Lalla is giving me lessons on parenting. Seventh Wonder has been exceptionally trying in the past few days and I am sleep deprived. I’m currently in bed with Seventh Wonder who has been creating merry hell for everyone. She threw the gingerbread man that Izzy The Rockstar bought her because he tried to give her just the leg. She yanked at Zak Cool’s hair (I fear this has been a regular occurrence as Zak Cool asked if he could have his hair cut). She couldn’t see why I would be against the idea of breastfeeding her when she still had a mouthful of raisins. She even tried feeding Lalla her spit wad and cried when Lalla refused.
I was wondering if she were a bit off colour but Lalla has conclusively told me that she is merely testing her boundaries.
So there. I’ve been told.
I started writing this whilst on a train to London Victoria, en route to my first ever roller derby bout and what a bout it was. Last night, at Earl’s Court, the UK roller derby champion, London Brawling faced the WFTDA (World Flat Track Derby Association) phenomenal champion, Colorado based Rocky Mountain Roller Girls.
In true VonSponge fashion, no experience is without its adventures. Five minutes into my journey, the train halted to a stop outside Barnham. There was a trespass incident on the tracks near Amberley and the train was going to be rerouted, cancelling out a number of scheduled stops. Which ones, they weren’t quite sure.
Slaveboy wasn’t with me. He was at a gig and the sproglettes were holding the fort armed with a bar of chocolate, a large packet of Ketle crisps and a monstrous vat of Hunter’s stew which I had made at lunchtime. It was a bit strange being out without Slaveboy. There was a little bit of me that felt at loss without my bodyguard. This is where I’m going to disappoint you with my Stepford Wives sensibilities and that I actually appreciate the taking of charge that Slaveboy does by default. If he had come with me yesterday, I wouldn’t have bothered listening to the train announcements, or work out in advance whether I’d be able to get home alright. More importantly, had Slaveboy been there, I wouldn’t have been on a delayed train to London with a Tesco Meal Deal sandwich. I, SniffSnorters, make shit sandwiches and am rubbish at choosing sandwiches for the right occasion. What made it even worse was that I had people sitting beside me and my sandwich was pretty honky.
Plus I had a wedgie. Knickers are complicated things.
Several and muchos muchos minutes later, with plenty a disgruntled and confused passengers, we were deposited at East Croydon Station with instructions to ask someone in the know to get us to London Victoria. I won’t bore you with the details but I did get to Earl’s Court where a queue of predominantly quirky looking with colourful hair and inked skin girls was already forming. The atmosphere in the venue was electric. So much anticipation. I did have Firstborn’s camera with me but I don’t think I used it properly. I also stopped taking photos when the actual bout started so these are the photos of the skaters during the warm-up.
And I must not miss out the cheerleaders too.
But what can I say about the outcome? The Rocky Mountain Roller Girls totally wiped the floor with the London Brawling team with a devastating score of 49 – 228. I discovered some new personal heroes last night and today I’m sort of kicking myself for not whimpering for a photo with them, or at the very least to be close enough that I could have smelt their sweat.
The trip home was unadventurous. I came to several conclusions – that there is some correlation between public transpiration seatings and wedgies, warmed-up Moroccan lamb roll smells like armpit but yummy to taste nevertheless and also that my children are absolute saints. I got home at 2 a.m. to Firstborn and Izzy The Rockstar still in the living room, with the 7th Wonder wrecking havoc with the DVD player. She had refused to go to sleep and they had to sent Lalla to bed as she got to the stage where was took 7th Wonder’s defiance as a personal slight on her person. The kitchen, which was otherwise pristine (thanks, Izzy ;)) has multigrain hoops strewn all over the floor, with smatterings of chunks of croissants. 7th Wonder spent the last hour finding great entertainment value in throwing cereal about.
And the house beasts were traumatised.
We had to coax him out of the trifle bowl.