I'm gonna hit the highway like a battering ram ...

Well, it's not silver and black, but ...

I've got a new bike! I've got a new bike!

Actually, of course, I've got two - but the old one will now be disposed of (preferably for profit).

The kids think it's cool (and so do I). I've nearly got the hang of it, too :^)


.. when the metal is hot and the engine is hungry ...

Gotta go ..!

And so as you hear these words telling you now of my state*

A classic conversation (well, monologue really) overheard on the train this morning:

"They're always following me. They walk behind me all the way from the station. But they're really clever: every day it's a different person."

.. just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they aren't out to get you!

[*] for the Garbage fans, this should perhaps be subtitled "I nailed my faith to the sticking pole"

Call the cops!

OK, OK. I understand that the bombing in London is bound to have some effects. It was terrible. We were listening from miles away and we were still in shock.

What I wasn't prepared for is police carrying guns at my local station. Now, I know that they're most likely to be highly trained. Trained in handling firearms safely. Trained to spot suspicious behaviour. But I'm thinking: well, suspicious behaviour is likely to include sympoms of being tense or nervous. And here's my problem: when I see a couple of coppers younger than me brandishing automatic rifles, I'm feeling tense and nervous. So I'm trying to act calm. But hang on - isn't that just what a suspect will be doing? Should I go ahead and act nervous? I can see that the magazines are translucent and I can see the rounds. Damn! I don't really like this!

Somebody's watching me ...

... and I have no privacy.

Eek! I've been infiltrated!!^[1] The missus has not only linked to my blog, but commented, too. Better watch my Ps and Qs properly, now ;^)

This weekend was a bit weird: eldest daughter has gone to Portugal for a fortnight and eldest son went to Crusaders' Spree camp. Oddly quiet. Until, that is, Sunday morning (mid lie-in) we got a call to say that he was sick during the night and could we please come to take him home early? We duly race across the county to be greeted by him bouncing across the field to us, obviously feeling much better. Still: he enjoyed himself - whch was the main point. Another hurdle cleared. It's all a bit scary, this children-growing-up thing. Leaving the nest step by step. Having to let go.

Introversion aside, we did gain the fringe benefit of a relaxing afternoon, cooking in the sunshine (glad we weren't stuck in a traffic-jam), drinking beer. Very pleasant it was, too.

I'm now left with glowing skin, mild dehydration, a mild headache and slightly blurred vision. To be honest, the blurred vision is largely because I forgot my glasses this morning. C'est le vie :^)


^[1] I'll stop with the exclamation marks right there. You know what they say: one indicates surprise, two suggests shock and three is probably Parkinson's. Not funny if you've got Parkinson's, of course - but a good rule of thumb anyhow.

The best part of breaking up ...

I thought some about this one ... and ended up googling (like you do). I found a joke, and here it is:

A guy is at home watching the football, when his wife interrupts “Could you fix the Fridge door? It won’t close properly.” “Fix the fridge door? Does it look like I have Zanussi written on my forehead? I don’t think so.”
“Fine!” she says, “Then could you at least fix the steps to the front door? They’re about to break.”
“Does it look like I’ve got Ronseal written on my forehead? I don’t think so. I’ve had enough of this, I’m going to the pub!” So he goes to the pub and drinks for a couple of hours. When he arrives home, he notices that the steps are fixed. He goes to the fridge to get a beer and notices that the fridge door is also fixed. “Honey, how’d this all get fixed?”
“Well” she says, “when you left, I sat outside and cried. Just then a nice and very handsome young man asked me what was wrong, so I told him. He offered to do all the repairs, and all I had to do was bake him a cake OR have sex with him.”
“So, what kind of cake did you bake him?”, he asked.
She replied: “HELLO!!?... Do you see Mr. Kipling written on my forehead?............I don’t think so!!"

Anyhoo .. the fridge door broke yesterday. Huge fridge; big door. Hinges not-quite-up-to-the-job it seems. (Not hepled, it has to be said, by its users who load the heavy milk bottles right away from the hinge.) All of the components are switchable - so I'll just hang it the other way. Undo the hinge bits. Fit the top one. Fit the middle one (between the fridge and freezer doors). [Didn't I say? It's a fridge-freezer.] And now, the bottom hinge .. which .. doesn't go the other side. Bugger. Back to square one .. and all back to the original way round. So whadda we do now? Fix the effing thing - that's what.

All back now, and hastily patched with a frankenstein metal-plate-and-screws affair [photos to follow] and mucho wood glue ('cos it sets good'n' hard).

Another evening gone ...

Ain't she sweet ...?

Just remembered: a conversation from holiday. [NB: this is a precis, as I don't have perfect memory!]

Eldest son and youngest daughter - overheard passing a buffalo enclosure at the Suffolk Wildlife Park in Kessingland near Lowestoft:

son:	[having read sign] oh, those are buffalo
daughter:	there's no such thing as a buffalo
son:	yes, of course there is
me:	yes, there is: there's one over there
daughter:	but I read it in a book: "there's no such thing as a buffalo"
me:	which book?
daughter:	"The Buffalo"
[pause while I ponder this one]
[flash of inspiration]
me:	do you mean "The Gruffalo"?
daughter:	oh, yes

Dontcha love kids?

Holiday ...

Prologue:

As my wife has discovered that I read her blog, it seems fair to assume that she'll read mine. Ah: but I can employ the power of inane drivel! that might just deter her from reading it [in the belief that there's nothing worth reading]. Then again ...

We've just [well, the evening of the day before yesterday] returned from holiday. Very relaxing it was too. In fact, perhaps the most relaxing holiday ever.


Chapter 1: What I did on my holidays

We did a mini trip round England. Not all of it, of course: that would take more that the fortnight we had. So: we can't say we did the country justice, but we did take in Suffolk, Yorkshire and the West Midlands.

A few years ago we did a similar, slightly more adventurous trip. This time, we had three more children and a whole load of kit. So: fewer stops. The whole "camp" took around two and a half hours to set up each time. And the same to pack it up again. We did manage this pack-up .. drive .. set-up in one day - but boy was it tiring!

Chapter 2: Equipment

1. Big, big tent
   
   
   
   Despite the fact that we drive a boxy ol' people carrier, we could park the car in the living area of this baby. The last site we pitched on got their tape measures out and declared it 8m x 6m, with a note of caution that some sites wouldn't be able to accommodate it! Oops.
   


2. High-rise queen-size airbed with built-in pump
   
   
   
   Oooh: it's huge! And my but it's comfortable! Many complaints from the children that their beds were no where near as good.


3. Powered coolbox
   
   
   
   Keep those beers good'n' chilly. Works in the car, too. Carried on working for a fortnight straight without problems. Gotta keep it out of the sun, though [else it doesn't work so good].

Epilogue:

Now I sit in my shorts in the air-conditioned office, looking at the cloudy skies and thinking that, on balance, perhaps I should have worn grown-up trousers.

Ho, hum.

Good to be back, good to be back ...

Hello?

OK - enough with the Gary Glitter. After a long absence, I've decided to revisit my blog. With renewed enthusiasm [yeah, right] I will record my life, loves and discoveries for all to see.

For all to see: wow, that sounds a bit heavy when you think about it. For all to see. That's, like, everybody - potentially - on the planet. Woah. Better mind my Ps and Qs. Don't want to end up like that air hostess [sorry, Flight Attendant] who lost her job over her blog, now do I?

OK: so [in theory, at least] my words are being monitored. If not now, then perhaps in the future. You've see the WayBackMachine, right? See this. Kewl, no? It all means that it'll all be seen by everyone forever. Heavy.