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I remember when I was little, about 9 years old, my friend Emily’s mum used to send us to the local shop to buy fags for her. They were the days eh, when little old ladies called Doris ran the off licence, accepting just a note from mum to hand over cigerettes. The note said something like “Hi Maggie here, can you give the girls some Golden Virginia, thanks” Wow that was only 10 years ago, ahem okay 25 years ago, I’m not 19… I guess Doris knew Maggie was too busy as a single mum to walk the 5 minutes to the shop to buy her own baccy and the two 9 yr olds wouldn’t want the tobacco for themselves surely. We didn’t. We hoped Doris would offer us a Milkybar if we looked sweet and unfortunate. These days the shopkeeper wouldn’t probably know Maggie by her name, and the 9 year olds would probably be smoking it themselves or trying to sell the shopkeeper dodgy tobacco brought over from France.

Ahh how times have changed, what will it be like when my baby is older? Will she say things like ‘ooh I remember when I was a girl there were dustbins in the streets… but now in 2035 due to international terrisorism and major advancements in recycling, street dustbins don’t exist!’ Hmmm she probably won’t have too many friends if her topic of conversations are always so fascinating, but what will the world be like in years to come? I expect there will be more interesting things to have changed than dustbins… Though I once asked my grandad what was the best invention he’d experienced growing up from 1918, and guess what he said? Tarmac! He said your clothes used to get filthy before that was laid on the roads. He said you’d just be walking down the road, a horse drawn taxi or some chitty chitty bang bang style car would go past and your new suit would be covered in earthy dust! Very annoying. I can’t imagine being a mum then! Imagine the washing loads! No wonder looking good was such a tell tale sign of wealth in those days. The nuclear family was so important then without washing machines! The mother kept her family clean and in washed clothes ready to go out and get jobs to bring home the bacon, or the Persil… Is it because men can now use automatic washing machines that the nuclear family is beginning to disintergrate? Our washer woman hands are no longer needed?

As a parent I am constantly juggling time. I feel like the day goes so quick but at the same time so long… A friend said to me “life mothering a baby is quite monotous isn’t it?’ and I was “no…” but actually it is, I mean I do the same things repeatidly. Feed/change clothes/change nappy/ …wash clothes/clean kitchen/pick up toys/wash wash wash. Bang head against wall.. I am constantly washing sheets, towels, clothes, my god not mine I stink. It’s like my needs are constantly on the back burner. Feed me? No way I don’t have time to cook me stuff… No wonder Emily’s mum Maggie used to send us down to the shops for tobacco, firstly she probably needed to get rid of us for abit and secondly she probably really needed that ciggie to suppress her appitete. Maybe I should start smoking.