Meeting New People
This morning we went along to a local toddler group I’ve been to a couple of times. It’s a particularly good one. Everyone is incredibly friendly and the lady that runs it is fantastic. Diva likes it because she gets to play with a giant parachute and eat cake- me too. Bruiser likes the singing.
This morning this lovely lady came over and started chatting to me. I was telling her about the fact that Hubby will be going as a resident scholar on a fabulous cruise to see the Northern Lights soon (I am still breast feeding so can’t go and am thus very bitter). She informed me that something similar had occurred when her husband had to go to the Amazon Rainforest. Obviously I was curious and asked her why he was in the rainforest. It would seem that he invests in renewable energy schemes and has bought some of it to save it from loggers. Of course he has. Didn’t I feel foolish for asking.
Upon returning home we saw one of our neighbours and her little dog. She has asked us around for coffee a few times so we decided to pop across and say, hi. During this conversation I found out that her husband had been an RAF pilot that flew in secret missions during the 2nd World War. During one mission they were being followed by German bombers and so had to turn off their lights to avoid detection whilst landing. His plane landed okay but the plane behind him landed on top of him. The propellor ripped through his face and very nearly killed him. He required ten operations to rebuild his face. He was a true war hero and apparently one of the nicest people you could ever meet. Sadly he passed away a few years ago and his lovely wife has been left very lonely. I suspect she has a few more good stories to tell and we may become regular visitors.
There are some truly remarkable people in this world.
This afternoon we went to the doctors’ surgery for Bruiser to receive his next set of jabs. Here we had another, less pleasant, meeting. The waiting room has a very small table for children to play on right at the front of all the chairs.This is where Diva wanted to go. Next to the table sat a large, very serious (grumpy) looking man. As soon as we got near it Diva started shouting, “No, Mummy! Don’t sit next to the scary man! He frightening me, Mummy! Don’t sit there! Ahhhh!”
I’m not entirely sure how you are supposed to deal with this type of thing. He was clearly unamused by the terrified toddler and was very much avoiding acknowledging our presence. Several other people in the waiting room obviously thought it was hilarious- especially the ones with children who weren’t shouting out embarrassing things. I debated trying to cover it up, “Sorry, she’s practising her lines for a play and you remind her of the scary villain”. Maybe not. I also debated pretending she was not my child, but the fact that she was clinging to my leg was a bit of a giveaway. In the end I decided to be terribly British about it and told Diva she was being silly, and ignored it. Thankfully we weren’t waiting long before we were called in.
Our final meeting was with someone I met when we first moved here. She’d forgotten my name. I wonder what any of these people said about meeting us today…