Tag Archives: boys

B- Barmaidian blessings

a-to-z-letters-b

Boldly I stated that the second letter of the challenge would be a doddle, being presented with numerous options boggles ones’ mind when focus is needed. Beach walking with my woof on a blue-sky morning bamboozled me further. Blessing beginning with B are abundant.

The birth of my boy nigh on 17 years ago, the biggest of all the B’s that one could ever have imagined. At times as a Mum the challenges that are faced with teenagers may detract from the gratitude you feel as a parent, but bedslug moments pale into insignificance when thinking about the baby that was once so tiny who is growing into the fine young man. My boy, the best thing that has happened in my life.

But my boy is not the B of choice nor is Bandit our dearly departed puss-cat, he had a purr like a lawn mower, the bravest cat in the west. We will always miss him, my appreciation of him may be written under a different letter perhaps P-shall be for pets.

Being me has brought many challenges along the way, moving to a town where I knew no one was scary to say the least, some say I was brave, but I was lucky. Life here would have been so very different had I not have been granted barmaidian status.

Blessings of a Barmaid, might be difficult to discern if you look for them on the High St fast paced bars selling shots for a pound, full of party goers and sorrow drowners only drinking to get wasted, but I am lucky for I work in a local pub, beer-with me reader and I shall explain.

I am a big bosomed barmaid in a biker bar. I got the job more by accident than design but I love it. Between the beer and the bands, (I do not work while drinking … I am not that brave) I am paid to go out and socialize, I boogie away behind the bar and if at the end of the night my cheeks ache as much from smiling as my feet do from working –then I have got something right.

I have the best boss, a hard task mistress but fair. In the twenty years she has been in her pub, her locals have grown to know her to love her and most of all to respect her. There are some who see a sign that states “Biker-Friendly” and assume that means rough as a badgers bottom, but they miss out, for among the beer glasses a community has been cultivated. There is a brilliant thing about a local pub, it makes you feel welcome and at home, no matter how far you have travelled or how long you are staying.

Being a Barmaid, it has been hard at times but so rewarding. I have been given the opportunity to discuss everything from soft furnishings to politics. Yes we have talked cushions, and don’t even venture to compete with the culinary debates that occur some of these boys REALLY know how to bake !

Becoming part of a community should grant and teach acceptance, provide tolerance of difference and deliver support when the laughs are diminished by struggles and or sadness. So often this seems lost in the world where the self-obsessed are at the wheel. A close-knit community is only so because of the care and respect that is grows from. Through my job, as a puller of pints I have made some amazing friendships and enjoyed truly bonkers moments… the blessings of a barmaidian are beyond measure and for this I am grateful.

How to deal with bedslugs?

We have reached Sunday, our week is almost over and again it is a fabulous blue sky day. My Son may not be aware of the improving weather, for him at 16 it is college holidays and he seems to have lost the ability to get out of bed before dinner time.

Teenagers are a strange breed, I know I was one once but I was a different variety. I was goby and forthright, I knew my mind and was not going to let anyone get in the way of me being right, so I rebelled and moved out. By the age of 17 I had three jobs a flat and my hard-earned independence, I partied and laughed.
My teenage years were short-lived but I do look back on them fondly the year I lived by my own means, life before Dan taught me a lot… it is amazing how much you learn when you are determined not to be wrong. But I was never a bed slug, I did not have time.

The teenage bedslug is perhaps a male breed of adolescent. These slovenly youths, loiter under duvets till darkness approaches, late afternoon brings the first tentative movements from their pits, normally heading towards the kitchen to empty fridges and leave a trail of dirty plates and sandwich crumbs in their wake.

Over the years many tactics have been used to handle the bedslug, I recall my mother brought my older bedslug brother the loudest alarm clock of all time. I used to go into his room and turn it off after 10 minute, he was immune to its incessant hollering.

I have tried the bacon sandwich technique, the hope that the aroma of food will prompt them into early surfacing … This has mixed results. Today, food based bribery has won the day. My bedslug surfaced for Easter eggs and the promise of roast lamb at Grandma’s.

Perhaps teenage boys are a lot like dogs, and should be encouraged to modify their behaviours with food treats, now where did I put that clicker?

Happy Easter one and all.