and Uncle Grumpy about the present you got from Santa in the park."

Unfortunately I caught Cinderella's eye and there was much snorting.

I never claimed to be a grown up.

Marry in haste; repent in copperplate.

My step-sister, Cinderella, organised a birthday picnic lunch on Saturday for my nephew's first birthday. She'd invited a few of her friends who have also manufactured sprogs in assorted shapes and sizes. Cinderella is a lovely girl and her friends are pretty decent types too. It was a warm and sunny day and one of her girlie mates, a mere slip of a thing still in her mid 20s, was wearing a top that plunged at both the front and back. With a body like hers I'd be plunging everywhere too.

Just as we were leaving I happened, for the first time, to be standing with this particular girl's back to me. Only then did I notice that she has tattooed across the top of her back her and her husband's name and what I assume was the date they got married. One should avoid standing around goggling at other people at social events, but since she couldn't see me I goggled away.

Seemed like a pretty risky move to me. Though she's clearly not a totally reckless young filly. I was pleased to note that she'd chosen to immortalise the event in a classic and elegant font. Nobody can tell me she lacks style.