Car in the middle of Woodlands Road

Why, oh why does this sort of thing always seem to happen to me? Especially when I'm supposed to be hurrying home to babysit Thomas...thought I was doing quite well to start with, managed to score a "fast" bus yesterday from Redhill (the one that goes via the hospital *before* going half way round the rest of Surrey) got as far as Woodlands Road and a car rolled backwards, directly across the road in front of us and pulled suddenly to a halt, then proceeding to just sit there (as you can see it above), we waited, and waited as a little traffic jam formed on either side of it until finally I decided I had waited long enough and told the driver I would hop off and go and see what was going on, when I got up there a small group of local residents had begun to gather around it (having come out to discover why quite so many car horns were suddenly blaring out in their quiet little road) and it quickly became apparent that there was no driver in it! Evidently what had happened was that the handbrake had either *partially* failed, or wasn't applied properly enough to counteract gravity and it had bumped itself down into the road (completely blocking it) and then (miraculously) managed to reapply itself *just* before it struck the two cars parked on the opposite side of the road...I spoke to the residents, they said they knew who the owner was, but they had tried and there was no answer from their door...a little frustrated I tried to push the car (on my own) but the handbrake (of course) was now firmly wedged on...the bus driver tried in vain to reverse up the road (more cars and buses kept on arriving behind us), some of the residents announced the police had been called, but despite much false hope (sirens in the distance that then just faded away) no rescue arrived. Eventually nurses due for start of their shifts at the hospital were forced to give up and start walking the rest of the way and then, when I had almost decided that I was going to have to do the same a bloke appeared next to me, as I was giving another desperate shove to the back of the vehicle and announced that you can trick a handbrake into disengaging (momentarily) by bumping the back of the car up and down, we did this, and lo and behold, it moved - just a little bit - at this two other people from the crowd, heartened by our minor success, came and joined in, and so, with much bumping and huffing and shoving, we managed to get the car back up onto the drive, calling out (fairly urgently) for bricks (before it rolled back and ran us all over) which duly appeared from the garden of a lady from over the road...the bus driver was extremely grateful (having done absolutely nothing to help) and I got a few smiles and waves from the remaining couple of passengers when I got back on board, but of course everyone we picked back up along the way had no idea of my role in their rescue, so I had to content myself with modesty (and only being half an hour later than usual)...

A Little Adventure...

So on Sunday, Thomas and I got kicked out of the house by Flyingpops (for simplicity reasons due to extensive cleaning requirements) and decided to pop over to Horsham to see Nanny and Granddad (And "Cat!", And "Dog!", as Thomas pointed out)...

In what should have been a relatively simple exercise - we set off for our exciting adventure, well - just as soon as we had finished watching the F1, anyway - (Thomas practically running out to the pram, ten minutes too early, when he was offered the prospect of seeing a train - reacting like we had just had to explain to him that Santa Claus didn't really exist and he was going to have to sleep in the shed from now on when we asked him to come back inside for just "one minute", requiring we both wrestle him back into the house, fending off flying limbs and Toddler language that would have been unprintable, even had it been comprehensible)...

It all went a bit downhill from there...

First, we discovered that the next available train to Horsham from the train station that we could easily walk to (naturally) was at 6am the following day, so we shrugged and pushed our way to the hospital to try and catch a bus (which was 22 minutes late, and almost completely full by the time it finally wobbled around the roundabout)...then we learned that the fare had gone up by 10 pence so we didn't have the correct change (which was greeted with very little enthusiasm by the designated driver), despite this, Thomas clutched my ticket (apparently for dear life) as I desperately tried to stop his pram falling over while we screeched around the corners nervously singing "The Wheels on the Bus", during which Thomas continuously frowned with ill concealed concern at the peculiar and precarious position in which I had apparently decided to place him (which admittedly bore very little resemblance to the words coming out of my mouth)...

More by luck than anything else, we arrived, slightly ruffled, in Redhill and spent 10 minutes standing behind an elderly gentleman who clearly didn't know how to use the ticket machine (but was trying very hard anyway) he finally gave up, after several rejected offers of help, and walked straight through the open barriers without one (which he could have just done in the first place) we followed suit (with our long-awaited ticket) and then realised that it was going to be impossible to get up to the correct platform from that direction due to the enormous quantity of stairs...so we went back the way we came, crossed back across the road and puffed half way up Redstone Hill to the other entrance, banging noisily on the locked gate to Platform three for five minutes until a sleepy guard appeared to let us in...

We spent a very happy twenty minutes waiting for our first (and as it happened, only) train, Thomas pointing and shrieking as all the trains we didn't want zoomed merrily past, saying "Train, Useful!" - which, in my experience (at least) they often aren't, however Rev. W. Awdry (and his son, Christopher) appear to have already successfully convinced Thomas otherwise...I'll leave Southern Trains to complete his education on the matter when he is older...

At Gatwick Airport the train absolutely filled up with French people, who all appeared to need the toilet (which we, of course, were blocking with the pushchair), but at least that stopped me managing to change Thomas' nappy in the tiny cubical (I was terribly sad not to be able to avail myself of that opportunity, as you can imagine) and then we disembarked at Three Bridges, only requiring the assistance of three foreigners not to tip Thomas down between the train and the platform, as we hopped lightly out...after we had both calmed down (with the help of a box of sultanas), Thomas politely exclaimed "Bye bye train, bye bye peoples", and gave them all a little wave...

Finding, to my very great relief, after peering down a very long flight of rather dark stairs, that Three Bridges many platforms are accessible via elevator (thanks to a kindly guard), we then discovered (to some, not inconsiderable, dismay) that the reason 40 men in high visibility jackets were standing around supervising one person with a laser spirit level (up above us), was that our onward journey to Horsham was not to be by another train, but by a replacement bus service...to this piece of news, Thomas promptly fell fast asleep, my phone battery died and I spent the rest of the 40 minute journey wishing I had brought any book with me other than "My First Animal Words" (which Thomas hadn't even glanced at)...

It probably would have been easier to QWOP into Mordor (I'll let you Google it)...Lunch was delicious though... ;)

Food Standard Agency - Hygiene Results

Wow, spotted this over at Hint of Sarcasm and thought I would check it out, unfortunately Tower Hamlets doesn't seem to have published theirs yet, so I can't tell how well Canary Wharf has been scrubbed, but Reigate and Banstead have managed to get their act together and pop their results online - 756 pubs, mini-marts and restaurants (and there are some *serious* shocks!)...Basically, what each local authority has been tasked with doing is visiting and inspecting each place of preparation/sale of food and giving them a public rating (between 0 and 5) based on (and I quote) "how hygienically the food is handled – how it is prepared, cooked, re-heated, cooled and stored. The condition of the structure of the buildings – the cleanliness, layout, lighting, ventilation and other facilities and how the business manages and records what it does to make sure food is safe", in this ranking system a 1 means "Urgent Improvement Necessary" and a 5 means "Very Good" (to put it very simply, anything above a 3 is a "pass")...I guess if you get zero they wrap the place in blue plastic and send in the exterminators... ;)

You can search your area here, but to summarise Redhill/Earlswood (for example), the *vast* majority of places are comfortable 5s, but there are a couple of real shockers, Moza (the Indian that replaced my favorite one when it closed down) in Earlswood got 1 out of 5! Won't be going there ever again then! The Abbot Public House (on the roundabout opposite the station in central Redhill) - 1 out of 5 (thank goodness I've never eaten there)! Redhill Fish Bar (the one near Earlswood station which we usually use for our fish and chips if Flyingpops comes to pick me up) 2 out of 5! Think we'll be finding a new chip shop!

Believe it or not, Reigate has a *lot* more problems than Redhill(!) - *ALL* 1 out of 5 - The Skimmington Castle, Fillz in Bell Street, Katies Confectionery, The Market Hotel, Reigate Kitchen, The Barley Mow, Gates Cafe and Reigate Kebab and Burger House (so that's about half the town)! 2 out of 5 - La Bottega, Corner Cafe (in Woodhatch) and C P Easton Traditional Family Butchers...all places now on my "Do not visit" list... :(

Of course this pales into insignificance compared to searching for "Croydon" where (when sorted by ranking) the first seven *pages* are all *zero* rated followed by 24 pages of venues (including several day nurseries and a multitude of Halal butchers, from whom you would expect a little better) rate 1 out of 5...so it just looks like (if you care about your/your families health) just forget eating *anywhere* in the Croydon area full stop... (without due diligence) it's totally shocking and disgusting... :0

I can't believe there hasn't been more fuss made about this, it's actually a really important public resource - so don't delay, check out where you are planning on eating tonight...(urm)...today! Your tummy may very well thank you very kindly...Spread the word! ;)

Donyngs Redhill Soft Play

Just realised I forgot to post about this...last Saturday, no, not the one just gone, the one before that, in a welcome break from Saturday Morning Baby Swimming, Flyingpops and I took Thomas to Donyngs sports centre in Redhill for "soft" play (as opposed to what, I'm not quite sure I want to consider)...admittedly he's not quite old enough to *really* do much of it himself, but (like his mum) he's a great one for people-watching and spends a lot of the time ignoring the fact that you've put him on a slide and just stares with fascination at the toddler 20 yards away crashing a scoot along car into one of their friends shins...

Oddly Thomas actually gets in free, even though the entire experience is sort of angled for his benefit, it's Mummy and Daddy who need to pay entrance (although it's only a couple of quid, so I shouldn't moan)...

Anyway, he had a go on everything, after some initial reservations -

- he got into the spirit of the "Ball pool" -

- had a little go in one of the (many) little cars -

- did some mountaineering -

- had a sit on the "no adults" (boo!) bouncy castle -

- and did some exploring (quite happy to wander off from us by about ten meters before realising how far away he had got and crawling quickly back chattering loudly)-

- and then we stopped for a drink and a snackie (we all needed some cold water as it's incredibly hot in there), even though it was raining, the doors were wide open and four *huge* fans were blowing...

...I can see this becoming a regular thing, especially as Thomas gets steadier on his little feet... ;)

Very far from home...

Had a bit of an atypical journey home yesterday after work, everything went perfectly normally (enjoying reading the latest Dexter novel - which, incidentally, seems to have been heavily influenced by the TV show and become some sort of off-white comedy - oh well) until I yomped off the train with all the other drones of the thousand yard stare and trotted down the stairs to wait for my bus at Redhill bus station...

It was drizzling a little bit, so I didn't get my book or PSP out for fear of spoiling them (especially as the former had been lent to me by Surrey County Council), so my eyes were wandering a little bit more than usual...settling from time to time on a bench companion of mine who (and I have no idea really why) I started to become concerned about...after a few minutes feeling unsettled I just couldn't help myself asking her if she was okay and was everything alright? Her response (which didn't make any sense at all and prompted me to ask her to repeat herself several times) just made matters worse...when I had jumbled her words around in my mind a few times, trying to pluck some sense from them, two words did sort of seem to mean something..."Did you say 'key worker'?" I asked her (frowning slightly), and she replied "Yes, lost"..."You've lost your key worker?" I attempted to clarify..."yes, lost key worker" she replied...

Uh oh...

In five minutes flat (as she was freezing cold and seemed to have absolutely no idea where she was) I had managed to negotiate us into the little tea room attached to the bus station (for the drivers) and had got a conductor calling an ambulance and some officers of the law (one of which should know what to do), and had got her a drink sorted from the drivers tea machine...the ambulance arrived first...the paramedic went through the same sort of process I had initially, then checked her over medically, somehow (with clever use of medical profession cant our friend was familiar with) managed to get the name of her care home out of her and got on the radio...

Turns out (when the detective work had been completed) that she had been with her key worker on a little trip out earlier in the day in Bermondsey (that's London Bridge way!) near her care home, when they had fallen suddenly ill and had lost track of her...somehow, she had managed to make her way, unaccompanied, all the way to Redhill in the intervening hours (most likely, it was concluded, on a bus (or succession of buses), as barriers would most likely have thwarted her progress on the railway and some buses you can board without showing a ticket)...so when the police arrived, all they had to do was give her a lift back home to London... ;)

What an adventure, just lucky I spotted her and saved her from whatever may have befallen her in the early hours in lovely Redhill town centre...

Sunset time Redhill

Oh well, that's it...over the weekend local sunset time crept (it moves by 2-3 minutes per day) sufficiently backwards that I now conclude my bus journey through Redstone Hollow in almost total darkness, so Autumn is definitely upon us (even though British Summer time doesn't officially finish until the 25th October - when the clocks go back I'll be sat at my *desk* in the pitch black)...I don't normally mind this too much at all (as, of course, there is Christmas to look forward to), but this year I'm really loath to wave goodbye to the summer sunshine (probably because we've only had a couple of very short breaks to actually enjoy it)...

Anyway, we're going to have a go at getting out to show Thomas the trees starting to change colour on the weekend (and probably take some pictures too)... ;)

Thomas - 7 weeks old

It's hard to imagine a time when Thomas wasn't part of our life.. every minute we spend with him is so rewarding and we absolutely love being parents. Thankfully, we seem to have a very good baby (at the moment)... he has been allowing us a good nights sleep and went through the night last Mon, Tue, Wed from 9.30 - 5.30 ish, then only woke once on Thurs night at 3am for a burp, trumpet and 10 minute feed before dropping straight back to sleep again.. This week has been a little more challenging as Thomas is changing his routine, but I really can't complain. My fellow NCT mums are being woken up every 2 hours and little Izzie doesn't want to sleep at all at night, so my nights sleep from 10 - 4.30 is a complete dream! We try to make daddy's day a little easier and all pile into Poppy car to drive him to the station for the 7.30 train, although how long it will last I don't know.

After our initial problems, Thomas has mastered breast feeding and he is putting on lots of weight. He is now up to 8lb 13 and I can't tell you how good it makes you feel as a mum to know you've persevered with something that was very difficult to begin with and it's paying off. It broke my heart in the early days to top Thomas up with Formula, but it really has paid off and now we have the best of both worlds.. Breast feeding and bottle feeding when I'm a little self conscious (although now it's 100% breast milk!). There is a lot of support locally for breast and the baby cafe is not only good for advice, but also a good way to meet new mums.

We've discovered Redhill is a hub for activities and today I planned to go to Bumps and Babes and meet with fellow mums from the Baby cafe, but then decided maybe a day at home would be better and allow me to catch up on washing before we run out of pants! If we wanted to, there is something on every day from pram walks to soft play for newborns... although more about that once i've been to them all!

Elderly man 1 - Jack Tweed 0

So I was on my way home from work the other night, waiting for the 100 bus (having just missed the 435, as I usually do) with a few other people sat in the glass shelter, just minding my own business when I was interrupted from my copy of Edge magazine by the unusual sound of someone or something colliding heavily with one of the shelter walls...looking up with some alarm (in case it was a bus) I was slightly relieved to note that the source of the impact was a confused looking short guy, the spitting image of Jack Tweed (honestly, it could have been he), wearing a smart cardigan and Elvis sunglasses, clutching a can of Tennents Super...he spent some time regarding the wall of glass in front of him as if it had absolutely no right to have halted his movement, wobbled slowly around the side of it, steeled his jaw and then suddenly plunged forward, somehow managing to collapse (with very little dignity) into one of the seats to my right with a triumphant yell of victory...and then another triumphant yell of victory...and then another...and on and on this went (interruped from time to time by the occasional swear word), beer spilling all over the floor from his waving can, until virtually everyone in the shelter found some important reason or other not to be in it any longer...only me, a large African lady, and a slightly infirm looking elderly gentleman remained (and after exchanging slightly concerned/amused glances with my sober companions, I just turned up my headphones and buried my head back into my magazine)...

When I next glanced up (reacting to corner-of-the-eye movement), Jack Tweed was back on his feet, and had managed to stagger half way across the bus shelter towards the old guy - his arms open wide as if to give him a hug! I had one of those "Oh shit!" moments, not knowing quite what to do (apart from quickly mute my music), and managed to get about half way up out of my seat when all of a sudden the old guy's face formed up into an *extremely* stern (almost School Teacher level) glare - stopping Jack Tweed in his tracks - and then firmly pointed to the chair Jack had been sitting on (a quick jabbing motion) - at which (I was staggered to see) he sheepishly uttered a quiet "righto", turned around and collapsed back into his seat looking thoroughly downhearted...the last I saw of him, he was almost run over by the 461 while falling across the road towards the railway (after the driver of the 405 refused to let him get on)...

Elderly man 1 - Jack Tweed 0

A bit of a fuzzy head...

Wow, quite a weekend we've just had, probably a few pictures to come, but Saturday was Kipperfrog's wedding, which (apart from one very brief shower) was conducted in blazing sunshine (incredible considering how much rain we have had just lately)...the ceremony was extremely reminiscent of our wedding (last year) for a number of personal reasons, which made it a deeply emotional experience for both of us...but actually, the really amazing thing was the incredible amount of energy that Flyingpops suddenly managed to conjure out of nowhere, to see her running around making sure the wedding dress didn't drag on the floor, and later dancing was *not* the usual picture one has in one's mind of a typical pregnant woman 8 months gone! Still, I think she's paying for it, lots of aches and pains and a bit of a headache today...

Sunday (after popping to the supermarket for essentials) was the first of the NCT Dad's get-togethers, getting off to a slightly confused start when the pub we were supposed to be meeting at (the White Lion in Redhill) turned out to be closed when I arrived there (a handwritten sign stuck to the window, and glasses of beer left half-drunk on the bar making me picture a family emergency or something like that)...we popped back home (Flyingpops was kindly giving me a lift) and called Richard (who had got us all organised) to see if there had been a last minute change of plan, who said we should just meet at his house (as it was conveniently just down the road from the pub)...by the time we had driven back up there the landlord had evidently decided to open back up again, so no harm done, as no-one else had managed to arrive in the interim...

Anyway, I think I can confidently say that a great time was had by all, it's a bit hard to really get to know anyone when you are sat learning about messy gynaecological procedures, and this provided a chance to find out a bit about what we actually do, share a few of our experiences and drink large amounts of beer (all of which everyone embraced with equal amounts of enthusiasm)...when I got home I decided to put my chicken on to cook (for cold cuts during the week), managed the first basting and then at some stage (which I can't recall) I managed to turn the oven off, meaning when Flyingpops went to get it out (I was, by the point, snoozing on the sofa) it wasn't cooked properly...when she rang her mum, she told her to put it in the bin...so apart from a fuzzy head, today I'm not going to have much lunch to eat either...wouldn't have missed it for the world though... ;)

...(and thanks Flyingpops for putting up with me)... ;)

The Devil Child of Redhill >:(

So the other day as I sat my (tired and hot) sorry arse down at Redhill Bus Station (having run from platform 3 at the railway station above, just missing my early bus home), throwing my bag to the ground and then settling into a reasonable impression of a dog that's been in the sun too long...I squinted up at the arrivals board to see how long I would have to (theoretically) wait...it wasn't long, only 7 minutes, so I exhaled heavily, wiped my brow and then pulled my rucksack over with my foot and plunged inside for my book (just to help pass the time) my mind and body starting their settle towards a state of rest...it can't have been one paragraph later that I was interrupted by a harsh whistling sound, over and over again coming from the shelter in the centre of the traffic island...a small boy, perhaps six years old, was stood inside next to a dark haired woman who was doing a very good job of ignoring him (reading a magazine and rolling a cigarette) as he stood inches from her back, alternating blowing the whistle with all his might and then beating her back (as hard as he could) with his free hand...when this didn't elicit any response he took two steps back and threw the whistle at the woman's head...

I'll admit, I was openly gawping at this point (along with most of the other people waiting for buses) - my book forgotten in my hand - as he ran to the shelter window and started banging his hands against it, each one formed up into the correct position (if you will forgive the Americanism) to be flicking her "the bird"...it was at this precise moment that the woman suddenly stood, charging over to where the whistle lay on the floor, stamping on it once, very firmly, the sound of shattering plastic clearly audible, then returned, still avoiding any eye contact with the child, to her magazine...

At once, the child ran out of sight behind the bus station office, hands covering his eyes, noisy wails emerging from his mouth...mother, I was guessing now, didn't even glance up...when the child reappeared, it was to throw both his shoes at her (missing both times, but using such force they bounced out of the shelter and half way across the distance between him and me, tumbling to a halt near the rubbish bin)...more indecent gestures banging the glass followed, until he slumped down on a chair near the first bus stop, pausing only for a second to flick a McDonalds drink carton (half full of water where residual ice had melted) at a girl I later presumed must have been his sister (as she took it completely in her stride, just sticking her tongue out, to his enormous frustration)...shortly after this my bus arrived, and I piled on, leaving him to his tantrum (and them to their nightmare)...

I surprised myself, I was actually extremely angry at him and felt very sad for her...I mean, the mum was hardly doing herself any favours, but something about being in the position I am (with Flyingpops being pregnant) just filled me with rage when I juxtaposed this behaviour into a future where this was happening (after all the tears, laughter, joy, despair, pain, excitement, dreaming and bloody hard work) to a woman who must have gone through similar sorts of emotions and happy preparation as we have done...only to have this ungrateful devil visited upon her...I mean really...what would you do?

Second NCT Class

So last Wednesday night was the second of our NCT classes, this time we were practically the first couple to arrive, still managing (using our amazing powers of judgement) to bag the worst place for Flyingpops to sit (a huge sofa with virtually no back support)...the session kicked off (when everyone had arrived) with the group being split into three groups (I got the kitchen crew, Flyingpops the living room posse and the rest had to huddle in the hall) where we had to modify (with black and red marker pens) a large picture of the outline of a gingerbread person so he (or more probably she) was exhibiting signs of stress...so we duly scribbled on rough approximations of frowns, fists, weights on the shoulders and speech bubbles with "F*** off" all over it earning us the comment "I should be quite concerned at how familiar you all are with the physical signs of stress" from the tutor...

I won the teachers pet award for knowing that all these were due to the "fight or flight response" (largely caused by the hormone Adrenalin) and we were then treated to a little display demonstrating what effect this could have during pregnancy, and it's all sorts of nasty things, but most importantly Oxygen is diverted away from the uterus and baby, Oxytocin is rendered less effective (one of it's key jobs is uterine contraction), and all this works together to basically grind everything to a halt...this is precisely why some women are in and out of hospital like a yo-yo...at home - contractions fine, getting more frequent, everything looking good for delivery in the near future, unfortunately once the mum gets into hospital, if they start to feel stressed then the whole thing shuts down and you have to pick all the bags of snacks, lotions and pads back up and return home until she calms down again...extremely useful in the days when a bear or lion might spring through the entrance to the cave, forcing a quick getaway but rather annoying in this day and age...we concluded that section with five minutes of deep breathing and muscle clenching...

Probably the other most important thing we learned during the rest of the evening (as we went through the three stages of child birth) was that eating and drinking are extremely important - apparently the mother will burn up something like 4000 calories during the process, so it's important to have a good selection of sugary snacks to keep energy levels high, oh and drinking needs to be handled extremely carefully as the bladder will be squashed down to a very tiny size indeed as the space around the cervix is reduced (and sitting on the toilet is an annoyingly comfortable position for giving birth apparently, but not to be encouraged for obvious reasons)...oh and I am also not to take offense if Flyingpops becomes a little insensitive to my ministrations in the latter stages of childbirth, apparently activity in the neocortex is going to practically flat-line, and that section of the brain is the one (that in humans) is responsible for language...interesting stuff!

First NCT Class, Redhill

Last week (on Wednesday) we went along to our first NCT Antenatal class...I really wasn't sure quite what to expect, all I knew was that every single person I had ever spoken to about pregnancy who has had any sort of contact with the NCT recommended it wholeheartedly...so when we found out that Flyingpops was "with issue", it was a bit of a no-brainer but to apply to attend...it costs quite a bit to go along (I think we paid just shy of £200 for the pleasure) so I will admit to having had a certain amount of curiosity as to what we were going to get for our money...as it turns out I was actually extremely impressed...

Our classes were to take place in our tutor's house in Grovehill road in Redhill, starting at the commuter friendly time of 8pm, finishing (just as the yawns start to kick in) at 10pm, every Wednesday (until we know everything there is to know about child birth and aftercare, of course)...when we arrived a number of couples were already there, sitting slightly self-conciously on one of the many sofas, filling out one of the numerous forms attached to clipboards making their way around the room (accompanied by a plastic box containing an assortment of pens) collecting contact details or choice of the (many) drinks on offer one might like at half-time...when everyone had managed to find the place, apart from the elusive "Jenny and Mark" (who were unavoidably on holiday in the West Country, from the sounds of things), the group was split up, each person selecting a different partner than the one they arrived with (not in that sort of way) and this set the scene for the rest of the evening, being mostly small group activities...the first being to introduce your new partner to the group (after talking with them for a few minutes to find out a little about them), it turned out that most people simply signed up in order to meet other people in the same boat (Urm, we're pregnant, what the hell do we do now? Sort of thing), followed by finding out if we had any idea what the NCT does (other than these classes and the aforementioned sales)...it turns out that they are actually extremely active not only in forming little groups of parents (and giving them cups of tea), but also at the highest level at the hospital, working hard to promote parents interests and watchdogging (if that is a word) to make sure that those initiatives that they suggest are followed through with...we then ran through a selection of cutaway anatomical diagrams showing just how small an amount of room for digesting food and breathing there will eventually be inside the mums to be (to a few nervous glances) and handed around actual-size-and weight models (drawing gasps of surprise from the gentlemen in the room) demonstrating exactly how much the females in the room have to moan (and hold their tummies) about...

The final section of the session was a brain storm, boys in the kitchen, girls in the living room, where we all wrote down everything we were worried about (which was an extremely useful and theraputic process), these lists are to form the basis of all our classes to come (which makes me think that these sessions are going to be a largely unique experience depending entirely on the people who come along and precisely what they are concerned about)...the most impressive thing of the whole evening (for me) though was the tutors clear, expert summary of all the different options for the actual birth (which the midwife should have taken Flyingpops through and didn't), and I think it's actually made us change our mind...rather than normal East Surrey Hospital delivery suite, Flyingpops is now quite fancying the birthing centre just across the hall (full of soft objects to lean on, pilates balls and paddling pools)...so it's already been very useful...roll on next Wednesday!

Baby on Board

I was sat, minding my own business (watching House MD on my PSP) on the train on the way home last night, when a strange thing happened...a couple got on the train at London Bridge, waving goodbye to an elderly pair (grandparents, I assumed), dragging kids behind them...they collapsed into seats and started talking (moaning about their bad timing using the underground at rush hour)...mum was hugging a tiny baby sat on the seat directly in front of me and after no more than five minutes a pair of tiny hands appeared on the top of the seat, searching for purchase, and when found, pulled a little head into view, poking over the top of the seat back, staring straight at me with an odd mixture of awe, puzzlement and terror - I smiled as reassuringly as I could and did a little wave and the head vanished a second or two later as grip failed during a carriage wobble...then the hands reappeared, followed by the head and the same look...I smiled and waved again, and this time baby was repositioned by mum...only for the little head to pop out again, this time around the side of the seat into the aisle...this went on and on for about ten minutes until I heard mum say "What are you looking at?", and she peered around the seat, just in time to catch me sticking my tongue out (anticipating the usual head to appear, causing me a little embarrassment)...it did work quite well as an ice breaker though - we got chatting, I told her Flyingpops and I were expecting and we laughed about the unusual behaviour, but we were both at a loss as to what was quite so interesting about me...I bid them farewell at Redhill (they were heading on to Gatwick) and as I walked up the platform, the little baby *still* had it's eyes fixed on me as the train swept past, and off into the distance...

Redhill bus station - Patterns of Squares

Believe it or not I actually saw something I liked about Redhill bus station the other day (while I was sat around awaiting transportation)...the clever arrangement of white dots on the various glass surfaces means that from certain angles they line up into neat little perspective enhancing patterns...for some reason that pleased me (or the borderline autistic bit of me anyway) a very great deal...someone definitely put the 3D preview mode on their shiny CAD machine to good use... ;)

I'll go back into the corner of my padded room now...

Sainsburys Redhill, Trolley Deposit "theft"?

Well, well, well...look what we have here...!

While I was waiting for the 100 bus yesterday (new train times mean I am always going to miss the 435 that drops me practically on my doorstep *grinds teeth*) when I actually happened to catch sight of the person that ties Sainsbury's trolleys up in knots in central Redhill...they are often to be found in the early hours littering the pedestrian areas in various amusing and devilishly clever unintended arrangements of stretched chain and balancing metal before the young lads from the store yomp out to search car park and alleyway to find/disentangle and return them to store...as they cost quite a lot of money, apparently...

He actually isn't what I imagined at all (and may, of course, not be the only culprit) but I had (for some reason) pictured a black bin liner carrying, dog-on-a-string, carrier bag covering leaky shoe sort of fellow, with a large beard...this chap was a well-to-do, slightly overweight, middle-aged, posh-ski jacketed gentleman of Asian origin, which for some reason surprised me a great deal (especially the fact that he was brazenly collecting people's abandoned deposits at about twenty to seven in the evening, while the store was still open)...in times like these though, who knows what kind of lengths people will be prepared to go to for a few extra quid... :(

His technique was actually quite a clever one, to block off the chain installed by the taxi rank and then collect the abandoned ones as people frankly couldn't be bothered to walk all the way back to store and then try and stagger back with all the bags in their hands (or risk leaving them unattended while they ran the trolley back to claim their quid...I estimate (if he kept up the rate that I observed) he would have easily cleared £6 an hour, maybe as much as £12 during peak shopping times (tax free), not as much as the ludicrously lucrative Thameslink Tramp...but certainly not a bad salary, considering the work involved...

Woolworths Closure

So time for some updates about what we have been getting up to during the Christmas and New Year break, starting with a pre-Christmas visit to a soon to be closed Woolworths store (specifically the one in Redhill) -

- and what a scrum it was, just hundreds of people all fighting to look through the remains of the stock -

- all just shoved on the shelves in the boxes they obviously lived in while being stored out the back -

- I scored a bit of a bargain in the shape of a ceramic speed peeler (at 60% off) and Flyingpops managed to get about 20 packs of coloured pencils, crayons and paints (to keep visiting children quietly amused), all the DVDs and games weren't being reduced by much though (at the point we were visiting, anyway)...when it came to be time to pay, we joined the queue of about 40 fellow shoppers and waited patiently, watching (open mouthed) as a succession of people brazenly strolled out through the frantically beeping security barrier with things tucked under their coats - apparently the security staff had been early casualties...

Flyingpops then had a ten minute argument with the extremely young till supervisor, who finally yielded and took the correct amount of money off the items she had picked up (no wonder the queue was going so slowly, all the prices on the system seemed to be wrong)...while I got asked if I needed any help by a stressed looking manager who (I'm guessing) didn't want me taking pictures of his plight...I sympathised, as it's got to be terrible to find yourself out of work just before Christmas...

It's going to be an odd high street now with Woolworths gone...I wonder what will fill the space?

Redhill Belfry Christmas Carols

So yesterday we decided we would have our roast dinner a little early (started cooking at 3pm as the lamb at Tesco was a third off, so I got a whole leg...mmm)...and hurry into Redhill (once we had finished stuffing ourselves) for the Carol singing in the Belfy -

- which was looking jolly festive sporting it's usual adornment of a colossal tree -


- glowing animals and giant stars...and because we got there early enough we managed to bag some chairs from the coffee shop and pop ourselves just behind the band -

- (on previous years we have arrived a little later and been relegated to standing on one of the upper levels) I popped up in the lift before everything kicked off, just to get a couple of shots of the assembled congregation -

- which was quite considerable...

The theme this year was one of recognition that the Christian community (and, of course, the community at large) of Redhill has morphed into an extremely multicultural affair...as each Hymn/Song was reached, a different member of the congregation (from the country where the Carol's author originated (Germany, Poland, America, Africa, etc. etc.)) stood at the lectern and gave a little potted history of the piece before we embarked upon it...and some interesting new Chrismas songs emerged as a result, all of which were easy to pick up and very catchy...

So now we are allowed to feel properly festive, still struggling slightly though thanks to work being a little on the busy side, still, this week (barring one day on the 24th) is all I have to struggle through until my Christmas break...

If my fingernails hold out I'll drag myself there (somehow... ;)

Grafitti on the 435 Bus

Spotted this on the 435 the other night on the way home from Redhill...nothing odd you may think, a bit of grafitti on the bus - quite the usual number of individuals seem to be "gay", oddly named people are still routinely announcing that they are "4" other oddly named people and colourful meaningless scribbles that wouldn't look out of place in a 3 year old's colouring book are all perfectly in place just as normal...so what did I spot that made me smile?

In a medium that lends itself (on occasion) to acts of considerable creativity, and is as flexible as any artists pad, what form of expression is starting to appear that I (for one) have never seen before?

It's (most oddly) those used in the *extremely* inflexible creative medium (in a graphical sense) - the text editor - yes, people are using marker pens to grafitti simple ASCII text character representations of images...

<3 - a heart
(y) - as in choose (y) or (n), confirming the gayness as the correct option chosen
=] - an alternative smiley face

The mind boggles...  :S

Wings World War 2 Aviation Museum, Redhill Aerodrome

Finally got around to checking out the museum practically sitting on my doorstep, the "Wings Aviation Museum" based at Redhill Aerodrome (this thanks only to my folks for paying a surprise visit and whisking me over there on a whim)...and I am rather glad they did - admittedly it's not the biggest museum in the world (we had to look pretty closely at everything to use up a full hour), as such the entry fee of £5 did seem just a little on the expensive side (although that price did get you a free cup of tea or coffee at the cafe alongside the runway, should you fancy one)...and take into consideration that it's being run as a registered charity by voluntary workers and it doesn't seem like too much to pay for keeping alive an important part of our history...

The four rooms out the back of the hangar hold some extremely interesting objects (and occasionally the stories that accompany them, where research has borne fruit)...

The first room you enter is the largest, containing some real goodies, including (something I had never even heard of before) an unexploded (and I am guessing made-safe) Butterfly bomb, they apparently used to flutter down and get stuck in trees or snag on power lines causing untold chaos -

- quite cruelly the Nazis used to paint them bright yellow too, so curious kids would wonder what they were and set them off...

A few bits of V2 that somehow managed to stay in one piece (and in remarkably good condition) when they slammed into East Croydon at several thousand miles an hour -

- An interesting map of the local area showing where all the various groups with war-time responsibilities were stationed -

- oh and this map was recovered from a crashed Nazi bomber - you can still see the navigators pencil markings if you look closely...much of the rest of the museum is dedicated to displays of horrifyingly tangled aircraft wreckage -


- with carefully marked out reasons why they aren't currently performing air show flybys...(for some of the aircraft they have even tracked down the crew and have presented information about their lives) -


- oh and apparently from all the various donated parts they are working on reconstructing a bomber cockpit (so they must have some bits and bobs in better condition than this lot lurking in the hangar -


- other things that caught my eye in their collection was a chaff package (aluminium strips jettisoned from aircraft to baffle radar) -

- detonators for various bombs (this one was for a 30lb Incendiary device) -



- all sorts of different shapes and sizes of ammunition (some in better condition than others) -

- an RAF Bomber Jacket (lovingly decorated by the owner) -

- some bomb fuse pins (donated by the guy that pulled them out, who had kept them as a souvenir)


- gas masks and posters -

- a Nazi flag found in a house in Merstham -

- even the menu for Christmas lunch when Redhill Aerodrome was an RAF base! One particularly good display is practically the entire history of one member of a Nazi bomber crew member, including his posessions upon his death and lots of his personal documentation, right down to a translation of the letter written to his next of kin saying he was merely missing in action and could have parachuted to safety (well, to the pitchforks of the home guard)...

Anyway, I've only really touched on what the museum has to offer (and they are constantly adding new material), it's definitely well worth a trip (especially if you are in the area anyway), plus you will come away with the warm feeling that you have done your part to support a charity and keep an important bit of local history alive...and then after your visit you can stop for a spot of lunch (with your free tea) in the Cafe and watch people learning to fly helicopters or light aircraft...a very pleasant morning...