Letting sleeping babies lie

Yesterday, I sat in the car park of sainsbury's while s. slept in his seat. I didn't want to wake him as he has recently decided that sleep is for losers and he doesn't want to play that game. So any sleep is a good thing. I sat there, reading the remenants of the sunday papers that always get left in the car, nearly falling asleep myself, and pretended to myself I'd do the shopping when he woke up. After fifteen minutes I decided to pull the plug on the shopping experience and drove home. I dared to dream that the sleep would continue.

S woke up once we crunched onto the drive. Sleep was once more for losers.

Pigeon Racing down at Greenlands Labour Club

In my quest to explore, I've started taking pictures of the pigeon fanciers down the road. I thought it'd be a nice look at what goes on round 'ere. They were flying the first race of the season this weekend, back up from Stafford. The birds, ringed on Friday night and picked up by the pigeon wagon about 8pm, flew back on Saturday. The winner was decided at 7pm Saturday by getting the sealed rings from the timers. Ye gads it's a precise sport. The fanciers seem pleased to be documented. They just let me roam round them with my camera. When I spoke to them, they were complaining that it's a dying, old man's sport, with few coming in to start breeding & racing. A bit like the area itself, in need of a bit of positive spin and loving attention.

So rather than just watch this sport, I thought I'd participate. On Sunday I got myself down to the pigeon auction at Greenlands, took some pictures, and bought a young bird. It's being housed by the person who raised the chick, Kev, who I think lives somewhere round 'ere in Ribbletonia with 60 birds and his family. Presumably the birds live outside.

I haven't named it yet. But it's got a white feather on its wing, which apparently is lucky. The auction was for young birds who will race at the end of the season, in September. The birds that have been bought are now in competition for a £3k pot of money. That could be mine! Especially with the powers of the lucky white feather. Yes, I'm spending the money in my head right now. Ok – so it was only £16, and I bought it cos no-one else wanted it. But supporting the underpigeon is preferable to one of those £80 show-birds, and my gran always said that God loves a tryer.

I'll post the pictures.

On Taking Off, again

All I can say after this long break from the start of the blog is that I love this motherhood lark. Baby S was a bit poorly when he arrived, so we were initiated into the world of parental worry via the neo-natal unit. But all is well, he's 2 months old and a strange & strong little feeding machine – our very own milk vampire – who as I type is kicking the computer. I think he thinks it's mummy's other baby.

So the take-off was a bit bumpy just as the flight continues to go through air-pockets where I feel like the bottom's dropped out of my stomach (like first smiles), but it's revolutionised, re-politicised, and diversified my life completely. So rather than just write about me and the lad, I've decided to get out of the house with my stills camera, my video camera, my notebook and a sound recorder and go for an explore of Ribbleton Lane in all its diverse glory. Oh yes and the boy. If nothing else, it'll keep us out of mischief. Or possibly get us into some, but can that be a bad thing?

As for the Mancunian past life, other people blog about that – and you can meet two of them here at travels with my baby – not that I am in any way jealous. Honest. I have a bar just up the road too, it just happens to be where the pigeon fanciers meet every week. Have you been to shoreditch / the northern quarter recently? Well this is where the flat cap trend stems from. Fact.

On Landing

One day I woke up and had been transported back to the town of my birth to give birth to my first-born. Yes, a bit like Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus. Except for my car is only slightly less grubby than an unwashed donkey.

Equally, someone had swapped my life - one where I stayed up late and ran round the city, and happily let my vanishing youth wash over me like a giant gin and tonic - with a suburban mother-to-be's existence in a small northern town. And I was only just coming to terms with having a boyfriend that had lasted a year - unknown since last millennium.

On landing I got referred to the local madhouse’s outpatients unit. Funnily enough, it was something a me when I left this place might have quite liked. Now, not so fun. But tsk it was only temporary and now i am blooming. So i'll explore this place while i'm here and put it online.