Punch, Judy and childhood fear!

Punch and Judy and general fear!


As soon as I got out of the car at llandudno I heard a sound that made me at once want to run and hide “dats der way da do it”, I felt the hairs on my spine stand on end, the shiver went all the way to my head until I actually shuddered.

I am of course talking about a Punch and Judy show, supposedly a seaside treat for children of all ages. For me it spells out fear, I can remember being a very confused child watching this horror show it should have come with a warning like the films do now
May include scenes of a violent nature


Is it the stripy tent, where at least one maybe two people are behind conjuring the violence, sausages, the baby being thrown around, the crocodile or a combination of everything? I am catapulted back to my smaller self watching this show with horror and trying to make sense of it all.

There were other times I was puzzled and fearful growing up, I was at the scout huts annual bonfire and when they brought the “guy” out and threw him on the fire I was in complete shock, no one noticed as sparklers where whisked through the sky, children trying quickly to write their names in the darkness, the Smokey bonfire, the excitement of being out in the dark a little later than usual and me wondering what kind of a place Reddish really was to burn a human being (albeit a bad ‘en) I had a big brother who had told me that the guy they put on the bonfire is someone that the whole of reddish have decided is a bad man, so you see what I was seeing being burnt (in my ill informed mind) was a real person, not just two pairs of American tan tights fashioned into arms and legs and dressed in old clothes this was a real live person (I have not been able to watch the Wickerman as it brings back the same scary feelings). The worst of it was I remember keeping very quiet about the whole affair, self preservation kicked in and maybe I thought if I mentioned it, I could be cast out of this society..(and I am only 6 I still need my mum – no wonder I wet the bed with fright!)

There was another time that springs to mind, Reddish Carnival used to start off from station road, and we lived at 2 Buckley street, just off station road, so we saw all the excitement of the start of it, there was a riding school who decided to dress up as cowboys and another local riding school dressed up as Indians (there had only been cowboys in previous years) I was a little puzzled by the Indians and big brother again told me they were in town to kidnap children, I remember running all the way home and hiding behind the settee in complete terror, not coming out, when my mum got the story out of me, Michael was in big trouble, and even more after mum discovered he had purchased a pea shooter and had a bag of dried peas ready to shoot at the Morris Dancers legs (there were some chunky thighs on show). All this came back to me as I walked home from the met station on Monday night and spotted a stripey (Loreto Grammar) blazer…. That burgundy/gold/navy striped material gives me the same fear of a Punch and Judy show, I think a psychologist would conclude it was all a bit Pavlov and his dogs……. Hmnnn

And can I just say for the record that the person who said to me “imagine a punch and judy show, but run by clowns” is a very sick individual indeed……… and possibly needs some help


Mahoo

A letter to my daughter…


You have always been “interesting”, from the moment you arrived (the wrong way round) in fact even before that, at the12 week scan the ultra sound technician informed me your placenta was low and it would need keeping at eye on, which in a way sums you up perfectly. You didn’t sleep, you wouldn’t eat, the only child I know to sniff something or lick it and pronounce “I cant eat that it smells/tastes/looks funny”.

Interesting I suppose is much better than good (i.e. boring) you were the first person to use the first aid room in a department store in the newly built Trafford centre (the Temple of Excess of the North West!) You were squirting perfume and you squirted one in your eye, the only silence I heard that afternoon was the sound of you taking up the biggest breath ever before you howled the place down, I think it served as a warning to us all perfume in your eye hurts, you cried and cried and the nurse said this was possibly the best eye wash and all natural, you smelt of Calvin Klein Eternity for days (as did your bedroom).


You liked to collect everyone’s dressing gown cord and once you had tied them together (like someone escaping from a window) you attached them to the top of the bannister upstairs, not for you walking up and down stairs in the usual way, you would hurtle yourself from the top right down, land in the kitchen where you would get out a can of aerosol “squirty cream” and squirt a mouthful before climbing mountaineer style back up to your room.

There was plenty of scary moments, but thankfully never any dull ones. You wont ever take no for an answer and the whole family can clearly remember you asking if there was a “reputable retailers” when we were on a family trip to Blackpool, you had birthday money that was burning a whole in your pocket and had seen something advertised on TV as “available from all reputable retailers”.

I have wanted to put my hands very firmly around your neck and gently squeeze, and/or massage. You have the ability to make me wonder where on earth you get all your traits from, well, as the raw ingredients were sourced from me and your dad, I guess we only have ourselves to blame, I wouldn’t (couldn’t) swap you for the world


Love Mum

Hotel from Hell

Criccieth

My first taste of North Wales was many years ago in the usual and all the more popular ‘bucket and spade’ manner, staying at a variety of good value B ‘n’ B’s on Marine Drive with an ever impressive sea view.
As I recall, we were always lucky with the weather, but maybe it’s these rose tinted glasses of mine that have altered my memory?
Safe in the knowledge that the kids would rather give the elephant man the kiss of life; this made the budget bigger and the planning simpler.
This meant we could finally treat ourselves to somewhere more sophisticated than past visits. The hotel itself? It looked great from the outside, what could possibly go wrong?

Stanley on reception seemed pleasant enough, he handed us our key to room 114, after two flights of stairs and some haphazard guessing we found said room. As we went through the keyhole there was a stench of cigarettes, the kind I haven’t smelt since you could smoke in nightclubs, even the bedding reeked. It was the smallest double room I had ever seen, I’ am talking Harry Potter’s cupboard under the stairs.
The view this time was seen through smoke tinted glasses, onto an overgrown patch of land with a rickety fire escape and bare piping. I didn’t even venture into the “en-suite”; seeing that a dressing table had had a leg sawn off to fit was enough for me (seriously who does that?)

Cutting away to the reception again, I told Stanley we couldn’t sleep in the room as my husband had asthma. He doesn’t of course, but after a nights stay I reckon we would have, and very possibly a need for an iron lung each!. As they had no other rooms available cancelled our 4 nights stay. Stanley wasn’t sure if we would incur a charge for this, we would have to wait for the manager to sort this out, who had ironically nipped of for a quick cig.

We waited a full 45 minutes and no manager came, maybe it was a cigar, maybe he was rolling it too?. Anyway, from the final straw to the first pint. I found myself in the pub opposite sipping a stiff measure of cider, whilst hubs arranged for us to stay in our usual, trusty Bed and Breakfast.
Another half pint and a generic ringtone later, there’s a return phone call from the manager, Gavin. Who kindly informed me that I would have to pay for the first night as it was too late for him to let the room, in return, I kindly informed him I had spotted a young couple smoking woodbines along the front, so maybe his luck is in?
He insisted on talking over my protests, which could only mean one thing….. a Mexican stand off in the foyer complete with itchy trigger fingers. I think Gavin was shocked at how quick I shot to the Hotel, we did some very public disagreeing and I explained very nicely that under no circumstances would I pay anything and if he did charge anything to my account he may wish he hadn’t.
in less that 7 minutes, Gavin has cut his losses and I was back in the Bryn ‘y’ Arms across the road to raise a toast to customer satisfaction as my hubs said “I didn’t come over to help as I knew you wouldn’t need me”,

A valuable lesson has been learnt; keep to the trusty seaside B and B’s

Perhaps in the same way you shouldn’t trust a book by its cover, never judge a welsh hotel, by its cladding? ( llading )…….