The Child Catcher

(other pic is little reef shark scaring the shoal of fish)

Remember him? From Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? If you remember nothing else of this film you should remember Neuschwanstein, the castle where some of the scenes were shot (and where one day I shall live) and the child catcher. A singularly terrifying individual, who sniffs out children to lock up. I’m not alone in finding him terrifying. Everyone I know did, or still does. I’ve never seen IT or Nightmare on Elm Street, so for me, this ballet dancer was the epitome of scary.

Why am I banging on about the child catcher you may ask? Well, being here alone, I have no one to take pictures of me in pretty locations. So, because I would like to look back at my photos and KNOW I was here, I’ve taken some myself. It also means my family can see I did ‘cope’ and didn’t sit on my balcony feeling sorry for myself. I took one of myself last night and was so disgusted with it, it went straight into the little bin in the bottom right hand corner of the screen. In my attempts to have different angles, I caught myself at a particularly nice angle and looked exactly like the child catcher.

I have my father’s nose. Not literally as this would be most inconvenient for him and I’d get thoroughly sick of dealing with the nasal hair. But I have his family nose and not my mother’s family nose. So does my brother. While I was growing up, I hated it. Now I rarely think about it. I have the sort of face that looks fine now, but that needed growing into, not size wise but the maturity of my more ‘elegant’ than cute and squashy features. I have most definitely improved with age.

So having dwelled upon my similarity to the child catcher, I then dream I AM the child catcher in some bizarre play and for which I must source my own costume from a mall. I could get NO-ONE to understand what the costume was like and kept being shown outfits in manner of Cheryl Cole in the Fight For This Love video.

In the cold light of day and safe from my odd dreams, I spent some of this afternoon in the hotel lobby. They provide free WiFi – it’s $23 a day in my room. I may as well crack open the mini bar, take a robe and be done! So I make a daily trip to the lobby with my laptop. Today there was an offensive and precocious Chinese girl there with her mother, arguing the toss over the bungalow they were in. She wanted an upgrade. This is the child and not the mother I must add.
Children under 12 are not allowed in a water bungalow for safety reasons. The precocious brat was not accepting this and argued with the girl at the desk whilst her simpering and ineffectual mother looked on, unable to contribute due to language barriers. 
My problem with her is the way she allowed her daughter to speak to the girl at the desk. Certainly one for the child catcher to round up.

There aren’t too many children here which is a good thing. The Maldives is NOT a family destination. I like children, OBVIOUSLY. My life revolves around them at work. I don’t like brats. I like brats even less on my relaxing holiday.

A few years ago I had the misfortune to holiday in Cornwall with a family. It was a camping trip. This had nothing whatsoever to do with the child who was an absolute delight and a total credit to his mother. I will not credit his father as he and my ex-husband (peas in a pod) spent the whole week being thoroughly selfish and never allowing the 7 year old child the kind of fun he should have been having. The week revolved around them and their smoking of cannabis. The child was an angel and had the patience of a saint.

Recently I met up with his mother. She and I are now both blessedly free of the selfish men and congratulated each other on this. Perhaps there should be a useless waste of space ex partner catcher as well?