Friday 3 December 2010


You'll have to read a good way down until you get to the point of this posting...sorry, but I'm bored at work when I should be working hard.

I really loved this post by Mr London Street - it struck a chord and made me smile

I can't say I've ever watched the programme...a childhood of Opportunity Knocks was enough to put me off that sort of TV for ever, although I did read that one of the contestants has an 81 year old grandmother who is a porn star and prostitute. Which made me realise, just what a peculiar world it is. Hughie Green must be spinning in his grave.

Anyway, on the subject of the 2018 World Cup, I was totally against it coming to England. I was and am a great advocate of the London Olympics so it's not that I'm anti great sporting events on these shores, but for a long time I've been very vocal about what a complete waste of space the people who run the game are. The final presentation may have been very slick and professional, but there were all sorts of shenanigans going on in the months before and I realised that these people shouldn't be put in charge of making a cup of tea. I don't think the media coverage was any more damaging than the bid leaders own antics. Not that I think the world's global football organisations are any better. I'd like to see wholesale reform of the English soccer system...and losing the bid is our best hope, which might be further encouraged if one of the leading Premiership teams was to bite the dust too...I'm not fussed which one.

Not that I claim to know anything about football at all.

Anyway, back to the X in the title. Last night was the opening night of the school senior play. The Boy had decided not to participate this year, but The Cat has a starring part in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. The parents of the cast were invited to drinks with the Headmistress at her house. Of course, I'm not a parent, but The Cat's Mother felt that I should come along - all be it that my name wasn't actually on the invite (she did check with the head's PA first). I was delighted. Naturally a second invite had been sent to The Other Parent.

Despite the snow, we arrived bang on time...and were the first people there. A warming glass of red got us going, before another teacher arrived five minutes later. The conversation flowed pretty freely and after another five minutes the door bell went. Yep it was The Other Parent. He was the sixth person in the room. He'd not met me before. He and The Cat's Mother don't speak. It was a small group. Even when three more people arrived it was a small group. And remained a small group for an hour until the start of the play. I'd say the conversation was a little stilted. Just a little. It probably didn't help when the head asked whether The Boy and The Cat had been walking to school in this weather, and I said 'No, it's a long way from Loughton' 'But I thought you lived in Buckhurst Hill' she said. 'No, Loughton is where we live with The Cat's Mother' I explained.

So this'll be the house that The Other Parent worked long and hard to pay for.

Modern families. They're an odd thing aren't they?

Fortunately, The Cat shone on stage.