So it's Monday and I'm allowed a bit of a moan...
Queues. Aren't the Brits supposed the dons of queuing? Pass any bus stop, post office counter, primary school classroom at 3.30 and we're all about the queuing. But something got me wondering whether this is a dying art for the future generations because some of us are not passing this time honoured skill to our offspring.
I was hanging out with the 3G this weekend and we were waiting to go into to a venue with a gaggle of other mums (mainly) and children. All lovely in the sun and friendly smiles were passed around as we waited for the start of the event. As per usual, this manic mama had turned up with plenty of time to spare and secured a loosely placed position high up in the queue (you know we weren't standing to attention like soldiers, but I knew who was in front, and who was behind, right?). So doors open, a little late but the sun was shining, no stress. And then I saw it. The mood changed in an instant. Mothers of perfectly groomed and well-read Janet and Peters suddenly became surburbia's answer to Beast Quest: the stampede of deck shoes that could be heard right up the Thames; the gentle nudging of book clutching juniors to the ticket desk which morphed into a lift and thrust that Nicola Adams would be proud of; and the momentous swell of hipster mums left me and the 3G flailing against the theatre steps.
I had considered nestling the 3G in the folds of my pashmina and sling-shotting them up to the front desk, but I managed, with a little patience and no gnashing of teeth to get tickets, and even get a seat near the front. Joy.
Anyway queuegate started again when the little lovelies are given the opportunity to line up to get some goodies. As littleS stood waiting politely I could see the confusion on her face as she seemed to get shunted backwards in the opposite direction whilst I, now seriously considering gnashing and or wailing, watched helplessly. We have raised the 3G to be courteous in public, mind their ps&qs, and be respectful of adults...but this was one of those days when I would happily have thrown that rulebook out on it's ear. For a split second I wanted her to stand her ground and push forward, just for a moment I wanted her to use the sharp tongue we have heard slash out at her sisters, but she didn't. She just looked so vulnerable clutching her new books to her chest as MOTHERS squashed and squeezed their kids in front of her. I didn't wade in, I didn't gesticulate wildly, I just gave her a thumbs up from a distance and congratulated her afterwards for waiting in line so nicely.
She got her goodies, she was happy and no blood was split. Queues - there for the good and the gracious.
...Monday moan over.
Queues. Aren't the Brits supposed the dons of queuing? Pass any bus stop, post office counter, primary school classroom at 3.30 and we're all about the queuing. But something got me wondering whether this is a dying art for the future generations because some of us are not passing this time honoured skill to our offspring.
I was hanging out with the 3G this weekend and we were waiting to go into to a venue with a gaggle of other mums (mainly) and children. All lovely in the sun and friendly smiles were passed around as we waited for the start of the event. As per usual, this manic mama had turned up with plenty of time to spare and secured a loosely placed position high up in the queue (you know we weren't standing to attention like soldiers, but I knew who was in front, and who was behind, right?). So doors open, a little late but the sun was shining, no stress. And then I saw it. The mood changed in an instant. Mothers of perfectly groomed and well-read Janet and Peters suddenly became surburbia's answer to Beast Quest: the stampede of deck shoes that could be heard right up the Thames; the gentle nudging of book clutching juniors to the ticket desk which morphed into a lift and thrust that Nicola Adams would be proud of; and the momentous swell of hipster mums left me and the 3G flailing against the theatre steps.
I had considered nestling the 3G in the folds of my pashmina and sling-shotting them up to the front desk, but I managed, with a little patience and no gnashing of teeth to get tickets, and even get a seat near the front. Joy.
Anyway queuegate started again when the little lovelies are given the opportunity to line up to get some goodies. As littleS stood waiting politely I could see the confusion on her face as she seemed to get shunted backwards in the opposite direction whilst I, now seriously considering gnashing and or wailing, watched helplessly. We have raised the 3G to be courteous in public, mind their ps&qs, and be respectful of adults...but this was one of those days when I would happily have thrown that rulebook out on it's ear. For a split second I wanted her to stand her ground and push forward, just for a moment I wanted her to use the sharp tongue we have heard slash out at her sisters, but she didn't. She just looked so vulnerable clutching her new books to her chest as MOTHERS squashed and squeezed their kids in front of her. I didn't wade in, I didn't gesticulate wildly, I just gave her a thumbs up from a distance and congratulated her afterwards for waiting in line so nicely.
She got her goodies, she was happy and no blood was split. Queues - there for the good and the gracious.
...Monday moan over.
Brits are definitely better at queuing in my opinion compared to some...there doesnt seem to be a concept of queuing when we go Pakistan...its all about shoving in! lol
ReplyDeleteWell done on her for waiting patiently!
Usually I would totally agree with you - honestly, which is why I was so surprised at the situation. All very tongue in cheek though, no bones were broken and I felt chuffed MiddleS did the right thing.
ReplyDelete