Sunday 22 February 2015

Week 176- B and Q catalogues, bearded weirdos and hide and seek...

We’ve started going to B and Q at the weekends out of choice.

I feel like a little bit of me has died.

And if that’s not bad enough, I picked up brochures for their kitchens, bathrooms and bedrooms, and perused them over a glass of wine on a Saturday night.

That's right. 

When other people are in the pub, having sex or dancing the night away, I’M FLICKING THROUGH B AND Q CATALOGUES.

I think the early on-set middle-aged moment really sunk in when I saw my daughter desperately trying to entertain herself in what is pretty much an aircraft hangar full of bathroom fittings and men in paint-splattered trousers.

She was looking through all the cupboards in the display kitchen in the hope that there may be something interesting in them or, better still, a snack.

I had been in the very same position at a similar age with my dad. I remember thinking; this can’t be it, can it? Shops can’t really be this massively boring, can they?

As Ben and I were discussing the pros and cons of toilets with handles versus those with buttons (handles all the way btw) I realised I hadn’t seen my daughter for a little while.

I half-heartedly called her name a couple of times whilst picking up paint colour charts.

By the forth shout-out with no response, I started to get a bit worried.

As I looked down the empty aisles, my pulse started to beat a little bit too loudly in my ears.

Unnecessary adrenaline is one of the most unproductive things a body can produce.

Your rational mind is telling you, ‘calm down, she will just have wandered off,’ where as the adrenaline-fuelled panic is screaming, ‘the guy with the beard who was carrying the big tin of emulsion on aisle 3 looked like a total child-snatching weirdo!’

I started to mum-run around the store, where you go the same speed as walking but your legs are doing twice as much work, Fred Flintstone style.

I couldn’t find her anywhere.

And at the point where I was about to get a member of staff to do a call out for a lost little girl, I heard a muffled, ‘I’m here mummy!’

A familiar shape was hiding under the covers in the display bed.

Panic over. It was just an elaborate game of hide and seek.

Turns out, lack of sleep, an over-active imagination and an inbuilt maternal-instinct to panic your face off about your children on a minute-by-minute basis, can transform a face-punchingly sedate B and Q into a pretty fucking dangerous place after all.

I’d go so far as to say I deserved a sit off and a gander at their bathroom magazine after all that.


  1. Oh B&Q is dangerous all right - my ASD son has had all sorts of adventures that really shouldn't have happened there...pucking up all over the indoor plant display, his best friends poop filled nappy falling off and splattering the radiator covers, managing to lock (and then take the key) a staff only door (we only found the key in our car days later and hoped noone had got locked in there), and getting his hand trapped in the sliding doors. I remember those visits from when i was a kid and trying to figure out why we weren't allowed to use the showroom loos! x

    1. Ha ha! What a brilliant list- I especially like nicking the keys! Just brilliant. x