First off my coffee and cake meeting was a success. My home remains intact and so does my sanity, just. Anyway while on the phone last night a friend of ours said I should blog more stories of where I have triumphed in the face of adversity. Where I have battled against social stigmas and where I have overcome blah blah blah blah. So i remembered a story of one of my first days with the little man. The Chancellor had returned to work and we went for a day out with a former work colleague and her fiance. We travelled 15 miles or so west to small and very quaint English village where everything is vastly overpriced, full of country folk and you get a house the size of a blade of grass for a quater of a million pounds.
There is in this village a lovely pub which is family friendly. So we decided to go into this for lunch. All was going well until the wee man decided to fill his nappy. Not to bother I thought. This being one of my first times out and about I bounded along with youthful vigour and hope and I asked the female manager if they had baby changing facilities. 'Yes' she replied 'But it's in the ladies toilet. But you can use it.' 'Err I 'm not sure about that' I replied looking for a quiet corner of the room to change him. However she was insistent and so I was bundled into the ladies toilet being told there was no one in there.
Now one thing to note the wee man HATES those pull down plastic change tables, so he straight away began to fuss which would build to full blown crying. Having been told there was no in the toilet one of the cubicle doors then opened and out came a rather surprised looking elderly woman. Trying to be quick and not look her in the eye I buried my head into what I was doing. The wee man was getting louder and I started to get quite flustered. Then through the door entered a couple of women. One of whom was very snooty and waited just behind me until I was finished before she did her thing. I heard a number of sighs and tuts. The queue began to grow and the wee man had descended into full blown wailing. My initial vigour and hope had vanished leaving only sweating and fluster. I only half finished dressing the little man and apologised to the ladies in the queue, the woman at the first still tutting. Arsehole, I thought as I passed by her. Its not like I want to hear you peeing is it?! I returned to the table pretending all went well but vowing in my head to never to the pub without The Chancellor because a). she can pay and b). she can change the little man.
The moral of the story is never leave the city because the country is twenty years out of date and it smells of horse shit.