Scarey Pantomime

You will probably be glad to hear that I am now bored of politics - and comparing politicians to animals.

My English mate Nick turned up from San Francisco yesterday, with his American wife and very smiley half Brit half Yank baby. They were complaining that people in London are much less friendly about babies, and that back in San Francisco every other person stops to admire their kid. (All they have had so far in London has been two men sticking their tongues out at their daughter.)

mrs househusband has been reading a book about watching the English, and reckons this is all part of the English 'reserve' and not wanting to get involved in other people's space/life/kids etc. According to the book, English people only ever really relax and get friendly when they are drunk. So you have that little 10 minute window of companionship before they start picking fights with people - not a theory I would want to try out with a baby in tow. I think it is also about not wanting to appear creepy or wanting with kids, especially other people's kids. It all smacks a little of kidnap, and infertility, and...well other sad stuff. The blokes sticking their tongues out is just a bit odd.

In their travels around London, Nick and his family (he has his in laws in tow too) ended up at The Garrick Club the other night with none other than that colossus of the English stage and screen Donald Sinden holding court in one of the rooms at the club where you go and have your post-supper brandy and cigars. Apparently, Sinders was in cracking form, magnanimously sharing a few of his finer anecdotes with anyone who was too polite to tell him to sod off. Nick said it was one of those great surreal moments in his life watching his wife staring blankly at Sinders with absolutely no idea who he was or why he was bolloxing on about shows and films she had never heard of. (I'm guessing Two's Company never made it to the USA.) Actually, thinking about it, Nick used to live down the road from Brian Blessed, once went on holiday with Michael Elphick, and also forced me to have supper with Christopher Biggins. He's missing a trick as a booker for pantomime. (If any of you out there are not versed in really bad British 1970s and 1980s sitcoms, I'm done with the random names now.)

I hope Nick's wife - mrs nick - has recovered from her encounters with Sinders and that more people smile at her daughter during the rest of their stay over here. mrs househusbandnot spends a lot of time telling me to stop staring at people in the street and in bars and restaurants. She says I'm frightening them. So like Gordon Brown, I am trying to affect a new jolly smile, which just freaks people out even more because they think I am drunk and about to start a conversation, or a fight. London life, man. Here's me trying pantomime and all I'm getting back is jungle.

(Incidentally, is anyone else out there having problems publishing their blogs on Blogger? I have about 50 pages of this crap now, but/and it is taking ages to publish. Quite often it jams on the publishing in progress page and my laptop justs clicks at me as the publishing in progress meter stays on 0%. I am having to log in and out until it eventually does publish.)