Chop chop 2

In Germany one can follow a course in laughing and there are laughing and giggle groups one can join. These courses aim to improve good health and mental stability. The English have a well published sense of humour and a laughing course would be perceived as "utterly redundant" on this island. "This is for Germans who have no sense of humour."

England is hung up about sex and bodily taboos. There is no German "body culture" (Koerper Kultur) or Dutch "sexual liberalism" (sexuele vrijheid).

Channel 4 in the UK sussed this and have created plenty of programmes that cash in on bodily themes. Last night I saw an example of this, a programme about "the vagina". It turns out that thousands of girls and women in this country have issues with - too large - labia minora, or in other words with their inner or small lips. These issues translate into thousands of plastic surgical operations per year to reduce the size of these girls' and womens' lips.

There is now a course - there may be more than one, I didn't explore - that helps groups of women to "look their vagina in the face" by looking into a mirror, and to get to know "the story of their vagina" so that these women stop wanting to chop off their inner lips.

We may ridicule the Germans who need a course to learn to smile and laugh and shake their livers. But the cost of a culture that prescribes bodily taboos resulting in painful mutulating procedures is in my eyes no laughing matter. It certainly takes the smile off my lips.

Six and seven going on seventy

My children are Billie (girl, nearly six) and Ben (boy, just turned seven). This morning my husband caught them in some serious conversation. The following was said:

Ben: "Bananas don't go off, they can always become smoothy."
Billie: "That's right, but you should not buy things when other things aren't eaten yet."
Ben: "The mozzarella has gone off, it has turned into water and they (meaning us hapless parents) have three of them."
Billie: "The flies lay eggs in the ham because the fridge lets them in."
Ben: "That is why the mozzarella is off."
Billie: "We don't have money for a new fridge."
Ben: "That is true, they are more than £10."
Billie: "Yes, they cost over a Zillion pounds. You just should not buy more than you eat. The pate is now in a container so it doesn't go off."
Ben: "That's right, because it's got Brussels sprouts in it."
Billie: "Oh ..." - giving some deep thought to how Brussels sprouts (which she doesn't really like) get mixed into Brussels pate (which is her absolute favourite).

Chop chop

It is said that what distinguishes us human beings from animals is our ability to reason and reflect. I believe that to be true. With that capability comes the ability to judge, not only others, also ourselves. One area that seems a universal part of judgement is our hair. Or, more precisely our bodily and facial hair, especially as a (western) woman. We have too much - seldom too little - in the wrong places and it only gets more - or worse - as we grow older.

The other day one of my girl friends asked me - in a confidential voice, slightly conspiritorial - if I was growing chest hair. Misunderstanding the question I replied that I have the odd misbehaving hair around my nipples. Who doesn't? Even those who live in acceptance of having hair in less acceptable places or those who don't talk about hairy stuff can be found in Boots buying creams, pincers, or more painful remedies.

Anyway, it turns out my friend was talking about chest hair, not breast hair. Of course hormones and age are responsible. I wonder how many other age related bodily surprises are in store that our mums didn't tell us about.

Hooray for Holland hockey

We won! Yesterday the Orange hockey men beat the Brits. Having grown up amongst hockey fanatics and enthusiasts I had to watch. My daughter was watching with me. The louder I chivvied the Dutch along, the more she cheered for Great Britain - the "Engelish" as she calls them, being five.

Clearly the result of a display of my chauvinistic side. In the meantime the audience in the stadium is chanting: "Holland ... Holland ...!

At some stage the commentator makes an "unforgivable" mistake. He says: " Holland, or 'the Netherlands' as they prefer to call themselves for hockey. Die Niederlaende."

How can he get so confused?! That is German for the Netherlands. Dutch, German, it doesn't really matter. But, you don't want to mix them up ... !

My children don't listen

Regularly I think that we used to listen better than my children do - or some of their friends for that matter. Guess what? That may be a fact.

Talking to my sister-in-law the other day she said this is more than just a nostalgic belief. She is a speech therapist and works with children of all ages. She knows about these things. Her explanation: children nowadays learn many things in a visual way, ICT, internet, visual instructions and visual aids for learning. All contribute. Spoken instructions, listening before getting going, seems to be a thing of the past for today's children. How frustrating for me as a mum who links being listened to to being respected!