Internet Shopping: They're Open All Hours - Every little 'elps, Granville!

Apparently the true cost of your supermarket home delivery is often nearer the £15 to £20 mark, according to an article in yesterday's (where else?!) Daily Mail.  (Delivery Fee For Online Groceries May Hit £15). 

Internet shoppers are being 'subsidised' by everyone else. 

Having palpitations at the £6.99 delivery fee from some supermarkets for peak time deliveries, I am currently using Ocado and have signed up to a savings pass offer - 6 months' free delivery and £6.99 per month thereafter.

Open All Hours - The Joys of Shopping on t'Internet

I must confess to a slight frisson of "Primrose Hill and Chelsea-ness" whenever I complete my order online at Ocado and feel like I should be wearing high heels and have a pair of large designer sunglasses perched on my head whilst clicking. (Incidentally, why do some women insist on wearing sunglasses on their head all the time - indoors?).

But shall we have a tiny reality check here?  

Have you noticed what many of the online supermarkets do? Ocado in particular has come up with the genius of an idea of suggestion page after page of items at checkout you might have forgotten, have ordered before, or might fancy if you're premenstrual. I have just been offered a lovely bunch of sunflowers (£8) and a fruity Chardonnay (£7).  A couple of clicks and, bang, £15 could have just been added. I suspect that many people end up spending at least 10% to 15% of their shopping budget each time. Unless you're a demon with the trolley, I'm sure you don't bomb round Morrisons doing your own version of Supermarket Sweep and chucking in anything that takes your fancy.  

There are a raft of packaged online deals and on the Sainsburys site, a recipe page where you can click through the recipe text to put the ingredients straight in your trolley. Actually I have a particular fondness for Sainsburys current championing of family values with the emphasis on dads.

Oh, and then there's all that lovely DATA. One of the main strengths of the loyalty card, e.g. Tesco Clubcard, is that it tells Tesco precisely what you spend, when, how much and on what. This data allows them to forecast sales, peaks and troughs in sales and to see what's selling with what. They know which stores are the most profitable - hence the development of Metros, Expresses and Superstores to fulfil the needs of the local population.

And guess what - online shopping does exactly the same at a much lower cost.

Yes, there are the costs to the business of employing drivers and running vans.  There are the costs of employing staff to pick and pack but these are not management level salaries and, given the vast profits, supermarkets make, I find it hard to believe that these costs are not easily absorbed elsewhere.

There's no doubt that the out of town superstore seems to be killing high street business. Equally, it's pretty obvious that small scale producers are being squeezed out of the market by the huge buying power of the supermarkets - no matter how many 'green' themed commercials they come out with or how many quality marks / standards or stickers they use.

But I don't think we'll be seeing the death of the physical shop for a long time. For a start much work needs to be done on UK broadband provision. There is an assumption that most homes have internet access but this is probably false. Further, there are sections of the population who are resisting the internet with full force. How many Silver Surfers are there really?

An even greater issue is the distrust many have about spending money via the internet, their banking security and identity theft.

If supermarkets try to raise the cost of home delivery I think many will just get back in their cars and go to an actual store. To use the Ocado savings pass, for example, there is a minimum spend of £40. One box of Pampers nappies and you're nearly half way there but for many this amount is, I'd suggest, too high.

Christmas is approaching; many businesses make a substantial part of their annual profit at this time of year and, frankly, the supermarkets need to keep us sweet. We won't be bought off by Clubcard vouchers or discounts if the basics of price and product are wrong.  We do want to feel valued and needed which is something that John Lewis understands very well. Look at its current ad focusing on values - with not a product mentioned.  

It's going to be an interesting festive period for the supermarkets.

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Customer Service: A Little Bit of Coffee Shop Love Will Keep Me Loyal

Monday morning. A small oasis of calm once the kids are in school. Hubby and I sneak off to our local deli for a coffee and to do what all adult couples must surely do these days, compare the apps on our phones. We also play a game entitled "will any of the staff smile at us today"?

Our local deli is in quite an attractive spot and decorated in that 'faux French bistro' style that has been rampantly popular for quite a while - all ornamental chickens, railway clocks and bunting. It does a good trade (I imagine) in lunches with olives, cheeses, a range of organic quiches and good coffee to go. It stocks some of the more niche food brands. It's clean (including the toilet!).

But the mood is always sombre to glacial. Coffee is deposited on tables with not so much as a "and how are you today?" or a "can I get you anything else"? We have been there enough to be recognised. We do not linger over one cup. Bacon pannini and tea cakes are purchased. When we walk out of the door, we always say thank you. Words which usually die in the air. It baffles me that any business which is running and surviving in this tough economic climate, doesn't do everything it can to capture its regulars and ensure they don't wander off.

I recently swapped hairdressers after about 15 years (set in my ways - moi?) because despite colouring my hair for most of those years, they refused to colour any more unless I presented myself for a skin test 24 hours BEFORE my usual colouring marathon. Same procedures, same stylist, same hair dye.

This particular salon was run by a lady who would swan in and air kiss her staff whilst ignoring her bread and butter regulars completely. After 15 years, I'm sure she must have recognised me unless she was too myopic to be cutting hair any longer.

We have another eaterie in the village and hubby and I will have to at least check it out. Our deli has managed to commit the cardinal faux pas of upsetting lots of the local mums due to a protest about taking prams into the shop. I know there are many who will have some sympathy with this as they do tend to form an unwieldy blockade, but mums with time for a coffee and a snack after dropping off the kids must surely contribute something to the coffers.

If you run a business in a small community, I think you have to make every effort to be part of the community - local sponsorships, contributing prizes to local events, even a loyalty scheme for regulars. Because it doesn't matter how good your product or service is, if it's not delivered with a smile, you can wave your regulars goodbye - to quote from Casablanca "maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life".

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Friday Night in Cardiff - Helloooo? Anyone there?

I infrequently dine out with a good friend of mine, A, when Hubby has presented himself as babysitter with his collection of 'blokey' skills. (These include remaining annoyingly calm at all times and ensuring the kids have much more fun than they would with me). Our trips out usually take us to one of Cardiff's restaurants, either in the city centre or 'down the Bay'.  

Image Credit: Cardiff Bay

Last night we visited our local La Tasca, (a well known chain of tapas bars in case you've been living on Mars), for some vino and a much needed carbohydrate and counselling intake. 

We chose La Tasca because it offers a consistently reliable quality of food and is very reasonably priced. The chain have recently launched a loyalty card scheme offering 20% off food on any day of the week. 

Numerous dishes from the new menu were consumed, very passable house wine drunk and a particularly gooey chocolate fondant shared and enjoyed. The service was excellent, the state of the toilets (my barometer as you know), less so, however, the evening was very pleasant.  

What was shocking, though, was how empty the city centre was.  Friday night in Cardiff used to be an event. At 5 pm office workers would pour out of the surrounding businesses and it would be knee deep at the bar by about 5:15 pm. 

Notorious clubs like Kiwis and The Rioja Bar had queues.  Le Brasserie, Champers and Le Monde were solidly booked. Even the hotel bars of the Marriott and Hilton would be thronging with those in search of Chardonnay. 'Chippy Alley' was equally busy.

Last night around 11 pm, St Mary Street looked like a deserted town in the Wild West with, depressingly, two ambulances parked up waiting for the inevitable casualties of booze. 

Leaving aside this sad waste of vital NHS resources, where on earth has everyone gone? Have increased train, bus and taxi fares put paid to weekend revellers?  Does everyone save themselves for Saturday night?

It is pretty obvious that, for all the bluff and bluster, for all the warm feelings generated by the Jubilee, the Olympics and the Paralympics, the recession is still cutting deep. Now must be a particularly risky time to launch a business, particularly one in the restaurant trade. 

Practically everyone offers discount vouchers, loyalty cards or offers via Wowcher or Groupon. I'm not sure anyone knows the true price of anything, let alone the cost. 

It is mid month and I am sure many people wait till payday before they go out. But I think for lots of businesses in this sector this festive season will be absolutely critical to their survival.

The traditional touting for office party business began in August but I'm sure lots of the smaller businesses will be offering a drink and a mince pie in reception rather than an all expenses paid shindig. A shame - because in many businesses the office party is one of the few tangible office perks staff get - even if they have to sit through the dreaded and unhilarious 'staff award' ceremonies.

Usually when you look at a company's marketing output, as soon as revenue dips, marketing spend is cut - and often in completely the wrong places. Advertising spend is slashed, PR contracts cut, promotional discounts removed when these things should be protected, reviewed and improved as necessary. Such cuts are often completely the wrong this to do. 

The other tendency of lots of businesses is to hunker down and look after the existing client base because of the cost of generating new business. You're damned if you spend and damned if you don't. But any entrepreneur worth their salt will be looking for that time critical gap in the market and galloping in to take advantage of it so you have to react to any dip in revenue as soon as possible.

I would recommend that businesses of all sizes but especially the Small to Medium Enterprises which comprise the bulk of Welsh business develop a Social Media strategy to take advantage of the sales and marketing potential of Twitter and Facebook to bolster their existing marketing communications.  It's cheap and, if used correctly, very effective. 

As far as our economy goes, it seems we are not out of the recessional woods yet.

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Both Kids In School - I'm Free So Now What?

So, Caitlin is in reception and Ieuan is in nursery and I am now free for a couple of hours each morning. 

You'd think that the prospect of all this free time would have me skipping like a lamb (or an owl). Actually, I find myself immobilised by so much freedom.  

I meant to do some housework (honest). There are a tonne of chores (still don't know the difference between a Metric tonne and an Imperial one) to be done, not to mention DIY. I am rubbish at DIY. In school we had both metalwork and woodwork lessons and I proudly presented my parents with a piece of metal with a dent in and a piece of wood with a dent in.

I'm afraid I was lost when I turned on the TV to find Jeremy Kyle shouting. Having been less than calm, shall we say, on my first morning getting the kids off to school on my own (hubby having left early for the Big Smoke), it was vaguely reassuring to find someone who gets paid to shout. A lot. Plus it's comforting to spend time with people who clearly have bigger dental problems than I do.

And then, it was Holly and Philip running the gamut of news stories in no more than 3 or 4 minute segments in case anyone's attention span was less than this and they were in danger of filing a PPI Claim or claiming 'compo' for an accident involving a Chihuahua and the wrong ladder. People seem to be very fond of using completely the wrong ladder for a whole variety of obviously dangerous activities. My dad. For one. Dad will try to cut a hedge on a ladder designed for retrieving a pot of organic strawberry jam from a shelf even Sandi Toksvig could reach. But I digress. As usual.

I will have to find something meaningful to do with my time. Charity or cooking or reading the works of Shakespeare (again). I studied English Literature at Swansea University (very fond memories) and remember asking which Shakespeare plays we were required to cover for the course.  "All of them" was the reply! You'd have to be in extreme dire straits to voluntarily re-read Titus Andronicus as far as I'm concerned. 

No, this won't do.  But what will?

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Farty Owls Are On The Wing

I hate brooches.  Can't see the point (although I've frequently sat on them). They are heavy, cumbersome and leave holes in clothing. 

Even worse, I hate brooches in the shape of an animal. Over the age of 12 anything resembling a badge should be worn by a soft toy at the back of a cupboard. 

So the new trend for 'all things Owl' has hardly got me all a flutter.

I like owls. Cute, fluffy things (as babies anyway) with those mesmerizing eyes that follow you. Very useful for delivering mail to Hogwarts (not sure it would work as a Royal Mail strategy but, hey, it couldn't hurt). In my Junior school we used to dissect owl pellets to find the bones of mice and voles. "Nature Red in Tooth and Claw". That kind of thing.

But grown women investing in owl items this season? I like to think that the choice of animal displayed says something about the wearer. For this reason I obviously avoid elephants, hippos and rhinos. I equally avoid cutesy kittens, puppies, chickens and ducks. The latter two I'd rather eat than wear in any case. If you wear 'anything owl' what is it saying about you? Trust me, if it's an applique owl on any form of knitwear it is not saying you're wise.

It must have been a particularly strenuous day in the agencies responsible for promoting this trend. Perhaps the cupcake vending machine had broken down and stifled creativity or the froth to coffee ratio from the cappuccino maker was just wrong.

Whenever I think of owls, I always think of the opening shot of Fawlty Towers where someone had rearranged the letters of the hotel's name on the sign-board.  I think Farty Owls has to be my favourite. But you wouldn't want them on a tea towel, now, would you?

And if you really want to involve yourself with owls, why not make a donation to the RSPB?  That's what I call a wise investment.

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Can't Stand Her On Sight? That's Not Very Sisterly.

Today in the Daily Mail, that august tome which, in its "Femail" section peels bare the issues we as women are clearly all discussing on a daily basis (ahem), carries an article by journalist Claudia Connell entitled "Why are there some women you just LOATHE on sight".

Ms Connell then lists her current female bete noires as including Katherine Jenkins and Victoria Pendelton whilst the online comments (always the most entertaining, informed and grammatically correct part of the article) feature the name of Cheryl Cole with monotonous regularity.  Ms Cole, whilst missing a bucket to carry a tune in seems to be causing a national outbreak of bruxism as fast as she is flogging hair dye.

Which gets me thinking - isn't this just female cattery of the kind that shouldn't have made it into print? Is this anti feminist cant which is encouraging women to judge, not on talent or success in their field but whether their despised celebrity is prettier, sexier and able to wear a Size zero without looking like a mobile kebab? 

My Grandfather, sadly now deceased, used to take instant dislikes to both men and women for the most spurious of reasons - for no other apparent reason, primarily, than he enjoyed it. "Look at him", he'd say in a broad Plymouthian accent - "he's a right goon". As far as I could gather, a goon was someone who was too full of their own importance,  wore shiny shoes and look like they were enjoying themselves.  In those days all Tories were automatically 'goons' to him, whilst the labour supporters reeling scrumpy-soaked from the local social club in the small hours were salt of the earth.

Much as it galls me, though, I have to admit Ms Connell (the Mail refers to her as Coleman in a later picture caption so I'm not sure this is actually her name), has a point.  La Jenkins has never seemed entirely genuine to me where Charlotte Church (leaving aside her relationship with a teak stained sideboard) seemed much more so.  I break out in hives if I so much as hear the theme tune to Loose Women whilst hubby is allergic to Katie Price, Jodie Marsh and Kerry Katona.  My hackles rise at Carol Vorderman, whilst Helen Mirren always passes my 'irritation radar' with flying colours.

You know, I think what it is that lots of women REALLY dislike whilst slogging their way up the corporate ladder or juggling part time work and motherhood, is to see success rewarded without apparent effort - the very thing that our Reality TV culture promotes. The irony of this is that Katherine et al have probably worked damn hard to get where they are but all evidence of any slog has been erased by a fleet of stylists and make-up artists.  The old 'Puritan work ethic' lives on - to succeed, one must suffer (loudly!).  

The first part of Hilary Devey's "Women At The Top" on BBC 2 this week made interesting viewing. The percentage of women who make it to middle management, executive and board level is (surprise!) staggeringly low.  The male/female ratio in middle management is 70/30 and it is 83/17 in senior management.  The effort involved in reaching these levels for many women is huge.  No wonder then that the constant media promotion of female celebrities creates so much gall.

Devey's own amazing success with Pall-Ex is an inspiration but I would rather have seen her turn her attention to the career progression of women through SMEs than huge companies like P&G. I'm sure most self employed entrepreneurs are not so much worried about a female 'talent' drain' as they are about supporting maternity leave with the financial costs and the implications to the workloads of the remaining staff.  Perhaps this will be covered in the next episode in which Devey will be looking at the career progression of women in her own company. Another point made was that the UK has the highest childcare costs in Europe.  No surprise there either.

One thing's for certain though, denigrating other women's success on the basis of their looks won't get any of us very far.  It's about as sensible as the Mail's other sterling piece today by Liz Jones - about whether it's OK for a woman to wear ankle socks and sandals.  Bearing in mind that Ms Jones is approx 53.  Let me save a few acres of newsprint here and do my bit for the environment.  I've edited the piece.

"Could our columnist pull off Autumn's trickiest trend?" .   No.

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Give Me A Lakeland Catalogue & I'm Happy

One of the things I've learned over the years is NEVER to berate someone else's passions. I will not laugh at train spotters or scrapbookers. If you collect stamps, coins or postcards - respect! The reason for this is simply that over the years I seem to garner inordinate amounts of pleasure from things which some might consider odd.

For example, I adore watching my collection of Hercule Poirot DVDs (starring the legend that is David Suchet).  Nothing is so relaxing as drifting back to the 1940's to watch the upper class reducing their number by shooting, stabbing and, usually, poisoning. I am practically word perfect with all the dialogue.

I love, in no particular order, Chocolate Gingers, cats, bubblewrap, picking fluff off the carpet, steam trains, the smell of new books, olives, cheese, red wine and marshmallows. I get a kick from champagne (not very often!), playing Bejeweled Blitz (very very badly) and red lipstick.

I'll happily traipse round any number of country houses and gardens, museums, ruins and harbours.  I plan to be buried in an Olde Worlde Tea Shoppe.  (Just prop me up behind a tea urn - preferably steaming, preferably steel, preferably on a trolley - the urn that is).

But there are few things that induce such a considerable frisson as the Lakeland Catalogue, the Christmas edition of which recently plopped through the letterbox.

Bill Bailey once referred to the Argos catalogue as the "laminated book of dreams" and I feel much the same about Lakeland. You can indulge in any number of social pretensions from the comfort of your own armchair.  This year's lovely Christmas tome features a range of chopping boards and cheeseboards, some made from Oak, some from Acacia and, very apt for us in Wales, some made of slate.  There are champagne saucers and Chinese dinnerware. Hampers named after the Lakes jostle for attention with a range of retro party games, chocolates and Christmas lights.

Now, as you know, my children are 4 and 3.  Lord knows we do not dress for dinner nor do we have a cocktail cabinet (how "Abigail's Party"), cut glass whiskey tumblers or glace cherries in the pantry.  We store a small (ish!) selection of wine bottles in our shoe cupboard and our place mats are glass ones from Tesco's budget range (one of which I've smashed in any case).  But there is something about 'entertaining' that makes me feel warm, happy and as if I'm contributing to the family book of memories.

As a child, my family's definition of entertaining (outside of Christmas) was to heat up sausage rolls and open a packet of Walkers.  But Christmas offers all sorts of opportunities to eat a range of foods you'd avoid all year (smoked salmon mousse, anything involving an avocado) and now we have a smorgasbord of choices to display this food too.  It's said we eat with our eyes so a new cake-stand or some paper doillies couldn't hurt.  

I always make an effort for family birthday teas.  We have cake, and candles and singing.  I think it's important - not only to acknowledge the passing of another year but to teach the children about table manners and the pleasure of conversation.  No TV.  No computer.  And I love the traditional family occasions of Christmas and Easter, and the fun ones - Halloween and Bonfire Night.

You might say that I'm a victim of commercialism, although after 20 years in Marketing I should surely know better.  It's not about spending money - hubby is driven insane by my habit of buying items then returning them to the shop (ooh, now that's another great pleasure - all the thrill of shopping without any cost)!  

I think sometimes, it is worth a tiny splurge for an item that gives you pleasure and, by default, pleasure to those you share it with.  As mothers it's very easy to stifle our own pleasures and to deny ourselves these things.  And you know what - martyrs don't get invited to many parties.  (I'm not sure you can dry clean a hair shirt).  

So, yes, those Acacia place mats will be mine.  And possibly another cake-stand.

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Don't Put Your Grandmother On Celebrity Big Brother Mrs Worthington

You know, having sat through Julie Goodyear's eviction last night, I'm left feeling distinctly unsettled today because her presence on this year's Celebrity Big Brother has raised a big question in my mind. 

Many people view Julie as a 'legend'.  Whatever your views on Coronation Street, as Bet Lynch, Julie Goodyear has been a star for over 20 years and you wonder what her agent was thinking when Celebrity Big Brother was suggested.  Leaving the inducement of the fee aside, Celebrity Big Brother is a show that can make or, if not, break then certainly tarnish careers.

There is no doubt that, in the furnace of emotions the House must be, Julie was no saint  - but why should she be pillioried for playing the game she was put in there to play?  

But what is the appropriate behaviour and treatment of an elderly woman.  (I'm not even sure I should be using the word 'elderly')! Should we judge Ms Goodyear on a 'level playing field' across all age groups, or cut her some slack since she is, in her words, a 70 year old woman who is registered disabled?  Do we judge her as a 'nana' or as a shrewd and experienced woman who can spot another game player at 50 paces and make mincemeat of them?  Was there a slight whiff of ageism? 

Often Julie came across as an elderly lady totally bemused at her situation, breathlessly (literally) trying to befriend and gain acceptance. Other times, she was the sharpest tack in the box, running rings around The Situation and Prince Lorenzo in their fruitless quest for a position on Danica's wishlist. Julie  is, as she says, "quite a good actress"

Harvey, Ashley and Michael (or HAM as they so maturely branded themselves) were quick enough to adopt Julie as 'nana' - probably anticipating that her star status would be likely to carry her and, by association, them, to the final.  As soon as it transpired Julie had a keener brain than they gave her credit for, the tables turned.  Led by Harvey, a man who has taken having double standards to an art form, the bitching became Machiavellian.

If we think of Julie as 'Nana Julie' then the ganging up by other housemates was unpleasant.  The man who comes out (no pun intended!) best in all this is Julian Clary who, despite being viewed by Samantha Brick as a misogynist, seems to me to be a gentle soul with everyone's best interests at heart. Ms Brick's views on love, romance and the male sex would surely have made her Jane Austen's best friend.

So my question is this - when I get to 70, will I expect allowances to be made - and if I do - should I? My mother is 73 and I doubt very much whether she'd stand more than a couple of days in the House, let alone want to endure any character assassination - as receiver or protagonist.  

And, actually, I don't want to see the reputation of someone who is arguably part of the fabric of the TV landscape being reduced by a collection of people who, perhaps with the exception of Martin Kemp, have very little to brag about.

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Review: Frankie & Benny's, Dunleavy Drive, Cardiff

Since we are two days away from returning to school, we decided to take the kids to our nearest Frankie & Benny's at Dunleavy Drive, Cardiff Bay. Frankie & Benny's is an American - Italian style franchise restaurant specialising in pizza and pasta and it has become part of the 'dining landscape' in the last few years.

The challenge for parents of young children is to find a venue with a low 'embarrassment' factor; that is to say if the kids kick off, you won't attract the gorgon-like stares of those who think children should be seen and not heard (and preferably left at home in the first place).

Frankie & Benny's fits the bill nicely offering friendly staff, free balloons, unlimited apple or orange juice and ice cream sundaes with Cadbury's Chocolate Buttons.

We have become strangely inured in the UK to eating out in the equivalent of airport hangars on soulless retail parks but this Frankie & Benny's is clean and pleasantly presented with a welcoming Frank Sinatra / 1950's soundtrack piped outside. A minor quibble is the cigarette butts left along the edges of surrounding shrubbery, but I guess this is a small price to pay for smoke free restaurants these days.




Frankie & Benny's offer a very reasonable children's menu and the food is freshly cooked, although this can entail a bit of a wait. On previous occasions, activity packs and crayons have been available to entertain the kids but we lucked out today.




Caitlin chose Chicken Strips (made with chicken breast) and Ieuan chose Fish Fingers, both with chips and baked beans. I had a cheeseburger and hubby elected for the American Hot Pizza. Hubby had a beer and I had a glass of house red. I have learned to be sanguine about the quality of house wine in the UK and this particular house red was just passable. Why there cannot be a wider range of house wines in our restaurants I'm not sure. Profit margins are obviously an issue but I suspect that many food retailers still regard us Brits as uninformed about wine whereas many of us may not be Oz Clarke, but we do recognize a decent wine when we taste one.

The food, when it arrived, was standard - in taste, presentation and hotness.

The American Hot Pizza

Ieuan enjoying his fish fingers

Caitlin enjoying her apple juice

My burger was tasty enough although the chips were luke warm. Hubby really enjoyed the pizza. The portion sizes were generous - in fact one kid's meal would have done both our kids. The kids had strawberry sundaes made with a rather synthetic ice-cream but hiding Cadbury's Chocolate Buttons which went down a treat. Previously the buttons came in separate mini packs which I preferred as you could secrete them away for bribery purposes later!

Hubby and I had a coffee - me a latte, him his usual black Americano. The latte was piping hot and you could taste the coffee so full marks on that score. I notice that the new fad for 'Babycino' is now on the menu - frothy hot milk and chocolate powder for the kids. Being cynical, this looks to me distinctly like preparing the next generation of caffeine addicts.

The total meal came to around £35 for 4 which, these days, is definite value for money. We were also very well looked after by our server, Adam, who was genuinely pleased to see us AND the kids. Another plus for me is that there are ground floor toilets, an excellent sized disabled toilet and that these are clean.

The cleanliness of a restaurant's toilets is always a benchmark for me. I figure if these aren't kept clean, then the food preparation area may not be either. Sometimes it's the details that let a business down rather than any glitches in the overall process. Hubby is used to this pecadillo of mine and is used to enquiring "well, what were the toilets like then?". Frankie & Benny's passed this test with flying colours.

Despite the couple of quibbles I've mentioned, we'll be back. It's a stress free, value for money meal out that the whole family can enjoy. Dunleavy Drive, Cardiff may not be Little Italy but at least you don't need a passport.

*This is a completely independent review

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Tat's Entertainment? Let's Rediscover Play

Yesterday, in glorious sunshine, we took the kids to Cardiff Bay to see the Extreme Sailing and various attractions.  

And, next to the carousel, we were delighted to find an old fashioned helter-skelter.  For £1.50 per 'slider',  you could enjoy the dubious pleasures of wood burn at speed!  Obviously I had to look after the bags, but hubby and Ieuan made the most of it.

Today, by contrast, we ended up in one of the local retail parks on errands and were hijacked by Caitlin on a quest for a fairy tiara and wand.  Now leaving aside any feminist debate about dressing four year old girls as pink fairies (they seem to naturally gravitate towards this), there's no doubt that pester power starts early and the challenge to educate about the value of money should start equally early in my view.

The kids know that big presents are for birthdays and Christmas but they are allowed the occasional treat and we have saved some of their birthday money from relatives for purchasing the odd toy.

But, every time we allow the kids a cheap toy (you pay more for the packaging than the dreadful quality tat that generally constitutes girls' dressing up clothes and accessories), it's a five minute wonder which we find duly discarded in a pile a couple of days later.

I'm sure many parents are discovering that, no matter, how many toys you purchase, they do not help children to learn the most basic of skills - how to PLAY.  I have a strong suspicion that the focus in more privileged schools on interactive whiteboards and computers is not really helping to foster creativity.

A recent article in The Daily Mail by Clare Goldwin "What happened when I swapped my children's toys for beads and cardboard? A minor miracle. . . once the wailing stopped" looks at what happens when toys are swapped for simple items such as modelling clay, beads and cardboard pieces.   It makes interesting reading, although the conclusion I came to was that it is the parental attention rather than the simplicity of the toys that makes the difference.

Isn't that actually the most important thing?  Cheap tat is no substitute for getting on the floor to play with your kids.  Buying toys does not assuage any guilt you may have from not spending enough time with them.  I was going to use the well worn phrase "quality time" but to me, that just means small amounts of time for concentrated play to meet your timetable - not your kids.

And you can't really create any lasting family memories wrestling with a ton of plastic packaging, cardboard and those dreadful plastic ties you need secateurs to cut through - can you?

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Linda Hobbis & The Potato of Doom

Behold the marvel that is my culinary expertise. Hmm. We are in the middle of the famous 'fussy eating' phase, particularly with Ieuan who, if it isn't i) bread, ii) baked beans or iii) banana, is pretty loathe to try a food beginning with any other letter.

Behold the marvel that is my potato hedgehog!

The sweaty panic that overtakes mothers at the thought of their veggie hating offspring appearing on "Freaky Eaters" and then, as an obvious progression, "Embarrassing Bodies" is grim.

I have read numerous parenting books and am inconsistently chopping and changing between those plans which promise the greatest success in the shortest time.

I think this is a strategy which many mothers, whether currently employed or on a childcare sabbatical as I am, think will work. It is the madness of business logic applied to small children. Let's motivate them and reward them. Let's team build and yomp across the moors with home-made blueberry muffins!

I get very confused. Do I reheat discarded meals until they eat them? Do I deny them anything else until they fall like Victorian urchins on the broccoli and carrots? Do I send them to bed hungry? The tendency of small children to deny themselves what we adults would consider one of life's greatest pleasures (food!) in order to assert control never fails to baffle me.

Our kids don't fill up on sweets, chocolates or fizzy drinks. They have the odd biscuit and packets of crisps are shared. Our biggest failing is probably the addition of milkshake powder to milk in order to get them to drink it. We do eat quite a bit of cake, especially Jaffa Cakes and Welsh Cakes but in conservative quantities and only after at least a little of the main meal has been tried.

So in an attempt to up the ante regarding their veg intake, I spent over 40 minutes preparing potato hedgehogs (stop snickering).

My potato is one of the recipes from the inspiring book by Fiona Faulkner - "25 Foods Kids Hate ...and how to get them eating 24" It's Day 1 and as Fiona would say, you can't give up. I'm also reading Kathryn Mewes "The 3 Day Nanny" which has a range of tailored plans for solving childcare dilemmas (sleep, eating, potty training, behaviour) for children up to around 6 years of age. Then there's Jo Frost's "Confident Toddler Care", another well thumbed tome.

I find myself going round in circles and trying various approaches to all of which the children seem immune. The only person who ends up having a tantrum I'm afraid to say is me! I spend the rest of the evening muttering to myself like the first, mad Mrs Rochester and refusing to play whilst the children canter happily about, oblivious to Joan of Arc in the kitchen.

I'm resolving to take the bull by the horns and 'woman up'. I'm determined to instill in my kids a love of food and an appreciation of nutrition. I don't want them to treat sweet foods as a reward or a comfort (bit of a tall order for most of us, that one!).

If there is a plan that you have used or you have a secret 'never fail approach" please leave me a comment! In the meantime, at least this cooking practice should improve my rather rusty skills.

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Celebrity Big Brother - Never Mind Rinsing, Go For The Spin Girls!

Now I always feel like I've let myself down a bit by admitting this, but I love to watch Big Brother and am currently glued to Celebrity Big Brother on Channel 5. Having reached the age when shouting at the TV is de rigeur of an evening (if only to irritate Hubby), I have to say this series in particular has given me full opportunity to wallow in gleeful disapproval (tinged, it must be said with slight shades of hypocricy).

Celebrity Big Brother

Step forward one Danica Thrall, star of the dubious documentary "Sexy, Lies & Rinsing Guys". Danica's alleged method of providing for herself is by glamour modelling in exchange for gifts. Her Amazon wishlist shared via a journalist on Twitter [Lord Justice Leveson, hello, are you there?] made fascinating reading (yes I did...).

Danica, and her fellow 'celeb', glamour model Rhian Sugden [she of the alleged Vernon Kay 'oops his finger must have slipped when texting' scandal] make Samantha Brick look positively shy and retiring. Mrs Brick's Magnum Opus "Why do women hate me for being beautiful?" was published in the Daily Mail recently and garnered almost international derision and sniffiness from (mainly) women readers.

The girls flirting with the male contestants and the men's somewhat hilarious teenage angst upon being summarily rejected is, whilst entertaining, a sad commentary on the fragility of the male ego. Let's not mention Jasmine Lennard and her mother.  Seriously.  Let's just not.

It is really not for me to judge these women (which is of course the skill of the reality tv producer). We love to judge whilst conveniently parking our own social mores behind a sofa cushion. And actually, it occurs to me that women are encouraged to judge one another more harshly than men are, though by whom I'm not sure.

This is all amusing until I think about my 4 year old daughter, Caitlin and ponder Society's (and my) conflicted attitudes about whether a woman should trade off her looks. The Media instills in us daily that the prettiest, the cutest, the bustiest are the true role models. Can't carry a tune in a bucket? No problem. Daft enough to film yourself in delicto fragrante whilst forging a TV career? Go ahead. Heck, you can even become a reality star by living in the right county (sadly not the Vale of Glamorgan) and tanning yourself till you look like a Wotsit.

We now have a whole generation of young girls who think that the most important skills are looks and a direct line to Max Clifford. Never mind hard work. Never mind 'working your way up'. To some of these girls a glass ceiling is something installed by Everest. Wannabe WAGs have given way to Wannabe pop stars, models, chefs, opera stars and conductors. Forget a CV. Just stand on a corner with a big placard saying "Endemol I'm here".

As for attracting a beau,  why not chase Spencer Matthews round numerous European tourist traps in "The Batchelor" or appear in the Roman amphitheatre of dating via "Take Me Out"?

Look at the spat between A. A. Gill and Mary Beard recently. He said she was "too ugly for TV". Gill can be tarter than most of the pies he scoffs for a living but this was certainly one jibe too far. Let a woman hold herself up as intelligent (even by action rather than self promotion) and the focus seems to shift immediately to whether she is pretty enough to warrant that appellation. Go figure (literally).

How refreshing it was, during the Olympics (and I'm sure will be again in the Paralympics) to see positive, healthy female role models. Women who know what it is to want something badly but who understand that it takes hard work, dedication and grit to get it. Perhaps glamour models would argue that it is the same for them.  Is it the old Puritan work ethic? Success only comes from hard work? You have to slog your guts out to get anywhere?  Helen Gurley Brown (founder of Cosmo magazine) certainly thought so - "mouseburgering" she called it, but equally, Helen understood the power of 'pretty'.

So what do I tell my daughter?  Darling, if you can, meet a nice man who'll buy you jewellery and a house in Hampstead" or "Go out into the World and make something of yourself, build something, a company, a business, an empire?". Here's my hypocrisy - I feel I ought to say both.

Luckily we've plenty of time to redress the balance in TV land before my daughter comes of age. Sadly, whilst the future may be bright, it's most certainly looking orange.

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Saturday Night's Alright For Skyping

In the days B C (before children), Saturday nights were always the highlight of the week. As a couple, we used to frequent numerous country pubs and chic bars. We used to dress ourselves up and leave the house without worrying about whether the cat could operate the TV remote (he could).

Now of course, nights out are few and far between, and more expensive due to occasionally hiring a babysitter -when we have used up our babysitting privileges with family.

joindave.co.uk

Instead we sit like a pair of bookends and indulge in a TV marathon. One that largely has (with apologies to Mr T and those who now know it as a Snickers) no nuts. Unless you watch X Factor that is.

What has happened to the highlight of the TV scheduling week? If it weren't for SYCO (Simon Cowell's production company) and Ant & Dec, what would we be watching?

In the 70's viewing figures topped the multi millions for shows like The Morecambe & Wise Show and The Two Ronnies. Heck in those days the BBC even used to screen Shakespeare plays without any sexing up of the plot, the text or provision of subtitles. A drama premiere was really a premiere. The 'F' word was never heard (now I'm sounding like Mary Whitehouse) and frankly, how refreshing that was. TV still had the power to shock whereas, today, we are largely numb to the dross the schedulers subject us to. Schedulers don't seem to adhere to "The Watershed", probably thinking it's a wine bar somewhere. Usually, the adverts are cleverer and more entertaining than the programmes either side.

Yes we could turn the TV off. But why should we? Let's not get into the TV Licensing debate here - although the phrase 'money for old rope' springs to mind. Instead I bet right across the nation couples are listening to their kids on a baby monitor whilst watching TV and playing on a PC at the same time. I'm always amused when asked in surveys whether I watch programmes on iPlayer or the like. If the programme wasn't worth watching the first time round, I'm not going to waste time watching it on an iPad!

Now the kids are 4 and 3 and we have managed to visit the John Lewis Cafe and Frankie & Benny's without being thrown out, I hope to test the waters by taking the family to local Cardiff & Vale eateries and I will be reporting my experiences in this blog.

In the meantime, I will be multi-tasking as usual and spending time with the other man in this relationship ..... Dave.

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Somebody Tell Me Please - How Safe IS My Friday Wine?

It's that day of the week when most of us look forward to a relaxing glass of wine or something stronger post 5 pm.

Personally, I'm a red wine girl and drink very few other alcoholic drinks but lately, I've found the pleasure of my favourite Rioja has been significantly dimmed.

A glass of my favourite Malbec

I drink approximately one large glass roughly four times a week (some weeks, like holidays, much more) and, thanks to the ramshackle and seemingly arbitrary nature of the reporting surrounding alcohol and its health benefits and dangers, each glass is like a game of Russian Roulette.

I know my consumption is hardly 'rock n' roll' but I would like some health body somewhere to tell me DEFINITIVELY:-

What is the true level of units which can be safely consumed per week [not based on a sample of 20 bearded men in Scandanavia]?

What is the exact relation between alcohol consumption and cancers?

Is white wine really good for the lungs?

Do the anti oxidants in red wine really have anti-ageing properties?

Is a moderate level of red wine consumption really good for preventing i)cardiac problems, ii) stroke problems, iii) shoring up bone density?

Is it true that, post menopause, a glass of red a day is implicated in increased longevity for women (I'm assuming they're less bored)?

You get the picture.  But it is confusing to read the daily swings of the research pendulum in the tabloid press.

More seriously, should we consider a total ban on alcohol consumption (drugs and some prescription drugs included) before operating machinery or getting behind a wheel?

What are the true costs of binge drinking to our hospitals, emergency services and employers in general?

What is the cost of drinking to our children in terms of the quality of their upbringing and education? 

Is any consumption of alcohol safe during pregnancy?  How do we approach teaching our children about the pleasures and perils of drinking?

The costs of our eternal love affair with alcohol are increasing.  We need one body working closely with colleagues in other countries to provide a definitive study with CONCRETE recommendations agreed by medical experts and shared intelligently with us.

Then perhaps there can finally be a sensible approach to the price of alcohol and licensing laws and a strategy for health education which doesn't revolve around frightening us to death.

In the meantime, I'm off to check the corkscrew is in working order and I'll make sure not to click on any alcohol related articles online for the rest of the day.

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The Joy of Comping

OK. A confession.  I love to enter competitions. If you ask my husband about my hobby, he grimaces and absents himself to skulk in the loft. I love that you can win a vast array of goods and services from companies far and wide. You can have experiences that you'd never normally pay for (or even have the nerve to experience - like paintballing or diving with sharks). You can share your wins to make friends and family happy and, in these recession-bound times, as Tesco would say, "Every Little Helps"!.

Winning can become addictive!

Comping is not, despite its portrayal by Norris on Corrie, the sad, lonely hobby of the late middle-aged. Through joining comping groups I have made some great friends who I even (gasp!) meet in person from time to time. I have increased my general knowledge and, I like to think, kept my brain at least slightly active and my conversational abilities alive. Much as I love Mr Tumble he is unlikely to ever appear on QI is he? Although now I think of it, Balamory's Archie is regularly on "Have I Got News For You".

20 years' experience of marketing and PR have also given me some insight into the reasons why companies run competitions. They need your data baby! They need names, addresses, phone numbers and email addresses. They need your feedback on whether goods and services work. They need to know where you buy, when you buy and why. They need to defray the vast cost of advertising into cheaper media (hello Facebook and Twitter). The cost of purchasing the data that informs their future sales and marketing campaigns is not cheap. Campaigns to raise brand awareness cost.

It amuses and irritates me to the same degree that 'compers' are often given such a bad rap when, in reality, we are saving promoters thousands of pounds of marketing spend. Whether these companies have systems in place to do anything useful with the data they've trawled is questionable. What is not in doubt, however, is the fact that we compers are their secret marketing and sales department.

Take, for example, the current Holy Grail of Comping prizes - the iPad., roughly £400 from Amazon at today's prices. Weigh that up against the cost of purchasing thousands of verified names and addresses plus the print cost of promoting a competition against a practically free Facebook or Twitter post and the iPad doesn't seem that generous after all.

Of course its a fabulous prize and we should be happy that companies choose to promote their goods and services in this way. All I'm saying is there should be a healthy degree of respect on both sides.

Carry on Compers!

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The Loneliness of the Cardiff Plane-Spotter

I love aeroplanes.  And airports.  I love the hustle and bustle. The excitement of all that meeting and greeting.   The atmosphere of expectation; almost a holiday feeling, even if you aren't travelling.

In my youth, Cardiff Wales Airport used to be a bit of a trip out for the 'gang'.  It had a shop, a cafe where you could watch planes, a bar and a lounge upstairs.  It also had a carpet which made you feel slightly travel sick if you stared too hard at it but that is long gone.

Cardiff Wales Airport courtesy of Walesonline.co.uk

You used to be able to watch planes swoop in and out and passengers alighting and descending.  It was an ideal spot for a quiet cuppa on a Sunday afternoon (and a Danish Pastry, if you were feeling really outrageous).

So, not having travelled anywhere much due to having two children roughly 18 months apart, I was looking forward to taking the kids there to watch the planes.

Complete waste of time.

Nothing can be seen due to the redesign of the airport building.  That, coupled with the weird car parking arrangements, means that you are actively discouraged from visiting unless you are travelling.

My husband travels a lot on business.  We have just dropped him off at the airport, having disappointed the kids yet again since it was pointless getting out of the car to plane-spot.  We saw the tail end of one plane in the British Airways maintenance building but that was it.

In an attempt to see planes, I made the mistake of driving down the 'drop off' route and had to pay £1 to get out.  Honestly, if the Airport owners (TBI plc, part of the Spanish Abertis Group) are so desperate to generate revenue, why not make the airport a real 'destination', a place that actually looks like it wants to welcome you to Wales? Why not have a decent retail offering (including catering) for families coming to collect relatives?

You get the feeling that, currently, Cardiff Wales Airport is a bit of a white elephant.  Nobody really wants it (commercially speaking) so nobody really wants to invest in it.  It's hardly an 'international' airport if many destinations are reached via a change of planes at Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport. I'm sure many people now automatically think of Bristol as their nearest airport.

If you want to see planes, you can park up outside the local flying club in a scruffy car park and watch smaller planes and the big commercial planes from a distance.  You'll have to avoid the litter and the dog poop and stare longingly at the excitement through the wire fence.  Glamorous it is not.

Being a Cardiff plane spotter is a lonely (and expensive) business.

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A Dedicated Follower of Fashion Magazines?

Now I love to read glossy magazines. From the tender age of 10 onwards I have devoured august publications such as Diana and Jackie, then Look Now, Woman, Woman's Own and of course Cosmopolitan. 

Cosmopolitan Magazine - part of my teenage years

I remember the first ever edition of Company magazine with its radical glossy paper and in those days, the freebies were things like sachets of shampoo (remember Silvikrin Lemon & Lime?  You could have cleaned a car engine with it).

But these days I have a couple of gripes (you'll get to know that this is a standard response to most things with me).

Firstly the ludicrousness of the fashion spreads.

One magazine this week has what appears to be a tribe of badly painted clowns cavorting in clothes only Timmy Mallett would think chic. Prints are in and the wackier the better.  Dots is the other big trend apparently. How the full stop has been reinvented to be this year's 'le dernier cri' I'm not sure.

My question is:  who on earth wears this stuff?

When out and about I very often look to see how many women are modelling new trends, high fashion looks, fantasmagorical accessories (none under £1500) and I must need my eyes testing because I find not a one. They're all in sensible, weatherproof clothing - a sprinkling of Superdry, an iota of Jack Wills but the rest of us appear to be welded into our casual wear.

The fashion trends are a nightmare of course for the 40+ age group. Unless you have the sass of Helen Mirren, adopting these trends unsupervised can make you look like you ran naked through a jumble sale covered in glue.

My other gripe:  the infantilisation of editorial tone.

Do you remember New Woman magazine? I used to love it until a new editorial team came in and decided its audience were apparently pre-pubescent school girls with too much pocket money and a dad with a trust fund. They duly went south.

I find the breathlessness of the 'OMG',  'totes amaze', 'all emosh' or, on last nights Celebrity Big Brother 'having a discush' language deeply irritating.

Are we so Twitter-bound (egg bound if you haven't bothered to add a photo) that we can now only speak in sentences of 140 characters?  Worse, even THINK in sentences of 140 characters?

I find it incredible that Print Media must surely be aware that the popularity of Social Media has numbered their remaining days.  How many people read a newspaper or a printed magazine cover to cover?

The UK also has a reportedly growing population of older people. Government sources say that one-in-six of the UK population is currently aged 65 and over, by 2050 one in-four will be. The biggest future market for print sales is unlikely to be  pre-pubescent girls and their Hello Kitty purses.

My solace in all this is Woman & Home Magazine and even (including to my surprise) Saga Magazine.  It's so refreshing to read informed, 'mature' features and articles. I also like Red (despite it's rather top heavy balance between advertising and copy) and Good Housekeeping.

My plea is simply this: please, please talk to us in the language of mature women.  Otherwise the dots I'm seeing before my eyes are not a fashion statement but a sign of raised blood pressure.

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Let's Keep It (School) Uniform

Do you think it's important to wear school uniform?

Ieuan in his school uniform

Having just spent an arm and a leg on two sets of school uniform and school shoes, I was recently talking to a mum who said that she started the term off with her boys wearing school uniform but as the term progressed towards the holidays, she allowed them to go in a mix of uniform and casual wear.  

She couldn't, she said, see the point in making them wear something they didn't want to.

I think that if a school requests that a uniform be worn, it is actually in the interest of pupils, parents and teachers that it be worn.

Why?  Uniform is a great leveller.  It removes status symbols and creates an equality, at least in appearance. 

It is valuable in teaching kids that fitting in and adhering to rules and regulations will be a part of their life from now on.

Grating as it is to have to buy clothing which looks like it was made for some utilitarian army with precious little interest in colour, fit or durability, in general kids look smarter and, as psychologists tell us, that should help performance.

Nobody can deny that buying school uniform can add up to a significant outlay, but these days you can buy supermarket basics which do the job and a reasonable cost.

I had to wear a uniform from junior school (the 1970's) till the end of comprehensive schooling in 1982.  

I had a uniform for Brownies (which Club, I'm afraid I hated) and a uniform for ballet (hair HAD to be in a netted bun).  

Then for most of my working life so far, I've arguably had a 'corporate uniform' - suit, blouse, heels, lipstick, bag. I still struggle with my 'mummy' uniform - but that subject probably requires a separate post!

When you think about it, there aren't that many areas of life where there isn't some dress code or other, either prescribed or implied.

And anyway, if you don't have some degree of conformity, you've not got much to rebel against when you hit your teens, have you?

Are you for, or against school uniform?

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Coping With First Play Date Nerves

Honestly, I swear the prospect of entertaining someone else's child in your own home is as nerve racking as any first date.  Yes, I have play date nerves.

Ieuan's ready for his playdate

Aside from ensuring that all traces of bleach, Cillit Bang and any other toxic substances have been eradicated from your post code district, there's the issue of dangerous plants in the garden and, worse, dangerous siblings who are not quite old enough to join in but who are unlikely to play on their own either.

Let's not mention the general state of house-keeping (I'd fail an interview as kitchen maid at Downton Abbey), weeds on the drive and the general 'Addams Family' aura of our house. 

It's enough to make any mother need a sip of her 'special juice' as soon as the sun reaches its height.

What do you feed them (let's hide the fact my two are allergic to veg).  Should you give them 'stuff with additives' (that knocks out whole swathes of supermarket goods) or cook from fresh (argh).  Is the serving of oven chips the new class divide?

Then there's the fact that most of the remaining toys are more suited to babies, we have no complete jigsaws, whole crayons or pencils with lead and most dressing up clothes are for Halloween (big event in this house).

Am I supposed to answer the door resembling Sienna Miller when my natural look is closer to Dot Cotton?

You're always conscious of the fact that the friendships your kids make now could last a lifetime and, by default, so could your relationship with their parents.  That's the thing that makes it ever so slightly stressful!

I'm very aware that it's a parent's responsibility to help their kids build a strong social network. It's the old 'independence v 'fitting in'' debate.  

Life shouldn't be a popularity contest but unless you want to live on a remote Scottish island farming vegetables, you have to learn at least a modicum of social skills.

In my experience, these are exactly the skills that make a difference in later life when applying for jobs, being promoted, managing people and making strong and healthy friendships both in, and out of work.

I'll bet you'll cope with your play date nerves just fine.

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My First Post - why Mother Distracted?

Because I'm 48 and had my children at 43 and 45 respectively.

Linda Hobbis - A Mother Distracted!

Because I worked for 20 years in Marketing & PR, 13 of which were in Legal Services Marketing.

Because I met a man and got distracted.

Now I'm a stay at home mum and am still distracted.

By the experience of motherhood and the joys of having children.

By the challenges of transitioning from career girl to stay at home mum.

By the vast number of products and services aimed at mums, dads, carers and their families.

Some get it right. Some fail dismally.

This is my take on motherhood (belated), reviews (both products and particularly services aimed at families) and life in general.

Bear with me.  Blogging, like life, is a learning experience.

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