Christmas checklist

Just a couple of days now and it’s Christmas. The pressure is starting to mount up now and I’m beginning to sweat. There are so many things to remember, so many different points to cover. When did Christmas become so stressful?

We need a fully qualified project manager to come in and take over the work in our house, because I’m not sure we are ready.

First you have the presents. So many different people to remember and that’s just the start. First of all you have to remember them. Clearly you easily recall your family and tick them off the list but then with each passing day the list grows a bit. The two boys teachers deserve something, as does their childminder. Then suddenly on the last day you remember the ladies in Breakfast club, can’t leave those off the list else the boys could be getting the dropped bits of toast for the next year.

Just as I start to relax Jo remembers that she has a whole load of helpers at her School who thoroughly deserve something. And suddenly there is a panic. Let’s go through the list again, what have we missed? Oh no the old friend from college has posted something for the boys – why does she still do that? We thought we had stopped it. How many kids does she have? Are they girls and how old?

As each day goes back a new name pops up that had been entirely forgotten until now. Add to that the extra pressure of trying to match a present to the name. Have we pitched it right this year? Will they actually like what we’ve got them or will the couple be catching each others eyes and making that secret face that tells each other that yet again they have got us something good and wasted good money because of the rubbish they have received in return. Are the boys sorted fairly? Are the piles similar in size? What about Jo – will she like her present? Will it fit or is it going to be sloped off to the charity shop again.

Then you get to the food, suddenly we need to do a Christmas shop. Even though this is only needed to cover three Earth days it suddenly becomes the most stressful grocery shop since time began. We find ourselves buying eight times more stuff than we would normally manage on for a whole week. Then one of us will pop back and pick up some bits that we forgot. This year we had one load delivered on the 18th and are heading out again this morning to buy some fresh stuff. How on Earth will we get through the one day when the shops will be shut I have no idea, not that they will actually be shut either there is always a garage or something open. Suddenly we are buying things that we already have ‘just in case’ it mysteriously runs out on the day. We are therefore loaded up with enough kitchen foil to wrap an elephant, enough paper towels to mop up the Dead Sea and the whole of the British Army could queue up and merrily use our toilet without fear of running short on toilet paper.

We have about three weeks worth of soft drinks and alcohol stashed ready and Jacobs appear to have started using our garage as a cracker storage silo. Even with all that said I’m still panicking! What have I missed? What do I need? We only have two boxes of chocolates left – will that be enough?

Is the house clean enough will be the next thing. Have we got everything squared away and clean before the guests start arriving? Is the iPod updated with a Christmas selection of music?

I’m not even going to start thinking about preparing the actual meal either – I may explode before then. Wrapping presents is to come today as well as the shop. Oh no the lady across the road has dropped a present in for the kids – quick, grab a spare bottle of wine and hand it over to her, we will have to replace it though as we only have six bottles left now.

Christmas Cards?

CARDS!

Oh no – it’s the 23rd of December and we have forgotten to send the cards! Not again, how did that happen? Will 2nd Class stamps get them there in one day? What do we do send them any way and just feign utter surprise in their tardiness, clearly the Post Office is to blame. Or save the stamps for next year and just send emails and E-Cards?

I’d better go now – I need to go and tell my Wife that we have not sent any cards yet, and she is not going to be happy!


UPDATE:-

It turns out that we have sent cards after all, ages ago. I knew I got married for a reason!

Happy Christmas.

remaining cool in a crisis

Just a quick one tonight to tell you about something I just witnessed at Paddington Station. I still keep giggling.

Now I know that technically laughing at other peoples misfortune is a bad thing, after all one day it will be you that others are laughing at but sometimes it’s just too funny to ignore. Besides I’m such a useless idiot most of the time that there are plenty of opportunity for people to return the favour.

Walking along towards the gates I noticed a man walking along clearly with his head in the clouds on a direct course for danger. The classic distracted man walking towards the lamp post as done so memorably by Rowan Atkinson all those years ago.

In an instant I could see his future much more clearly than he could. Walking along trying to read the departures board he was heading straight towards the barrier put in to separate the traffic and it was going to hurt. He was tall and the barrier was at the perfect height.

Both the girl to my left and I winced in pain as he slammed his groin into the post. There was no doubt whatsoever that it had hit bang on target and that he was going to be nursing a bruise in an awkward spot tonight. What made me laugh wasn’t the crash though, it was his absolute determination to keep cool.

Now I’m well regarded as being one of the least cool men on the planet. I have no fashion sense whatsoever and I’m always a mile behind everyone else learning the latest buzz words or bands. I’ve said before that I’m as cool as Screech and I stand by the statement. If it had been me that had done it I would have squealed like a 6 year old girl and rolled about on the floor asking for an ambulance. However this guy was not me.

You could see that this was a cool man, his clothes looked great and he was clearly a decent looking feller. His stance and bearing shouted out that this man is used to being the centre of attention from the ladies. And so his reaction was different and this is what really made me giggle. Also the girl to my left should take some blame because where I had been desperately holding it in, she made no effort. As soon as the girl started to loudly stifle a giggle, I was gone.

My man coolly stared at the post for a second as if to dare it to try attacking him again and then nonchalantly moved on without any recognition to what had happened whatsoever. Or at least that’s what he thought he was doing. What he actually did was to stand and stare at the post in a crooked pose that made me think he had just sent a stone down an ice curling lane. Then he strolled on with his legs wide apart and wobbling like a jelly. His shoulders shrugged and his face defiantly dared anyone to suggest he had actually hurt himself, but his twisted trousers told another tale. When he tried to adjust his pants whilst pretending to adjust his iPod I was in tears.

My female friend ran off crying and I sped off too because at the end of the day he was a big feller having a bad day and I’m not completely stupid.

It is little moments like that that make all the rubbish that life throws at you worthwhile because it removes the paranoia. It’s not just me these things happen to after all.

The story of a legend

Steve checked through his pockets again. Surely this time he’d find something extra, surely he’d made a mistake the first three times he’d looked.

Clumsily Steven Michael Brennon slumped against the wall and spread the contents of his pockets out on the floor and slowly made his fourth re count. This time he would find the hidden fiver and everything would be fine, this time it would all work out.

The night had gone badly from the start and he knew that he really should have cut his losses and given up hours ago, but it had all made so much sense at the time and now he was faced with the biggest most pressured decision he had ever had to make and he wasn’t sure what he would do. How on Earth was he going to get out of this mess?

His three mates had been on good form and Steven had laughed as the first three pubs on the route had seen them telling jokes and playing the fool as they joined in a line and ‘rowed’ backwards to the bar in celebration of the recent Olympic victory for Sir Steven Redgrave. Their Olympic themed night had continued and Steve’s lycra shorts with the banana securely taped in place had been a huge hit. Yet again Steve was about to be hit by the first bump of the night though as they left The Surrey Arms and headed for the posh bar.

No one knew why the posh bar had found its way onto their pub route, as it was so different to their normal haunts. The fact was that it was always populated by a higher class of ‘bird’ than they generally found in the rest of Portsmouth and so this was reason enough. However it was small and the atmosphere stifled and the posh women weren’t interested unless you were a Harrier pilot. Many attempts to convince them of Steve’s flying prowess had all fallen the same way as they instantly saw him for the electrician that he so clearly was. None the less one quick pint in the posh bar lifted the class of the evening to a higher level and left the lads feeling important for a short space of time. The drawback to this was the cost. A round in here cost a fortune and yet again Steve had mis-timed things and failed to get the round in Wetherspoons. Hence he now returned from the bar with three fancy bottles of a lager that he couldn’t even pronounce having spent twice as much as Smudger had on the last round.

Next had been the Mucky Duck or White Swan as the sign above the door insisted and things livened up again. It was a Thursday night and the pub was packed with half the Navy. Walking through the door Steve was immediately passed by a line of 12 men that he didn’t know who were rowing their way around the bar so he joined on the back and used it to help push his way through the crowds until he spotted a gap near the bar and dived for it. Smudger, Dolly and the aptly named Donkey all jumped off the line behind him and high fived their intelligence as Donkey got the round in record time for such a packed venue.

Steve deflated a little as Donkey turned round and passed out the pints of Fosters followed by tequila. Steve smiled carefully, not wanting to show any weakness to his mates, but inside he died a little as he saw a vision of how the rest of the night was going to go; he had been here all too often.

The night continued with each round being accompanied by a shot each of which being toasted to a different sporting hero. Each visit to the toilet taking longer as the vague faces that he recognised en route became friendlier and friendlier. Funny how people you barely talk too on the ship become your long lost favourite brother as the night wears on and you can’t get past them without stopping to hug in a big group and loudly sing along to Vic Reeves Dizzy playing in the background. Life is funny like that.

As the bells sounded for closing time Redders closed his eyes and waited for the shout that he was dreading but knew that it would come. To be honest for once he wasn’t that bothered as he was really quite excited about the fact that he had finally earned a nickname. Getting called Redders after Steve Redgrave was genius, and he had barely been able to conceal his delight when Dolly coined it earlier. Steve had been on the ship 8 months and still was being called by his name – a horrendous snub generally saved for the least popular on board. Now though Steve would be Redders for ever, but only if this night becomes legendary enough for people to talk about even after the upcoming weekend break.

Redders desperately wanted to get something to eat and return to his bed, but even more desperately wanted to be finally accepted in the group and getting a nickname was vital. In the end it was Smudger who finished off the last three quarters of his pint in one easy flow, belched loudly and declared that he knew a little Mexican place on the Southsea seafront that we should try and then laughed at himself as he explained this ancient and predictable joke by pronouncing Joanna’s as Hoanna’s. Jo’s was a seedy club that was strictly used by servicemen and friendly ladies. The carpet was sticky and the beer was awful, but you could get away with acting like an idiot and didn’t have to put too much effort in to succeed. The music would vary from the cheesy to the hard rock but it never mattered because the dance floor was always full of drunken men hugged together in gleeful embrace, pints of watered down lager held aloft and singing crude versions of the song loudly.

As usual the boys all cheered at the thought of getting a taxi to Jo’s instead of walking across the road to the local club which was better by miles but where you had to act a little less military. Redders’ shoulders sagged a little as he realised that yet again he had failed to dive in the back quickly enough and so had to take up the paying seat at the front. “Naval School of Dancing please” Donkey shouted from the back and everyone cheered at the hilarity of the gag, especially the driver who couldn’t believe how amusing it was. The driver knew where to go, they always did and he knew how to tap in an extra pound onto the meter too.

Steve paid the taxi fare but it was Redders who bounded up the stairs declaring that he was having first shout at the grab a minger trophy, the boys cheered. Several lagers and a couple of Rum’s went down – no one likes Rum, Steve mused to himself so why do we keep ordering it when we get here? Some very bad dancing to Dizzy yet again because it’s a timeless song that will get any sailor onto the dance floor and Redders found himself being reminded of the great Naval myth – you can’t not pull in Joanna’s. Of course this is rubbish especially when your chat up technique consists of pointing to the banana shape in your lycra shorts, thrusting back and forth shouting “this could be your lucky night!” the boys had loved that one and it had been enough to seal his nickname for ever but of course had resulted simply in a face full of cheap vodka.

And so this brings Redders back to Steve as his mates had long since disappeared in the way that best mates do when they have had a few. Smudger had pulled Fat Pat and the other two had been thrown out after squaring up to the submariners about their hygiene problems again. Steve sat dizzily pondering the most difficult decision he had ever faced.

Did he spend his last £4 on a kebab or a taxi?

What a nightmare, it would be over two miles to walk back to his ship, but if he got a taxi then he would be starving and finishing the night without a Kebab would be awful.

After agonising for ten full minutes Redders stood up, laughed and walked into the Kebab House, this is what legends are made of and the tale of Olympic night and the two hours that it took Redders to walk back to the dockyard with a kebab and a banana pouch was retold in countless bars around the world for ever more.

Christmas is back on

Just thought I would update you on how my mood is doing. I’m all loved up with my boys again after a good week, all the stress of last weekend is forgotten and Santa’s visit is once again secure.

Things were close to the wire after being abused by them constantly for 48 hours. Now the week has gone by and the little monkeys have been nice again so all is calm.

They are still very much kids though rather than machines so it’s not like I didn’t wake this morning to the sound of an argument in their room because of course I did. Apparently they could not come to an agreement about what kind of toy snake each had. After some heated debate they finally decided that Daniel’s was electric (I assumed like an electric eel) and Jamie’s was poisonous. Moments later I heard two large giggling elephants tip toe into my bedroom and sneak up to the bed.

The attack came fast and furious as two wooden snakes were furiously jabbed into my eyes. “HAHA” shouted Jamie “My snake is electric ha”

You can imagine the tense moments that followed as Daniel realised that his younger Brother had hijacked his idea of what is the better deadly snake. A loud exchange of words followed as Daniel tried to reclaim his weapon of choice and I sighed as I knew where this would lead too and really didn’t want it to happen. Amazingly though Daniel gave in, I looked at him and winked and said not to worry about it and for once he agreed. This is fairly unprecedented in our house, I often try and convince Daniel that I know how he feels but to leave it for now and he never accepts it. Today he shrugged his shoulders gave me a cuddle and then rammed the tail of the snake into my face and said “Poison – your dead!” A Christmas miracle!

So yes I’m all happy again as all is calm once more even though we have already seen the result of too much Christmas excess.

At about midnight last night we had a lovely visit to our room. Jamie had his school Christmas party yesterday and had thoroughly enjoyed it. The clues he gave us suggested he had eaten quite a lot. What Jamie had eaten was mainly cake and sweets. Then he came home and had some more food for tea. Somewhere along the line I think he may have over done it.

The door creaked open and tiny footsteps made their way to my bedside. “I feel a bit sick!” were his sad words. What I tried to say was that he should go to the toilet if he feels sick and I will come and help him. What I actually said was “Go to the toilet if..AAGGHH!”

Like a scene from the exorcist Jamie opened his mouth and threw up all over me.

Like a shot Jo and I were up and moved into action. Teamwork ensured that Jamie was taken care of whilst the mess was cleared up, bedding changed, bathroom cleaned after the rest of the party food missed the toilet and people were washed. In no time at all Jamie was back in bed and snoring happily whilst the parents stood looking at each other with cloths and towels in hand smelling of sick.

Needless to say he was absolutely fine after that and the executive decision was made that the sickness was entirely due to the excess of party food and not due to a virus or food poisoning and so he was dually sent to School against the standard policy. There’s no risk of passing infection on and sometimes you have to use a bit of common sense.

It’s Daniel’s party today so I think I might make him sleep in the bath tonight just in case, whilst rigging up one of the old stair gates across my bedroom door.

Christmas is back on – lovely.

Lost letters from Rudolf

These absolutely genuine letters were recently discovered in the loft of that man who pretended his Son was trapped in a helium balloon.




6th December.
Mum,

Well it’s been 3 days since I arrived here in Lapland and so far it’s been ok. As you know I’m the first to arrive as the others are all starting back on the 8th. The only other person here is Mrs. Claus and she has been very friendly and helpful. As it was Mary (she lets me call her that!) who gave me this job its been really nice that she has been here these few days. Any way I must go now as I need to go and take her into town. How is Dad? Hope you are well Love Rudolf.


9th December
Mum,

Everyone else is back now and I have to say it’s not any way near as much fun. As they were getting off the train I could see all the other reindeer just stood staring at my nose! I realise that my nose is a little shinier than is normal but you have always told me that it’s because I’m special. There is this one specific deer called Blitzen who has been really quite horrible about my nose. He has nicknamed me Red Nose and now everyone is calling me it. I’m not sure I like Blitzen.

20th December
Mum,

I’m really fed up now Mum, things here have gone from bad to worse. I finally met Santa and when he saw me he just started laughing and shouting fog light at me, now everyone is calling me that too. I’ve tried doing what you told me to do in your last letter and joining in a bit but it is difficult. Yesterday they were playing Scrabble and even though there were only three of them playing they still wouldn’t let me play with them. Donner said that my nose was putting him off concentrating on his words. Then I went outside where Prancer and the others were playing Army but they wouldn’t let me play that either because no one wanted me on their side as my nose gives their position away. I was worried that if I don’t fit in here and not even Santa likes me then I could wind up losing this job and having to come home. Mrs. Claus has been nice and said not too worry because Santa can’t sack me apparently because he has to keep his special numbers up or something like that. Any way the big day is coming up soon so I’d better go and practice my flying I suppose. Loads of Love, Rudolf.

24th December
Mum,

Just a quick note before we get going. It’s been an odd day, everyone is a bit quiet. It’s been like that since your lawyer sent that big letter to Santa the other day. Everyone has been very polite to me but never friendly. They still won’t play with me but they just disperse and do something else instead whenever I approach. Santa Claus is in a terrible mood and has been arguing with Mrs. Claus a lot. I heard him shouting about political correctness being mad or something and he threw his copy of the Daily Mail at the TV. I hope everything goes well tonight as maybe that will cheer him up. I suppose he is under a lot of pressure so I should be more understanding really. It’s very foggy outside which is a worry – I hope we can still go out later. Happy Christmas to you and Dad, love Rudolf.

25th December
Mum,

Well you would not believe what happened last night. Santa came over and said that he needed a fog light on his sleigh and then pointed at me and laughed! Can you believe it? I’ve never felt so humiliated. He made me go at the front of the pack and lead the way. This is all very well but he kept the SAT NAV on the sleigh and just kept pulling on some bits of rope that he’d attached to my head whenever he wanted me to go left or right! It was horrible. All of the other reindeer loved it and laughed that tonight would go down in history. Every time Santa came back from another chimney he’d have a load of extra crumbs in his beard and as the night wore on he stunk more and more of Sherry. Then he would start coming over and patting me heavily saying that he had nothing against my type at all and then he would make me eat a carrot. As you know I hate carrots but he just kept on forcing me to eat them and then pointing my head about like it’s a torch or something. This went on for an eternity, I can’t describe how long we were out there enduring this but it felt like forever. I’ve already submitted a very stern letter of complaint into the Elves' HR department about this appalling event and so am hopeful that it will be resolved soon.

30th December
Mum,

Thanks again for all your kind help and lovely words that have helped get me through this ordeal. Your Lawyer's letter arrived today and things have already started to change. I noticed that Santa spent 3 hours earlier fitting a brand new super bright torch to the front of his sleigh so there’s no way he will need to abuse me like that again. Meanwhile everyone has been busy getting ready for a celebration of some sort. Donner said it was a special thank you party for me tomorrow night. We are going to have a big BBQ apparently and I am the star guest. Dasher says that they are relying on me to make the BBQ special. I’m quite excited, things are really starting to change here. Santa said he’s going to have a special plaque made of me to hang on his wall – what an honour. Any way I must go as I’m being given some more oats – this is another thing, since the meeting with HR I’ve been on double oats rations – my favourite. Love to you all, I hope your New Years Eve party goes as well as I think ours will, Rudolf.

24th March
Rudolf,

Hello Son, I thought I’d write as your Mum is getting quite worried. We haven’t heard from you since December. I do hope your new found celebrity and popularity hasn’t gone to your head. Don’t forget us here as your Mum has always tried her hardest for you even when times were very hard. How was the BBQ in the end? Love Dad.

Big Dave

20 minutes since the last glance at his watch Dave nervously looked again. Damn! It had only been 2 minutes! How can time move so slowly?

The idea had seemed like such a good one when this had all begun, way back at the start of the year. Dave was 55 and had decided that this was the year he was going to sort himself out. 2009 was going to be the year that Big Dave was going to become David and settle down.

22 years in the Navy had added 32 years onto Dave’s cracked face and his hair was a long distant memory as was most of his liver. Over all though he had fared well, giving up smoking once they stopped issuing the Blue Liners had helped. It was nearly 10 years since his time had been up and he’d hung up his often soiled Petty Officer's uniform once and for good. Changing into a civilian suit had not been easy though and so he’d flown from job to job over the years without ever really fitting in. He’d done removals for a few years after setting the business up with his pay off from the forces but had wound up losing it. The decline had been swift when he lost his driving licence after he’d been discovered fast asleep at the wheel of his van on the hard shoulder of the M1 three times over the alcohol limit.

Dave had been married twice whilst in the Navy. The first wife left him when he got his soon to be second wife pregnant, which had come as a surprise because when he had met her in the Kebab shop on Union Street she had sworn blind she was on the pill. The second marriage had failed when she got pregnant again two years after Dave had secretly had a vasectomy and had spent two hours sat with a calendar and a calculator working out that he’d been in Gibraltar at the time of conception.

New Years Eve 2008 saw Dave sat in his local feeling miserable. All he had done with his life was throw it away, it was time to do something about it, it was time to act. He silently closed his eyes and made a decision about his Resolution.

By the end of January David had a new job as team leader at B&Q and had been sober since waking up naked on the war memorial on New Years Day. David had joined Grey Love, a brand new dating agency for single grave dodgers and had made a few contacts that were looking promising. It had all lead to this terrifying moment, this single most scary instant in his long and varied life.

Dave had had plenty of experience with women in his life but they had all been whilst out and about with mates from the Navy. All his encounters had begun whilst drunk and with plenty of back up and wing men to provide support. It had also been quite a few years now since that encounter with Southsea Susan under the pier on his retirement party, grief - had it really been that long?

Now he stood sober as a judge with an orange juice in his hand and the special blue shirt that he had agreed to wear with the red collar so that he could be easily recognised. Why it is that he’d had to do that he had no idea, after all he had supplied many photos of himself before now and in fact it was her who was the mystery. Not one photo had Tracey sent, not a single one though she had described herself as bubbly and loving cuddles so he had high hopes that she would be nice.

It was now six minutes past seven and they had arranged to meet at seven! David hated tardiness, a life in the Navy does that to you and now he was really sweating. Was she going to come? Had Tracey stood him up? What on Earth was he going to say any way, what small talk do you say when you have no Stella inside you?

Suddenly a high squawky voice piped up behind him – “David? Hello!”

David turned and looked at the vision in front of him. She was stunning, the years had been kind to her and her dress sense matched, and even her enormous chest seemed to still be in the general location of where it should be. Next to (and about a 2 feet below) the vision stood another woman. The second woman was almost as round as she was tall and her lank red bobbed hair had inch thick grey roots. David sighed, held his hand out to the vision’s friend and said hello.

“OOOOHH how did you guess it was me?” she giggled. David relaxed, memories of his years roaming the ports of the world came flooding back, and this was going to be OK. The pressure was off; David turned to catch the eye of the barman and ordered a Stella before turning to ask the ladies what they would like. Next year he would definitely settle down, no messing about he would just do it. This year though, Big Dave was was going to have fun.

The Information Super Highway

It has just dawned on me that I’m going to have to take the bull by the horns and take responsibility for passing on some news.

I spent a while earlier searching the Internet for some information (responsibly during my lunch break of course!) and no matter how I tried I couldn’t find what I was looking for.

This surprised me a little as my understanding of this medium is that it has absolutely every single snippet of information available. Surely every fact in the world is written somewhere on the Internet? For every fact written on the Net then surely there are 6 lies attributed to the same piece of information too?

How come then that when I search for a specific bit of news I can find not one single trace about it? Is it a conspiracy? I think it must be something very deep and embarrassing to the government if there’s not even one person been allowed to moan about it on Twitter!

This morning I was on the way into work and discovered the road was blocked by police. They had cordoned off a small section of road which then meant I had to go round the long way. I managed to get myself round the extra 100 yards that this longer route required with no major incidents you’ll be happy to learn. Everyone in work had different theories as to what had happened however the strongest turned out to be a shooting.

Now I’m certainly not going to make a joke out of things if indeed it was a shooting so don’t be waiting for it. The misery and potential harm that could have been caused by something like that is never funny. However the point that I’m heading to is that this theory is based entirely on good old fashioned rumour mill activity. The technological age has not so far been involved at all. Apparently someone passing the office had heard from one of the street cleaners that this shooting was indeed the cause of the Tabernacle Street roadblock.

How can you argue with facts like that? A passing stranger had heard it off a cleaner – that kind of information source is what Wikipedia is based on! I found it quite refreshing to hear news in this manner again after worrying that this kind of knowledge transfer was dead. In order to validate this ancient news system I did feel that I ought to make an effort though.

I searched and searched all over the place. In Google and Yahoo I failed to find anything useful with Tabernacle Street, Worship Street or any combination of words in the search box. Shootings, roadblocks or police thrown in the mix made no difference. The news websites (national & local) had nothing at all. I asked Jeeves but he had not the slightest clue. Every one is clammed up tighter than – well a clam.

And so here I am being the bearer of news to the world. It has fallen to me to inform everyone of what went on in Tabernacle Street London today. If you note that this blog suddenly stops being written (unlikely as it’s only me that reads it) then you will know that I have been shut down by some very dark forces indeed, most probably by Gordon Brown himself.

I can exclusively reveal that Erin on Reception heard from one of the salesmen that they had been stood out having a cigarette when a passing business man told him that a cleaner had said that there had been a shooting. For this reason Tabernacle and Worship Streets were all closed for a while. If you can find a more accurate and thoroughly researched fact anywhere on the Internet about any other subject then I’m an idiot!

enjoying Christmas with children

I’m trying to feel quite positive today, I’m trying to be really optimistic.

This is the last working week of the year for me; I’m breaking up good and early ready for a much needed Christmas break. All the Christmas decorations are up and so the mood is very much shifting towards a bit of fun – or trying too any way.

As usual though, I’ve wound up feeling like I’m trying to force fun on to my children. They are determined to test out Santa at every turn. Am I the only parent out there who is tempted to let them learn the hard way that Santa really doesn’t bring naughty children any presents? Could I get away with that? On Christmas day could I sit there and open a present from my wife while my two boys sit there looking at empty stockings?

It’s tempting though, how many warnings can you give? How many threats of being watched at all times can you use before having to actually go through with it? I’ve done it all over the years, false telephone calls during a massive fight between them where I simply answer “Oh hello Santa...” the noise drops...”No Santa, to be honest they aren’t being very good at all” tears flood out and children gang up together to argue with me instead of each other. I suppose I should be happy that they at least join forces to look after each other in that way.

How much of this can you do though? Surely at some point you have to go through with the threat don’t you? My boys are so determined to either prove that Santa doesn’t exist or that even if he does he certainly can’t see you when you are being good or bad that all the spare time they have is spent making a fuss.

This is why I’m trying to be positive. I’m trying to look forward to spending this time with them. I want to have fun; I want to have some real quality time with them because I have some time to do that with. I don’t want to waste the time and wake up in a few years thinking that I missed their childhood.

However my two little monkeys are determined to make this time as difficult as possible. The excitement and confusion of the time just seems to wind them up beyond what they can cope with bless them.

Of course I won’t go through with it. On Christmas morning all will be well and their little faces will yet again make up for all this woe as they bounce up and down on me at five in the morning asking if he has been yet?

Sorry for the Monday morning rant, it’s been a tough weekend trying to have fun with my children but spending the whole time fighting with them instead and I’m not feeling very funny.

The Advent Calendar

This morning I was reminded why Children have to be supervised. It’s not because they are specifically naughty, it’s just that they can’t help themselves being kids.

The phrase “Like a kid in a sweetshop” exists because children just cannot hold back when confronted by temptation and so they just get excited and want everything – NOW!

This is entirely normal; I saw a program with Professor Robert Winston where e was running an experiment. All the children had to do was sit, unsupervised by a sweet for 5 minutes without eating it even though they had been told that they could eat it if they wanted. Any child who succeeded in their task would get a reward of five more sweets but if they failed they got no more. I can’t remember the actual statistics now but I’m sure that less than half of the children managed to get the extra sweets. Most of them could not sit and look at a sweet that they knew was theirs and wait a lifetime of five minutes to eat it. The connection in their heads of getting five more if they waited meant nothing.

This is because those connections are not yet built.

As with a lot of families at this time of year we have an Advent Calendar running. We aren’t specifically religious in our house but are certainly respectful of religion and I for one refuse to celebrate a religious festival without acknowledging its origin. I hate using XMAS for example and we always have a Nativity scene as part of the decorations which gets discussed with the boys. I’m not going to pretend that we go much further than that though. Any way back to the Advent Calendar…

Our Advent Calendar is a snowman! Now I realise that a snowman isn’t exactly keeping me on the religious high ground but I’m sure that it still counts somehow. The snow man has pockets. In the pockets are chocolate; I’m sure the Vicar would be proud of us.

We put in a selection of Quality Street and told the boys to take turns opening the pockets. Outside a Robin landed on the windowsill and sung to us whilst we all sat by a roaring fire as Mum played White Christmas on the Piano. The bubble of that dream burst very quickly.

Their memories about who’s turn it is seem to be very poor. I cannot believe how bad they are at remembering who went yesterday? Every morning we go through the same 5 minute argument about this. I’ve tried writing their names on the fridge but they get smudged out as soon as I turn away. I tried putting photo’s on the pockets but suddenly I had a whole row of Daniels. Whichever child loses the Advent fight runs off in a strop and breaks something.

I’m now having to sleep under the Calendar in order to protect it. The kitchen is not an ideal place to sleep wrapped up in a sleeping bag but it’s worth it to keep those Devils away from the chocolate first thing every morning. I had to react fast yesterday when I was awoken to the sound of sawing. The boys had managed to get Jamie’s toy toolkit out and were attempting to saw their way through the floor boards upstairs. They had rigged up a Mission Impossible pulley system in order to lower Jamie down to the Calendar behind me. I applauded their ingenuity but told them they would have to put the carpet back down on their own.

This morning I was still in the shower when Daniel came in to ask if it was his turn. I said that it was and yes he could go ahead and help himself. Daniel is 8 after all and can be trusted, can’t he?

By the time I was getting dry all I could hear was shouting. Jamie was most upset, oh no what’s happened?

Jamie came straight upstairs to inform me that Daniel had gone straight through each pocket until he’d found the specific chocolate that he wanted and then done a swap. This practice is of course akin to stealing clothes from a beggar in our house. You get what you get, you touch you take! No body messes with the order of the chocolate!

I sat down and sighed. I’ll never be able to put a Pringle jumper on and sit in a big family group laughing whilst playing Charades at Christmas will I? That dream is never going to come.

I got to thinking what I would have done in Daniel’s place. No adults about and not liking the chocolate I’ve picked out when I can clearly see that there is a whole selection of chocolates on display? I know exactly what I’d have done and I wouldn’t have had the sense to replace the missing chocolate either, which would have just gone in my pocket to make it look like I’d taken it! What makes this worse is that I’m not sure I wouldn’t still do that now!

Kids in sweetshops! Love it.

The Christmas Show

Jamie’s snowflake was a triumph!

I’ve rarely been so proud though I thought they could have made a bit more use of the snow within the show to be honest.

Today was the School’s Christmas show, that’s show of course not Nativity. They haven’t stopped doing the Nativity for religious reasons I don’t think but just because there aren’t enough parts to go round.

With the whole of the Infants department (Sorry Jo and teachers everywhere, I fear I may be using somewhat old terminology, should I be saying Foundation stage?) vying for the best roles but only one married couple, an innkeeper, 3 kings, 3 shepherds and an Angel that say anything, things can get a bit tense.

Clearly then, they can’t give the best roles to my children every year though it must be a real wrench for them when they don’t. Hence I think they have opted more for the Christmas show instead and can therefore make up as many parts as they like in order to make things fair.

And so it was that my 5 year old became a snowflake.

As usual we completely underestimated the competition when it came to getting a decent seat. The show was starting at 13:45 so I naturally got there at 09:00 with very positive vibes running about getting a front row seat. My utter dismay at seeing the line of Mothers in sleeping bags already stretching out of the gates was worsened only when I realised that the first 7 of them play for the Didcot Basketball team and were wearing top hats.

Four and a half hours later the doors opened and we all rushed in. I couldn’t see what was happening but there was already some very harsh words being shouted ahead when the Mum who had been camped out in the playground for 3 days was suddenly joined by her husband, her younger child and parents in clear contradiction to the 2 person per child rule. Things were getting very nasty until the Mother conceded and left her Father stood outside holding the Toddler.

By the time Jo and I made it into the hall there were three seats left at the back just behind the Haystacks family ( apologies to anyone who can’t remember living in Britain in the 70’s and spending Saturday afternoon watching Giant Haystacks wrestling Big Daddy!).

Suddenly a hush came over the crowd and the children were lead into their positions each and everyone of them forgetting what they’d been told and searching the crowd for someone they know. My boy looked gorgeous as he smartly walked out. My research into what makes the perfect snowflake at Reading University had paid off and his costume was perfect. We gave him a wave and his grin was nearly wider than his face.

The show started and a bunch of kids I don’t know came on and danced about saying things, which was not necessary really – surely the snowflakes should have been on by now?

I heard the cue, now I got excited. About the only thing we’d been able to get out of Jamie about his up coming performance was the cue to go on, so well drilled into him by his teacher.

Out they came…

I could have cried…

The world stopped for a bit…

What could be more important than these few moments? How can I not feel like the luckiest person in the world when I can watch this? How can I not be lucky when I can take a day off work just so that I don’t have to miss it?

And they danced…

The snowflakes danced…

Well I say they danced… to be honest they just sort of milled about looking at each other and occasionally remembering the choreography. Up and down went his arms and then round and round he walked, his grin well and truly returning to its normal position. One minute later and it was all over. I’d had a day off work to sit in a packed School hall with a 3 centimetre viewing window between me and the stage to watch my son spend a minute pretending to be a snowflake and I would do it all again in a heartbeat – brilliant.

The rest of the show frankly went downhill, I felt that most of the scenes were lacking the magic of the snowflake scene and could have been better had they included some snow in the background maybe?

Of course I am joking about the rest of the show, it was all good and the amount of effort that the children and staff had put in was very evident during the whole production. It’s these tiny moments of daftness that make being a parent great, so Thank You School and well done Jamie – I loved it mate!

this time next year Rodney...

Well it looks as if my master plan for saving money is destined to fail – yet again.

All my Money making schemes seem to fall somewhat short of their imagined targets, I can’t help thinking that I should be learning something from this but can’t figure out what?

Take this Blog for example. Initially I imagined that all I had to do was sit here and write and the World would come to me. I started it because I loved writing (or at least trying to write) funny stories out of the everyday things that I see about me or do myself. I thought that if I wrote them down then maybe some other people would find them funny too. I imagined that within three months I’d have thousands of readers and a bank full of cash.

I soon discovered that I was perhaps setting my targets a little high. I’ve said before that I just want to practice and improve my writing in the hope of one day turning it into a career and this is still the case. In fact it now really is the only reason I keep doing it. I do love writing and really do want to get better at it. Meanwhile the evil side of me still would quite like to make some money at it too and hence I’m re designing things here and adding adverts. Don’t be upset as it’s nothing terrible, I’ve simply sold out that’s all! I’m hardly Donald Trump so let’s keep things in perspective here. On the whole though I figure I might as well give it a try and so any one who is reading this please forgive me but in the meantime please let me know if the writing is getting any better. I haven’t written a story for ages and I’ve run out of printable Navy stories so the content has changed a little but I hope not too much.

Back to the point, and the fact is that the master plan on the getting rich is falling behind its projections. Never mind I’ll come up with a new scheme soon.

Actually that reminds me of the original point that the first line of this post was supposed to be leading towards. I just had a text from my wife which has proven that my very latest plan has also been a spectacular failure.

Having returned home late yesterday from our visit to the North, we soon realised that we had not done Sainsburys. We spent a few minutes trying to talk each other into getting back in the car and doing the grocery shop. Jo tried wobbling her eyebrows and winking in a suggestion that perhaps it could be worth my while if I went. I’m too seasoned a husband to fall for that old trick though; by the time I’d have returned Jo would have been wrapped up in her ‘comfiest’ pyjamas and sat in the best TV seat. I put forward the possibility of a foot rub and that I’d put the heating on for her but she just shrugged and went to fetch the extra thick dressing gown that I’d foolishly bought her one year.

In the end I had an idea and it was a win-win scenario. I suggested we don’t bother this week. We have some stuff in the freezer and we had some essentials still left over. Also I’m out at my Christmas doo one night this week and Jo is out on two nights so surely we can scrape by? This would also be a money saver. I set Jo the challenge of making tea all week out of the various bits and pieces that we already had. We were not to buy anything or have take-away, we would simply manage on what we have – genius!

The challenge was accepted and we laughed at our brilliance. We would save enough money to get all the extra bits and pieces that we want over Christmas by this single act of thrift. I’m still very proud of myself for coming up with this plan especially as it meant that neither of us had to go out last night and I was able to keep the good TV seat.

The text reads : “Stuff your using things from the fridge idea ! I’m fed up, take away tonight!”

I fear this is going to be a very expensive week… You haven’t noticed my new adverts by any chance?

visiting the family

I’ve just had a very nice weekend visiting ‘home’. We went back to where I grew up to see my parents. Its odd how no matter how much time has passed since you lived there and no matter how many times the place has been re decorated or changed around since, you still consider it ‘home’.

I left my parents house to join the Navy 22 years ago when I was 16 though I always went there for weekends and leave really until I got married I guess, so it’s 11 years since I officially left.

None of that matters though because as soon as you walk in you are with your Mum and Dad and everything is the same; lovely.

This visit had an extra plus because everyone was around. My Sister came over as well as my Brother. All my Nephews and Nieces were there and so we had a right laugh. Everyone is looking really good and coping well. All of the kids were on great form and it was fantastic to catch up with them.

The specific surprise was that my eldest Nephew was there and this was nice because it’s the first time I’ve seen him since went off to join the Navy. James has followed into the family business and headed off to be a Matelot. Bobby if you are still reading these posts, this is the cute little boy in Morning Dress with a top hat at my Wedding who now is a 6 foot burly Rugby playing Field Gunner – I don’t think he got that from his Dad’s side of the family?

James is now a man so it was great to meet up with him and my Brother in the Post Office pub in Newark for a couple of beers, even if I did have to quash the desire to grab him in a headlock and give his hair a good old ruffle. Something told me that this would not work though so I stopped myself, also I couldn’t find a chair to stand on in order to do it.

I say James is a man; clearly he is still a very young man with an awful lot of cynicism still to learn. Frankly he was far too happy with the world for my personal liking. Full of dreams and ambition he stares wide eyed into the future – and that can’t be healthy can it? I often wish I had a time machine, and then I could go back to my younger self and tell me not to have so many dreams and ambitions. I figure if I’d set my sights so much lower at that age I wouldn’t be feeling such a failure now. If only I’d dreamed of one day being a telecoms engineer on average pay, I’d be a complete success now and could proudly swan about the place giving motivational speeches in Schools or on company team building events.

I’m joking of course; there are few things nicer than that feeling as a teenager when the World is yours for the taking. Everything is there for you, anything is possible. And the thing is that it really is all there you just have to want it enough to put up with all of the times when it isn’t possible. If you can keep going when the World’s cynics like me are telling you not to bother then you really can achieve anything. If JK Rowling listened to the many people told her to go back to the kitchen and put down that pen then there would be no Harry Potter.

Any way I had a lovely weekend and it was fantastic to see everyone. Now I’m really looking forward to doing it all over again at Christmas…

getting ready for the Christmas party

Work’s Christmas party is coming up fast and for the first time in years I think I might actually be ready for it. This is a shame; because each and every year I generally find the last minute planning for the Christmas party more exciting than the actual doo.

It’s always the same isn’t it? We vaguely remember having a good laugh at something last year and how funny it was when you fell back on the dance floor and knocked the boss over; but we forget the rest of it.

So much joviality is ensuing around the office as we discuss what it will be like. It’s only a matter of time before someone asks me if I’m doing the Caterpillar ( it was once about 8 years ago and not even at the Christmas doo). However I may have to do a bit of Robot dancing again as there are rules after all.

Usually I wind up having a bit of a dance and then sitting round clutching wine and feeling out of place. I don’t really mix very well with Management, Salesmen, Women or Computer boffins so that really only leaves a handful of people to talk to.

The people I get on with are generally the engineers and generally they just want to stand, drink, letch at the ladies, and talk about sport. I know nothing about football or cricket and so soon find myself out of depth with the conversation. The result of this lack of knowledge is that I wind up looking like a nearly 40 year old overweight married man stood just outside of a group of men looking at ladies.

Then I start feeling self conscious and so I opt to go and dance. Most of my actual friends at work are proper men though so they only dance in the last half hour when their beer feet have caught the rhythm. So I have to try and sidle onto the dance floor waving at a fictional friend to stop people thinking I’m on my own and then dance about trying to convince everyone that I was with them to start with.

Small groups of my female colleagues marvel as suddenly they appear to have picked up Metal Mickey as a dance partner and this can sometimes make them laugh and hold their attention for a whole song. When the next song is half way through and my dancing style is still identically robotic though, the joke wanes and they suddenly get thirsty and leave. Now I’m stood in a gap between dancing groups and have to make a fast decision about who will take pity on me and let me in.

So I join the Salesmen who are all mysteriously full of energy and fun considering it’s only water that they appear to be drinking. Which is fine except they are all over 6 feet tall and don’t really know who I am anyway; they uncomfortably let me into the group but then just pretend that I’m not there. The other option had been the PA’s and Directors group though so I happily put up with the situation.

Eventually I get fed up of pretending to like people and take refuge on a table on my own with a beer or some wine for a bit. Eventually I’ll re group with my mates and talk about nothing at all which is always nice, maybe we will make some top level alcohol induced decisions on how the company should be run – who knows?

Lastly it’s the cold walk to find a kebab and somewhere to sleep. In previous years I’ve slept under my desk and this is really rubbish but you wind up having a laugh with the other guys all doing the same. This year I’ve planned ahead and got a hotel, so I’ll be more comfortable but the camaraderie will be lost.

None the less I put my Dinner Jacket in the dry cleaners today after finding it screwed up and dirty from last years Christmas party at the back of the wardrobe and am quite looking forward to wearing it. There are some decent people working at our place so it’s not all that bad hanging out with them for a bit and besides there should be some free ale & food on (I may not know about sport but I do know about how to freeload beer and pies). Also we are booked in at The London Dungeon this year so it could be quite fun as it’s a little different to the static events marquee that we usually wind up in.

Apparently Chelsea FC are Ok as are Manchester United so I have to decide which of those to support this season? I’m doing some research ready to try and hold some better conversations. Does anyone know any useful football related points I could raise to make myself seem knowledgeable?

earning points

Completely wasted a brilliant chance for a win-win scenario last night and I am gutted.

Jo went out to a meeting and left me in charge of the house (the power was immense; no wonder women are always stroppy if they have to deal with that much pressure every day!).

I had my tea and settled in with some recorded Top Gear happy in my role as the man of the house. Then I thought a bit and knowing that we have a busy weekend ahead I realised that I would have to pull my weight a bit. A quick rummage through the laundry bins and the washing was easily in progress and sorted. Well that was easy but there was a clothes horse full of kid’s clothes to iron and it had absolutely no intention of doing it itself.

Reluctantly I got the kit out to get this job done. Luckily Jo has put a poster up on the fridge saying what you need for this job and where it all is. In no time at all then I’d found the Iron, the board and even the little special jug that you have to use to fill up the Iron, why is that I wondered? Eventually I used the jug to fill up with water after getting my hands and the cable soaking wet trying to fill up from the tap to prove a point.

The handy instructions on using the ironing board that Jo had foolishly sellotaped to the underneath of the ironing board proved to be useless as I couldn’t figure out how to actually open the board up in order to read them. 20 minutes later and I was ready and set up after only breaking one finger and two cuts to the head

Then I reluctantly dragged the clothes horse in and started to sort out the pile of ironing out.

RESULT!

My face broke out into a wry smile and then followed that up with a cheesy grin and then last but not least an actual “HA”! Item after item turned out to be pyjamas or scruffy tracksuit bottoms that don’t need ironing. Soon I had a large pile of clothes to take upstairs and put away but only one easy top to actually iron!

It took just two minutes to iron the top and then I was done and I revelled in my genius. I now had the instructions so putting everything away took no time at all. Suddenly I was all done and back in control of the TV. What a result, I rubbed my hands together knowing that Jo would come in and be absolutely loving it. I would have racked up a massive amount of points and for doing next to nothing – nice.

Jo came home, poked her nose in the lounge and saw that I was watching a film in my standard sofa position, gave me one of those looks that women give their husbands to show them how much they had wished they listened to a bit more KD Lang when they were younger and went to bed. Apparently she wasn’t feeling all that well.

Because of this I received no recognition whatsoever for my toil. The emptied clothes airier was never noticed nor were the empty laundry bins. Even this morning my labor was still un-thanked. As I’d done more washing anyway the clothes horse was full again and Sherlock Holmes was not on hand to notice that the actual clothes were different. Eventually I cracked and pointed out that I’d done this work but the moment was gone and the points lost.

I’ll never get such an easy chance at some proper points again I bet. Next time I want some recognition I’ll probably have to put some actual effort in! It’s a tough life being a Husband you know.

Playing in Winter

Winter is here, the Advent Calendar is out and all is well.

I loved watching the boy’s excitement at the frost this morning. It sometimes catches me out with those two just how little they are. You forget how young your children are I think. The daily turmoil of parenthood means that you see your kids grow up so fast and they act so old and independent all the time.

Suddenly the ground is frosty and they run out on to the grass giggling their heads off! My boys ran around the garden in absolute ecstasy every time the ground crunched under their feet. My children were children again and having a great time.

They ran with glee to show me the amazing sight of their breath coming out like a steam train. A scream of delight shrilled into the air as Daniel discovered a frozen puddle. His foot went straight through it into the cold water, of course, and was swiftly followed by Jamie’s foot who wasn’t about to be left out of something that good.

What made me giggle the most was how long it took them to realise that the path was frosty but not icy. We were half way to School and they were still desperately trying to do a skid. Daniel would suddenly lurch into a sprint only to jump up and then strike a full skateboard pose (as he landed) for milliseconds before discovering that the ground was not slippery. My big lad’s feet would stay firmly planted to the path as momentum carried his body forwards.

Just as Daniel was getting back up off the ground, Jamie would go hurtling past him in order to try the same thing.

It is so nice to see kids being kids. The urge to join in and try and do a skid was strong and really was only held back due to the experience of adulthood telling me to wait for some proper ice.

Bring on some snow next year I say; there’s nothing brings out the child in everyone more than when you have a garden full of snow.

London Paddington Station

I’m not going to write much today, I’m simply going to let a picture paint a thousand words for me.

If you have read any of my posts about commuting the London Underground ( Granny Magnet - Commuters under pressure for example) and still haven’t really understood what it is I’m talking about then this should pretty much clarify it for you.

The station managers, the tourists and those commuters who still try and retain a little common courtesy (and there aren’t many of us left I’m afraid) all have to put up with the millions of people who traverse the Tube every day and believe that they own it.

They make no effort to look after it or care for their fellow passengers feelings because the Tube is theirs, and so they don’t have too.

I’m sorry my camera work is so bad and shaky but my phone is old out dated (I love my trusty Nokia but at the end of the day it is not a phone to show off with, it’s a phone to use to make calls with). Had I invested in one of those lovely iPhone machines then no doubt the photo below would have been somewhat clearer. As it is I took this photo on Friday morning and chuckled to my self all the way to work.

However, I think that even blurred and poorly lit - the image still says it all.

What do you think?

At London Paddington Station they are trialling some really clear markings to say what side you should walk on in order to ease congestion and make it safe. These markings are foolproof!