…for yet another dose of pant wetting hysteria. Clearly, since the economy has been showing small, green tendrils of recovery, it was time to get us good and scared again.

Exhibit A: SARS. IT WILL FREAKING KILL US ALL.

Not so much.

Exhibit B: Bird Flu. OH MY GOD, SERIOUSLY, YOU GUYS, THIS IS THE BIG ONE.

Bird Flu what?

Exhibit C: Swine Flu. I KNOW WE WERE WRONG ABOUT THE LAST TWO, BUT HONEST TO GOD, FOLKS, WE’RE JUMPING OUT THE WINDOW RIGHT NOW INSTEAD OF PERISH IN THE APOCALYPSE TO COME! *crash* AIEEEEEE!

Let’s take a look at the facts. The main outbreak has taken place in Mexico, a country in which 40% of the population lives below the MEXICAN poverty line, which, let’s face it, is probably a fair amount lower than the poverty line in Great Britain or the United States and in a city with sewage problems and a staggering street population. How many of these people do you think have access to health care? Clean water? Basic sanitation? Of course, what I am missing is the data as to the cross section of the population that is being affected by the Flu. Are they, as one might suspect, the poor? I find it odd that this information has not been made available. Not only that, but of the 100 or so fatalities, only 40 or so of those have been confirmed to have been due to the virus.

The information which IS being broadcast is that the cases of Swine Flu are rapidly mounting up in countries all over the world. As of yet, none of these cases have been fatal or even particularly virulent, tragically, apart from a young Mexican child in the US who was most likely brought across the border to keep her away from the illness.

The media is seriously in danger of becoming the boy who cried pandemic.

However, saying all that, I sit here with loathing in my heart, because I have the flu and I let them scare me. I haven’t been this ill in a long time. To borrow a turn of phrase from Dave Barry, this is the kind of sick where I can feel each individual air molecule smashing against me at speed. The duvet protects me some of the time, but they find their way in, the bastards, and cannon back and forth between the inside of the covers and any exposed surface of skin, which is unbelievably tender to the touch.

I can hear things happening in the flat. The Rock Star is a supreme nurse and babysitter, but I know that after two solid days, his veneer is beginning to peel a little and demands for “MORE SESAME STREET!” are often met with beleaguered acceptance, because he’s still got work to do and I can’t sit up for periods of more than 20 minutes at a time.

So, I lie in my bed, listen to the train of thought conversations of my daughter in the lounge and think fluey thoughts.

Have I got it? That guy who sneezed near me in Tesco yesterday; had he been to Cancun recently? Maybe one of the kids from Wren’s nursery?

God damn you, media. We will just have to see.

Rejoice and be glad, fellow handmade-ites for today is Etsy Day!

Today is the day when it was decided by sellers on Etsy that we would like to spread the good word about the wonderland of fabulous handmade merchandise that one can find on our site. In this era of big business and mass marketing, it has NEVER been so important to support independent artisans who beaver away tirelessly in sheds, backrooms, front rooms, and every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse that is available for purpose. Poor Robin is just one of MANY shops having sales or offers today, so pootle on over to check it out.

So, to that end, spread the good word, my people. Preach the gospel. Become an Etsyvangelist for the day. Hallelujah!

Here’s a very small offering of some of the scrumptious things that you can find in our wonderful little world!

Wednesdays are the Rock Star’s day at home with the Prawn. The Prawn is most definitely a daddy’s girl, right down to the bone, but she sometimes knows when to stick up for me.

Prawn:  “Daddy has a big mouth!”

The Rock Star: “Well that’s not very nice is it? How would you like it if I said you had a big bum?”

Prawn: “BIG BUM!”

The Rock Star: “Does Prawn have a big bum?”

*Prawn sticks bum up in the air*

Prawn:  “YES!”

The Rock Star: “I see.  Does daddy have a big bum?”

Prawn: “YES! Daddy big bum!”

The Rock Star:  “Right. What about mummy? Does mummy have a big bum?”

Prawn: ” uhhhhhhhhh … ”

Prawn: ” ummm … NOPE. Mummy SMALL bum”

My child is only 2 and knows when to tell the right kind of lie.

I’ve having one of those sunrise/sunset moments at present. The Prawn has discovered Sesame Street.

And when I say discovered, what I actually mean is, lives, breathes and eats The Street. There is not a moment of the day when she does not wish to be worshiping at the feet of St. Elmo. (And not the 80’s brat pack feature, although one might say that the unchanging nature of Rob Lowes good looks might have a slightly holy bent to it.) We only have about 7 episodes ranging from newer (probably 2007 or so) to older (late 90’s, judging by the “computer” episode where Telly Monster shows you how to load a floppy disk into a machine that takes up 3/4ths of the desk that it’s sitting on.) so needless to say the Rock Star and I are frantically trying to get our hands on more so that we don’t want to commit suicide.

I embellish. To be truthful, I’m fairly happy to sit down with the Prawn and watch Sesame Street as it still features a lot of the fun, grainy clips that I remember from my childhood. The trippy 12 song, with the latest disco beats and just-about- post LSD era animations of a pinball traveling through national landmarks came up almost immediately. And how great is it to see that at least half of the original cast is STILL PLUGGING AWAY after 32 years? And that all of the muppets finally sound the way they did before Jim Henson went ot the big, googly-eyed felt pile in the sky? (Big kudos to Eric Jacobson and Steve Whitmeyer) While all of this was incredibly exciting to me, the Prawn just wanted to know when Elmo was coming back.

It’s my belief that someone should study the whole Elmo phoenominon. Until last week, the Prawn had never seen Elmo. Never heard of Elmo. But the moment she was introduced, it was love at little, furry, red monster sight. I’m not really sure how to feel about Elmo, especially the “Elmo’s World” segments which are generally pretty inane, but there’s obviously something about him which causes immediate crack brain in children. (I actually think the biggest surprise about Elmo for me was the person who voices him. I was pretty sure it was a woman for a long time, but it turns out it’s an enormous black guy called Kevin Clash who does some directing on the show as well.) So how does he do it? Subliminal messages? Rays from space? Whatever it is, I wish he was sharing, because if I could hold the Prawn’s attention like that, I’d have it made.

But anyway, it’s all a little surreal to be watching a show that I watched as a child with all the same characters 30 years later with my own little girl on my lap.

ONE! ONE HAPPY MEMORY! TWO! TWO HAPPY MEMORIES! THREE! THREE HAPPY MEMORIES. AH AH AH!

Driving down the road, we get about a physically close to a collared dove as is humanly possible in a car before it takes flight.

The Rock Star: Doves are only the birds of peace because they are too stupid to wage war.

You caught me. I’m going to cop out and post some baby pictures.

So it’s Friday in the office and we’re listening to the rather eclectic music that results from BoyRacer putting his juke box on “shuffle”. Something fairly heavy comes on and while I’m not ENTIRELY paying attention, the lyrics aren’t making much sense to me.

Me: Who IS this?

The Rock Star: What?

Me: The music.

The Rock Star: It’s The Prodigy.

Me: Do the lyrics go, “I’ve got the poison/I’ve got the marinade? Cause if they are, that’s one f-ed up picnic that they’re planning.

(raucous inter-office laughter )

The Rock Star: Erm, no. That would be, “I’ve got the poison/ I’ve got the REMEDY.”

Me: Well, that makes a little more sense. But it’s not as funny as the deadly shish-kabobs that I was imagining.