Edition 16: "Baby Grows?"

Negative Soundbyters! Good morning! There is something sort of Silicon Valley-ish about sitting in a coffee shop called “Coffee Geeks”, sipping on a £3.10 Flat White (yes you didn’t misread that; that’s almost half the UK minimum wage) and tapping away on an Apple Mac. Unfortunately where this narrative veers from reality, is that I am not destined to be the owner of the next Unicorn (that’s market speak for a billion dollar start-up); I am not wearing jeans and a t-shirt; I am not in my early twenties; and I don’t have a sticker on my laptop that reads “Eat me”! That said there are so many people these days staring into a laptop screen in a coffee shop, that it is hard to detect unicorn from tomato (Tomato is a start-up with about as much chance of becoming a unicorn as Obama actually having bugged The Donald’s mobile phone!) but that’s the magic of the “new” economy; all you need is a laptop and some strong coffee and who knows what the world holds in store for you!

Any significant events of geopolitical importance that I need to share:

Well I finally signed up to Uber; that dirty old sweatshop of the taxi industry! I regaled Facebook with my first ride in an Uber-Pool. At the time I didn’t have a clue what I was selecting; it was the cheapest option to get home so it made total sense. It was when the taxi driver explained that our next pick-up was just a few minutes away that the penny dropped and suddenly the meaning of the word “pool” came into stark relief. I was momentarily concerned; sitting in the backseat with a complete stranger wasn’t quite what I envisaged late on a Saturday night. Of course if it was a supermodel coming home after a London Fashion Week party that would have been ok (purely from an aesthetic perspective Mrs H!), but that only happens in Hollywood. In the end it was just another Londoner looking to get home after a night out. We might as well have been catching the bus together; nothing desperately unusual about that. I walked away from my first Uber Pool experience with my innocence intact and my wallet just that bit heavier. All-in-all a success.

I also noted with interest that a Cambridge College has got into trouble with the student PC brigade for describing items on its college menu as “Jamaican stew” and “Tunisian rice”. One complained on Facebook: “sorry but what is this we don’t eat these tings in Tunisia”. (I would advocate that this student concentrate on basic spelling and grammar before engaging on the merits (or demerits) of the college menu.) According to another this stereotypical food labelling amounts to “microaggressions” which “are a reality of the everyday existence of many people of colour”. And there I was thinking that Mrs H described her beef stew as “Caribbean” because of its flair, zest and variety; when in actual she has a more nefarious agenda - to propagate acts of “microaggression” leading to a breakdown of social cohesion. Shame on you Mrs H :)

Okay time to move on from what taxes the college’s food committee to this week’s anecdote.

Big Love to All….

Hoddy X

Baby clothes.

What does one buy for a baby to wear? In my view things that are disposable – and lots of them. To this end I was in my local Sainsbury’s recently and did a cruise down the baby isle to get a feel for:

a. What does a little baby wear?
b. What is it made of?
c. How much do these items cost?

Answer to a. is – funnily enough – clothes; just much smaller versions of what I wear mostly. Of course there is a degree of tailoring but when you look at it a “babygrow” is just a miniature form of the adult “onesie”. And it looks just as comfortable and snuggly! I personally don’t own a “onesie” but in solidarity with my “soon-to-be” son I might just get me a Superhero one. Batman Babygrow vs Superman Onesie; I know who will come out on top!

Material composition. This is very important as a baby’s skin is delicate in the early days and the last thing he wants is to be swaddled in a fabric that hasn’t seen a cotton thread and is more likely to go up in flames if bought within close proximity of a candle. Accidentally setting my baby on fire is not likely to leave the baby or Mrs H best pleased. No, it must be 100% pure cotton; preferably Egyptian – just like my White Company bedding. To be fair I didn’t have a clue about the White Company until Mrs H fired up the sheet-and-duvet set; instant increase in sleep output. (I wonder if the same will work on the little guy….hmmmmm….)

And then of course price. The magic of Sainsburys (which incidentally is my favourite shop in London) is that you can buy baby clothes for like – a pound. No jokes. I think I bought a super 6-pack (sounds like a beer special) of miniature sleepsuits for a fiver. Now that’s the sort of pricing efficiency I am on the lookout for. Mrs H is not quite on the same page in this respect and if the baby could speak, probably neither would he. We did a clothes comparison the other day; she had this bespoke handmade little outfit for £20 and I had – well – my 6 pack from Sainsbury’s. The only thing they vaguely shared in common was that they both were made out of cotton! My view is that he can’t comprehend what he is wearing; just as long as it doesn’t itch and he can drop things on it what does he care?!

That said I bet the babies on Northcote Road communicate with each other when passing in the buggies:

“Nice threads”

“Yeah Mom took me shopping the other day; the new Ralph Lauren summer range is out.”

“Lucky you; my Dad took me to Sainsburys…”

“Sorry to hear that; my advice – you have a pair of lungs; if you go near that crappy baby isle again give him both barrels!”

OUT :)

Pic of the Week

Cheese anybody?