Vicious Fishes

I thought we'd be safe enough - to watch a cookery show - me and the little man this evening.  I didn't feel like dancing, or running up and down the hallway with cars, trying to stop him climbing into the sink (yes he's discovered the art of chair dragging) so tv it was, now I don't know about you, but I've had enough tellytubbies, and yet somehow knew he wouldn't go for a boring old soap - inspired by his excited perusal of a cookery book last night, screeching "oh yummy yummy" at every page, i put a cookery show playing on the player.
It started well.  Fishing boats.  Men walking over rocks. Children picking periwinkles, squealing and laughing.  He was all in favour.
Then the horror.  Sea Bass it might have been.  Beheaded.  Then filleted.  My compassionate little soldier was almost sobbing on the sofa next to me, worry and pure revulsion showing in his little eyes as the cook held up the bones showing off how little meat was left on them.  Looking at me, as if to say, why are you not outraged, why are we not going to tell that man that this is not nice behaviour.... (after all he's not allowed kick the dog, surely this is unfair?)  

We will not be watching "Martin's Mad About Fish" for some time, and I may even write a strongly worded letter to the broadcaster insisting that they should have a warning for parents that young children may find the images disturbing....  Or not.
It did look pretty tasty.

A load of balls

Working next door to a cash and carry has its advantages.  I enjoy sometimes going in for a browse, imagining buying a big wheel of cheese to make some mouse crazy with happiness, or marvelling at the pillow sized bags of marshmallows that only a giant could possibly finish (in one go)...  There are insane frozen chocolate cakes too with enough in them for a hike to the arctic circle and possibly back....
but most things there are just too much -  you'll never use that much ketchup yourself, unless you bath in it, the only way you'd ever need that much porridge would be if you were covering the driveway in it, so I don't shop there.
Too much is too much sometimes, and another thing there is a little too much of in my life right now is balls. There are hundreds of balls inside and outside of my home.  The dog probably brought the first of them, but now Danger has acquired a fair few, but worst of all we have tons of balls contributed from the neighbours - they throw and kick them into our back garden at all hours of the day and night.  They break windows.  Knock on the door looking for them back.  Do I sound like a grouch?  I do my best to give the balls back to their rightful owners, unlike the guy who used to live here, apparently his name was Hitler, and he never gave back a single ball - anyway - even as I type, the summer is approaching, the toddler is being fitted with a helmet, balls are bouncing off the windows, the dog is salivating... there is a surplus of round things.