His Crap is the same as my Crap !

T'Internet went down last week. Not just me but most of my neighbours. Blimey, my front door was red hot with people knocking on it and wondering whether I had a landline. The answer was a No. Not difficult in Bodmin, where I live. My phone number has only 5 digits and if its gonna crash then we are usually the first to do so.

A few nights without the Internet does strange things to a person. I actually watched some Crap TV. Dutch and I were discussing this and we agreed that my Crap is the same as his Crap. That means same Crap but different Crap to other people. Hmmm, hopefully you know what I mean! Crap means something that you can watch on TV with your thumb up your bum and the brain in neutral - erm...thats how the old saying goes.

Okay, onto my Crap. Reality TV. First, I watched something on BBC3 called 'Working Girls'. A programme about getting young girls to work as they were unemployed. Jaw dropping stuff. All they wanted to do was stay in bed. Getting these young women to work was like pulling teeth. Perhaps I am lucky. My elder children both work full time and have done so throughout their 6th form/degree education. We have always had a work ethic and I expected nothing more. I brought my children up to be independent.

These young women were unbelievable. They actually had no confidence in themselves. Sorry to preach but at 18, despite growing up under the 'Forces Brat' umbrella I was delighted about starting work. The girls in question had been spoiled by their parents, waited on hand, foot and finger. The parents should have taken responsibility for themselves, not just their offspring. Back to the sofa. I ground my teeth down to nothing as I sat and watched apathetic young women resist every opportunity that was thrown their way. All was eventually sorted and the girls started to realise that work might be a good thing. Hurrah for that but why did they need such remote 'Mentors'?? Why were their parents so submissive?

Onto the hilarious 'Living With Women'. Yeah, a fairly ridiculous premis. Again the parents played a huge part in this. Young guys were sent off into the yonder by their long suffering girlfriends to learn how to 'live' with older, wiser and much more savvy women. Actually they were rather gentle with their 'victims'. The whole thing stank of very bad parenting. Not difficult is it...

I did watch one whole episode of 'Jamies Dream School'. That's a lie! I had to turn it off. Stick to the cooking you Mockney Illiterate Little Boy!...Ooo get me! Our teachers are having to deal with the lack of parental control and could do without your help. Get over it man!

Onto 'One Born Every Minute'. Channel 4's rather excellent attempt at showing what happens when women go into labour and give birth. Personally, I would rather have my Ma there than some poor man who is having to deal with the incoming concept that is Fatherhood and his girl completely losing it in front of him. Believe me, an air of mystery is far better than asking him to shave your legs for you !

This week we had Oakley and Dave. Dave is an ex-Heroin addict now turned Methodone addict. He probably had about three brain cells in his head and was so laid back that I was rather worried he would actually lay back and stick his feet in the stirrups. (Note all single guys, look up Birth and Stirrups, not to be confused with a sexual preference.) Oakley is a pretty 18 year old, middle class girl who had (in her defence) got up the duff by accident. Dave was the love of her life...aww bless she's 18! Oakley had to grow up rather fast and supervise their finances and cope with his methadone habit. Oakley was so in awe of him because he represented everything her parents abhorred.

Oakley; Quote - I want to give my baby girl everything my parents gave me. We had a lovely life with beautiful things and lovely holidays. - Unquote. God help her!

I am so distressed for her. Baby Tallulah or Tiffany or something like that was born at a whopping 9lb ish to this tiny size 8 girl. All Dave could do was grin and congratulate himself. Gruesome.

My Crap might be the same as his Crap but I think it upsets me more.

Look after you and yours.

Muse x

Bored Little Boys.

I spent last week at the Parents Lodge in deepest Cornwall. It is about six miles from the sea, with not a lot between it and the Atlantic. The parents were in Switzerland with the Great Grandaughter, I was therefore responsible for The Git over half term. He usually buggers off to the parents for every weekend/holiday and I am left to be ill in peace. Add to this the fact that The Git had been off school for two weeks due to a bad chest infection...difficult!

I do try to be a good parent...honest. But three weeks in the company of my son was pushing my sanity to the limit. We started out quite well. I live in a three bed 60's house with virtually no heating and am used to wandering around in the evening looking like a homeless person. Scarf, check! Furry boots, check! Large cardi, check! Fingerless gloves, check! The Lodge has state of the art heating, insulation and is fecking boiling. I spent a week hanging out of a window with my face in a force nine gale blustering off the Atlantic. Seriously though the weather was horizontal rain and a force nine ALL week. Pretty awful for the poor Git.

We went to McDonalds, the Beach and the Aquarium. Tried the swimming pools but they were all closed and I was not going to wander around a very small Zoo looking at grumpy, wet and fed up animals! A further complication was that there was no landline, no mobile signal and as for Broadband...forget it! This meant we had sporadic electricity, a TV and ourselves.

The Git was really good but bored little boys are not the easiest to deal with. I suppose the whole week made me appreciate how insular we have all become. All readers of this Blog know that I did not have a TV as a child due to the many postings abroad. I did not know any better and am very grateful for that. Instead I buried my head in books. The Git has slowly grown into the age of the Internet and now knows more about 'Putes than I have forgotten. This is a reality check for me as a parent.

The Git does not spend hours on games, online. He spreads himself around, talking to friends, shopping, playing the odd game and editing his You Tube page which is all about skate boarding. I don't play games online and also spread myself about doing different things. Okay...so we are using the net in a positive way but we are not communicating. This all smacks of BAD mother. Yeah! I agree, he is my third child, perhaps I am not able to parent as I once did. I remember, as the eldest of five kids, my little sister Jax, was at one point in her teenage years, allowed to stay out until two in the morning! I actually had a row with my mother about it as I was given a curfew of 10.30.

There are two sides to the coin here. Do you realise that times change and become a more relaxed parent? Or do you understand that you must step up to the mark, embrace the change and still instill values and routine in your child?

Talking of 'Bored Little Boys' and the Internet. I have quoted this on my Blog before but this quote is so topical at the moment.

The Internet is the first thing that humanity has built that humanity doesn't understand, the largest experiment in anarchy that we have ever had.
Eric Schmidt

We have a lot of 'Bored Little Boys' in the Middle East at the moment and as this is not a political Blog, I shall just say that watching certain people smack a load of propoganda on the Net and sitting back to watch it explode is interesting to say the least.

Be careful What You Wish For.

Muse x