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Sunday, July 05, 2009

Amelie may not have a big brother, but there's definitely someone watching her...

Who is the fairest of them all..?
I bought that rearview mirror in Tescos last night, so that I no longer have to drive along the A27 at 60mph with my back to the road every time she does her fake cough. Now I can check that she's not dying simply by glancing upwards. On the downside, despite costing £3.91 from the Tesco baby section, it has all the quality of a two-for-one deal at the pound shop, and in addition to distorting Amelie like a funhouse mirror (or maybe she always looks like that), the thing has to be fitted so close to my head that I might as well be wearing it. I've given myself eye strain trying to focus two inches from my face. But apart from that, it's lovely. Although I'll probably still crash the car by looking at it.

Anyhoo, the three of us have had a lovely weekend in St Leonards. It's surprising how relaxing it can be lying in bed all day while your parents look after your child. Amelie's turned into the Duncan Norvelle of the baby world in the last few days, and thinks that being chased is the funniest thing ever. Admittedly, 'ever' for her is nine months, so she's probably right. Most of the weekend has been spent taking it in turns to induce hysterical laughter simply by taking a step in her direction.

I did find time to do my good deed for the day year though. My parents wanted some coffee cups to replace a set which has gradually broken over the years, so I said I'd spend the next few months searching the charity shops of Sussex for them, in case someone with polar opposite tastes had decided to part with any. Ten minutes later I headed off into St Leonards and promptly found a set of six identical cups in mint condition for 50p each. To be honest, I wasn't surprised. They're not the sort of thing most people would want to have in the house, so I thought there was every chance I'd find them. I'm just shocked they had the nerve to charge so much.

And on the subject of ridiculous valuations, I went into a second-hand shop yesterday afternoon where a man (some would call him a burglar, but I'm not that judgemental) was trying to flog a couple of ornamental eggs which he claimed were original Fabergé. Having spent a good ten minutes insisting they were definitely Russian, definitely old, and probably priceless, the shop owner eventually offered him a fiver. He accepted immediately. So I'm not the only one who paid over the odds for a bit of tat.

It's about time I started taking care of my parents though. Their health seems to be failing fast. Only last week, my Dad coughed so hard that he gave himself a belly button hernia. No, really. Every time he gets a tickle in his throat, he has to hold his navel, otherwise his internal organs will come bursting out like a scene from Alien. Admittedly it's all very entertaining, and has given us a lot to laugh about, but if he carries on like this, he's going to struggle to get up the ladder to inspect the woodworm in the loft, and won't be able to cough out the toxic fumes next time Rentokil come round.

But fortunately, help is at hand. I've been in my new job for five weeks now, so I'm fully trained to deal with pensioners rambling on about their health problems. I told him to see his GP, and then bundled him out the door.