As sometimes happens, I ended up standing during the entire train journey home. I'm used to standing for the first part of the journey, but it's quite rare I have to stand for the full 50 minutes. It's a minor annoyance when it happens, but not that bad. Not normally, anyway. Today, however, was a salutary lesson in how not to bring your children up.
At Barking, there's normally a exodus from the train after which you can sit down. Today, however, I got trapped by a large family group, mum, dad, two kids about seven (possibly twins), a two year-old in push chair and a baby strapped to dad's chest. Mum looked quite young to have so many children, but they all called her Mum, so they were presumably hers. She wore an Adidas tracksuit that was slightly shabby and her hair pulled back as tight as it would go, possibly restricting her ability to blink. Dad didn't quite look like he fitted in with the rest of them, in calf-length moleskin trouser things and a white cotton shirt. The two older children, both girls, were slightly scruffy, grubby of visage and had what appeared to be homemade haircuts. I'm not mocking that; I used to have the same, and mine looked about as good as these two did, though they were possible more Wurzel Gummidge that I used to be. The toddler was strapped into a buggy. She had great big eyes and a big blonde bowl cut (ah, now that's what I used to have...)
So far, so unremarkable. Oh, I should add that I had my iSpod on. I was listening to A Perfect Circle's third album the anti-war eMotive, featuring versions of classics such as Imagine and What's Going On, so you'd think I'd be fairly insulated from the rest of the train. That's not really background music. It kind of demands you pay attention, you know?
Unfortunately, from the moment these kids got onto the train, the mother was plying them with food and drink. But not anything sensible. Oh no. Full fat Coke? Check. Sunny Delight for the little one? Check. Packet upon literal packet of Skittles? Oh yes. About two each but guess what came next? A packet of Lovehearts each. The little one didn't have any of this, I should say, but she had a giant lolly stuck in her gob in between gulps of Sunny D.
Well, needless to say, high on Tartrazine, Sodium Benzoate, crack cocaine and the rancid essence of the demon hosts of hell and whatever other shit might be in this great diet for enclosed spaces, the little darlings were literally bouncing off the walls. Screaming, running, squabbling, fiddling... Every so often, the mother would bellow at them, 'Chelsea! Shut up!' ('Chelsea' isn't me being snide, that was really one kid's name. The other was 'Britney Jade'. Probably.) She was so loud it made me wince, even over the sound of a heavy metal band doing their best with power chords and squealy bits. Needless to say, it had no effect.
Meanwhile, the toddler is eyeing me up. I'm not entirely sure what I've done to be so interesting. Probably be in her eyeline. Also, the fact that I'm not screaming at her is probably endearing me. It's doubtless partly because she's teething, but when this sputum-soaked baby suddenly throws itself towards me, lolly in outstretched palm and I have to raise one leg a couple of feet in the air to avoid getting sticky child attached to my suit trousers, that's about as much as I want to take of this family. Ugh...
If I had had to guess from whence the family hailed, I would have said, without particular bigotry, 'Basildon'. As it turns out, I was wrong and I was much upset at this because it meant they remained on the train longer. As it happened, I ended up getting off the train first, the screams of the children still in my ears and I vowed two things.
Firstly, it's a long time away yet, but my kids will never be filled full of evil crap and then allowed to run amuck in public without being checked.
And secondly, I vowed to find the sound limiter on my iSpod and switch it off. Just for emergencies, you understand.
At Barking, there's normally a exodus from the train after which you can sit down. Today, however, I got trapped by a large family group, mum, dad, two kids about seven (possibly twins), a two year-old in push chair and a baby strapped to dad's chest. Mum looked quite young to have so many children, but they all called her Mum, so they were presumably hers. She wore an Adidas tracksuit that was slightly shabby and her hair pulled back as tight as it would go, possibly restricting her ability to blink. Dad didn't quite look like he fitted in with the rest of them, in calf-length moleskin trouser things and a white cotton shirt. The two older children, both girls, were slightly scruffy, grubby of visage and had what appeared to be homemade haircuts. I'm not mocking that; I used to have the same, and mine looked about as good as these two did, though they were possible more Wurzel Gummidge that I used to be. The toddler was strapped into a buggy. She had great big eyes and a big blonde bowl cut (ah, now that's what I used to have...)
So far, so unremarkable. Oh, I should add that I had my iSpod on. I was listening to A Perfect Circle's third album the anti-war eMotive, featuring versions of classics such as Imagine and What's Going On, so you'd think I'd be fairly insulated from the rest of the train. That's not really background music. It kind of demands you pay attention, you know?
Unfortunately, from the moment these kids got onto the train, the mother was plying them with food and drink. But not anything sensible. Oh no. Full fat Coke? Check. Sunny Delight for the little one? Check. Packet upon literal packet of Skittles? Oh yes. About two each but guess what came next? A packet of Lovehearts each. The little one didn't have any of this, I should say, but she had a giant lolly stuck in her gob in between gulps of Sunny D.
Well, needless to say, high on Tartrazine, Sodium Benzoate, crack cocaine and the rancid essence of the demon hosts of hell and whatever other shit might be in this great diet for enclosed spaces, the little darlings were literally bouncing off the walls. Screaming, running, squabbling, fiddling... Every so often, the mother would bellow at them, 'Chelsea! Shut up!' ('Chelsea' isn't me being snide, that was really one kid's name. The other was 'Britney Jade'. Probably.) She was so loud it made me wince, even over the sound of a heavy metal band doing their best with power chords and squealy bits. Needless to say, it had no effect.
Meanwhile, the toddler is eyeing me up. I'm not entirely sure what I've done to be so interesting. Probably be in her eyeline. Also, the fact that I'm not screaming at her is probably endearing me. It's doubtless partly because she's teething, but when this sputum-soaked baby suddenly throws itself towards me, lolly in outstretched palm and I have to raise one leg a couple of feet in the air to avoid getting sticky child attached to my suit trousers, that's about as much as I want to take of this family. Ugh...
If I had had to guess from whence the family hailed, I would have said, without particular bigotry, 'Basildon'. As it turns out, I was wrong and I was much upset at this because it meant they remained on the train longer. As it happened, I ended up getting off the train first, the screams of the children still in my ears and I vowed two things.
Firstly, it's a long time away yet, but my kids will never be filled full of evil crap and then allowed to run amuck in public without being checked.
And secondly, I vowed to find the sound limiter on my iSpod and switch it off. Just for emergencies, you understand.
I know everyone probably says this but our kids are not going to be full up of fizzy drinks and sweets all the time. There is nothing wrong with having treats but they should be just that - a treat - and not a staple part of the diet. I'm not surprised by all the recent coverage about how chaning childrens diets makes them cleverer and better behaved - who'd have thought vitamins were better for you than e numbers?????
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