Grandad October 10th, 2011
There are times when I honestly wonder if I am dreaming things.
I had one of those moments this evening when I read the following [with thanks to Brianf for spotting it] -
Children to be banned from blowing up balloons, under EU safety rules
They have to be joking?
But apparently not.
The fucking EU with its Nanny State mentality is doing its best to ruin any sort of fun. Obviously there isn’t a parent in the land that is capable of using a bit of common sense. Children are apparently dropping like flies, choking to death on balloons, whistles and teddy bears’ eyes, and we never even noticed.
What’s next? Are they going to ban gardens, just in case a child chokes on a pebble? Are they going to outlaw anything smaller than an inch in diameter in case a child shoves it up his or her nose?
I really am speechless.
It has gone so far beyond a joke that it really is frightening me.
When is this utter madness going to stop?
Grandad October 10th, 2011
Things were sort of hectic here yesterday.
For a start I couldn’t get onto the Interweb because the Other Fella was trying to fix it. He had cables running all over the shop, and he kept flitting between the laptop and the wireless thing and the language out of him was pretty terrible. Frankly I was a little shocked at his language – when I say it was bad, it was really fucking atrocious.
On top of all that, a couple of the nippers were here. We had to look after Puppychild and Sir Fartzalott for the afternoon. Puppychild was no problem. She found the Other Fella’s language quite intriguing and a couple of times I heard her gently repeating the words as she consigned them to memory.
Sir Fartzalott was a slightly different kettle of fish. He’s not quite talking yet, though he does have a remarkably large vocabulary of his own words and noises, so he wasn’t particularly interested in expanding his linguistic range. A missed opportunity, if ever there was one? So I had to entertain him. He was very interested in a pack of fags that Herself had left lying around so I took the opportunity to teach him to smoke. After a few coughing fits and a couple of green faces, he took to it like a duck to water.
Today is relatively calm by comparison. The Interweb is back up and running. All we have to mind today is Woodja the dog. He’s rather simple-minded and a bit of an eejit so he’s no trouble at all. He’s out in the garden at the moment trying to make friends with a rock. Our K8 dropped him up today as her house is full of kids for Puppychild’s seventh birthday. God but that makes me feel old!
Our K8 was a bit annoyed with me, actually.
Apparently this morning, Sir Fartzalott’s cot was full of ash and cigarette butts.
I told her that would stop in a couple of months when I wean him onto the pipe.
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