Childcare tips

It's not often I travel first class; the reclining seat and table lamp doesn't do justice to the cost, and personally I'd prefer the wooden walled compartment of old so it's cattle class every time for this boy. However, on Saturday due to refurbishment at Cod Central Station, there was no booking office to play with, and the facist bastard automated machine made the choice for me, and booked me into first without me noticing. Breadhead. I hate automated checkouts in supermarkets too. So, down a few quid at the start of the afternoon, and first class it was. Speaking of first class, aught to mention a new brew from those masters of mayhem and alcohol fuelled jollity at Sole Bay Brewery, Adnams: waiting for my train to arrive, there was time for a pint and I espied my favorate brand name with a new title attached and a tasteful picture of a row of canon for a pint named "Gunhill". I shan't bother with tasting notes, strengths, and all that malarky but it's jolly nice and if you drink enough of it you'll fall over. Sorted. Anyway, back to snakes on a plane. Sorry, that should be brats on a train. The pint over, the clock ticking - I made my way to platform two where the TransPennine "Toilet Paper Express" was making it's way in, made my way to cattle class where I noticed for the first time that automation is a con, they're all just money grabbing bastards and made my way into my elitest, antiproleatariat so called refuge to meet Amy. Now, I'm all in favour of children being themselves, and this is obviously a happy, vivacious child with plenty of bounce to give to the world; a good thing surely. Except that I'm paying premium for this seat; surely child quietening tactics are in order here? How much can one child shout in forty miles? Note to parents everywhere; it only takes a little tap to dislocate the little tykes jaw and we all travel in peace :o).