Post-Disney feminism.

AAAARRRRRRRGH at the Disney Princesses.

WHY. Just WHY are they all so WET? (in the 1950's sense, and obviously literally in the case of Ariel.)

I want to see a Disney Film in which the princess sucessfully sues the Beast for wrongful imprisonment and sexual harrassmant, or outs him as a shoe fetishist, or just SLAPS him.

THen she could go on to have a blindingly successful and dazzling career as a doctor, lawyer, or indeed, electrician.

I wanted to watch Harry Potter.

Blimey.

My second day as a blogger, and I have not one original or useful thought. What a dreadful start.

Part of this is because I did not start the day with John Humphries, as I slept in and had no time. I am sure he missed me though.

So I am missing vital brain nourishment from the beginning. WOE.

Chatted at the school gates, possibly actually losing IQ points through my own inanity.

Went to EVIL MULTINATIONAL SUPERMARKET and sacrificed some of my principles at the altar of Convienience and Cheapness.

I looked at the papers, thinking of getting one, but all of the front pages mentioned Diana, and my brain was threatening to bleed from the repetition. So no paper.

And now, at home, I have bought some nose-rings on Ebay and am currently enjoying The Little Mermaid for the 849278452885th time.

I would like to say that normal service will be resumed as soon as I have had some intellectual stimulation, but I have of course not yet established a norm. Maybe this IS the norm.

Perish the thought.

Chicken Pox.

I can play dot-to dot on my son. Not kind, but amusing.

A Museum like they oughta be.

During an excellent holiday (of which more later) in Devon last week, the family Feegle came across a little museum in Ilfracombe. Having some time to kill (and a 3 year old who MUST BE ENTERTAINED) we chanced it.

I first realised it was a touch different from the London museums when the first thing the (elderly, male, voluntary) curator said to my daughter was "We've got a two-headed cat in a jar, you know. Over there, next to the four legged chicken and the bat foetus in formaldehyde."

There were no begging signs for donations, just a flat £2 entry fee, so in we went.

WOW. It was amazing. Drawer upon drawer of neon-hued Amazon butterflies, giant beetles, and above them - 20 samples of Victorian wedding cake complete with decorations!

The two-headed cat was everything promised, although the chicken was skeletal, it certainly was blessed in the leg department.
A Large chest of drawers labelled "please touch" revealed fossils (so far so ordinary) juxtaposed with petrified wood, a mammoths tooth, a 1920's camera and some sea shells.

A room full of old electrical equipment and a printing press boasted heads of assorted previously-alive bovine type creatures. And a cupboard full of pickled bats.

My daughter's highlight was the handmade dolls house (made by a 78 year old local woman as an exact replica of her own house, and displayed to raise money for the museum - put 2p in a slot and the lights come on.)

I did have a preference for the cat, but I also liked the shrunken head. My son liked the mammoth tooth. My husband was just in weird-stuff heaven.

We had visited the Natural History Museum in London the week before. While my children were dutifully excited and very much enjoyed the animatronic dinosaurs and pretend earthquakes, there was nothing to beat the absolute delight on their faces each time they opened a drawer or turned a corner to find a totally unexpected, peculiar and unique object in Ilfracombe Museum.

It is exactly as it ought to be; I hope it is never modernised, and if anyone mentions "animatronic" "interactive" or "educational" anywhere near it, I hope the curator will shoot them with his Edwardian Blunderbuss.

Or fail to warn them that the drawers have no stops. MWAHAHAHAHA.