#17: Sorry About My Family, Janet

#17: Sorry About My Family, Janet
11 minutes to read

One of my very favourite bloggers, @themumzilla, has featured me in her excellent Inner Monologues series, which makes me do a happy dance. She’s done a superb job of dead-heading my superfluous waffle, but here is the unabridged version in its entirety. Enjoy! 

The first time I met Moo’s Health Visitor – let’s call her Janet – my immediate silent reaction was “Christ, what’s that in her mouth?”. Janet had a pronounced lisp and a contraption nestled into her upper palette that gave the impression of a snake’s egg tooth sitting over her top row of gnashers. I quickly recovered my manners and spent the duration of her visit trying to look anywhere but her mouth. Moo helped this by embarking on a twenty minute sick-shit-sick-wee-shit-I’M EMPTY FEED ME NOW performance, while I tried to give off the air of having the whole situation totally under control because I’m an “experienced mum” (her words). In amongst this commotion, I realised that Janet had switched two letters of Moo’s real name around and was now completely mispronouncing it. Like a sterling example of an easily embarrassed British genteel lady (ahem), I let it slide without correction, having gone past the point where it would be reasonably acceptable to set her back on the right course. I wouldn’t have to see her for another couple of weeks and I was sure she’d have forgotten Moo’s name by then so I could start from scratch.

Fast forward a fortnight, and I decide that taking both Moo and Mouse to the local Sure Start Stay and Play is brilliant idea. Mouse can charge around between the various play areas, a dolly in a pram here, an assortment of Velcro-jointed grocery items there. I, meanwhile, can get Moo weighed in a relaxed setting with all the time in the world afforded to me. Oh, how I look back in retrospect and pity my own ambitions, my misguided dreams of a calm yet functional, enriching hour provided by the NHS. In reality, my two children and myself join forces to descend into social mortification and light shame, leading me to seek out an alternative Sure Start venue with a different fleet of staff.

On the morning in question, I’m feeling quite pleased with myself for strong arming the two children out of the house before 10.30am. My stride is purposeful, my tone is chipper. I am Winning at Parenting. I wish I could bottle that feeling and drink it on days of reduced confidence (turn it into gin, basically).

We enter the building through the poorly designed teeny, tiny doorway and Mouse opts for a buggy board dismount just as I’m performing a tricky manoeuvre to negotiate the ramp/step/ramp sequence. “Oh, careful there poppet, I don’t want you to fall off and conk your head!”

I’m raising a free spirited bloody idiot. Never alight from a moving vehicle.

“Good morning, have you come to see the Health…you can’t leave your buggy there, you’re blocking the fire escape.”

I haven’t actually stopped moving, jobsworth. I’m still actively coming to a standstill and navigating through the 800 other buggies here, which means that 1. We’re going to be here sodding ages, and 2. I’m going to get blocked in. But yes, heaven forbid I pause to breathe and acclimatise for a nanosecond in front of the fire escape.

“You need to sign in yourself and BOTH of your children. Not just the one seeing the health visitor. BOTH names of your children please in that box, yes that’s right, the column where it asks you to list the children you have in attendance here today.”

Jesus Christ, do I look like a cretin? Has she observed my ill-advised pause by the fire escape and immediately decided that I’m incapable of following instructions? Does she think I’m a habitual deviant? Alright, both children. I really, really need to practise my handwriting while I’m on maternity leave because even I can’t read that scrawl. Ah, and I ought to get re-fitted properly for some nursing bras because my funbags are the last to the party and I was a fool to believe I could ever fill a C-cup. As a result, while I scribble out my surname and re-write it painstakingly neatly, hunched over like this I can see all of my breasts as my bra gapes.

“Red book please.” I smugly whip the red book from where I tucked it in the buggy next to Moo’s leg and thrust it into Jobsworth’s outstretched hand. I’ve just saved myself a good 30 seconds of rummaging around in an overstuffed changing bag for the childhood equivalent of the Bible. Moo shrieks – a stray scratchy bit of plastic from the cover has caught her on the ankle. If I bustle about a bit, no one will notice.

“Mummy, I think you just really hurt her leg, with that book! I think she really doesn’t like it.”

Yes, thank you for your keen observations.

“Mmm, she’ll be alright in a minute. Shall we go and have a look at these lovely toys?”

“I’m going on the slide,” comes the reply. “The outside slide.”

No, no you’re fucking not, because I need to be in here for when were summoned and I can’t come and rescue you from the top of the climbing frame when you decide you’ve got vertigo.

“Well, how about we go and have a look over here, I can see some nice books – maybe I can read to you while…”

Aaaaand she’s off outside. Jobsworth appears. “I’m afraid we’re not able to supervise your child outside so we will need to ask you to either help her with inside play, or stand out there with her.”

I’m practising an ‘in public menacing’ voice and it’s coming on quite nicely, whereby earwiggers will think I have full control over my brood but Mouse knows I’m about three notches down from ‘apeshit’. I clear my throat, and using said voice I respectfully advise that she may have four turns down the slide, then we must go inside and wait to be called by the Health Visitor, because I might not be able to hear her from my rescue base at the bottom of the climbing frame.

“Sorry to be a pain, but can you either stand inside or outside please? You’re blocking the doorway.”

Oh, piss off and shuffle some bloody leaflets or something.

I dispense with the in public menacing voice and beg Mouse to come in. I have nothing to lure her with except the offer of an immediate cuddle, which I realise holds absolutely zero value in the global commerce of the play area. Miraculously she trots indoors. Must give her some chocolate buttons later.

“I need a wee.”

Ah, that’s your favourite trick. You don’t, you absolutely do not need a wee. You had two before we left and you’re only saying it because you know it’s a logistical nightmare taking you in public when I’m carrying Moo as well, and you think it’s funny. You know who does need a wee? Me. My bladder is totally up the kibosh thanks to your sister but I’ve learned to hold it and you could do with learning a bit of control and willpower too. God, what a horrible mum I am, I forget you’re only three. Urgh. More chocolate buttons later.

“Okie doke, we’ll have to be really really quick quick then my angel because I don’t want to miss our turn.”

I make a strange, beckon-wave motion in the direction of Jobsworth to indicate that I’ve been called away on urgent business but please please don’t skip over us and put our red book to the bottom of the now teetering pile. My initial scepticism was correct – Mouse doesn’t really need a wee, and she strains as she squeezes out a tinkle that could be measured in drops rather than millilitres.

We return to the battle field and Jobsworth pounces. “You almost missed your turn, you’re next.” I thank her and think to myself that she’s full of contradictory shit because if I’ve not been called yet then I can’t have almost missed my turn. I dispatch Mouse to the strange road map playmat.

We’re up. Of course it’s Janet. “Oh, hello *insert mispronounced name here* baby! Hello sweet thing! Gosh she’s coming along isn’t she? Hi there *wrong name*!” She remembers us, then. Jolly good. I set about undressing Moo and try to maintain small talk, whilst worrying that my method of vest removal looks a bit brutal because she’s suddenly outgrown it. Probably time to phase out the tiny baby stuff now that she’s knocking on the door of 9lb land.

Should I be wiping her lady parts back to front, or front to back? I can never remember and make some very animated gestures while I swoosh about with a wet wipe. I think I’m sweating.

Mouse reappears and Janet turns to talk to her, leaving me free to debate putting Moo’s nappy in the very fit-for-purpose nappy bin that is marked with “please take your baby’s dirty nappies home with you”.

“Hi there gorgeous! Don’t you look like an absolute doll! I can see some birdies on your top. Can you tell me what colour they are?”

Mouse looks at Janet. Janet looks at Mouse. I look at Mouse. Moo looks at me.

“What’s in your mouth?”

Oh god.

“Why can’t you talk properly? What is that bad thing on your teeth?”


“Why is it there, in your mouth?”

I should probably interject here, but I literally have no idea what to say for the best, so instead I fold Moo’s clothes in a pointless little pile next to her head. Luckily, Janet steps into the breach.

“Well, my dentist makes me wear this thing in my mouth to stop me rubbing my teeth together. I’ve had it a long time and I’m hoping he lets me take it out soon.”

Mouse absorbs this. “So then you won’t sound all funny when you talk? How will it come out?”

Aaaargh, she’s warming to her theme. Time to nip this in the bud. “Hey, silly banana, that’ll do. Why don’t you go and choose a book to read and we’ll look at it together once I’ve finished weighing….” I falter. Bollocks, I can’t say Moo’s name because then Janet will know that she’s been pronouncing it wrong and that’ll be a double kick in her grindy teeth. “….your sister.” I finish, after a meaty pause.

Mouse scampers off and Janet rallies to profess how it’s wonderful that children are little sponges and just call things as they see them, with no fear of causing offence or feeling embarrassed. I’m about to agree enthusiastically when I hear a small parp and watch a slow mass of korma sauce ooze from Moo’s bottom. It’s too late to catch it with anything. Shit quite literally just got real. And it’s endless. If we were at home, this would be an instantaneous decamp into the bath, but I have no option but use an entire pack of wet wipes as Moo smiles up at me. Time stands still as I fill nappy sack after nappy sack with wipes and sheets of blue couch roll that Janet has kindly proffered. I would saw off my own leg to leave this charade and when Moo is eventually clean, I race through the weigh-and-general-chat-yes-vitamin-drops-would-be-fab-thanks process so that we can escape.

I release the brakes of 60 other buggies and move them, like those grid puzzles with one empty square and a pattern to arrange, and beat a clear path to the door. Mouse can have the entire bag of chocolate buttons later if she just helps me to execute a swift getaway, and find a bin where I can deposit all of the crap-filled nappy sacks.

“Excuse me, mum, have you signed out for you and both children? You must sign out when you leave.”

Nope, dickhead mum didn’t sign out. We back up – wide load coming through – and I abandon the buggy by the doorway while I dash inside. When I return, Mouse is halfway up the climbing frame and Jobsworth follows me out. I mentally shoot daggers at her. Go on then love, what is it now? Is this square foot of Tarmac reserved in case a Famous swings by?

“Have you got our up to date list of Stay and Play locations? There’s one held most days so you can try all of them out, if you want to!”

Hmm. Absolutely no sodding way.

-SJW July 2016

Would you like to read Mumzilla’s version? You can find it here: Inner Monologue Series



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  1. July 4, 2016 / 10:36 am

    Love this, as always! I think undressing / redressing a baby at those things is one of life’s most stressful experiences, especially if there is shit involved!! We’ve got his 2 year check / test / assessment thing tomorrow so that should be fun…

    • July 4, 2016 / 10:37 am

      Oh be prepared for him to do absolutely nothing that you want him to do, and at least one thing you’re dreading ???? hope it goes well, thank you for reading and commenting!

  2. July 4, 2016 / 11:43 am

    Loved this – mainly because I can totally see this being me when I have another. I found it hard enough doing a weigh in session with one – I always felt like the mum who was failing at doing anything properly. If watch other mums glide in all made up, blow dried , glowing and rested and there I was in a pair of joggers, still shuffling along after the horrors of childbirth, Mrs leaky boobs with the baby who screamed all the time! #fartglitter

    • July 4, 2016 / 12:23 pm

      I’m sure you’re not like that at all but I know exactly what you mean, you feel like a performing deal with the spotlight right on you! I always get stupidly flustered by the whole thing and it takes aaaaaages too. Thank you for reading and commenting for #fartglitter ???? x

  3. July 4, 2016 / 11:55 am

    great post. i have just read it over on mumzilla. The last health visitor i saw looked about 12 and didnt have a clue about anything! xx

    • July 4, 2016 / 12:20 pm

      Ha yes it’s a complete lottery! With the baby I only saw “my” midwife twice as she was forever on holiday / training courses etc. Not much in the way of consistency. Thank you for reading ???? xx

  4. July 4, 2016 / 2:34 pm

    Oh no, sorry, don’t go ???? I KNOW! I don’t want to carry a bag of crap with me! I think it’s something to do with having a registered carrier for hazardous waste licensed to serve the premises, but it’s ridiculous. Thank you for hosting #fartglitter ????

  5. July 4, 2016 / 4:38 pm

    This was an amazing read over my coffee…LOVE it!!! So funny, and I can relate to all of it! Poor Janet and her odd mouth thing! #anythinggoes

    • July 4, 2016 / 4:44 pm

      Aah thank you for such a lovely comment! I’m really chuffed it made you laugh. Update – since that happened Janet has left and they’ve closed two of the sodding weigh clinics near me due to shortages. The result is that the one I now have to to is both heaving and horrible in equal measure, lol. Actually not lol. Cry. ???? #anythinggoes

  6. July 4, 2016 / 6:07 pm

    This is just brilliant! Reminds me of the awful HV weigh ins I had too – is it really hot in there, I was definitely sweating too. Once I recall being grilled about BLW – got through that by basically lying and telling her what she wanted to here. Then had to do nappy and re-dress, left E for a moment to reach down for the changing bag…cue judgemental death stare and “you know you should never leave her even for a second” dammit, busted. So close! Xx #triballove

    • July 4, 2016 / 6:29 pm

      Hahaha with my eldest I just lied about BLW because the HV didn’t seem keen or receptive and I was too tired to explain it…you know?! I reckon half the mums that go in just lie about things rendering it all a bit pointless and tick-boxy. Then after the 12 month check they seem to cease caring (until you break their legs, but that’s another blog post ????) xx

      • July 4, 2016 / 6:31 pm

        So true. At 12 months we had to bring a questionnaire – 50% of the questions I answered no to. She said she didn’t need to look at it as E is obviously happy and healthy! Somewhere in between the two would be better ????

        • July 4, 2016 / 6:36 pm

          Oh it’s crazy – they can change massively within the space of a week so unless you do the questionnaire the day of the HV check it’s all outdated. Silly nonsense! Yet I do feel grateful that we have access to free healthcare yada yada xx

  7. July 4, 2016 / 9:46 pm

    I remember the old ‘weigh in’. I always seemed to be very ham fisted under the scrutiny of the health visitor when undressing/dressing ‘baby’. I was also expected once – to only whip my son’s nappy off for the few seconds while he was weighed and then get it back on again pronto! Not easy to have slight of hand with a newborn and sleep deprivation. Love an inner monologue me -life affirming! 🙂 #fartglitter

    • July 4, 2016 / 10:57 pm

      Just laughed at ‘slight of hand’ – so true, I’m all fingers and thumbs under scrutiny! Got to take the baby tomorrow and dreading the whole charade slightly…thank you for reading ???? xx

  8. July 5, 2016 / 10:19 am

    This is just brilliant. Totally forgot about the nightmare of weigh-in days, where my child would start screaming as soon as we crossed the threshold! Also remember sweating profusely. Like I was being judged for how efficiently I undressed/redressed my baby. Oh the joy, I’ve got this all to come again! Fab post #TwinklyTuesday

    • July 5, 2016 / 11:35 am

      Haha thank you for a lovely comment. Always with the nervous sweating, whatever the weather! Glad you enjoyed it xx

  9. July 5, 2016 / 12:57 pm

    Ah this was such a treat to read, had me giggle so much! Nervous giggling knowing that I have all of this to come *gulps*! Haha!


  10. July 6, 2016 / 12:00 am

    Oh god, I feel you. I was supposed to go today but I chickened out. Next week…! Good luck on Friday, haha xx

  11. July 6, 2016 / 9:05 am

    God I remember the weigh in sessions, but as I only ever had the one I cant imagine how awkward this was for you. Also your Sure Start Centre sound like a bunch of assholes! Ours are awesome and were one of the only reasons I got through Oscars autism diagnosis intact! Have to admit I don’t miss the clinic. Undressing the baby, having them scream blue murder, just so you could weigh them. And what for. They’re growing out of their clothes they’re clearly not starving! #bloggingclubuk

    • July 6, 2016 / 9:22 am

      Ah I’m so pleased that you had better luck with yours, especially around the autism diagnosis. The support is there…just sadly I think it’s influenced by time constraints and budgets etc, like most other public services. Thank you for reading ???? #bloggerclubuk

      • July 6, 2016 / 9:25 am

        And jobsworths it would seem!! Kindness and understanding cost nothing!

  12. July 6, 2016 / 10:32 am

    ahhhh Moose I love it! I found them stressful enough with just one gremlin boy, can’t imagine it with a toddler too! Why is it that as soon as a HV or midwife is there suddenly a baby’s clothes are impossible to get on and off, they start screaming, everything just goes to pot?! I haven’t had him weighed in ages, I was like ah he keeps growing out of his clothes so he’s clearly fine! Their weight becomes less interesting once they get past about 3 months I always think. So I haven’t seen a HV in ages…whoops. I think they do an 8 or 9 month check so that’ll be coming up fairly soon, wonder what my HV thinks about BLW?! ‘Yes he eats three FULL MEALS a day’ (I have no idea how much he eats at each sitting, most is on his head and the floor). More monologues please Moosey, this is a beaut. #BloggerClubUK

    • July 6, 2016 / 12:31 pm

      Thank you my darling Ed! Er, I was supposed to go yesterday and wimped out. I figure I’ll go once before we start weaning (BLW is king) then pootle along until the 8-12 jobber. Excellent advice. Tried a T-shirt on her yesterday that groaned at the seems so we’re probably all good. Likewise, more biscuit-accessorised posts from you please! Xxx #BloggerClubUK

  13. July 6, 2016 / 11:07 am

    Our first health visitor had the most ridiculous Sybill Trelawney-style glasses (just google it…), she always insisted on taking her shoes off and then revealing her darned and re-darned stockings….and I think she was about 65 and had never had kids….couldn’t work the hearing test equipment….aarrgghh….
    But mainly this post reminds me of taking my sensory seeking daughter to messy play at the Stay and Play. Everyone else’s kids were gently putting their toes in the paint and making footprints on paper. I turned round for 1 min then discovered my girl had stripped off to her pants and was rolling around the painty paddling pool like a blue smurf….and despite being a kids centre they had NOTHING to help me clean her up. I spent about 30 mins using a full pack of babywipes to get her even clean enough to get in the car. Never dared showed my face again…..

    • July 6, 2016 / 12:36 pm

      1. I so know those specs!! Like jam jar bottoms, tee hee. 2. Oh lord, so you have an adventurous sort…I bet you had to cajole her out against her will leading to more paint spreadage, utter cringe! That’s a bit ambitious (read: crazy whacko) for a sure start to think that’s a safe, clean activity, bet they didn’t do it again ???? thank you for reading and commenting for #BloggerClubUk xx

  14. July 6, 2016 / 1:13 pm

    Oh God I am DYING for you!! Mine are 5 and 7 now so the hell of these appointments and buggy antics have been banished to a very far back place in my mind but you describe the trauma that is ‘a perfectly simple trip to the HV’ so beautifully I am right back there with you. If it makes you feel any better I just stopped going with the second one, she looked ‘about normal’ to my reckoning and they do say mother knows best right?! 🙂 #TwinklyTuesday

    • July 6, 2016 / 1:19 pm

      Thank you for the solidarity sympathy! Have also decided to pretty much stop going now bar perhaps a token visit when she hits 6 months…my friend told me she invested in some baby scales and just did weigh ins at home, genius! Thank you for reading for #BloggerClubUk xx

  15. July 6, 2016 / 8:04 pm

    Oh my god, this is hilarious!!!! I’m really sorry that this happened to you, it was a really shitty stream of events, but I have so many days like this, and find I just need to laugh at them (after wine has been consumed and diazepam swallowed…!) And why do they always have those jobsworths at baby weigh in?! I went to one once, and was barked at at every station by the same one who had screamed ‘there’s a queue here!!!!!’ as I walked in for the first time ever, not knowing where the hell everything was or what I was supposed to be doing, and not actually seeing any sodding queue! I never took my second to be weighed once-he was nearly 10lbs AT BIRTH, and was in 3-6 month clothing and size 3 nappies at a couple of weeks old-that fatty did not need weighing! I still have disasters just going to soft play/the park etc-they follow me!! Thanks for an excellent read!

    • July 6, 2016 / 9:23 pm

      Aaaaah thank you for such a brilliant and lovely comment for #bigpinklink! You’re right, it’s so daunting going into a place you’ve never been before and just being shouted around like an idiot. Oh I love a fatty baby, both of mine were 5lb13 at birth and my youngest is only just starting to get fat rolls on her thighs, which are the most delicious things ever. Thanks for sharing your experience too ???? xxx

  16. July 7, 2016 / 9:12 am

    Absolutely hilarious. Spot on! I felt your pain the whole way through and definitely wanted to give Jobsworth a verbal slap! #bloggerclubuk

  17. July 8, 2016 / 2:31 pm

    Mine are 10 and 7 now but I remember these days very well. Why is it that you always get into a sweat when there is a HV around? We didn’t have the poonami but my son did wee all over the Dr once! Thank you for linking up to #ablogginggoodtime ????

    • July 8, 2016 / 3:04 pm

      I thought it was an urban myth that boys wee the second you take their nappy off, without fail. Or maybe that’s just a baby thing…! Thank you for reading and commenting xx

  18. July 8, 2016 / 8:30 pm

    I was worried if there was enough deodorant in your part of the globe to handle outsings such as this! I laughed so hard–particularly when you produced the “red book” in record time–I’ve so been there and ’tis true that those little thing keep us from traveling into “apeshit-ville” where we would just remain until our brood is grown and gone. 🙂 Thank you for sharing!! Xx, Lace #effitfriday

    • July 8, 2016 / 8:32 pm

      Haha definitely very damp about the gills! Thank you for reading and commenting – love your name. #effitfriday

  19. July 8, 2016 / 10:13 pm

    I am actually crying years of laughter! I’m surprised you didn’t knock back a few bags of chocolate buttons yourself after all of that. The ‘korma’ incident really is the thing of nightmares, the thing ask mums dread at the weighing clinic.

    Health Visitors are such a mixed bunch but there is always a Jobsworth at every session. When we moved house I fed my daughter on Ella’s pouches for 4 days. When I told the HV she said “hopefully I could get back to homemade ASAP”. I forced a smile and left. There’s nothing but organic veg and water in those punches anyway…

    Hope your next trip goes better!

    • July 8, 2016 / 11:42 pm

      Argh, they don’t realise that the flippant comments they make stay with you and make you angry / upset / annoyed for ages afterwards! Do what works for you, that’s what I go by. Thank you for reading and commenting, glad you liked it ???? xx

  20. July 10, 2016 / 7:53 am

    Thank you for reading Sarah – I’m pleased that you have access to a good HV when you’ve been let down so badly elsewhere. This sounds flippant but at least you have one person accessible to you who you have faith in! I imagine lots of mums who receive a broad sweep of ‘bad’ care just fall off the radar which isn’t good. #tribe

  21. July 10, 2016 / 11:47 pm

    I got quite nervous then that you might have been the actual Janet! Phew. Oh it’s all so inconsistent, you can have a lovely HV who completely gets your method of parenting and then the next one you are shoots you down in flames and strips away the confidence that the first one you. The weighing thing made me laugh! When we moved house and GP surgeries our new doctor had to see my eldest for a quick ‘baseline’ check. He weighed her, fully clothed with a nappy on, and commented that she’d shot up a centile! Argh. Thank you for reading and commenting and for not being ‘my’ Janet ???? #anythinggoes

  22. July 14, 2016 / 7:00 am


    I love your phrases, ‘meaty pause’.

    Put me off korma though…


    • July 14, 2016 / 7:19 am

      Yes, a lot of things about babies put me off a lot of things about babies. Mainly having more babies ???? thank you for reading for #effitfriday, I’m hosting tomorrow so I hope you can link up ???? x

  23. July 14, 2016 / 7:46 am

    I am crying laughing!! This has been me so often with two children, the days I congratulate myself on getting out are the days that it all goes wrong….x

    • July 14, 2016 / 7:54 am

      I’m completely with you! I get too complacent having made it out the door and leave myself open to it all disintegrating ???? xx

  24. July 14, 2016 / 12:12 pm

    Hil-bloody-larious! Have you been spying in me at weigh day clinics?!! Korma tick! 60 buggies tick! Removal of too small ‘inner’ that I swear still fitted when I put it on Bubs earlier that morning tick! Trying to read this and not wake Bubs as she snooze on my tummy was v.tricky!!!

  25. July 15, 2016 / 10:38 pm

    I am shaking with laughter!! This is so funny! I’m sorry though as I rralise that I am laughing at your expense but it is purely the way you tell it!! The jobsworth is so irritating! I am so glad that my HV was of the damn good variety and that she came to my house until about 8 months! I am also thanking J for never doing an explosive poo in public!! I hope you both enjoyed your chocolate buttons x

    • July 15, 2016 / 10:59 pm

      Ah thank you, that comment is so lovely to read! Well, attempted to her her weighed a few weeks ago, and Janet has now left so there was no weigh in clinic available. Took her somewhere else on Tuesday and they had no HV’s so weigh in was off again. Kind of giving up…! You were lucky with the home visits, good work xx

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