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 “Rumpus”

Welcome Giddy Goat, goodbye Summer Holiday

The more things change, the more they come back as Barbers, Charity Shops and Coffee Shops (Shskespeare).

As the Pixie fled Albert Hill Street to re-open with (thankfully) the same staff and 90% of the same stock as Linen, so it is Rumpus we shed a tear for as Louise bids farewell to staring at the front of the Post Office counting the illegally parked 4x4s. Bye bye Rumpus, hello Giddy Goat Toys. Same idea, different people and with twins on the way I have a feeling I’ll be there plenty. I liked Rumpus. With that at one end of the village and the brief but intense Razma Reads at the other we had the independent balance that Costa, Croatia and Caffe Nero’s Red Green Blue coffee colour chart has. brought to Wilmslow Road. Bear with me, by now even I have no idea where my mind has wandered to but there is reason.

This week is one that all parents anticipate and count down to with the enthusiasm of a teenage New Years’ Eve party; back to school day. Didsbury’s 107 Barbers from Chalky White on Fog Lane to Bohemian Rhapsody (made up name*) on Burton Road were full of sulky Didsburylings getting their short smart school haircuts. The cupcake emporiums were then full of mothers looking to appease their shorn offspring and MCS stores on Didsbury’s Eastern border was a picture of parental hell and soon-to-be-pupil unrest.

Anyone who sees buying school uniform as a pleasure is either stupid or role-playing. It is school shoe tiring, tie-teaching, grey sock searching misery that drains hearts and wallets with equal vigour. Didsbury Son is actually pretty easy; but by Tuesday we had still failed to track down gym shorts and our will to live was ebbing away.

I had been to John Lewis, M&S, Asda, Tesco and Decathlon chasing the elusive grail of stain-free suitable shorts. This depressing chainstore crawl had me praying to breakdown. At 4.59, leaving Didsbury Son head down in Pokemonland I stepped in to MCS School Outfitters. The queue stretched around the shop, the sunken cheeked queue ees mouthed hopeless pleas to me and the smell of sweat and fear engulfed me. It was as though Didsbury had been invaded and the refugees were making sure they had the right PE kit before they fled.

I turned around, mentally wrote a note for Didsbury Son’s teacher and counted down the hours to my first fantastically solo coffee since July.

Sometimes parenting means looking without your glasses on.


A village cries and a pixie leaves

So another Pixie leaves the magic garden as Albert Hill Street’s chic boutique for mini Freya’s and Archie’s shuts it’s doors next week.

Sad news for those of us who gulped at the price of clothing designed primarily to be thrown up on and in, grown out of in seconds and rolled around in mud until it was too dirty even for eBay.

Didsbury Son was one of Pixie’s first customers and probably one of its least frequent; but I will miss the lovely staff, the minimal decor and the challenge of steering Didsbury Wife to the Post Office without catching sight of it on the way in or out.
I will miss the cheery key in the door with the cry of how great the Sale was at Pixies , how beautiful Didsbury Son will look in whatever lurks expensively in the bag and how much we have saved.

Sales at expensive boutiques to me are like bankers turning down bonuses. It only brings them near enough to the average focus so you can clearly see the finger being extended in your direction.

So we have a Didsbury Village dilemma. The allegedly underhand doings at Coco Rio have seen the premises handed back. Pizza Hut’s blackened doors are no nearer being a John Lewis Express and there is a soon to be gap next Rumpus.

Can we squeeze another supermarket or coffee chain in (The Didsbury now proudly boasts Costa Coffee which means Whitbreads are slowly surrounding Nero), a new charity shop, an Estate Agents, a bank or is this time for the new independents to regrace the village ?

As a footnote, I will miss Pixie, although I must admit that when I spend a night out’s money on children’s clothing it needs to be drip dry, static and have the club badge over his heart.



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