It's all true about Postman Pat and Mrs Goggins, I swear it

PUBLISHED: 06:19 27 June 2018

Chris McGuire, trapped in a tot's-eye-universe, where Postman Pat is king...

Chris McGuire, trapped in a tot's-eye-universe, where Postman Pat is king...


Chris McGuire: The Out Of Depth Dad finds himself trapped in a tots' universe.

I can’t be the only person who’s noticed it.

Surely others are picking up on the signs too? The lingering glances, the sighs, the occasional moment of physical contact that last that little bit too long.

I’m convinced there’s something going on between Postman Pat and Mrs Goggins.


I’m sure that Greendale has become a hotbed of intrigue – making the series feel as dynamic as The Archers, but with (slightly) more emphasis on mail delivery.

There is, of course, a small risk that I’m misreading the situation. Perhaps I’m seeing things that aren’t there? It’s an easy mistake to make when your constant companion is a Postman Pat-obsessed two-year-old. How on earth is a parent supposed to maintain perspective when immersed into the world of tots? How do you stop from going slightly mad? I’d love to find out.

It’s amazing much you miss proper, grown up, conversation. There was a time when I’d think nothing of chatting with friends and colleagues about existentialism or if a certain brand-leading cola changed in flavour depending on whether it was served from a bottle or can. These days my average conversation plays out like this:


“That’s right. It’s a stick.”

“Nice stick.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Nice stick.”

“No, we don’t put the stick in our mouth.”

“Another stick.”

“That’s right. Two sticks.”

How I didn’t go completely barmy months ago is beyond me. Perhaps the burgeoning postal romance was the only thing keeping me sane?

In an effort to remain sane, I created a tranquil mental spot to retreat to. This place, in the far recesses of my mind, is warm and comfortable - it has my favourite music playing on a loop and Sky+ with a good channels package. Whenever life with a toddler gets a little full on – I go to my tranquil spot.

Let me explain.

1 My son decides to empty all of his crayons onto the floor, then cries as the room is “too messy”. I retreat to my tranquil spot, where I discover they’re re-running classic episodes of Columbo. Perfect. I pick up the crayons on auto-pilot as I ponder why Columbo takes a whole episode to realise who the murderer is. It’s ALWAYS the most famous member of the cast, the one with sinister black gloves.

2 My son cheerfully throws his dummy into a muddy puddle, then cries when I refuse to let him have it back. I retreat to my tranquil mental spot, where The Beatles’ White Album is playing. As we trundle to the chemist to find a replacement pacifier I debate whether, with a little more work, two stronger albums could have been made from this slightly haphazard collection? I decide to drop Macca an email to get his view.

3 My son refuses to stop jumping on the bed, falls over and whacks himself with the gnarled Thomas The Tank Engine he’s been waving in the air. I retreat to my tranquil spot, where (as I give him a cuddle) I ponder whether grey emulsion would work well in our bathroom? It wouldn’t. There’s too little natural light for such a dark shade.

This tranquil spot is the perfect holiday destination, somewhere you’d gladly go to again and again – an Airbnb in your head, with no toddlers allowed. It comes highly recommended.

I’m sure my friends think I have gone a little doolally already. Mainly because, when I see them (on the rare occasions I get parenting shore-leave) I’m either monosyllabic or suffering from an acute case of verbal diarrhoea.

Some days I’ll repeat: “It’s good to be out!” over and over, like some third-rate Shawshank Redemption tribute act, as I stare into a pint. But on other occasions I’ll gorge myself on grown-up chat, expounding my views on everything from Brexit to whether Bob the Builder secretly breaks things at night, in order to keep himself in work. These outpourings are met with open-mouthed incredulity and the occasional sympathetic nod from others who’ve run the toddler parenting gauntlet.

It’s time for me to go now, there’s a whole host of toddler chaos to deal with. But don’t forget Postman Pat, have a watch. See what you think. I’m sure it’s not just me seeing these plotlines. While you’re at it, check out Hey Duggee. For no reason other than it’s really good. Far too good for kids!

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