Didsburydad's Blog

From the not so mean streets of M20, blog about being a dad, Didsbury and dealing with parental confusion

Archive for the tag “Cineworld”

I’ve Never Seen Star Wars in Didsbury

I’ve Never Seen Star Wars. This was a great idea and worked well on radio until the second series when the B list celebs got wise and we were treated to a feigned angst over “I’ve never had a full body massage from a £300 per hour West End masseur followed by dinner at The Ivy and advice from a Tax Lawyer”. The reveal didn’t work.

I was thinking about this because a) there is only so much Iggle Piggle or Minecraft a dad’s brain can hold. B) oooh, a nappy. C) I’ve never watched Doctor Who (intentionally or for more than 5 minutes.) it was a global phenomenon last weekend. I met the writer at an event. He seemed lovely. Whilst all the talk was of Gallifrey ( or Gallipoli or something), all I could think of was how much I despised big scarves at school. I’ve only seen 1 Harry Potter and managed to find friends and family to take Didsbury Son to Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Dungeons and Dragons, zzzzzzzzzz

But. – what is the Didsbury equivalent? I’ve never parked on a double yellow in Didsbury Village? I’ve never had a haircut on School Lane? I never worked out what the smell is at Cineworld? Here are mine…

1. I’ve never stood outside The Nelson dancing for the traffic. It’s always my favourite set of lights to stop at. Last week Didsbury Son and I were treated to a beer inspired Soft Shoe Shuffle that was worthy of Strictly…

2. I’ve never seen anyone coming in or out of Didsbury Conservative Club. Once Fred Silvester disappeared they melted like (insert melting Doctor Who character) Nigella’s chocolate pudding and bankability.

3. I’ve never ordered something at Folk without having to repeat 5 minutes later. Give the waiters pens.

4. I’ve never worked out which tree covers the graves of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s soldiers by the river.

5. I’ve never got over the loss of Hippins, then Linen.

6. Altogether now… I’ve never been to Nido and it looks like the lights are off for good on the restaurant that cast no shadow.

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More lights than Nido and looking for a pen for a Folk waiter

I’ve Never Seen Star Wars in Didsbury

I’ve Never Seen Star Wars. This was a great idea and worked well on radio until the second series when the B list celebs got wise and we were treated to a feigned angst over “I’ve never had a full body massage from a £300 per hour West End masseur followed by dinner at The Ivy and advice from a Tax Lawyer”. The reveal didn’t work.

I was thinking about this because a) there is only so much Iggle Piggle or Minecraft a dad’s brain can hold. B) oooh, a nappy. C) I’ve never watched Doctor Who (intentionally or for more than 5 minutes.) it was a global phenomenon last weekend. I met the writer at an event. He seemed lovely. Whilst all the talk was of Gallifrey ( or Gallipoli or something), all I could think of was how much I despised big scarves at school. I’ve only seen 1 Harry Potter and managed to find friends and family to take Didsbury Son to Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Dungeons and Dragons, zzzzzzzzzz

But. – what is the Didsbury equivalent? I’ve never parked on a double yellow in Didsbury Village? I’ve never had a haircut on School Lane? I never worked out what the smell is at Cineworld? Here are mine…

1. I’ve never stood outside The Nelson dancing for the traffic. It’s always my favourite set of lights to stop at. Last week Didsbury Son and I were treated to a beer inspired Soft Shoe Shuffle that was worthy of Strictly…

2. I’ve never seen anyone coming in or out of Didsbury Conservative Club. Once Fred Silvester disappeared they melted like (insert melting Doctor Who character) Nigella’s chocolate pudding and bankability.

3. I’ve never ordered something at Folk without having to repeat 5 minutes later. Give the waiters pens.

4. I’ve never worked out which tree covers the graves of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s soldiers by the river.

5. I’ve never got over the loss of Hippins, then Linen.

6. Altogether now… I’ve never been to Nido and it looks like the lights are off for good on the restaurant that cast no shadow.

20131128-231731.jpg

20131128-231821.jpg

More lights than Nido and looking for a pen for a Folk waiter

The Rise of the West, Didsbury Park goes BoHo

The death of western civilisation has been greatly exaggerated. Didsbury is the hub for the comeback. The rise of the East and it’s industrial powerhouses (Nandos, Cineworld, huge Metrolink car park) has at times threatened to swamp the middle ground of the village and the brandless, roll your own boho chic that is West Didsbury.
But
As the other axis of evil disintegrated once Hollywood got the catering sorted, so we have a new hero. The promised cafe in Didsbury Park has come good and it’s down to the niche, nice, detail savvy of …and The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon.

Not only does this Burton Road bakery cum cafe buck the one-word name trend so beloved in West Didsbury, but they’ve marched through Didsbury Village pronouncing Quinoa correctly, bringing a smile to Sourdough and leaving Didsbury Deli, Costa, Nero, Art of Tea etc. with poached egg on their faces. They are so nice they make me feel I could wear sandals without irony.

Yesterday morning I sat on a camping chair in a cold awning with a fractious baby girl getting fed up in a travel cot. I slurped tea out of a melamine cup. On Thursday morning I lolled on a comfy rug in the sun of Didsbury Park, flat white in hand, sourdough in mouth and Didsbury Wife enjoying her Earl Grey whilst the babies played with unicorns and butterflies on the safe lawn created by And The Dish…

… And The Dish has taken over the Holt Pavillion until the end of September every Thursday to Saturday. It’s a great idea and an extra incentive for pram pushers to click heels and get their progeny to sleep and for dog walkers to throw the ball more quickly. The promise of a coffee and a treat and some extra quiet time looms lushly.
My only gripe is the 10am opening. On any given morning the park teems with life from before 8am and the earlier you are out , the more you need refreshing.

Is this a shift in power? And The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon have more words in the title than The Airy Fairy Cupcake and I foresee a Biggie v Tupac style bake-off around the Metro station.

With Fletcher Moss’s Alpine Cafe a beacon for park life cafe quality, this Didsbury Park adventure promises a race to get the pram to the park and a dwindling Nero card until October.

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This overgrown garden needs a cafe of its own

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The new cafe is used to dealing with a varied clientele and caters to diverse tastes.

Next week: Nido – why?

The Peterborough Effect

Didsbury Son and I are going to Peterborough, no football is involved. This is so far east of Cineworld and Virgin Active that even Rightmove does not consider it to be M20 with great access to the airport, MediaCityUK and the thriving metropolis. We have to be there very early so it’s a school time start that has Didsbury Son in two minds. When he asked me what Peterborough was like the only three things I could think of were flat, many roundabouts, second division (or whatever it’s called now it’s the 2nd tier of … Oh don’t get me started)

A foot ready to trek east

He weighed up the options carefully. On the one hand, three hour drive with the promise of high salt, low nutritional value food, uninterrupted iPod/3DS and the chance of an adventure. On the other hand a dawn start, a grumpy Didsbury Dad trying to locate glasses, keys and wallet whilst Didsbury Fat cat mewls for an early breakfast followed by the potential for 3 hours about big school, trying hard and generally doing what I say, not what I do, did or have ever done – all in an enclosed space.
I searched for bonding and entertaining things we could do whilst we were there. The nearest attractions I found were Holland.
So it is our boys’ day out. It may not be white water rafting or a Futuramathon but I have promised there will be no talk about babies, he can have at least one hand down his trousers whenever we are not eating (which to be honest does not leave that much time) and he can have Capital FM on. This swung the deal. He has not realised that the signal will go within half an hour and I can get back to phone-ins, endless Assange and being angry about The Archers becoming so dull even I am hoping for some Eastenders-esque carnage.
I am really looking forward to our day out. Not the pick-up, not the early start, but more the hours of endless mooching, small talk, shared gags and pointless conversations with neither structure nor end. Since the Metrolink took out our favourite route we have been a little stuck for the kind of aimless timewasting that can be as developmentally important as a David Attenborough and shouting at live sport on television.

Ante-natal scans and the football season

At some point in the next few weeks Didsbury Son will become a big brother twice over. I cannot guide him. I am the youngest in my family. He has taken the endless procession and pram talk with an openness that has been a joy to share. After an initial lip-trembling and leg-clasping reaction he is now a full member of team twins and makes plans, asks questions, gulps and cheers with the rest of us. We have practiced changing nappies on the toys and can now pick out the minutest detail on a scan picture.

It’s the pram I’m staring at, not you

Waiting for an ante-natal scan is a great leveler. All, well almost all strata of society comes through here. The really rich may have clinics with carpets and a choice of water but within the NHS it’s a sociological dream.

We had been waiting for a scan for about an hour and a half. Excited planning had descended into small talk , then sniping and eventually looking for an excuse for a row whilst redesigning the NHS.
The conversation around us ranged from the benefits of a Bugaboo over a Mountain Duet, to who’ll do the feed if it’s time for a spliff. This is where organic grocer meets Netto; where the great melting pot that is a modern city shares space, scanning gel and key stages – but looks down magnificently on the differences around them.
I notice I look at everyone in a new way. When out and about I have progressed from eying up women, through looking broodingly at their dogs, to my new hobby – checking out the pram. I know very little about cars but can talk about the wheelbase, handling and flexibility of “travel systems”. Do you know your donkey from your city jogger? I do, doh.
Travel System is the 2012 name for the Rubik’s Cube on wheels that now stands in for a pram. When Didsbury Son was a baby he had a pram and a car seat. He was safe, mobile and easy to wheel about. Nowadays, If your buggy does not have James Bond ejector seats, can swivel the baby like The Exorcist or make Fair Trade espresso whilst you perambulate your little (insert recycled Victorian name) then you will be the pariah of the support group; cast out before you have a chance to re-blow it in the school playground.The non eBay-won travel system costs an obscene amount; similar to a week with Mark Warner, a large popcorn and hot dog at Cineworld or a family trip to a Premier League – without the instant gratification or the tan / sugar-rush hangover
Last night we attended a twin induction tour which was lovely – except the midwife threw terms like catheter, snipped perineum and dilation around as though, as though, as though the men in the room were not squeamish cowards desperate to stay at the head end and receive a cordless and clean baby in a blanket.
The last time I considered the term dilation in detail was in a club toilet on a stag night, trying to work out if we could leave a friend there or should call an ambulance.

It will be downstairs at Costa once the twins arrive

I can now discuss nose-to-breast without cheap gags and I understand that gas and air is not for sharing. I have handheld, wept and beamed as the scans move from shrimp to alien to recognisable baby and, most importantly for any man – I have worked out the birthing playlist for the iPod and even decided to throw in a few tracks that Didsbury Wife likes.
This weekend the hypno-birthing partners class clashes with the first game of the season. When I took Didsbury Son to a cup final in May I joked that it would probably be the last time I would be able to do such a thing. Silly me.
In through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose…..

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