Is the new Pope really Elliot Carver?

Is it just me or has anybody else noticed that the new Pope could actually be evil media baron Elliot Carver?
Well, OK, Elliot Carver is actually a fictional character from a James Bond movie played by Jonathan Pryce, but you tell me they're not lookie-likies!

I went to see the much-celebrated Agatha Christie whodunnit Mousetrap at Leeds Grand last week.  At 41-years, I was a somewhat 'young' member of the audience and, dare I say, the 'ambiance' of the dress circle made me think of Blanche Dubois' famous line in A Streetcar Named Desire, 'the smell of cheap perfume is penetrating'.  Sorry, that's not much good as a review is it?  I think my mum summed it up when she admitted she only wanted to see what all the fuss, and 60-year historic West End run, was about.  It's stood the test of time in some respects, with great cast and production values in this touring performance, but I think, when the Rights become available, it would be better placed as a village hall am-dram.

My theatre trip followed a couple of days in Wales, including a trot up Mount Snowden, followed by three days of staggering around in agony!
Here's my White Waters Country Hotel review......
You know you're in a cheap hotel when the stir and tap of 'tea spoon on coffee cup' in the next room is your wake up call.  Or perhaps the parrot in reception was another sign.  And you know it's a Groupon deal when having a shower, hanging clothes and walking down a corridor are chargeable 'supplements'.
Mind you, the hotel did have a spa of sorts (oooh posh, I thought), although I think their definition of 'spa' and mine are two very different things.

But we decided to make use of the over-sized bath.  There being just the two of us in the spa, I became, dare I say, carefree and, well, positively risque!  Clearly thinking I was on an 18-30 holiday or Big Brother, I cheekily decided a quick flash was in order before I joined my hubby in the bubbles.
Chuckling away to myself at my own recklessness, it became like a scene from a low budget family sit-com when I looked up and spotted the all-seeing, all-winking red eye of the CCTV camera and remembered the bank of screens in the reception area.  Red-faced, I restored my respectable tankini to its rightful position and submerged myself under the water in haste.

(That tale is a bit like watching an episode of Embarrassing Bodies and observing that nobody who is genuinely 'embarrassed' would go on national TV and show their bits!)

My 'gaff of the week' is not a Teddy-tale this time, it is my incredibly intelligent, well-read and worldly-wise friend.  Intelligent, well-read and worldly-wise she may undoubtedly be, but clearly the difference between blue and green is an area she needs to work on! Not really a problem day to day I suppose.  However, at a school event is another thing, especially when she leaps out of her seat and skips to the raffle prize table in front of a hundred fellow mums brandishing the winning number on her blue ticket, only to be told it's actually green (and therefore not a winner)!
(Hey mate, at least (hopefully) only a parrot saw my boob!)

Come on slow coach, just another 1,000ft to go!

My egg-cellent son

This is dedicated to my son Teddy, without whom this blog, and my life, would be very dull!
He may get egg on his chin once in a while but the beauty of it is, he just doesn't care!
But more of that anon.

As a quick random rambling aside, a la Ronnie Corbett sat in the Mastermind chair, I might change the name of my blog to, 'what or whom is annoying me this week'.
And first up are.....people who clean the pavement outside their house by sweeping the fag ends etc in front of their neighbour's house!  (I saw it with my own eyes on my way to work yesterday, why would you do that; maybe I should have stopped the car and asked!)

Anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, Teddy.  I'm so proud of him this week I could pop.

Back in September, he was adamant that he was NOT joining his fellow Street Dance 'crew' for the dance school's show Legends, professionally hosted by the Lawrence Batley Theatre.
Last weekend, I joined nearly a thousand fellow popping mums, dads, grans and grandads to see him dance in four performances over an exhausting weekend.
The show itself is an absolute credit to Katie Philpott, her school, teachers and, of course, the dancers, aged from just-out-of-nappies to school-leavers, some of whom are heading to prestigious dance colleges (oh, and an excellent group of fellow forty-something-year-old tappers).
A cast of 300+ girls and boys danced ballet, tap, jazz, modern and street with musical theatre thrown in for a few giggles (unfortunately, I now can't stop humming It's a Hard-Knock Life! - bet, you can't either now!).
I cannot gush too much about how excellent this show truly is (regardless of whether your own budding Bussell is in it or not).  Mind you, ask me which the best dance was and I may show slight bias....the Smooth Criminals of course!

But I'm most proud of Teddy for facing his fears and showing a growing confidence that I hope will stand him in good stead in future life.

Anyway, about that eggy chin of his......
On the way home from the final show, I was asking Teddy and fellow street dancer Jacob about  World Book Day and what costumes they were planning to wear for school (by the way, this idle chat was just a cunning ruse to keep the shattered pair awake).  The conversation went thus: -

Me: "Who are you going as on World Book Day, Jacob?"
Jacob: "Hamlet"
Teddy: "Isn't that a sandwich?"
Me and Jacob: "Eh?"
Teddy: "Oh no, hang on, that's Omelette."

I could write a book........

Smooth Criminals

A damp cloth and a squirt of Febreze

I was hoping this blog, after a break with friends and family at Center Parcs (Sherwood), would be brimming with news, views and my usual scathing (yet hilarious!?) anecdotes on the annoying nuances of everyday life. 
I've come home with a blank notebook.

Darn Center Parcs and their smooth-running, nothing's too much trouble, safe, car free, squeaky clean forest of wholesomeness.  (You know if you Google 'forest', the third result is Center Parcs; how good are they at SEO?!)
And as for the 'friends and family', they were no good for blog fodder either.  Nobody fell out, nobody got injured, sick, lost, drunk or disorderly, stuck up a tree; nothing!  Getting scraped, bruised and up close and personal with strangers' bottoms on the rapids is hardly even note-worthy.
Actually, the only pain in the aforementioned, was that, after four days of non-stop laser shooting, archery, football, tennis (short and table), badminton, squash, climbing, snooker and relentless swimming, I came home with a nice dose of flu!

Wait a minute, I forgot fencing!
That's right, weaponry-obsessed Daniel wanted to fence.  Thinking it would be foam swords and non-parent-participation I took him along.
How wrong I was, on both counts.  After a very short introduction to 'en garde' and 'lunge', the five-year-olds AND mums and dads were kitted out for battle, complete with real life foils which were bigger and heavier than the kids!
I know CP in half-term attracts the 4x4-driving, North Face-coated brigade but I still don't want to come face-to-face with my fellow campers' halitosis and activity-OD'd sweaty pits.  Let's just say, the masks and jackets were in need of a damp cloth and a squirt of Febreze!

There we go, I knew I'd find something to moan about!!!!

Speaking of Daniel, back at school this week he came home with the usual tonne-weight of parent sheets (I shudder for the rain forests).  The term's topic seemed perfectly Reception-age-friendly; Colour and Shape.
However, I'm  not sure how adult-age-appropriate the parent advice sheet was.....
Under Communication, Language and Literacy, item four read: - 'To sequence familiar stories and encourage emergent writing' (eh?).
In Expressive Arts and Design they will be ' looking at works by the artist Kandinsky and creating a piece of art in his style' (who?). 
And at home, we were asked (among a whole raft of things) to help our children 'identify and write initial, medial, final sounds in the CVC words' (oh boy!).

Can't we just stick CBBC on and give them a bag of Quavers?
I'm even considering boarding school as I need the free time to crack on with my Masters in 'Understanding and Deciphering Primary School Parental Literature'.

PS: Of course, I do know who Kandinsky is really.
(I just didn't realise she was an artist and a cross-dresser - but I did always think that Bill Clinton chappy was up to no good)

En garde - Daniel has me cornered!