One of the duties we've taken upon ourselves as grandparents is to involve young Sam in a good range of social situations so he gets used to them and learns how to behave properly.

Things did not get off to a promising start on Saturday when he was in our care and we decided to go for lunch to a civilised, family-friendly pub.

We'd only just entered the place and were walking past the bar towards the no-smoking room when Sam coughed twice then threw up all over the floor - most of it being half-chewed grapes he'd been eating in the car on the way there.

The pub people were very understanding about it. While Sam, who's a bit fastidious, looked dismayed and pointed at his splashed feet, saying "Shoes! Shoes!", Grandma and Granddad were on hands and knees cleaning up the mess with paper cloths before someone appeared from a back room with a mop and a spray can of odour-neutralising Febreze.

It's not all fun, being a grandparent!

Things improved though. Lunch was more or less incident-free, and afterwards Sam got down from his chair to wander about a bit. Wandering-about infants can be something of a nuisance in a busy pub, but on this lunchtime only one other party was in that particular room.

It included Ruby, a little girl three or four months younger than Sam who was there with her Mum and Dad and grandparents. She was wandering about too, and wandered in Sam's direction, chattering away to him.

Sam, who is normally quite a chatterbox himself, went into typical male mode when confronted with female attentions. He decided to play it all strong, silent and macho. It's amazing how early on these patterns of behaviour show themselves.

He took to showing off, walking in a circuit around the tables and steadfastly refusing to look at Ruby when he passed her. At one time she followed him, so he turned round and went the other way, again apparently ignoring her - except that, when he was at the most distant point from her on his circuit, he would stop and peep at her from behind a chair to see if she was taking notice of him.

As they say on Brookside: "Soft lad!" It was the sort of attitude you might expect from a self-conscious 13-year-old, but Sam's only just gone two.

He redeemed himself though. When it was time for us to leave, we urged him to say goodbye to his new admirer.

"Bye-bye, Ruby," he said, walking up to her. He crouched a little (she was a couple of inches shorter than him), looked intently into her face, then gave her a big kiss.

I fear he'll break a few hearts over the years will that lad - even if he does make a bit of a prat of himself in the process.

I Don't Believe It!

A couple of grumbles this week about car fog lights - but one of them came accompanied by a pat on the back for Bradford Council, which is a most unusual occurrence.

But first, the grumble. Stella Ward rang from Cullingworth to complain about people who keep their car fog lights switched on when it isn't foggy.

"It's almost as though they're a fashion accessory," she told me. "Because they're there on the car, some people think they have to use them all the time. It can be very disconcerting, particularly on a dark road."

Indeed it can, Stella. With four great big bright lights coming at you instead of two dipped ones, it's like being attacked by a UFO. They really do dazzle, don't they?

Mrs Mildew's pet hate at the moment is those cars with headlamps which look a different colour when seen from a certain angle. Sometimes the light from them is white, sometimes it's blue and very bright. She mutters about them in a most uncharitable manner.

And now the bouquet, which came in a call for me via Mike Priestley from a reader who lives in Baildon but wouldn't say who she was. She, too, wondered about fog lights and spotlights on cars, and thought that many of them were higher off the road than they should be.

But the main purpose of her call was to sing the praises of Bradford. That's right! I'm not kidding. She'd travelled by bus to Shipley last Wednesday morning, done a bit of shopping there, and then travelled on to Bradford. And here's what she had to say.

"I don't come into Bradford very often. I've been a strong critic of the place because of it being so dirty. But on Wednesday I couldn't believe it, it was so clean. I went to Shipley first of all and the Market Place was free of litter. Then I travelled on to Bradford. There was no litter in the gutters or on the pavements all along Keighley Road and down through Manningham. I don't know what it was like in the back streets, of course, but what I could see from the bus was very clean.

"In Bradford I walked through the Kirkgate Centre and down the town to Husterlergate, and still everywhere was spotless. The only jarring note was when I came out of Waterstone's after having some lunch there and there was a sandwich bag lying on the pavement.

"But when I walked across to the IMAX, there was still no litter. I'm still startled by it. It was lovely, it really was."

So there you are, Cleansing Department workers. Your efforts are appreciated by at least one lady and no doubt by many other people too. At the moment, it seems, you're picking it up faster than people can drop it. Well done.

If you have a gripe about anything, drop a line to me, Hector Mildew, c/o Newsroom, T&A, Hall Ings, Bradford BD1 1JR, email me or leave any messages for me with Mike Priestley on (44) 0 1274 729511.

Yours Expectantly,

Hector Mildew

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