Denne bloggen begynte faktisk som et sted å reviewe stellebord rundt omkring på vår vei. Nå er det lenge siden jeg har hatt behov for et offentlig stellebord, men siden vi er i gang med nr. to var det på sin plass å revive denne delen av bloggen, syntes jeg.
So after an uneventful visit to the hospital, grandma wanted to see Boy (she pretends she wants to see me but we all know it’s all about the Boy) so we went to the nearest mall to meet her.
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| I even brought the Maxi Cosi stroller for the occasion. |
Kilden, as you might know if you’re local to Stavanger, is home to the famous «Trygdekafeen» («Benefits and Boller» would be an appropriate English name). It gets its name due to being home to the three main groups of welfare recipients throughout the day: OAPs, maternal leave mums and disability benefit people*.
The OAPs are scratching the door at the mall at 1000 when they open, and go home for their nap around noon, when babies also happen to have their nap, leaving their yummy mummies free to enjoy overpriced coffee and boring sandwiches.
Then, as they go home in the afternoon to fetch their eldest kids from nursery and cook dinner, the disability benefits people are just rolling out of bed and take over. It’s a great show.
Kilden also has the fortune of being situated in one of the most socially deprived areas of Stavanger (to the extent that anywhere in Stavanger can truly be described as such), and therefore is the only mall I know which has installed blue lights not only in the toilet cubicles, but in the corridor *outside* the toilets as well, presumably to avoid anyone ODing in plain sight of every single customer entering from the car park.
All things considered, this does not seem particularly promising ahead of a changing room visit, but I did think that the huge number of mothers rolling around with their maxi cosi babies in various expensive strollers might have indicated to Kilden that they should pander to this group of customers as much as possible. No such luck.
The changing room is, unsurprisingly, in the disabled toilet, thus neatly covering two difficult customer groups in one fell swoop.
Clearly, a lot of money has been spent on tiling, not leaving any money at all for an actual changing station. There is what I would loosely describe as a ledge on which to put your child. No mat, no edge, no belts.
The changing ledge is to boot extremely slippery, so I would not leave even a two-month old there while bending down to pick up a nappy from my bag, for fear of him smashing his brains out on the (expensive-looking) tiles.
VERDICT:
Changing facilities: Poor. If you can even call them that.
Breast feeding facilities: None.
Parent peeing facilities: The usual disabled toilet share.
Best feature: Erm, none. Cause there are no features. OK, it was fairly clean. And the tiling was nice-ish.
Worst feature: The «changing table» doesn’t even really justify a baby changing sign.
Would I use again? Not if I can help it. But I probably will…
Boy says: «This floor looks like it would be even harder on my fontanelle than big sis when she’s really angry.»
*No offense intended to any of these venerable population groups.. but what I say is true 😉