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NEIL HUDSON: Safety first, sense later
So there we were in a well known restaurant in Leeds city centre and we asked the waitress if she could possibly heat up our frozen baby food using their microwave.
No, she said back, and explained it was against health and safety rules but then added she could bring us a bucket of steaming hot water to put near our baby instead.
She said this without even a hint of self-parody.
'Marvellous,' I said back. 'Erm, could you possibly find a bucket which tapers off to a narrow point at the base, thereby making it a bit top heavy and therefore easier to knock over, thanks muchly...
'Oh, no, wait,' I said, warming to my theme. 'Why don't you bring it to the table but trip up just before you reach us, spilling scalding hot water over our son, scarring him for life...?
'Oo! Oo!' I added excitedly. 'I know, why don't you just put your own head in the bucket and save everyone a lot of bother?'
Honestly.
Of course, I didn't say any of those things, but I did think them. And more...
It wasn't the first time we had come up against this problem while dining out: restaurants seem generally frightened that if they reheat baby food using a microwave, customers will proceed to scald their babies and then sue the owners for all they are worth in a widely publicised lawsuit.
All of which would be a bit like a Headingley student suing a landlord because he drank too much beer in his pub, then walked outside and tripped over his clown costume.
I mean, you don't go into a bar, order a pint of best only to have the landlord lean over the counter and father-like quietly whisper: 'This stuff is dynamite. I'd stay clear if I were you.'
I mean, we're all adults (well, all those people above 18 at least). We all know microwaves are rubbish at reheating foods evenly.
I mean, never mind that we had to lug a heavy pram and everything else up a flight of steep stone steps just to get into the building, or seat our baby in the middle of a crowded restaurant with waiters swerving past every two minutes with umpteen hot plates all the way up both arms.
They're worried we might suddenly lose all common sense and not test the food first before we put it in junior's mouth.
One place we went into said they could warm our food up in their microwave but asked us to sign a legal disclaimer beforehand.
So, my partner being the straight-talking type that she is, said she would sign their form, which kind of threw the waiter a bit and he mumbled something about the manager not being in, then went away and heated up our food anyway but not before telling us to be 'very careful.'
Wow, I thought, not just normal careful, but very careful. I don't know what that is. I mean, I am careful in general but 'very' doesn't often come into the equation.
The world has come a long way in terms of accommodating parents with young children and as the father of an eight-month-old, I can tell you there's nothing more reassuring at the moment than clocking the baby change facility as I stumble through the doors of a restaurant carrying His Nibs, the pram and the million other items you need just for a trip to the shops.
Most places provide high chairs, even if they do come covered in the squashed remnants of the previous occupant's dinner.
This week, my partner and I even managed to go to the pictures with the little wriggler in tow, which is something I remember we used to do quite often as a couple, on a whim. Whims don't exist for us any more. A bit like one or two other things, without going into specifics, but you catch my drift.
They have been replaced by something called routine.
The film we went to see – Shorts – I had never heard of and with a U certificate wasn't expecting much until the opening credits announced it was a Robert Rodriguez affair – him of ultra-brutal 300 and Sin City fame.
Not that either of those films were any cop, looking back, but he does have a habit of breaking the mould.
For 99p a ticket, let's just say it was well worth the money and at 10.30am on a Saturday morning, what more can you ask for?
In point of fact, me and my other half were so chuffed to be sat in a big dark room munching popcorn from a dustbin-sized cardboard container and drinking cola from a bucket that we didn't really care what it was we were watching.
And seeing as the little 'un spent the first half hour just staring agog at the enormous cinema screen, the arrangement suited everyone right down to the ground.
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Sunday 12 February 2012
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