Today I’d like to re post the story that got me into all this. This is the tale that I just had to tell people about, the one that got me blogging. It saddens me that it lurks unread among those very first unnoticed posts, and so here it is.
I’ve re-edited and written it to show, hopefully, that my writing has improved. The original is here. This may seem a bit of a lazy cop out, and I apologise to any of you who have actually read it before, but I genuinely got into writing because of this true story, and it means a lot to me to have it read…
The day my toddler turned into a teenager:
The freezing-cold, damp, February air, couldn’t ruin the joys of being a father that were still naively strong within me. At this time I still fully believed that I was the best thing to happen to parenthood since Professor Robert Winston first decided to don a comedy moustache; sadly, all that was about to change.
Today was the day my toddler became a teenager.
We hadn’t really had a big issue with the ‘Terrible Twos’ as such; oh Daniel was tricky, but using all the standard parent tricks seemed to work just fine. Our repeated success in the handling of minor toddler strops had lulled us into a comfortably secure illusion of parental prowess.
Everything was running smoothly, until we had child number 2 and Jamie, AKA ‘the baby’, made Daniel turn to the dark side.
The idea, on that cold day, was simple enough; a nice, fresh air walk around one of those open farms. The walk would offer plenty of exercise and stimulus for child, baby and parents alike, Professor Winston would be proud. Also we had my In-Laws visiting, so it was a chance to impress them with how well we were coping.
I quickly impressed everyone with my knowledge of which animal noises matched which animal. My fatherly powers were on fine form.
Then it happened.
Daniel and I had become cut off from the rest of the party, the ladies were off somewhere with the baby, and ahead in the distance was my father-in-law (a man who had already stated that his first job, should he ever win the lottery, would be to “pay Glen off”).
Daniel was standing there looking at the sheep and annoyingly he was chewing his coat lapel. We had been trying to discourage this attack on this nice new coat for a while, and so I knew that now was the perfect time to settle this matter, once and for all.
I asked him to stop sucking his coat, he ignored me.
I told him to stop, he ignored me.
I gave a very clearly defined instruction to stop, he ignored me.
With hindsight, this was probably the point to give it up and worry about this trivial issue later, however hindsight was sadly not available at the time.
I told Daniel that if he couldn’t look after his coat then I would take it off him. Daniel’s eyes wobbled uncertainly – it was only a flicker, but it was a start. This nice warm coat was already his favourite, and I’d found his weakness, I had him.
However, after a moments pause he went straight back to sucking the coat.
RIGHT THAT WAS IT!
I swiftly removed his coat and held it aloft, he had to know my threats weren’t empty after all, the look on his face said it all; I’d won. 33 years of life experience had led to this point, and it was all worth it.
Daniel was about to apologize and beg to have his coat back, he would never suck that lapel or disobey me in any way shape or form ever again! My wife and her parents were about to smother me with praise for sorting out this dire crime, I was to become a true hero.
Forever more I would, finally, be the Man of the house. I felt drunk with the moment and so it was that I made my mistake. High on my own brilliance, I said, “if you promise not to suck your coat any more you can have it back.”
Daniel looked at me, thought for a moment and then simply said no.
What was that? Did he just say no?
Daniel shrugged his shoulders, shouted, “I’m not cold!” and walked swiftly away from me.
Daniel continued to boldly stride on towards his Grandpa, who I could see was looking absolutely bemused as to why on Earth I’d just removed Daniel’s coat on such a cold day. There was absolutely no way it was warm enough to be out without a coat on, any idiot could see that. Now what was I supposed to I do?
What do dads do in situations like that?
I doubled my pace to walk alongside my son and ordered him to put his coat back on, he ignored me.
I told him to put his coat back on, he ignored me.
I asked him to put his coat back on, he ignored me.
All the time we were closing the gap towards his confused Grandfather.
I begged Daniel to put his coat on, promised him sweets and said that he could continue sucking the damned lapel if he liked. At which point Daniel turned, smiled and put his coat on. Looking straight into my eyes he stuck the lapel firmly in his mouth, his work was complete, his father was broken.
And so my son had become a 3 year old teenager, and he has only really continued to abuse me since. I have read every guide book; scanned every blog and watched Oprah with a notepad and pen in my hands, but still he beats me at every level. Perhaps this is the real problem.
Maybe we have become too locked in this war of discipline, where the determination to win an argument has overridden the importance of what the issue was about in the first place? Pick your battles well is my advice, because most of them just aren’t worth it.
Worse still, the baby whose birth heralded my parental demise, is every bit as feisty. Just this morning I was awoken to the sound of Jamie banging his toy drill on my head and demanding Coco-Pops.
Maybe I’ll be a good Grandparent?
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Investing for your future
Invest £100 in me and receive a guaranteed** £200 return within just three years - yes DOUBLE YOUR MONEY!
YOU HEARD RIGHT - Glen’s money scam cannot fail - double your investment easily - NOW.
Here is how it works…
Invest £100 now in the scheme and in just three years I will give you it back plus another £100 to spend!
Amazing? To good to be true?
That’s right!
Not only that, but on completion of the investment you will receive a free gift of a Biro and a highlighter pen in the colour of your choice!*
Simply fill in this form and include payment in order to receive your pens and enrol in the scheme to get your £200 guaranteed** payment.
ALL details MUST be filled in…
name:
address:
credit card number:
expiry date:
3 digit security number:
chip and pin code:
electronic bank details and passwords:
location of spare house key:
details of when house is empty:
Fill in the details and send, along with £100 in cash, two naked photos of your Mum, £80 admin fee and £25 postage and packing for the free pens, to:-
Glen’s investment Scam
Didcot.
Terms and conditions:
No confirmation of receipt of the money will be given.
No correspondence will be entered into
Proof of posting does not constitute proof of receipt.
Glen will determine when your 3 years vesting period is finished, based on how flush he is at the time.
There will be a one off £100 transfer fee for your reward once your vesting period has been confirmed final.
You will have to pay the transfer fee up front.
Payment will take place up to 900 days after receipt of the transfer fee.
Payment will be sent by post, and proof of posting WILL constitute proof of receipt.
* Blue or black
** This is not guaranteed.
YOU HEARD RIGHT - Glen’s money scam cannot fail - double your investment easily - NOW.
Here is how it works…
Invest £100 now in the scheme and in just three years I will give you it back plus another £100 to spend!
Amazing? To good to be true?
That’s right!
Not only that, but on completion of the investment you will receive a free gift of a Biro and a highlighter pen in the colour of your choice!*
Simply fill in this form and include payment in order to receive your pens and enrol in the scheme to get your £200 guaranteed** payment.
ALL details MUST be filled in…
name:
address:
credit card number:
expiry date:
3 digit security number:
chip and pin code:
electronic bank details and passwords:
location of spare house key:
details of when house is empty:
Fill in the details and send, along with £100 in cash, two naked photos of your Mum, £80 admin fee and £25 postage and packing for the free pens, to:-
Glen’s investment Scam
Didcot.
Terms and conditions:
No confirmation of receipt of the money will be given.
No correspondence will be entered into
Proof of posting does not constitute proof of receipt.
Glen will determine when your 3 years vesting period is finished, based on how flush he is at the time.
There will be a one off £100 transfer fee for your reward once your vesting period has been confirmed final.
You will have to pay the transfer fee up front.
Payment will take place up to 900 days after receipt of the transfer fee.
Payment will be sent by post, and proof of posting WILL constitute proof of receipt.
* Blue or black
** This is not guaranteed.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Finding Glen's Life
Just in case my Mum is still losing sleep, I feel I should point out that, although I’m sure there are a few different ways of solving last week’s puzzle from the Standard, Mr. Gates and I decided that in order to use 9, 2, 3, 17, 35 & 70 to make 754 you do this…
9+2=11
11 times 70 = 770
And that
3 times 17 = 51
51-35 = 16
Which should just about mean that
770-16 = 754.
So why have I written that out? After all, you’ve either figured it out yourself or lost interest right?
Well the answer is Google.
Or more accurately Google searches.
For the first time in ages I had a sneaky look at my stats today ,and right at the top of my “recent keyword activity” was that same puzzle.
Someone out there actually visited my site after specifically searching for “make 754 using 2 70 35 9 3 17”. How funny is that? They actually hit the Internet to try and find an answer to the quiz in the paper – is that at least slightly cheating more than using Excel?
I nearly choked on my cup of tea laughing.
What kind of person is so desperate to fill in their puzzle page on the way home, presumably to impress their wife with their superior intellect, that they do an emergency Google to find the answer?
Then it hit me – the kind of person who would do that is the kind of person who might just laugh at my jokes – you know, somebody with special needs! My usual target audience in fact…
So with that in mind I thought I’d quickly post up the answer in the hope of enticing him back – come back and read me Sir, next week I will be giving out the answer to 2 across and the easy Sudoku.
I’m happy to report that after seven months I am still getting many precious hits from people who have searched for “Sexy Bears”, heaven knows what they were actually looking for, were they happy or sad when they read this post do you think?
Regular hits are still coming in after searches for “Emily Blunt Topless” as well as “G-string of the day”, and I’m absolutely certain that those guys go away more than a little frustrated (and somewhat gutted if they are a bit trigger happy).
Flittner’s Barbers is still a very ‘hit’ friendly search result – which is good because that post is pretty much the only one that might actually be of use to the person that found it. I’m basing that on the fact that it was simply a review of a barber shop (yeah I don’t know how I got away with that either).
The scariest hit I ever had is still the result of a search entitled “Glen Staples wife photo”, which is just plain worrying, though she is pretty sexy at the end of the day, so you can hardly blame them.
So there it is, this is the level I am aiming at and frequently falling short of.
Ah well, que sera sera, as they say…
Did I ever tell you about photo I took the time I slept with a naked Robbie Williams?
Well I say slept, actually I mean 'met' – sorry, there may have been a typo there.
And actually, if I’m honest, Robbie wasn’t actually naked as such.
I did take a photo though, and actually I have told you about it before too – here, so I’m sorry if this hasn’t turned out to be quite as exciting as you hoped.
9+2=11
11 times 70 = 770
And that
3 times 17 = 51
51-35 = 16
Which should just about mean that
770-16 = 754.
So why have I written that out? After all, you’ve either figured it out yourself or lost interest right?
Well the answer is Google.
Or more accurately Google searches.
For the first time in ages I had a sneaky look at my stats today ,and right at the top of my “recent keyword activity” was that same puzzle.
Someone out there actually visited my site after specifically searching for “make 754 using 2 70 35 9 3 17”. How funny is that? They actually hit the Internet to try and find an answer to the quiz in the paper – is that at least slightly cheating more than using Excel?
I nearly choked on my cup of tea laughing.
What kind of person is so desperate to fill in their puzzle page on the way home, presumably to impress their wife with their superior intellect, that they do an emergency Google to find the answer?
Then it hit me – the kind of person who would do that is the kind of person who might just laugh at my jokes – you know, somebody with special needs! My usual target audience in fact…
So with that in mind I thought I’d quickly post up the answer in the hope of enticing him back – come back and read me Sir, next week I will be giving out the answer to 2 across and the easy Sudoku.
I’m happy to report that after seven months I am still getting many precious hits from people who have searched for “Sexy Bears”, heaven knows what they were actually looking for, were they happy or sad when they read this post do you think?
Regular hits are still coming in after searches for “Emily Blunt Topless” as well as “G-string of the day”, and I’m absolutely certain that those guys go away more than a little frustrated (and somewhat gutted if they are a bit trigger happy).
Flittner’s Barbers is still a very ‘hit’ friendly search result – which is good because that post is pretty much the only one that might actually be of use to the person that found it. I’m basing that on the fact that it was simply a review of a barber shop (yeah I don’t know how I got away with that either).
The scariest hit I ever had is still the result of a search entitled “Glen Staples wife photo”, which is just plain worrying, though she is pretty sexy at the end of the day, so you can hardly blame them.
So there it is, this is the level I am aiming at and frequently falling short of.
Ah well, que sera sera, as they say…
Did I ever tell you about photo I took the time I slept with a naked Robbie Williams?
Well I say slept, actually I mean 'met' – sorry, there may have been a typo there.
And actually, if I’m honest, Robbie wasn’t actually naked as such.
I did take a photo though, and actually I have told you about it before too – here, so I’m sorry if this hasn’t turned out to be quite as exciting as you hoped.
Friday, March 25, 2011
maths genius
 |
| Ahh Carol http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/tvandradioblog/2008/jul/28/cancountdownsurvivewithout |
Last night on my train ride home I failed to write anything.
This was because I was stuck on a maths problem, and couldn’t get past it to start writing.
The puzzle was in the Evening Standard and it went like this…
2 – 17 – 3 – 9 – 35 – 70 Use all of those six numbers in any combination of + - X or / (I don’t seem to have a proper divide symbol) that you can, to make the answer 754.
You have thirty seconds to answer this…
GO!!
Go on try it – you only have thirty seconds so stop wasting time reading this nonsense and get on with it!
I sat for over an hour trying to solve this puzzle with a pen and with my counting tongue sticking out. I got nowhere at all.
This morning, freshly rested and breakfasted, I decided to try again – this time with a little help from Mr. Gates.
Yes I cheated – well kind of.
I still had to find the solution myself; I still had to work it out. I just let Excel do the counting for me – because the other people on the train were complaining about my socks being off.
Even though I used Excel to help me count past 11 (the highest number I can usually achieve using my toes) it still took me about ten minutes to solve the puzzle.
THIRTY SECONDS!
What kind of robotic mind can possibly work that fast? Carol Vorderman I am clearly not.
How did you get on? Have you solved it yet? How long did it take? So far the reigning champion is me, and I took a total of one hour twenty minutes, and used a posh calculator to find the answer…
Can you beat that?
P.S. Yes I know the answer is 754 – I told you that, now go away and find out how get solve the puzzle!
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Man fixes things - with tape
With great age, comes great responsibility.
I have entered the age of ‘fixing things around the house’.
No longer can I get away with youthful wastefulness and carefree upgrading of household equipment.
Oh no.
On the plus side, now I get to use tape.
Tape is God’s way of rewarding married men for putting up with periods.
Not just any old sticky tape either. We are talking ‘electrical insulating tape’, and that is just for starters.
Once you have wrapped up some wiring in the sexiest tape on the planet, why not treat yourself to a bit of fettish gear for afters? You could use some vulcanising tape to protect your work from the elements (don’t bother asking or Googling it girls – I’ve got as much chance of remembering to ask my Mum about birthdays / holidays / illnesses or animals on the phone, without being prompted to do so by my wife using mime beside me, than you have of understanding vulcanising tape). I warn you not to try using that stuff too soon as well – it’s not for amateurs, you need to be pretty hard core and have safe words ready.
Don’t even mention masking tape to me, or HBM as us Navy folk will say, unless you want me to become a gibbering wreck of excitement.
This weekend – I did some fixing.
It involved a lot of tape.
First of all I fixed our wine cooler. I know – I’m quite posh.
The wine cooler was my one real extravagance when we did our kitchen three years ago. I’m not a wine drinker, and if I do drink wine I like it ice cold – so as to remove any wine taste from the glass. A wine cooler is therefore not much use to me. However, I saw one in someone else’s kitchen and fell in love with it. I had to have one, I had to have it switched on and I had to fill it with wine.
I love my wine cooler.
It finally packed up and died a couple of weeks ago after about 6 month’s ill health. I’d stripped it and cleaned the fans a few times and kept it alive as best I could, but finally at 21:30 hours on the 2nd March 2011, I pronounced the fans to be clinically dead, and the wine cooler was unplugged.
Jo started searching the Internet and started pointing at brand new coolers that could take its place for less than £200. A few years ago I’d have pronounced that a bargain. I’ve changed.
I took over the Internet search and located a transplant. I found donor fans at a computer spares place Oh the leads and the plugs weren’t the same, but the fans were the right size and type. The race was on – and for just under £10 delivered.
The fans came – I ran into the garage and excitedly found my tape, and even more excitedly – my brand new soldering iron.
Now we are talking.
I refuse to factor in the cost of the iron into the cost of the repair – I’m bound to use it again aren’t I?
In no time at all I stood back and admired my work. I had the fans in place, the connections soldered and about four meters of insulating tape protecting the joints. I was ready.
The family held its breath. The boys stood motionless behind the chair based safety barrier. We waited.
Silently.
With a whisper.
The fans turned.
It was so quiet we didn’t even believe it at first – but it was there – a heartbeat! The cooler was alive!
And it still is going, and the wine is as mildly cool as it ever was.
I am a domestic hero.
With my success still fresh on everyone’s mind, I went on to use a hammer, a small roll of duct tape and a pint of WD40 to fix our ailing corner food cupboard contraption.
With the cupboard duely fixed, I then set about our bathroom sink’s leaking tap.
Ah yes, the bathroom tap…
That deserves its own post.
Where I excel at electrical work, it seems I somewhat falter at plumbing, and our fairly high pressure water system is being held together with superglue and yes, you guessed it, tape. What could possibly go wrong?
I have entered the age of ‘fixing things around the house’.
No longer can I get away with youthful wastefulness and carefree upgrading of household equipment.
Oh no.
On the plus side, now I get to use tape.
Tape is God’s way of rewarding married men for putting up with periods.
Not just any old sticky tape either. We are talking ‘electrical insulating tape’, and that is just for starters.
 |
| You know this guy is single right? http://www.crunchgear.com/2008/03/12/69-uses-for-duct-tape/ |
Once you have wrapped up some wiring in the sexiest tape on the planet, why not treat yourself to a bit of fettish gear for afters? You could use some vulcanising tape to protect your work from the elements (don’t bother asking or Googling it girls – I’ve got as much chance of remembering to ask my Mum about birthdays / holidays / illnesses or animals on the phone, without being prompted to do so by my wife using mime beside me, than you have of understanding vulcanising tape). I warn you not to try using that stuff too soon as well – it’s not for amateurs, you need to be pretty hard core and have safe words ready.
Don’t even mention masking tape to me, or HBM as us Navy folk will say, unless you want me to become a gibbering wreck of excitement.
This weekend – I did some fixing.
It involved a lot of tape.
First of all I fixed our wine cooler. I know – I’m quite posh.
The wine cooler was my one real extravagance when we did our kitchen three years ago. I’m not a wine drinker, and if I do drink wine I like it ice cold – so as to remove any wine taste from the glass. A wine cooler is therefore not much use to me. However, I saw one in someone else’s kitchen and fell in love with it. I had to have one, I had to have it switched on and I had to fill it with wine.
I love my wine cooler.
It finally packed up and died a couple of weeks ago after about 6 month’s ill health. I’d stripped it and cleaned the fans a few times and kept it alive as best I could, but finally at 21:30 hours on the 2nd March 2011, I pronounced the fans to be clinically dead, and the wine cooler was unplugged.
 |
| Just one of my many wives enjoying her luxuray wine lifestyle http://www.luxuo.com/most-expensive/luxury-wine-coolers.html |
I took over the Internet search and located a transplant. I found donor fans at a computer spares place Oh the leads and the plugs weren’t the same, but the fans were the right size and type. The race was on – and for just under £10 delivered.
The fans came – I ran into the garage and excitedly found my tape, and even more excitedly – my brand new soldering iron.
Now we are talking.
I refuse to factor in the cost of the iron into the cost of the repair – I’m bound to use it again aren’t I?
In no time at all I stood back and admired my work. I had the fans in place, the connections soldered and about four meters of insulating tape protecting the joints. I was ready.
The family held its breath. The boys stood motionless behind the chair based safety barrier. We waited.
Silently.
With a whisper.
The fans turned.
It was so quiet we didn’t even believe it at first – but it was there – a heartbeat! The cooler was alive!
And it still is going, and the wine is as mildly cool as it ever was.
I am a domestic hero.
With my success still fresh on everyone’s mind, I went on to use a hammer, a small roll of duct tape and a pint of WD40 to fix our ailing corner food cupboard contraption.
With the cupboard duely fixed, I then set about our bathroom sink’s leaking tap.
Ah yes, the bathroom tap…
That deserves its own post.
Where I excel at electrical work, it seems I somewhat falter at plumbing, and our fairly high pressure water system is being held together with superglue and yes, you guessed it, tape. What could possibly go wrong?
Monday, March 21, 2011
Celebrity
Well hello – and welcome to another week.
To all those crazy Aussie Mums – welcome back to Planet Earth – I hope you had fun.
To the rest of us normal folk, I’d just like to say it is March, the Sun is shining and life is pretty damned cushdy.
Today’s post is all about the wonderful world of Celebrity, fuelled by a sighting I made of a couple of British celebrities last month – and the resulting head jam that this gave me when I came to write about it.
What started off as a simple “Guess who I saw” turned swiftly into something else entirely.
I would love it, therefore, if you could click here and pop over to Real Bloggers United to read it; if you could leave me a comment over there as well, then my cakes would be well and truly iced (hopefully not by my Mum).
Thanks
Glen.
To all those crazy Aussie Mums – welcome back to Planet Earth – I hope you had fun.
To the rest of us normal folk, I’d just like to say it is March, the Sun is shining and life is pretty damned cushdy.
Today’s post is all about the wonderful world of Celebrity, fuelled by a sighting I made of a couple of British celebrities last month – and the resulting head jam that this gave me when I came to write about it.
What started off as a simple “Guess who I saw” turned swiftly into something else entirely.
I would love it, therefore, if you could click here and pop over to Real Bloggers United to read it; if you could leave me a comment over there as well, then my cakes would be well and truly iced (hopefully not by my Mum).
Thanks
Glen.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
The final birthday report
 |
| Daniel hanging tough |
Up in the trees we were laughing. Daniel was on fine form and we were dangling.
I’m back at Center Parcs for the final part of what would have been a Birthday trilogy if I could have been bothered to write it properly.
Firstly let me just reassure you a little; this will be the last post about my 40th! I wrote a few posts before it, on it and after it, and frankly even I’m getting bored of it – never mind you lot. It was almost two weeks ago now – I’m over it!
However this last part of the tale needed telling.
The day itself was fantastic, quite emotional in parts as my boys ran around in the home made T shirts displaying photos of us together, them my Mum produced a folder full of memories, school reports and certificates. I was quite choked up by it all.
All the rest of my family turned up and the fun began.
We swam.
We went to the driving range and tried to hit golf balls (and I do mean tried).
We went 10 pin bowling (which everyone dutifully let me win – it was my Birthday after all).
We went for a big old meal at Huck’s Diner. An American style place that would no doubt leave any real Americans down right insulted, but works for me every time. I love restaurants where they make vegetarians sit in their own special corner, out of the way from the normal people, and offer them chips as their only option while failing to mention that they were cooked in animal fat.
Huck’s is my kind of restaurant. I left there quite full and more than a little wobbly.
The day was brilliant, it went bang on plan. A lot of funny things happened that day – a lot of highly blogable silliness, but do you know what? Some things are just personal.
 |
| Jamie climbing on pure determination |
While Jamie slept that off, Me and Daniel decided to take on the high ropes challenge, which is probably the wrong title come to think of it. It was probably called something else, but it was high and it was ropes so get over it!
The man in charge clearly said that if you were likely to be scared, or have trouble with the challenge go to the back, confident people go to the front.
Daniel was a little nervous about the height so we loitered to the back. Swiss Family McNumpty was in front of us. Well I say the family were. The father of the group confidently pushed his way in front of us. “Come on let’s go here!” he loudly declared, patting his chest and breathing in the wonderful woodland air. His very young son (I’m guessing 7 at the most) and somewhat pale wife trudged in behind him.
I eyed them suspiciously. There was something worryingly heroic about the dad, that didn’t seem to be quite as convincing as it should be.
 |
| double thumbs up |
As we waited, the dad and his bigger son (who I’d failed to notice at first), went ahead as the first pair to climb, leaving his wife in my care.
Oh dear.
The first thing that happened was that the instructor disappeared (well he went off to sort the next group out, after handing us over to a different instructor anyway). “Where did he go?” asked the suddenly worried wife.
I couldn’t stop myself.
“I’m not sure, he was just looking up there and then said, ‘I don’t like the look of that’, and disappeared.”
I really shouldn’t be allowed out.
The look of horror on her face was completely unexpected. I thought it had been obvious it was a joke. Apparently it was not at all obvious.
In the end I had to ‘fess up that it was a gag, and I noted a distinct lack of laughter from her about it. She didn’t even respond to my best flirty grin, that I try and rescue myself with in emergency situations like this.
 |
| getting high |
Meanwhile, the dumbfounded father had gone on ahead – merrily leading the way. Eventually he looked back in disbelief, sheer embarrassment at being held back by such nonsense blazed across his face. His encouraging shouts of “Stop messing about and COME ON – stop being so STUPID!” failed to be as encouraging as you would assume they should be.
Time crawled by.
 |
| 1 - 2 - 3 slide! |
We balanced.
We waited.
In the end, we made it to the Zip Wire, Daniel whizzed down first with a shriek, and then I slid slap bang onto my arse as gracefully as I could.
Daniel laughed, Jo laughed, and I laughed.
The whole weekend was filled with laughter.
I absolutely loved it.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Japan
There is only one thing I can possibly talk about today, and that is Japan.
I cannot even start to describe the awfulness of what nature has subjected those people too.
The images of boat loads of scared kids being rescued, none of whom having the first idea where their parents might be, or if they will ever see them again made my eyes water, the interview with a broken mother, unable to find her daughter forced me to turn the TV off. I could bare it no more. Then I felt stupid and put the TV back on. How can you turn your back on such tragedy?
Devastation has now been compounded by the extra weight of man’s own destructive need for power. This has to be a stark reminder of how fragile our parasitic lives are on this amazing living thing called The Earth.
Man’s need for power has resulted in Nuclear power stations being built on fault lines – and no, in no way shape or form am I having a dig at Japan over this, almost every country on the planet would use Nuclear power if they could – mine certainly does. I’m not even against it, I’m an ex Navy man and I have no personal grievance with this power source, but sometimes you do have to stop and think for a bit.
Really though, is there no other way?
Isn’t there?
For these people to be subjected to the terror of this station melting down on top of everything else, just seems too much.
Nobody could possibly have prevented this Earthquake and the resulting Tsunami; nobody could have accurately predicted its strength or exact time. The shockingly high numbers of deaths are actually amazingly low, testament to just how well prepared Japan was for this.
Learn from the dinosaurs. We are only visitors here. The Earth will live long after humans have stopped. I don’t care what religion you are, you will know that to be true, even if you disagree on how that might come about.
If the human race is going to end, then let it be un-preventable. Let Mother Nature do it, or the God of your choosing, but let’s not do it to ourselves anymore.
Maybe I’m being a bit over dramatic, maybe I’m ranting a little.
Sorry.
But honestly, it has been a tough few years around the world for natural disasters, and though all of them have made me stop and think about how lucky I am, none of the TV imagery has quite caught my attention like this one has. Those kids in the truck were so little, they reminded me so much of my little Jamie. The thought of my son surviving such terror and then be sitting in a truck, unable to find the one thing that he would be desperate for – his mother’s or my arms – just brought me to tears.
Spare your thoughts and prayers, however you might say them, for the people of Japan.
They really do need them.
I cannot even start to describe the awfulness of what nature has subjected those people too.
The images of boat loads of scared kids being rescued, none of whom having the first idea where their parents might be, or if they will ever see them again made my eyes water, the interview with a broken mother, unable to find her daughter forced me to turn the TV off. I could bare it no more. Then I felt stupid and put the TV back on. How can you turn your back on such tragedy?
Devastation has now been compounded by the extra weight of man’s own destructive need for power. This has to be a stark reminder of how fragile our parasitic lives are on this amazing living thing called The Earth.
Man’s need for power has resulted in Nuclear power stations being built on fault lines – and no, in no way shape or form am I having a dig at Japan over this, almost every country on the planet would use Nuclear power if they could – mine certainly does. I’m not even against it, I’m an ex Navy man and I have no personal grievance with this power source, but sometimes you do have to stop and think for a bit.
Really though, is there no other way?
Isn’t there?
For these people to be subjected to the terror of this station melting down on top of everything else, just seems too much.
Nobody could possibly have prevented this Earthquake and the resulting Tsunami; nobody could have accurately predicted its strength or exact time. The shockingly high numbers of deaths are actually amazingly low, testament to just how well prepared Japan was for this.
Learn from the dinosaurs. We are only visitors here. The Earth will live long after humans have stopped. I don’t care what religion you are, you will know that to be true, even if you disagree on how that might come about.
If the human race is going to end, then let it be un-preventable. Let Mother Nature do it, or the God of your choosing, but let’s not do it to ourselves anymore.
Maybe I’m being a bit over dramatic, maybe I’m ranting a little.
Sorry.
But honestly, it has been a tough few years around the world for natural disasters, and though all of them have made me stop and think about how lucky I am, none of the TV imagery has quite caught my attention like this one has. Those kids in the truck were so little, they reminded me so much of my little Jamie. The thought of my son surviving such terror and then be sitting in a truck, unable to find the one thing that he would be desperate for – his mother’s or my arms – just brought me to tears.
Spare your thoughts and prayers, however you might say them, for the people of Japan.
They really do need them.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Birthday weekend - day 1
“Cakes” was my Mum’s hopeful reply.
“Yes, I can see that, and they look delicious, but what are the patterns on the top supposed to be?”
Actually the conversation didn’t go like that at all. The cakes were delicious but none of us could say anything, through laughing at my Mum’s incredibly optimistic attempt to write “40” on each cake. There was no way of guessing that this had been the intention
We were at Center Parcs in Sherwood Forest, for a well planned weekend to mark my 40th in style.
I’d booked a lovely and big, posh 4 bedroom villa that had 4 en-suite bedrooms, a games room with a pool table in it and a sauna. If I was going to become a forty year old then I was damned well going to enjoy it – like it or not!
Joining me for the weekend would be Jo and the boys, my Mum and Dad, and my two nieces. Joining us for the day on Saturday would be my Sister and her fella, my Brother and Sister-in-law and my young nephew. The Staples gang were hitting the forest.
We hadn’t yet made it to Saturday though, we were very much still on Friday night and in tears laughing at my Mum’s lack of icing skills.
We had arrived, unpacked and sorted and were running around excitedly bagsying bedrooms and looking at the board of photos that my parents had put together, charting my life from baby to adulthood and the laughter had been easy and plentiful. It was brilliant seeing them all, spending that extra bit of time with my nieces was lovely; I hadn’t seen them for ages. It feels like no time at all since they were babies but this year they will turn 16 & 15 – which is just utter madness!
There was still so much to do; I still had an actual birthday to get through. Something told me this weekend was going to be good…
Thursday, March 10, 2011
British complaints
Thought I’d write a swift post today about something I saw in the Metro. Mainly because it made me laugh quite literally out loud this morning, but also because it puts off writing about my birthday weekend a bit longer – which is proving quite tricky to write for some reason.
I love this story.
I also hate it.
Although it is extreme examples and no doubt highly exaggerated, it is also an all too accurate picture of Britain, in all its glory.
These are my people.
We Brits do LOVE having something to moan about.
These are the cream of the crop.
So, in today’s Metro…
We have some examples of complaints made by my brethren after they came back from their holidays. This is what they had to say about their holiday on the feedback forms they filled in.
And they paint a very sad tale about my country.
Let’s just say the put the “count” –ahem- into Country (that works better when you say it).
Complaint number 1: Someone actually complained because there had been too much food on offer at the hotel buffet – causing them to put over two Kilos on during their trip.
WHAT?
Complaint number 2: The bed in a hotel room had been too comfy, causing the guest to oversleep – wasting precious holiday time!
Damn those comfy beds!
And finally - the third and most classic complaint of them all…
One man complained that he had a terrible time because the whole week had been spoiled by arguments with his wife. The arguments had been about him looking at all the sunbathing girls on the beech. The gripe was that there were too many beautiful girls there and this had got him in trouble!
Sadly it didn’t actually say where that beech was!
Why are we never happy? Sometimes I wish I was Australian, their attitude is much more relaxed (damn my Great Granddad for being so honest!)*
*Notice I only dare say that when all my Aussie readers are safely locked away in a conference and therefore not reading!
I love this story.
I also hate it.
Although it is extreme examples and no doubt highly exaggerated, it is also an all too accurate picture of Britain, in all its glory.
These are my people.
We Brits do LOVE having something to moan about.
These are the cream of the crop.
So, in today’s Metro…
We have some examples of complaints made by my brethren after they came back from their holidays. This is what they had to say about their holiday on the feedback forms they filled in.
And they paint a very sad tale about my country.
Let’s just say the put the “count” –ahem- into Country (that works better when you say it).
Complaint number 1: Someone actually complained because there had been too much food on offer at the hotel buffet – causing them to put over two Kilos on during their trip.
WHAT?
Complaint number 2: The bed in a hotel room had been too comfy, causing the guest to oversleep – wasting precious holiday time!
Damn those comfy beds!
And finally - the third and most classic complaint of them all…
One man complained that he had a terrible time because the whole week had been spoiled by arguments with his wife. The arguments had been about him looking at all the sunbathing girls on the beech. The gripe was that there were too many beautiful girls there and this had got him in trouble!
Sadly it didn’t actually say where that beech was!
Why are we never happy? Sometimes I wish I was Australian, their attitude is much more relaxed (damn my Great Granddad for being so honest!)*
*Notice I only dare say that when all my Aussie readers are safely locked away in a conference and therefore not reading!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Thankyou
Hello all.
I just want to quickly say a big thanks for all the birthday messages.
So
THANKS
It was lovely sitting and reading all those, when I caught up with things last night. I spent the weekend away with all my family, which is why I didn’t respond sooner or anything. I didn’t even leave a return happy birthday comment for my almost-but-not-quite birthday twin Katie over at Stress and Stars, who is 25 (can you believe that? When I was 25 ‘blog’ wasn’t even a word, computer hard drives had less than 500Mb of space – don’t even ask about the RAM - and you had to go to a newsagent’s to buy porn).
I will be sitting down to write about my birthday celebration weekend very soon, but not today because I’m tired, I stayed up way past 9:30 last night, reading all my ‘happy birthday’ comments.
I just want to quickly say a big thanks for all the birthday messages.
So
THANKS
It was lovely sitting and reading all those, when I caught up with things last night. I spent the weekend away with all my family, which is why I didn’t respond sooner or anything. I didn’t even leave a return happy birthday comment for my almost-but-not-quite birthday twin Katie over at Stress and Stars, who is 25 (can you believe that? When I was 25 ‘blog’ wasn’t even a word, computer hard drives had less than 500Mb of space – don’t even ask about the RAM - and you had to go to a newsagent’s to buy porn).
I will be sitting down to write about my birthday celebration weekend very soon, but not today because I’m tired, I stayed up way past 9:30 last night, reading all my ‘happy birthday’ comments.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
It's today - I made it to 40
AAAAAGGGHHHHH
MUST
BUY
CORDS
AND SLIPPERS
AND
TURN THE RADIO DOWN A BIT.
MUST
BUY
CORDS
AND SLIPPERS
AND
TURN THE RADIO DOWN A BIT.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
The miracle of age
Only 3 days left of my thirties.
It’s a miracle!
It must surely be a sign.
I do believe I have been shown something important – something that I have to take note of.
This weekend has been looming up on me like a curse for quite some time now. With every passing day it forces its attention on me and drags me ever closer towards it.
The end of an era approaches. The end of my thirties – and do you know what? It hurts!
I’m quite surprised by just how much I am affected by this. I’m not a particularly vain man, but for some reason the thought of being forty fills me with dread.
I wasn’t like this at thirty, I wasn’t bothered at all. In fact I think I quite liked turning thirty, I felt it gave me a little gravitas that was out of reach as a young twenties lad. Being a thirty something seemed cool somehow.
The same couldn’t be said for thirty five.
Thirty five hurt.
Suddenly I was late thirties and that felt old. I hated turning thirty five.
I think that is why I feel so surprised about the whole forty thing. I wasn’t expecting it. I figured I’d be okay for another five years yet. But no. It appears I am not okay.
I have been quite down inside, feeling quite nervous about things that I really shouldn’t feel nervous about. I’ve felt genuinely anxious about all the things I haven’t achieved. I’ve tried to cover over it with jokey blog posts and in real life too, but actually the feelings are real. I’ve organised a big family get together which I am really looking forward too, but this is really just a cover. I can look forward to a party with my family, I can look forward to spending that time together, but I don’t have to actually think of why I am meeting them. Somehow having a big celebration to be excited about, takes my mind off the actual birthday part. I’m in denial and I know it. I really do think I’ve failed to make anything of myself. It is stupid – I know that – but sometimes illogical things are real, and that’s all there is to it.
However…
Things are going to change.
All those feelings are going.
I’ve been saved. I think.
While I was eating a banana today a miracle happened, for there, on the inside of the skin, was an image.
A very special image.
It has to be a sign doesn’t it? I mean it has to mean something pretty special to find the Lord’s image in a banana skin? Also I’ve been thinking (that’s what the noise was), it is nearly Easter, and that must surely link in the 40 days and nights thing doesn’t it? Well that’s a dead giveaway isn’t it – 40?
So I’ve been sent a message, I need to relax, forty is good. Everything will be okay.
The birth of my forties is going to be the birth of a whole new dynamic and successful Glen.
What could possibly go wrong now that Jesus has appeared in my banana?
Unless of course it was Billy Connoly.
It’s a miracle!
It must surely be a sign.
I do believe I have been shown something important – something that I have to take note of.
This weekend has been looming up on me like a curse for quite some time now. With every passing day it forces its attention on me and drags me ever closer towards it.
The end of an era approaches. The end of my thirties – and do you know what? It hurts!
I’m quite surprised by just how much I am affected by this. I’m not a particularly vain man, but for some reason the thought of being forty fills me with dread.
I wasn’t like this at thirty, I wasn’t bothered at all. In fact I think I quite liked turning thirty, I felt it gave me a little gravitas that was out of reach as a young twenties lad. Being a thirty something seemed cool somehow.
The same couldn’t be said for thirty five.
Thirty five hurt.
Suddenly I was late thirties and that felt old. I hated turning thirty five.
I think that is why I feel so surprised about the whole forty thing. I wasn’t expecting it. I figured I’d be okay for another five years yet. But no. It appears I am not okay.
I have been quite down inside, feeling quite nervous about things that I really shouldn’t feel nervous about. I’ve felt genuinely anxious about all the things I haven’t achieved. I’ve tried to cover over it with jokey blog posts and in real life too, but actually the feelings are real. I’ve organised a big family get together which I am really looking forward too, but this is really just a cover. I can look forward to a party with my family, I can look forward to spending that time together, but I don’t have to actually think of why I am meeting them. Somehow having a big celebration to be excited about, takes my mind off the actual birthday part. I’m in denial and I know it. I really do think I’ve failed to make anything of myself. It is stupid – I know that – but sometimes illogical things are real, and that’s all there is to it.
However…
Things are going to change.
All those feelings are going.
I’ve been saved. I think.
While I was eating a banana today a miracle happened, for there, on the inside of the skin, was an image.
A very special image.
It has to be a sign doesn’t it? I mean it has to mean something pretty special to find the Lord’s image in a banana skin? Also I’ve been thinking (that’s what the noise was), it is nearly Easter, and that must surely link in the 40 days and nights thing doesn’t it? Well that’s a dead giveaway isn’t it – 40?
So I’ve been sent a message, I need to relax, forty is good. Everything will be okay.
The birth of my forties is going to be the birth of a whole new dynamic and successful Glen.
What could possibly go wrong now that Jesus has appeared in my banana?
Unless of course it was Billy Connoly.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Milton Jones
At the weekend we went to see British comedian Milton Jones, on his ‘The Lion Whisperer’ tour and I’m not sure if I laughed more at him, his support act or at the sheer idiocy of my townsfolk.
Actually I do know – Milton was the funniest, but they weren’t far behind.
Milton’s style of comedy is to just be silly and say lines that contradict themselves or just play on the words to come up with something stupid. He isn’t specifically crude or nasty, just daft and funny. I like that.
His support act – James Acaster – who I assume is a young upcoming comedian of the future (I certainly hadn’t heard of him) was also funny without being crude, but veered more to the story telling style of humour, rather than Milton’s one liners. This made for a perfect match and worked well.
I’m not going to try and repeat any of the jokes – this never works.
You will have to take my word for it.
The venue we saw him at was very intimate indeed with a capacity of barely 300. This made us feel very much part of it.
Sadly.
The problem with these intimate gigs is that people think they have as much right to be on the stage as the person being paid to be there.
It appears I live in a town full of comedians.
Or at least fools.
The young lad supporting was tested to the limits by a complete nutter in the front row who was absolutely intent on showing him his ‘funny’ eye that had been poked out at some point, as well as his various other facial anomalies. Other Audience members tried to join in but could only muster such comedic masterpieces as “Shoot him” or “Kiss him”. There was a moment where I thought the youngster had lost control, lost the audience, but to his credit – he claimed it back. Control was not only retaken, but the situation used to make his set very funny indeed. I suspect he has a future.
The crowd didn’t improve for Milton and for some reason occasional really rubbish heckles rang out that needed to be heard to be believed so I won’t repeat them. All I will say is the people of Didcot really do not know how to heckle, and were easy prey for a most unimpressed looking comedian. His face looked as though he could hardly be bothered to respond to the incredibly witty “That’s a bad joke” loudly shouted at him. The fact that the joke had made me and everyone else laugh, only proved to make the heckle even less effective than it had already seemed. Milton smiled, turned conspiratorially towards us and said, “Relax – I’ll deal with this… Shhhh”.
Genius.
Unless you are genuinely intelligent or funny – just don’t try and heckle a comedian, especially not a good one.
I may have to move.
 |
| http://www.miltonjones.com/ |
Actually I do know – Milton was the funniest, but they weren’t far behind.
Milton’s style of comedy is to just be silly and say lines that contradict themselves or just play on the words to come up with something stupid. He isn’t specifically crude or nasty, just daft and funny. I like that.
His support act – James Acaster – who I assume is a young upcoming comedian of the future (I certainly hadn’t heard of him) was also funny without being crude, but veered more to the story telling style of humour, rather than Milton’s one liners. This made for a perfect match and worked well.
I’m not going to try and repeat any of the jokes – this never works.
You will have to take my word for it.
The venue we saw him at was very intimate indeed with a capacity of barely 300. This made us feel very much part of it.
Sadly.
The problem with these intimate gigs is that people think they have as much right to be on the stage as the person being paid to be there.
It appears I live in a town full of comedians.
Or at least fools.
The young lad supporting was tested to the limits by a complete nutter in the front row who was absolutely intent on showing him his ‘funny’ eye that had been poked out at some point, as well as his various other facial anomalies. Other Audience members tried to join in but could only muster such comedic masterpieces as “Shoot him” or “Kiss him”. There was a moment where I thought the youngster had lost control, lost the audience, but to his credit – he claimed it back. Control was not only retaken, but the situation used to make his set very funny indeed. I suspect he has a future.
The crowd didn’t improve for Milton and for some reason occasional really rubbish heckles rang out that needed to be heard to be believed so I won’t repeat them. All I will say is the people of Didcot really do not know how to heckle, and were easy prey for a most unimpressed looking comedian. His face looked as though he could hardly be bothered to respond to the incredibly witty “That’s a bad joke” loudly shouted at him. The fact that the joke had made me and everyone else laugh, only proved to make the heckle even less effective than it had already seemed. Milton smiled, turned conspiratorially towards us and said, “Relax – I’ll deal with this… Shhhh”.
Genius.
Unless you are genuinely intelligent or funny – just don’t try and heckle a comedian, especially not a good one.
I may have to move.
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