Famous Quotes about Children

"Raising a kid is part joy and part guerilla warfare" - Ed Asner

"A father is someone who carries pictures where his money used to be" - Unknown

"Children are the most expensive form of entertainment" - Mihaela Iosof

"You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance." - Franklin P. Jones

"Anyone who thinks the art of conversation is dead ought to tell a child to go to bed" - Robert Gallagher

"Whatever happened to the good ole days, when children worked in factories?" - Emo Philips

"Most children threaten at times to run away from home. This is the only thing that keeps some parents going."- Phyllis Diller

"Tranquilizers work only if you follow the advice on the bottle--keep away from children."- Phyllis Diller

"Small children almost never misquote. In fact, they usually repeat word for word what you shouldn't have said" - Etienne Marchal

"It is amazing how quickly the kids learn the operation of the DVD, yet are unable to understand the vacuum cleaner." - Etienne Marchal

The Cold Just Keeps on Getting Colder

Hello Peeps

It’s now nearly the end of March and I am sure I heard somewhere that Spring is on it’s way. Maybe my hearing aid needs adjusting because it seems as if Winter has just arrived upon us and I have been forced to scramble through my laundry basket to try to resurrect my tired old thermals again.

It’s getting colder and colder by the day and I just do not seem to be able to deal with the cold as much as I used to and I am often found grumbling and mumbling to myself as I sprint from place to place trying to keep warm. Yes, I guess that the older I get the less I am able to cope with anything actually, and I certainly do not do cold. Once I am wrapped up well, or rather padded up with a plethora of under garments from tights and socks, vests, cotton teeshirts, jumpers, etc then I can walk anywhere from the Antarctic to the outer Hebrides. But I have to be warm and if I manage to resemble a Yeti, in the process then so be it. Yet so far, I have been finding it rather difficult to attire myself with more clothing without looking as if I am going to explode. The other day, whilst waiting at my train station, I turned rather sadly to a young lady and wailed “I can’t cope, how many things do I need to put on to feel warm.” As you can guess, she smiled at me with pity and told me to try taking a good does of vitamin C.

A few times over the past few weeks, I have been scurrying out and about like a frightened mouse who is going to get its tail put in the shredder for stealing the cat’s cheese. Often times I’ve looked as if my face had been frozen in mid smile – hence the rather scary grimace, but I don’t really think people could understand my state of uncomfortableness, (if ever such a word existed). At times, I ventured out to local meetings, quite smartly of course, with matching colours but in a track suit. I so love the fleecy inlay – to die for.

At such times I offered no apology to the person I was meeting other than to smile through my frozen grimace and offer a handshake. There are times, peeps, when comfort and practicality has to take precedence over vanity.

So, this weekend snow is predicted, and I guess this is better then the lumps of hailstones that tried to stone me today as I sat in the warmth and comfort of my bedroom. The skies suddenly darkened and a flash of lightening threatened against the sky and then the hailstones fell.

Many blame the unpredictable weather on global warming, many say it is a sign of the times. I don’t really give a flying rat’s whiskers at this moment in time, I just want some sun to heat my bones so that I am able to de-robe slightly and put aside my rather cumbersome sheepskin coat which now looks like the back of a dogs backside – it needs dry cleaning, ok, but every time I get the urge to take it to the dry cleaners, the weather gets progressively worst and like I keep saying, I don’t do cold.

So for now, you will just have to take me as you see me, as I scurry around singing to myself that bluesy tune “summertime” which in itself gives me hope with the illusion of sunny skies and ice cream

Follow Fashion Monkey Never Drink Good Soup - Kings Cross - the Journey

Today, I went up to Harrogate to attend the Lingerie and Swimwear exhibition.

I met a colleague at Kings Cross. As we stood talking about nothing much in particular but trying to be polite, all of a sudden there was a sudden stampede of trolleys and suitcases and pounding feet all heading towards the designated train for Harrogate. I then noticed that on the notice board the train to Harrogate had silently announced that it would be departing from platform 8 at 10am. It was only 9.40am.

People who a minute ago were standing around looking as if vampire had sucked the last juice from them and who were sipping cups of coffee for dear life, suddenly took off. A horde of middle aged, suited and booted, woollen hatted grannies, young smartly dressed businessmen, dodgy rain-coated bowler booted city gents all went flapping down the platform. The race for seats, I assumed had started or was the train about to depart 20 minutes early? Was there a freebie waiting for passengers who could out sprint each other? Or was it something more serious like the onset of train rage, or platform rage? one might ask.

I did not want to find out as either way I made sure I manoeuvred myself neatly out of harm’s way taking it in my stride and made my way to the train. I did not want to entice harm from a flying umbrella or concussion from the wheels of a flying trolley. I personally refused to run. No siree. Not me, not at that time of the morning and anyway, did we still not have a good 20 minutes to go before our departure?

Still, I was curious as to the goings on, on a cold Tuesday morning at Kings Cross Station. My mind scrambled as people who looked as though they would explode out of their skin or who looked so ashen that surely if a priest was around, would read them their last rights. It was certainly a comical thing to see. My colleague and I calmly walked to the train with still a good 15 minutes to spare bemused, amused at the early morning stampede. Once on the train, my colleague got into conversation with two women from Australia. I had no inclination whatsoever to engross myself in conversation with anyone. I had my laptop with me. I had work to do and any form of distraction would present a scowl and a Clint Eastwood, mean-eyed stare. Both these women too were rather perplexed and rather out of breath too, I noticed. Ahhh so they had been caught up in the stampede. Way to go babes, my mind hisse. Ketch ya breath back in about an hour.

It so transpired from another passenger, who seemed to take this journey often, that this happened often, this race to your seat thing. It had nothing to do with reserved seats. It has nothing to do with anything actually. It seemed to be a daily regime that had been started, just because someone felt like running for the train and like fool, following fool, everyone else always followed suit. Like the saying goes “Follow Fashion Monkey Never Drink Good Soup.”

I sat there listening, bemused, thinking what a bunch of idiots. What a waste of time and energy first thing in the morning. If they were training for an event, you could understand. If they were running for a train that was about to depart, you could understand. If they were running from a rabid dog with 6 legs and 2 tails, you could understand, but to run just because someone else decides to run and for no reason?

Like they say, 5% of people in the world are leaders and 95% are followers, the sheep. I certainly knew which side of the fence I was on.

The Perils of Traveling on Public Transport

Over the past few weeks, I have had the absolute privilege (so she says tongue in cheek) of going into town on numerous occasions. This obviously meant traveling on public transport. You can well imagine how, often times, I have had to morph into another entity, on a really high spiritual level so that train-rage would not entice its sly self into my psyche.

You may well ask why would it be considered a “privilege” well because I do not often frequent town that often and when I do, I can only say it is an experience in itself.

I’d calmly like to share with you the many reasons why I could so easily run amok in the streets, with a hint of the old psychopath in my eye. Stress, as you know is the trigger to many illnesses and other complaints, so these are some of the reasons I think traveling on public transport could well trigger:

Insanity
Frustration
Aggressiveness
Train-Rage
Ticket-Rage
People-Rage
Ticket Inspector-Rage
Rage-Against-Thy-Fellow-Commuter
Tourists-taking-their-time-Rage and-its-only-8.30am in the morning. (It’s pre-tourist hour and they should remain in their hotel room, dining on their croissants and black coffee until after the rush hour.)

The-Elderly-Curb-Crawlers-Rage (who crawl out of their homes at a snails pace before 9.30am when they damn well know that it causes pedestrians to come to a stand-still.) Have you ever tried legging it for a train only to have Grandma Betty and her trolley and Poop the Dog straddle more than 3/4 of the pavement?

On every occasion that I have ventured into town, I’ve found myself doing a lot of “expanding time,” inhaling and rolling my eyeballs up to the heavens. 8 out of 10 times that I have used the trains, there has been some sort of delay, I have had to get off a train, I have been stuck in a tunnel for what seems like an eternity, being assailed by the smell of armpits and stale farts.

Once upon a time, when I was a frequent and avid traveler on a daily basis into town, and an incident of any type occurred regarding my train, I would stomp off in a huff and try to walk the long journey home. It did not matter that I could use an alternative route or take the bus, because in my state of vexation all common sense would go out of the window. Yet, now that I am older and hopefully wiser, I just tend to inhale, close my eyes and say to myself that I am expanding time. Which this means to me is that everything is going to be ok; that I have all the time in the world and I will not stress. To others this statement could mean a number of things from, she knows she’s going to be late, but she is not stressing, to “expanding time my a..”

Whichever way see it, for me it is about maintaining self-control and not throwing a tantrum so that I expose my darker side.

So, I have made up my mind to walk with an Ipod full of meditative or calming tunes. To have my bible tucked somewhere close by, in case I feel the intrepid hands of Satan try to tempt me to show Mista-Rude-Ticket-Inspector those “significant” two fingers and to remember that I can always close my eyes, inhale and do a bit more of the “expanding” time.

Happy traveling