Dance of the Fairy Hob Mother

Last week was one of those weeks. On Wednesday evening I walked into a plate glass window when trying to enter an Express Supermarket, a Tweeting and walking #fail.

This was the final humiliation in the long term discord with this particular branch that has mostly involved various self service check out woes, a £10 note into the coupons slot, £1 coin dropped into the scanner (it took a screwdriver to retrieve it). The cheese that scanned as photographic paper (twice the price), a parenting fail in front of queue of impatient shoppers while I ‘removed item’ only to turn for a second and have my 3 year old repeatedly scan a packet of hairbos. It is supposed to be an Express branch – a convenience store!
On Wednesday I picked my son up from nursery and for the second day running he said “I didn’t play with anyone, I played on my own” in a sad voice and I wanted to gnaw my own arm off.
To finish the week nicely, I put the car in for a service and had one of those “Oh” ‘voice goes up an octave’ moments when the bill varied considerably from what I’d hoped.

I don’t know much about Ballet, but there always seems to be a scene which involves the ballerina walking slowly in a pointy feet way across the stage arms in a lovely oval shape towards for the floor, head down, depicting her sadness, (violins) that was me at the end of last week (possibly a little over dramatic, obviously). In the previous weeks I have been pirouetting around the bloggershere and by chance and danced a little dance in a comment box which led me to the attention of my Prince Charming, my Rudolph Nureyev, because at the end of last week Entree stage left in well fitting tights (nice calves) Ian, in a commanding manner and with beautiful posture and long strides offers me a little something in return to for a mention of his lovely Appliances Online on my blog (kettle drums and symbols). What is a ballerina to do? Many twirly pirouettes, arms pointed sky wards a grand plie and grand jete (jumpy stuff) at which point I (probably) land in the Orchestra pit, leaving Ian to take in the rapturous applause and collect roses flung by a thrilled audience, whilst giving the front few rows a good view of his dual fuel range and nice tights.
Fling a rose Ian’s way by leaving a comment below and you never know, he may be dancing the cha-cha-cha with you in his next incarnation.


  1. Kate aka WitWitWoo

    I heart the Fairy Hob Mother … however, now I can’t get the picture of Ian in tights out of my head. I was already feeling a little billious. (kidding Ian 🙂

    So … what did you get then? A tutu? Some 20 deniers? An offer for a rumba with the Hobmother himself?

  2. Donna@MummyCentral

    Love the ballet metaphors. Sorry to hear you were dancing a sad dance last week.
    Had plenty of those myself (bad weeks – not sad dances!) And panics at the supermarket are nothing new.
    But as for your son’s comments about nursery, are you sure he’s telling you the real situation? My boy used to say he didn’t do anything or play with anybody – and the teachers told me he was quite the social butterfly. Sometimes they just can’t be bothered telling you about their day. Your little boy might not be the solitary soldier you imagine.
    Or maybe he’s shy, and there’s plenty of kids willing to play with him.
    If you’re worried, talk to the staff and find out what’s happening.
    Hope that helps x

  3. Abby

    I was going to say something along of the same lines as Donna. I hope it’s the case for your son – that comment broke my heart!

    And I love the ballet metaphors, my favorite blog of this kind so far 🙂

  4. Katie aka mummydaddyme

    I hope your son is ok, that makes me feel sad so I can’t imagine how it must feel for you. Like Donna said it might not be as bad as you think. That Ian is a helpful fellow, he pointed me in the direction of a blender for when I wean my daughter, although I haven’t bought one yet as our car has just failed it’s mot!
    You didn’t say what the fairy had bought you? Xx

  5. motherporridge

    If it makes you feel any better my son is always telling me he played with ‘no one’ and his nursery teachers tell me it’s completely untrue. Hope you are soon pirouetting again x

  6. Khlari

    Well, I could do with a visit from the Fraiy Hob-Mother…or even a Hairy Godmother. Between losing my job last week and everything in the house simultaneously going bang, I could do with cheering up. A man in tights might be just the thing!!! Ian, if you fancy a trip to the seaside…..

  7. jfb57

    I don’t know about flinging roses towards a tightly clad body of an unknown man but it sounds like fun as long as I can stay on my feet. Actually, thinking about it – might as well go the whole hog – ‘Oh Ian… I’m here!!’

    As for you dear lady – it is another week so here’s hoping! 😉

  8. Steph

    Ian…. I’m intrigued. If the lovely Gemma says you’re a hero, then you plainly are, tights and package and all. No word of a lie, we are considering a new washing machine (best of the best, ideally) so will await with bated breath your next manly leap. Please. 🙂
    And Gemma, this week’s a winner.

  9. jaynecrammond

    I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you’re saying it wrong. According to my daughter it’s actually balleNArina, and she corrects us if we say it ‘wrong’!

    It makes my stomach actually hurt to think of your little boy playing by himself, I hate to think of him being lonely and I’m certain the situation will improve. Have you thought of maybe inviting one of his classmates over for a playdate, in the hope that they might gel away from class?

    I really hope this week is much better for you x

  10. MummyMummyMum

    Does Ian hand deliver in tights??? I could do with some kind of super industrial carpet cleaner after potty training failings.

    Sorry about the rubbish week. Its horrid when they are not happy in nursery. Theres nothing worse than a little sorrowful voice :-(. If its any consolation I am always walking into stuff, and just tripped over my trousers and fell to the floor.

    Also had to sign a pre accident form in nursery today due to daughters huge lump on her head from falling down the stairs at home.


  11. dichotomyof

    I don’t know – it seems like you know LOADS about ballet! Thank you so much for sharing the self service woes and if it makes you feel any better, today, on my way into the school office to complain about something so trying my best to look like a grown up, I pulled the door sharply open, onto my face. Not the best start…
    Wrung my heart about Noo’s sad voice – maybe he was remembering one moment in a full day? Please keep twirling!

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