Hot on the heels of our SCOOP interview with the Fearsome Beastie back here. I am delighted to welcome the latest biographical subject of Giles Paley-Phillips and Gabriele Antonini to the Little Wooden Horse on this- Officially Spookiest of Days; Tamara Small.
'Tamara Small and the Monsters' Ball' is a reassuring read for anyone who defies my predictions and is actually terrified of the vampires, ghosts and ghoulies that will be thronging in our streets this evening. Tamara, our heroine, receives a hairy monstrous visitor who scoops her and her gallant Ted from her bed in the dead of night. Luckily, his intention this time is not to eat her but simply to take her to the Halloween party to end all parties; the Monsters' Ball where everything that normally just goes bump in the night congregates to bump 'n grind this night away.
Tamara's dancing proves such a monster hit that she even receives a special sweet surprise to reward her before she is returned home (more of which to follow...)
Welcome Tamara and your gallant Ted and Happy Halloween! You're a brave pair: After your Monsters' Ball trip does anything scare you now and what tips can you give the rest of us on how to be brave?
Going up stairs at night time; you never know what might be just behind you! I recommend running as fast as you can...
Excellent advice. I may try it on Eddie who is always strangely slow on that final stair trip up to bed.
How are your new Monster Chums? Is it true that Werewolf is being hired for the next series of 'Strictly'? Can you give us a hint as to who his partner might be?
They are okay actually; although one of the vampires woke up too early the other day and got sunburnt. Yes, Wolfie will be on 'Strictly' and will be partnering Mandy Dingle! (shh don't tell anyone else though)
I think we all look forward to seeing Mandy and Wolfie's body popping reinvented rhumba.
Do you hang out with The Fearsome Beastie at all? How do you avoid being eaten?
We have met but with all the attention he's been getting he's a bit arrogant now. I think he's sold out big time!
I'm sorry to hear that. I'd heard rumours he'd been in talks with Mr. Gove about a new role in schools being put on Special Measures...
Any Special Measures yourself for Halloween this year? What will you and Ted be up to?
We'll mostly be consuming mountains of slime cake!
Ah yes. The infamous Slime Cake. I have to say I feel a bit uncertain about the yumminess of that. Do you really rate it?
It's awesome, although it's made from bogies, baby possets and alligator drool it really is one of the most scrummy things around! It's a Mary Berry recipe you know?
Mary Berry! ah well in that case... I can quite see the appeal for my children now I know that bogies are one of the main ingredients. They are Fine Connoisseurs of Interior Nose Contents.
Thank you Tamara and have a slice of this one before you go.
'Tamara Small and the Monsters' Ball' written by Giles Payley Phillips, illustrated by Gabriele Antonini and published by Maverick isbn 978-1-84886-100-8
With thanks to the author for providing our copy and allowing interview time with his heroine on a very busy day for her.
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Wednesday, 31 October 2012
Friday, 26 October 2012
Red House Children's Blog Tour!
If you think the Little Wooden Horse hasn't been neighing about much recently that's because we are locked in the Crown Court Waiting Room doin' Jury Service.
I have completed a 700 piece jigsaw and re-read a lot of classic K. M Peyton.
Back to blogging next week.
In the meantime- we are very excited and honoured to be taking part in THIS!!
The Red House Children's Book Award Blog Tour.
Hurray. Roll on Friday for the first stop!
I have completed a 700 piece jigsaw and re-read a lot of classic K. M Peyton.
Back to blogging next week.
In the meantime- we are very excited and honoured to be taking part in THIS!!
The Red House Children's Book Award Blog Tour.
Hurray. Roll on Friday for the first stop!
Monday, 15 October 2012
darkness
Eddie seems to be re-entering one of his periodic phases where he tries to defeat sleep. After bidding him a tender goodnight at about 7.45 yesterday, we became aware of a dramatic reading taking place of his Superhero Squad books filtering down the stairs as we watched 'Downton Abbey' at 9. By the time the ITN news was over at 10.30 and I was ready for bed myself , the dramatic reading had turned into thunderous footsteps running back and forth along the bedroom floor. Intervention was necessary.
"It's really late Eddie, lights need to be off now."
"No! I just love my Lego so much and I need to carry on playing with it."
"Eddie. It's time to go to sleep"
"I am not sleeping. Don't switch out my light and go away"
The only solution at that point was to scoop him up and lie with him until he went to sleep. He lay beside me whispering breathily;
"It's all dark!" (holding out his arms and splayed fingers) "I am full of darkness!" then (somewhat Star Wars influenced) "I have a bad feeling about this!"
Of course having previously blogged about the arbitrary nature of fears, a fear of the dark at some point in your life may be almost universal. Personally, I find even the tiniest chink of light abhorrent when I am trying to go to sleep but I know it wasn't ever so. Plus I do have company in my bed to help fight off any attackers that come under cover of night and Eddie no longer does. I feel for him; Bill loved to share his room with Eddie whilst he was plagued by such fears and then promptly abandoned him when he'd outgrown them. He was finding the late night dramatic renditions of favourite books a little distracting in his own quest for sleep.
I may need to bring out Jill Tomlinson's classic 'The owl who was afraid of the dark': A soothing hymn to the different pleasures that can only be found at night. Out of the library at the moment though we have Joyce Dunbar's 'The Monster who ate Darkness' illustrated by Jimmy Liao and it's also a goody.
Jo-Jo can't sleep because of the darkness under his bed and the thought there might be a monster there. As it turns out there IS a monster; a very small and hungry one, who starts eating all the darkness away. He sucks up all the darkness in the house, getting bigger and bigger as he does so, then from around the world and finally all the darkness in the sky.
"Now there was no more darkness.
There was no dawn and no dusk.
There were no shadows and
hardly any dreams.
There was only light.
The stark and staring light."
The problems this causes to both the natural world and to Jo Jo himself are beautifully elucidated. The now enormous and lonely monster returns to comfort Jo Jo and the darkness slowly seeps back to its proper homes.
I love Liao's monster, who manages to convey much of the scary/cozy dilemmas of the dark itself. Generally the book's balance between mystery and humour is nicely weighted in both text and illustration. It is a comforting book.
The only trouble is I think Eddie identifies more with the monster than with Jo-Jo...
'The Monster who ate Darkness' by Joyce Dunbar, illustrated by Jimmy Liao, pub. Walker
isbn 978-1-4063-0867-9
Monday, 8 October 2012
Into the Forest
Thanks first of all to Anne-Marie and Helen for confirming to me on the previous post the sheer scope and lack of rules that apply to fear. I must also share this text I received on the subject from my bf because I love it so much...
"I foolishly mentioned to M that Van Gogh, who they are doing in art at school, had cut off his ear (I know, what was I thinking?) and now she is frightened of raisin toast because that is what we were eating while we were having said discussion about the post-impressionists...Similar to Bill's Dr. Who behaviour- she sidles away, makes to exit room or in extremis will say:'please could you hide that toast, it's making me think about the ear.'"
So. Who will provide me with a book where a one eared Lady Artist pops out of a trapdoor with a piece of raisin toast in hand, chucks it blase into a swampy pond full of gaping mouthed carp before being TOLD OFF by a dalek waggling its antenna disapprovingly, which then has a happy ending?
Cos that's what we need apparently.
I'd hazard a guess Anthony Browne could give it a go. Obviously if he did the Lady Artist would actually be a gorilla.
He must be amongst the best author/illustrators for giving form to fear in all its messed up glory; although I think it's hard to say whether his books can provide comfort exactly. I admire his work intensely and my children are often drawn to it but it's not exactly a cosy experience for any of us. These are picture books that provide lightening flashes to illuminate the darkest recesses of one's head and you are entitled to ask the question whether that illumination will always be helpful. If there were monsters you were hoping to keep locked up in your own personal cupboard, a session with an Anthony Browne book may throw open the doors.
I barely know where to begin in reviewing a book like 'Into the Forest'. Layers of fairy tale lore and meaning are layered on top of each other within a contemporary framework which might or might not be about a family break up. If that sounds like a sentence which could be a candidate for Pseud's Corner I apologise but every spread in the book could generate its own mini thesis, and nothing is presented as certain. Anxieties about loss, about isolation, about parental absence are all there as well as what true bravery might mean but they are not neatly packaged into a footnoteable formula. The book resists being filed away as a 'topic friendly' resource for a particular set of circumstances.
For me, this makes the book all the more rich for opening up discussions with a child (a biggish one). On a happy day you might just enjoy spotting all the different fairy tale references hidden in Browne's shifting and ever-revealing landscapes. On an unhappy day this is exactly the book where you'll stop reading it halfway through and hear the story about how somebody called your child a 'tit' at lunchtime today and he couldn't find anyone else to play with...
Anthony Browne's books are weird; really weird at times and that's why they work. His imaginings are so particular, so precise they can offer something universal. Because we're all weirder than a simple monster under the bed.
More's the pity.
'Into The Forest' by Anthony Browne, pub. Walker isbn 1-84428-559-6
"I foolishly mentioned to M that Van Gogh, who they are doing in art at school, had cut off his ear (I know, what was I thinking?) and now she is frightened of raisin toast because that is what we were eating while we were having said discussion about the post-impressionists...Similar to Bill's Dr. Who behaviour- she sidles away, makes to exit room or in extremis will say:'please could you hide that toast, it's making me think about the ear.'"
So. Who will provide me with a book where a one eared Lady Artist pops out of a trapdoor with a piece of raisin toast in hand, chucks it blase into a swampy pond full of gaping mouthed carp before being TOLD OFF by a dalek waggling its antenna disapprovingly, which then has a happy ending?
Cos that's what we need apparently.
I'd hazard a guess Anthony Browne could give it a go. Obviously if he did the Lady Artist would actually be a gorilla.
He must be amongst the best author/illustrators for giving form to fear in all its messed up glory; although I think it's hard to say whether his books can provide comfort exactly. I admire his work intensely and my children are often drawn to it but it's not exactly a cosy experience for any of us. These are picture books that provide lightening flashes to illuminate the darkest recesses of one's head and you are entitled to ask the question whether that illumination will always be helpful. If there were monsters you were hoping to keep locked up in your own personal cupboard, a session with an Anthony Browne book may throw open the doors.
I barely know where to begin in reviewing a book like 'Into the Forest'. Layers of fairy tale lore and meaning are layered on top of each other within a contemporary framework which might or might not be about a family break up. If that sounds like a sentence which could be a candidate for Pseud's Corner I apologise but every spread in the book could generate its own mini thesis, and nothing is presented as certain. Anxieties about loss, about isolation, about parental absence are all there as well as what true bravery might mean but they are not neatly packaged into a footnoteable formula. The book resists being filed away as a 'topic friendly' resource for a particular set of circumstances.
For me, this makes the book all the more rich for opening up discussions with a child (a biggish one). On a happy day you might just enjoy spotting all the different fairy tale references hidden in Browne's shifting and ever-revealing landscapes. On an unhappy day this is exactly the book where you'll stop reading it halfway through and hear the story about how somebody called your child a 'tit' at lunchtime today and he couldn't find anyone else to play with...
Anthony Browne's books are weird; really weird at times and that's why they work. His imaginings are so particular, so precise they can offer something universal. Because we're all weirder than a simple monster under the bed.
More's the pity.
'Into The Forest' by Anthony Browne, pub. Walker isbn 1-84428-559-6
Thursday, 4 October 2012
What's scary?
Here is a list of the things that have frightened my children over the years.
Things which have frightened Bill:
age 1. Balloons and the threat of them bursting unexpectedly. Parties became problematic briefly.
age 2. The part of The Wiggles Big Red Car DVD where Captain Feathersword gets a black face from bending over the exhaust pipe and it backfiring unexpectedly.
age 3 onwards The part of The (seminal sequel obviously) Jungle Book 2 where Mowgli is told off by his adoptive father for venturing into the jungle without permission.
The very minor character the 'lady artist' from Mairi Hedderwick's Katie Morag stories, following her unregulated appearance in a fevered nightmare which is still much talked of.
The forgetting of soldier doll 'Clever Bill' from the suitcase and his weeping on the steps of Emily's house in William Nicholson's lovely book of the same name (which I would review here if not for it's very OOP-ness)
The Bad Baby forgetting to say please in Raymond Briggs' 'The Elephant and the Bad Baby'.
The lack of a necessary 3p in Shirley Hughes' 'Dogger'.
The bit in Toy Story 3 where Buzz is reset to factory settings.
now. All of the above, apart from the balloons and the Wiggles, and in addition Doctor Who which he would like to watch but seems to always end up moving into the kitchen halfway through; 'Are you okay Bill?' 'I just need to do something for a bit in here Mum...Has it finished yet? Are they alright? What's happening?'
Fundamentally he hates transgressions, good people doing something bad and anybody being told off. This makes him quite an easy child to be the parent of but not exactly an alpha male risk taker. I don't think he will ever be a successful candidate on 'The Apprentice'. Luckily his aspirations run more to dominance in 'The Great British Bake Off' anyway.
It does mean that there are some picture books that simply cannot be read in his hearing. He finds them too upsetting. Hence the fact that the other night I was able to read him the final battle against Smaug the dragon from 'The Hobbit' but he exited the room when Eddie chose 'Dogger'. Have to say I'm with Bill, I know which writer puts me more effectively through the emotional wringer.
Things which have frightened Eddie:
age 2. The opening credit sequence of doors opening and shutting from 'Monsters Inc.'
age 4. The lion sticker on his cupboard door which had been there for two years and I never knew he was frightened of until the time Bill moved out of his bedroom and then he stopped being able to go to sleep in case it attacked him now his brother was no longer available for it to eat first....
now. sleep. Not exactly scared of it but he sets out to defeat it every night in a bare knuckle tussle til dawn.
now. sleep. Not exactly scared of it but he sets out to defeat it every night in a bare knuckle tussle til dawn.
That's about it. He's made of pretty stout stuff.
The point of this is that being scared is a strange thing. The things one finds genuinely terrifying are often so specific as to be uncategorisable. I think I can safely say Bill is the Only Person in the World scared of that lady artist picture. I can remember the terror of lying awake in the early morning listening out for the menacing rumble and clank of the milk float arriving. I am also not a big fan of ponds full of ornamental Koi carp (mouthing mouths at the surface- shudder). Given that most of us are scared of something it has always provided hugely fertile territory for children's authors and illustrators but, precisely because of the uniqueness of fear, success is not always guaranteed. I can remember helping out in Bill's class in Reception and the teacher asked the class what they were scared of. Lots of answers were proffered cheerfully; 'Vampires!', 'Monsters!', 'Spiders!' 'Witches!' but I'd hazard a guess that no-one actually revealed what they were really scared of, only what they'd been taught they should be. Bill certainly didn't say a Scottish island immigrant who gets given the wrong paint brushes and I didn't say something terrible happening to my children (which is really all that frightens any parent I guess).
So, books that can confront and provide generic comfort to the specific, that can be properly extrapolated from is what we are after. Over the next few posts I'll try to find some that might do just that (just in time for the distinctly non-frightening Halloween). What are your suggestions? What's scary to you?
The point of this is that being scared is a strange thing. The things one finds genuinely terrifying are often so specific as to be uncategorisable. I think I can safely say Bill is the Only Person in the World scared of that lady artist picture. I can remember the terror of lying awake in the early morning listening out for the menacing rumble and clank of the milk float arriving. I am also not a big fan of ponds full of ornamental Koi carp (mouthing mouths at the surface- shudder). Given that most of us are scared of something it has always provided hugely fertile territory for children's authors and illustrators but, precisely because of the uniqueness of fear, success is not always guaranteed. I can remember helping out in Bill's class in Reception and the teacher asked the class what they were scared of. Lots of answers were proffered cheerfully; 'Vampires!', 'Monsters!', 'Spiders!' 'Witches!' but I'd hazard a guess that no-one actually revealed what they were really scared of, only what they'd been taught they should be. Bill certainly didn't say a Scottish island immigrant who gets given the wrong paint brushes and I didn't say something terrible happening to my children (which is really all that frightens any parent I guess).
So, books that can confront and provide generic comfort to the specific, that can be properly extrapolated from is what we are after. Over the next few posts I'll try to find some that might do just that (just in time for the distinctly non-frightening Halloween). What are your suggestions? What's scary to you?
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| chiller |
| heart-stopper |
| Noooooooooo! |
Tuesday, 25 September 2012
Cookbook diversion
There are ways in which I think I've succeeded as a mother to date; specifically really that my children are still alive and about the size they're supposed to be. That's considerably better than I've managed with any house plant over the years.
There are a few other ways in which my 7 year maternity report might read 'could do better'. One of these is in the feeding of my children. As well as North London being packed with 4 year olds apparently reading Tolkien it is also packed with toddlers apparently enthusiastically choosing between the 'moules' and the rabbit in restaurants. Not my children.
Mine aren't as bad as some. The things-they-will-eat list definitely runs into double figures. It's a shame that the Venn diagram intersection between their two lists of things-they-will-eat is so small but there you go. It gets even more complicated when they have friends round to play who also have lists. I sometimes think I should just open a canteen with hot plates as I prepare 4 different vegetable and protein options for four different people.
The thing that makes feeding your children fraught these days is this new fangled notion of a healthy and varied diet full of fruit and veg. It really complicates the business. Time was there only were about four things to eat anyway and eat them you did on a rotation. Everywhere was also freezing all the time so you could eat huge quantities of delicious fat and get away with it because you had to break the ice in the basin each morning just to brush your teeth.
I have some insight into the diet of my dad as a child in the 20s and 30s as my granny kept a little notebook where she wrote down all of the weights of her children (until they were 16! the shame!) and also notes on their baby diet. All of her babies were given dripping on a spoon as a first weaning food, and then progressed on to beef soup and bread. As far as I can tell there was no hint of a vegetable for months. Aged about 5 my father had a nasty bout of pneumonia which I guess he was lucky to survive in those pre-antibiotic days. The prescription to build him up thereafter was a pint of cream daily. Those were the days my friends, those were the days.
My 70s childhood was during the heady days of the beginnings of convenience food. I remember my mother's huge excitement when she learned a new Bejams (forerunner of Iceland) was opening round the corner and she would be able to stock the chest freezer with Findus crispy pancakes anytime she wanted. It was a strangely schizophrenic diet in that era I think- lots of old school 'proper' roasts, pies, liver casserole and hot puddings mixed with fancy new stuff like Heinz toast toppers, butterscotch Angel Delight and primula cheese spread in a tube. Pasta was spaghetti and rice an exotic treat from the Chinese take away (although occasionally we had 'riced' potatoes...)
And so to the cookbooks. One of my favourite novelty salvages from my childhood is 'The Busy Mother's Cookbook' by Patsy Kumm. Published in 1972, with chapter titles like 'Jiffy ways with food', 'Emergency action' and 'Meals from Mince', it's blissfully of its time. When I saw that the Book People were offering rather a nice discount on some new upstart cookbook called 'The Busy Mum's Cookbook' by Mary Gwynn I couldn't resist investing for comparison. Plus frankly I needed the help.
Here are the two together:
Both have their list of storecupboard essentials. Times have changed. Where Patsy places her faith in packet soup, crisps and evaporated milk, Mary goes for chorizo and butternut squash. But both are packed with similar quantities of sage advice:
Patsy: 'Over the years, I've hunted for a book like this, and not found it. I've discovered cookery books on preparing quick meals that seem to assume..that you want to live on eggs or salads...I've read books on feeding children...that are packed with ways of making rice pudding rainbow coloured or concocting Hansel and Gretel out of sponge cakes. Which wasn't what I needed to know at all.'
Mary: 'All mums work by definition- and that's before you even begin to consider taking on paid employment...what many of us lack is time and increasingly skill and confidence in the kitchen. But we share a common goal; the desire to feed our families food that is good for them and, even more important, that they will eat.'
Cookbooks have also changed, full colour spread photos are now essential where once we only got instructions. Mary Gwynn's version definitely wins the coffee table vote.
And one has to say, reading some of Patsy's 'jiffy' recipes it's probably just as well that there aren't photos...
I really like the Mary Gwynn cookbook and I can see that it will be useful to me as she cooks in a similar way to me; her recipes are both 'do-able';often one pan and a few ingredients, and tasty. The only problem will be to get my children to actually eat them. They were weaned on butternut squash (not dripping) but they'll fall to the floor and roll around as if poisoned if offered it now and they look with great suspicion on anything that has all its ingredients mixed together: What have I hidden in there? This stage will pass I know. In the meantime I think both Bill and Eddie would love to move back to the seventies and be fed this:
(minus the green pepper and with the mushrooms fished out for Bill but with broccoli on the side, no broccoli for Eddie but he'll eat Bill's mushrooms.)
but tonight perhaps we can see if they'll eat this 2012 version-
(with green beans instead of beansprouts, pepper on the side for Eddie only and NOBODY TELL Bill about the peanut butter...)sigh.
Must do better.
'The Busy Mum's Cookbook' by Mary Gwynn, pub. Simon and Schuster, isbn 978-0--85720-353-3 a current bargain on thebookpeople.co.uk.
Recommended for those with expandable 'lists'.
Saturday, 22 September 2012
smallish rant
Just smallish mind. I don't like ranting.
but honestly.
I am used to the Pushy Parents of North London pushing inappropriate amounts of text on their children inappropriately young. I am plenty guilty of this myself, although I am trying to put myself through a 12 step recovery programme.
I am used to skulking in bookshops/libraries and hear parents tell their 4/5/6 year olds that they are not allowed to choose any more picture books 'because we have plenty of those, they're for very little children and you're reading chapter books now aren't you?'
But this week I was soaking up the thoroughly sophisticated and rarified atmosphere of Daunt books in chichi Marylebone High street when I eavesdropped on the following conversation between a mother and her pre-verbal, nappy wearing approximately 15 month old. They were both on the floor rifling through the board book section together.
"Now darling, we need some more lovely storybooks for you don't we? Which ones do you like? Let's have a look"
Child happily starts pulling out books and bringing them to his mother.
"Oh no! not those ones, those ones are for babies not big boys like you. Not those ones with touchy feely pages. We don't want books to play with- we want books to read! What about this one?"
(she pulled out the lovely 'Welcome to the Zoo' by Alison Jay and flicked through it)
"Oh no. It's got no words in it. That's no good is it? Although I suppose you do like pointing things out. But no. What else is there?"
Child again pulls out another book and brings it to her.
"No. I told you. Those are baby books. We don't want baby books any more. Choose something else."
He brings her another one.
"No. We are not getting any more baby books. We want proper stories don't we? Proper stories with lots of words. That one only has a few words see?"
and so it continued.
aaaaaargh (that's the rant part).
Not that I am anti reading stories of complexity to your very small toddler- but accept that you're doing it as much for you as for them! What upset me was the way he was showing her so very clearly what he was excited by and wanted to engage with and it was falling on deaf ears as she pursued her own agenda about 'advancing' him. Not to start on the huge list of incredibly profound books that have few or no words in them; this one for example.
I shouldn't judge, I'm sure I could have been observed making similar mistakes in the past. I'll stand up and say "My name is Polly Faber and I don't always listen to my children."
Still. It's reassuring to know that Central/West London mothers may be even pushier than the North London tribe.
but honestly.
I am used to the Pushy Parents of North London pushing inappropriate amounts of text on their children inappropriately young. I am plenty guilty of this myself, although I am trying to put myself through a 12 step recovery programme.
I am used to skulking in bookshops/libraries and hear parents tell their 4/5/6 year olds that they are not allowed to choose any more picture books 'because we have plenty of those, they're for very little children and you're reading chapter books now aren't you?'
But this week I was soaking up the thoroughly sophisticated and rarified atmosphere of Daunt books in chichi Marylebone High street when I eavesdropped on the following conversation between a mother and her pre-verbal, nappy wearing approximately 15 month old. They were both on the floor rifling through the board book section together.
"Now darling, we need some more lovely storybooks for you don't we? Which ones do you like? Let's have a look"
Child happily starts pulling out books and bringing them to his mother.
"Oh no! not those ones, those ones are for babies not big boys like you. Not those ones with touchy feely pages. We don't want books to play with- we want books to read! What about this one?"
(she pulled out the lovely 'Welcome to the Zoo' by Alison Jay and flicked through it)
"Oh no. It's got no words in it. That's no good is it? Although I suppose you do like pointing things out. But no. What else is there?"
Child again pulls out another book and brings it to her.
"No. I told you. Those are baby books. We don't want baby books any more. Choose something else."
He brings her another one.
"No. We are not getting any more baby books. We want proper stories don't we? Proper stories with lots of words. That one only has a few words see?"
and so it continued.
aaaaaargh (that's the rant part).
Not that I am anti reading stories of complexity to your very small toddler- but accept that you're doing it as much for you as for them! What upset me was the way he was showing her so very clearly what he was excited by and wanted to engage with and it was falling on deaf ears as she pursued her own agenda about 'advancing' him. Not to start on the huge list of incredibly profound books that have few or no words in them; this one for example.
I shouldn't judge, I'm sure I could have been observed making similar mistakes in the past. I'll stand up and say "My name is Polly Faber and I don't always listen to my children."
Still. It's reassuring to know that Central/West London mothers may be even pushier than the North London tribe.
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