20 HUCKNALL MAGICAL MYSTERY TOUR

George's Hucknall Magical Mystery Tour.

25th February 2017

 

GEORGE'S BLOG

 

AGED 9 MONTHS

 

THE HUCKNALL MAGICAL MYSTERY TOUR

 

 

Welcome to my world, won’t you come on in.

 

Excuse the title “Hucknall Magical Mystery Tour”. Grandad’s insistence. He likes naming things after Beatle songs. Not that the Beatles ever wrote a song with Hucknall in the title. They’ve never been to Hucknall and probably never heard of it.

 

Why would you go to Hucknall unless your grandparents lived there and forced you there? That happens to me regularly.

 

I question the rest of the title too. Let’s look at it:

1.             Magical – magic to me is rabbits out of the hat, stars twinkling in the sky, chocolate cake followed by a bot-bot – no Hucknall had none of these things.

2.             Mystery – Yes, I’ll give him that, ‘Where the **** you taking me?’ ran through my mind all the time.

3.             Tour – Uhm, well, er, yes, go on then, I’ll have to give him that one, but it was hardly ‘Tour of The Year’.

 

You are probably thinking Little George, can’t even say Beatles yet, but knows all about them. Yes, sadly that is true. It’s now a required part of DNA and related stuff that you are pre-programmed with in the womb as you are developing and preparing for life like being programmed to eat, drink, poo, be sick, operate  computers, tablets, phones, TV remotes, you are given an instinctive knowledge of the Beatles.

 

Anyway back to Sunday with the Grandparents.

 

Our grandparents had taken me and Sister Freya back to their house. Dad had gone out early, to play golf I think it was. Oh no, might have been to go to work. Same thing. Mum needed a rest because she’d been on holiday all week and Grandad needed looking after. I said to Sister Freya “No peace for us the wicked.”

 

“Wow!” she said “George, you can talk.”

 

We went to Mamma and Grandad’s house. We needed something to entertain them with. Me standing by myself supported by the pouffe only works so long and then Grandad inparticular, quickly loses interest and goes to sleep. In any event it kills my forelocks, shins and thighs. So when Grandad suggested a Magical Mystery Tour of Hucknall, I jumped at the chance. Especially as Mamma said she would bring lunch forward to have before we go. She does a mean squeeze of chicken dinner straight from tube to spoon all untouched by human hand. Magic!

 

To be fair to me, I did not know what to expect from this Tour. Forget Hucknall for a moment. Magical, Mystery, and Tour all sound like out of this world experiences that should top everyone’s bucket list. As a child out to maximise the joy and experiences of life everyday it was terrific.

 

Feeling well satisfied with food, drink and a clean nappy I was in my wheels ready to roll filled with excited anticipation. I thought it odd that I had not been provided with a written itinerary. But I quickly dismissed it and thought no more of it: at the end of the day Mamma, the reliable one, is head cook and bottle washer, Grandad deals with the clerical stuff and is not the most reliable.

 

So we got to Hucknall. I have heard the term ghost town and could not wait to start talking to ask what it meant. But when I reached Hucknall I quickly learned exactly what a ghost town looked like. This was a classic ghost town. Hardly any shops were open. Few people were around. Tumbleweed and discarded MacDonalds bags and Greggs bags blew down the middle of the deserted streets.

 

First stop on the itinery was Wilkos. Sister Freya’s favourite shop. Shops aren’t my cup of tea but having said that Wilkos has some potential for a favourite in time. The building is big and absolutely packed floor to ceiling, and door to door with things I should not have. Heaven on earth. Imagine, the fun, the mischief and the experiences I could have if left to crawl around here by myself. But I was kept firmly in my pushchair as Grandad pushed me around. We went through the boring toys but then, so exciting we went through, DIY with miles and miles of cables, wires, electrical equipment and remote controls.

 

But then Mamma took control. “What are you taking him around electricals for? He needs to look at toys.”

And she whisked me off through another brilliant department – bags of compost – to the boring toys again. What rubbish was she going to bestow upon me when all I wanted was a power cable, a plug or a remote control Just anything like that to get my newly cut teeth into.

 

But initially I was wrong about Mamma. She bought me a beautifully coloured hand ball that had LED lights lighting up inside when you threw it. An amazing present for a nine month old boy. Or it would have been, but by the time she got it home and before she gave it to me she read it was for children aged three years and older. Such rules are made to be broken. It’s Health and Safety gone mad, so I have to be three to play ball now? Just my luck.

 

Freya had a doll, as usual, I got nothing, as usual. Grandad had nothing, as usual, too. But he doesn’t mind, if it keeps Mamma happy. That’s his mission in life his purpose, to keep Mamma happy.

 

Next part of our tour took us from Wilkos up the road for Grandad to inspect the pedestrianisation of Hucknall Town Centre.  We looked at this bit of road that had been turned into a pavement, only about 100 yards of it. Grandad must have paid for it himself because he said, “What a waste of my hard earned money. This little bit just wasn’t worth doing. Do all the High Street or none of it.” He then said rude things about Councillors and Town Planners.

 

The tour continued but to be honest there was nothing else open except pubs and Costa. So we had a coffee break at Costa.

 

But Mamma and Grandad’s tour is very basic (on Trip Adviser for facilities you’d give it three out of five stars) If I’d been in Costa with Mum and Dad I’d have got a taste of chocolate muffin and water from a bottle of water purchased from Costa. Not from Mamma and Grandad. I only got my own bottle because I threatened to cry. Very poor service. I’ve made a note and as soon as I get my own tablet I’m on that site leaving my comments. Mind you a phone would do. Grandad’s is easy to get at.

 

I sat and watched them enjoy their coffee’s.

 

The tour continued. Next stop the park. Wow! This was exciting. After Sister Freya pushed Grandad round and round on the roundabout, he staggered off all disorientated. I can’t walk yet but I do a better job than he did and he’s had hundreds of years practicing to walk. I shall be better than that, I certainly can’t be any worse.

 

When he’d recovered he pushed Sister Freya on the swing, then me.

 

He pushed me:

                Up to the top of the swing

Up to the tops of the trees

                Up to the birds flying in the sky

                Up to the clouds

                Up to the moon

                Up to the sky

                Up to the space rockets

                Up to the sun

                Up to the space rockets

                Up to the sky

                Up to the moon

                Up to the clouds

                Up to the birds flying in the sky

                Up to the tops of the trees

                Up to the swing

 

The park marked the end of my Hucknall Magical Mystery Tour and do you know I cannot believe it and you won’t, I was not even taken to Tesco. Can you believe that? If I could talk I’d be speechless!

 

 

When I was a lad at school around 13 years old, our Maths teacher used to call me Wol. At the end of the year as we were moving up a class I plucked up courage to ask why he called me Wol. He told meit was thename of the deslexic owl in Winnie the Pooh. With my Harry Potter glasses he said I looked like the Wise Old Owl in the Winnie the Pooh stories.

 

Being the vain person I am I took it as a compliment

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