Edition 13: "Roll call"

Good morning Negative Soundbyters! From my perch it sounds blustery outside. Usually at this time of the morning all I can see is two black windowpanes but today I caught the faintest glimpse of the sun on the horizon which means that spring is on its on way people! We did however experience some snow over the weekend; the type that brings all of the UK public transport system to a grinding halt. “Bob, a snowflake has landed on the District Line. Better shut it down for the drivers safety.” The same inconvenience occurs in the autumn; just exchange snowflake for leaf.

Apparently the UK experienced a bout of “thundersnow” recently. This sounds hardcore and dangerous; the sort of term you might use to describe a “white-out” on a skiing holiday. Because I did not know what it meant exactly I fired up the trusty Wikipedia for a definition:

“Thundersnow, also known as a winter thunderstorm or a thundersnowstorm, is an unusual kind of thunderstorm with snow falling as the primary precipitation instead of rain”….

OK…so a wallop of thunder followed by a snowflake and you have thundersnow! You can imagine how excited they must have been down at the Met office. “Bob, we have a thundersnow warning. Better close Heathrow and Gatwick; in fact close all airports and harbours. We’ve just got to ride this one out!” I bet someone in the Met office actually made that up. We are in constant need of excuses for closing various transport links and if ever a term is going to strike fear into tube drivers hearts (besides passengers) it is THUNDERSNOW!

And in other events of geopolitical significance this week:

Kim Jung John Ill the Third fired a ballistic missile towards Japan in a show of military might. It was slightly more successful than the Trident launch (see Edition 12) in that it didn’t fly back towards North Korea and take out Kim Jing Jong (although that would have been nice); instead it landed harmlessly in the ocean. Of course The Donald, on receiving a geographical briefing of where North Korea was relative to Japan, issued a strident warning to Kim Jung Jig Jan….

“I am President The Donald. Japan is our ally – 100 per cent. We firebombed and nuked most of their cities but they still love me and are helping me make the US of A great again. If you fire any more missiles at them I will be forced to come and visit you in The Donald One and make you PAY, just like the Mexicans!”

Kim’s reply: “The Donald, you can kiss my round Commie ass. Since distributing your wife’s nude photoshoot to my troops I haven’t needed to execute anyone; morale is at an all time high!”

And on that note – or picture – let’s move on to this week’s anecdote.

Big Love

Hoddy

Kids.

I don’t have any yet but I got a small taste of what is to come when Mrs H and I visited our first nursery school, located just down the road from us.

Why so early you might ask? The little baba isn’t even breathing the air I breathe yet. Answer: school places.

“Do you know what you are having?” is quickly followed up by “Have you got your name down yet?” – and then a slightly pained look, as if not having your name down will consign the child to a life of sin and debauchery or if he/she really does well, drugs and rock-en-roll!

Mrs H had to tell me the context for this question. I can’t remember that last time I put my “name down” for anything other than when signing into an office for some random meeting-or-other!

So with a hop-skip-and-a-jump we wound our merry way down to the nursery. Getting into the place was a bit like trying to enter a bio-chemical arms laboratory (for child safety purposes or possibly even adult safety!) and we had to put those little blue plastic covers over our feet and lather our hands in anti-septic soap. There was a certain irony in this; given the little germ factories running riot behind the reinforced doors!

We were shown around by a lady who gave an air of somebody who had been around a LOT of children for a number of years. She saw, but did not see and heard, but did not hear. She had fine-tuned the art of selective engagement to a Picasso-esque degree! (And don’t mean that she was missing any of her ears!)

It was certainly a precision set-up. As we were directed through the facility Mrs H peppered our guide with all sorts of questions; I stood at the back as the token male constantly being handed various toys by all these tiny tots who generally don’t see any men between the hours of 8 and 6, Monday to Friday. Momentarily I was a surrogate dad to about 200 kids!

It was actually a pretty cool experience and these kids are switched on. We witnessed “snack-time” where all the two year olds take a seat at a miniature table and then the teacher gives a snack to a mini, reads out the name of another mini, and the former mini then goes over and gives it to the latter mini. I was minded to take a seat to see if I could summon up some scrambled eggs! I made a mental note of this that from the age of two I could issue the following instruction: Son/Daughter – biltong and a beer please; Dad is watching the rugby!

We left with a lovely warm (and hygienic) fuzzy feeling and hopefully we will secure a place for our little cherub. Mrs H had the paperwork returned and the deposit paid before I could ask her if we “should put our name down?”. It’s survival of the fittest out there! One executive decision made; plenty to follow!

OUT. ☺

Pic of the Week:

A very typical London street-scape...