Hey ladys, you like music? you like biker jackets?...you like young boys with dyed black hair then?...ah, PC scanners! re-live yir feckn' youth I say...sigh... 

Duck feeding when the snow came 

It all gets too much for baby smash though...look at him! bless 

Xmas morning. smashers opening their stockings 

Christmas round ours

What can I say about this years Christmas?..it sure coulda been worse, that’s for sure…no, this year went fine all considering…I suppose it started on Thursday when we all went out for a work lunch and spent 3 hours sinking pints. By the time I got back to work it was nearly time to knock off for the day, so I did and went home and bought a bottle of red wine for the evening…

Friday, last day at work, feeling a little hungover but plodded my way to 2pm when we were all told to go home! I went to the cross keys pub and waited for all my mates to show up. One and a half hours and 3 lonely pints later my so-called mate Dave did manage to arrive, so we had 4-5 pints and called it a night. It was an interesting night though, plenty of dave and steve time, lot’s to get off our chests, y’know?

Christmas eve the missus went to work during the day, so the smashers and I amused ourselves at home. That morning we drove u to my sisters to drop off the pressies and say Hi to my dad who was staying there over xmas. Typically miserable as ever, I had to wring a thank-you from him when he’d finished opening the two presents I’d bought him, ah well, I wasn’t expecting any love, hugs or tears anyway…when I left my sister said he was moaning because I’d not left him any money!…

When the missus got back from work I dashed up to the pizza pub for our xmas eve dinner take-a-way and spent the rest of the evening setting up the pressies, carrot and glass of sherry nonsense for Santa and all that guff…oh and the missus opened her special pressie from me…the one that needed batteries, y’know?…she loved it…the dirty cow.

Let’s see…Christmas day…oh yeah, after the present opening, I got a new clock radio, we all headed north to her parents for the day-long marathon that is xmas-at-her-mothers but amazingly when we arrived and was tucking into our stone cold dinner, the mother said, shamed faced I thought, that maybe they were getting a little too old for all the preparations and that maybe from now on it might be better if we stayed away for lunch and just like, came up for tea in the evening for an hour or so!!!! Fuck me, miracles do happen at Christmas! But of course the brother ruined it all by suggesting we could all come up to his house instead as they had a double oven and hob combo so everything could be cooked at once and stay hot or something, to be honest I was still basking in the first bit of good news from her mother. And yet another break from tradition, they’d bought some beers in for me so during the day I just like, helped myself! Wonderful and by 6pm the missus said, ok we’re off home to watch Dr Who.

Boxing day, she went back to work, I went to M&S to spend my gift vouchers but found the place closed. The next day I went back and found it mobbed, truly awful I had to turn round and get out of there I couldna stand the crowds…

That’s it I think, looking forward to the new year, another diet and Christ knows what the job front will deliver but I do know what my resolution will be for next year and that’s simply to stay alive…just to stay alive. Y’know?

Me me me!!!

I was listening to the radio this morning and there was a discussion about round robin letters people send out in xmas cards. I had one myself the other day from an old friend, you know the sort of thing...we've recently moved into our 5 bedroom house, out here in the countryside, which is a bit of a pain given that we're now flying off to Portugal for 3 weeks for our 4th holiday this year, however will we get the new house sorted?...the children are settling into boarding school well, Harry is about to go up to Oxford next year, so is busy with his studies..." bla bla fucking who cares...right?...anyhoo, the discussion then moved onto, naturally enough, to texting and how people tend to text you all about how wonderful they are, what great things they're doing in Australia, Bratislava, Poland etc to instil envy in the recipient...Ooohhh...we're getting hammered in this great bar, full of top class totty, the beer is 3p a pint and you are a cunt for not being here sorta thing...and the guy on the radio said, why can't your mates or family text you something autristic, unselfish, something nice like, I am thinking of you..how are you? and I thought, yeah, great idea, less of the me me me and more the caring sharing attitude, especially this time of year...yeah?
So, I thought, right...and I texted a number of so-called mates and a member of my family...Hey! thinking of you - how are you? - and I thought, they will either:
Text back - yeah, great, thanks mate for caring, I'm fine, how are you?
Text back - what the fuck are you on about?
Not text back

Sigh, in this mad. crazy, dangerous and selfish world, guess what happened?...I tell ya...I had one response, selecting option 2 but I'm not surprised, not anymore, not now...not now

Happy Christmas! 

Fuck yous arseoles. bloody charmn' 

Kids these days eh?...giving the camera evils! 

So-called mate and his so-called brother...pub talk pubtalk...holiday...pubtalk pubtalk...zzzz...This was our ex-FT xmas drink and steak night. expensive it was. 

Giggle 

Phone rule

Another rule
Living room
Do not phone your brother, or anyone really, from the living room phone, late at night, when I'm watching the telly...so that the telly then has to be turned down so low, it may as well not be on for fucksake, go upstairs and make your bloody call or I'll make MY calls when DullEnders is on, How would you like that?!!

Batteries not included

I couldn’t do it to her, not at Christmas, I couldnae just give her some money and let her have nothing to open, as a surprise, on xmas day could I?…not on, so today I was pleased to see my extra surprise arrive at the door, recorded delivery. I can’t let on what it is…let’s just say it came in a plain brown box…and leave it at that. And it requires batteries, not included. And leave it at that.

I was in Tesco’s earlier, the missus is out doing something with the smashers, some kiddie party I’ve not been invited to, thank fuck, and on these occasions I like to wander up and down the aisles looking for stuff we don’t normally buy, you know the sort of thing, Cilit Bang, starch, expensive loo freshener and conditioner…so anyway, there I am with a basket full of stuff we don’t need and the old bag of a women serving me, with obviously with an eye on getting her hands on the customer serving person of the year awards or something, starts chatting to me. Me for Christ sake! So, with every item she’s scanning, it’s like this...

Her: Oh, organic cider, everyone’s buying this, is it any good?

Me: er…yeah, sure, it’s why I’m buying it

Her: Oh, I like this bread, it’s very nice this stuff..

Me: Uh-huh

Her: Cilit Bang, now then, IS this stuff any good?

Me: I dunno, I’m gonna try it out, it better the amount it costs…

Her: Oh, these are odd, C batteries, we don't sell many of these…what do you use these for I wonder?

Me:

Her: er…£16.50 then please…

Bloody noisy cow.

Boots

Probably only happen once in my lifetime, coincidence see, pure coincidence like, but I saw my chance and I took it and who could blame me?

The missus, for months now, has been banging on about christmas and what see wants, damn near got feck all the way my luck was bouncing a while back, but anyway, she wanted clothes. Fine I said, I’ll get you some vouchers…ah but, she says, with vouchers I’m restricted to just one shop…fine I said, I’ll pop £100 in an envelope and you can shop wherever you want…in fact, why don’t you just take the money from the account, that way it’ll save me the bother of actually doing anything at all for you, well, silly to wrap up an envelope right?…

anyhoo, long story short, she’s been buying herself stuff now, showing me, then promising to wrap them up for herself for Christmas morning, pathetic I know, but what you gonna do? Whatever, I said until she bought home some knee-length boots the other day, fur-lined. Nice. And would you believe it, and here’s where the nice coincidence comes in, the elder smasher has a fancy dress party to go to this weekend….And he’s going as a cowboy. And we had the outfit hanging up….

Now. Most men, by now, will have leaped to the end of this post….but let me spell it out anyway, like that Pimms advert. Hello! Pair of knee high, fur-lined boots…cowboy hat and waist coat handy…we took the advice a marriage councillor once gave us, many years ago now, when the sex life begins to flag. Role-play. Yeeee-haaah!!…

Yes. I have some pictures. No. I’m not showing you.

Evi Push

The younger smasher gets dragged to all sorts of groups and activities most days and mostly the same old middle-class-do-gooder mothers turn up including one mum the missus is friends with, who has a girl about the same age as my smash, about 3 then…and the smasher, I think, loves this girl Evi and typical female, she seems to take pleasure in hurting my lad every time she clocks eyes on him, nicking whatever he’s playing with, kicking him, pushing him, you know, all that stuff. The other day she had him up against the wall, smashing his head into it, over and over again. There are tears and much screaming every time they meet. Every day then.

My poor smasher, everyday I come home and ask him, what did you do today? And he always says…

Babytalk.. Babytalk.. Babytalk….Swimming.. Babytalk.. Babytalk..Evi Push.. Babytalk.. Babytalk..

OR

Babytalk.. Babytalk.. Babytalk….playground.. Babytalk.. Babytalk..Evi Push.. Babytalk.. Babytalk..

And he looks so pathetic when he tells me, so sad and confused, sometimes he shakes his wee head at the complex nature of his mixed-up feelings for her and I’m looking at him thinking….that’s right son, get used to it…Women, they rip yir heart out, tear yir guts out, abuse you, be-little you, wear you down, unpick your self esteem and confidence and you’ll keep going back for more until you wake up one day and you’re a grey haired fat old bastard shouting at the world inside your head, hating everyone including yourself..Oh..god….Evi push son…no, women push, bloody women push!

Rules

Rules! I’ve decided to codify our living arrangements….finally, after all these years. I know I should have done it years ago, but the thing is, we’ve all kinda just muddled along…until now. I’ve been aware for some time now of a spiralling in standards, oh, you know the sort of thing, towels not hung correctly, rugs and carpets not hovered enough, kitchen surfaces not as clean and tidy as they really ought to be…you know, little things…accumulative thing….and it’s come to a head now. The missus is laughing at me but she’ll soon see that I have everyone’s interests at heart, the rules aren’t for me especially, they’re for everyone see. Boundaries.

I’m categorising the rules by room, so, rules for the kitchen, bathroom, etc, and I’ll be adding them here for now, the missus has threatened she’ll delete them if she ever finds them on the PC, not that I’m worried about that, she couldn’t find her way round a PC if her life depended on it. OK then. Let’s give this thing some legs.

Bathroom -

• Wife will clean bath after use, particularly scrape ginger her hair from plughole so that water doesn’t collect like a minging stagnant pool when man has shower

Bedroom -

• Wife will fart outside of duvet. NOT inside then pretend she innocent

• Towels used to hide modesty when travelling from bathroom to bedroom WILL be returned at the soonest opportunity and the bathroom NOT left toweless

Kitchen -

• Man needs at least two cups of tea of a weekend morning, so wife WILL NOT de-scale kettle with vinegar after producing first cup of the day

• Whoever produces dinner is exempt of washing-up. - Exceptions to rule
• The above rule only applies when diner is produced for man or man & wife
• When man works hard all day and wife hasn’t got to go to evening job. wife will washup
  

• Weekend washing-up CAN BE left until following morning

Plonkers

And so it began, my fifth job this year. I got to Peckham alright, overland train, then bus to London Bridge, then train to Peckham…and then final bus…Bit of a nightmare really, but by the end of the week and much variations with my commute I get it down to train into Liverpool street and number 35 bus to Camberwell green and short walk to office! The crowd I work with seem nice enough, the office itself, let’s just say, has bags of charater…and leave it at that. The thing is, as everyone has been telling me, this week wasn’t a good week to join as everyone seems to be either off sick or has other things more important to do than actually show me any ropes..Still, ever resourceful I managed to get some background reading in and rewarded myself by sloping off early most evenings, well, why not, I am grade 11 and I do work for a local authority damnit!

The other day, some bloody yob stole my hanging basket, a cheap and cheerful thing with only some ivy in it but it was ours, hanging on my property and some tosser took it and it has made me incredibly cross!

Today we took the smashers to see Santa Clause land at Van Hagues garden centre by helicopter, well, in fact we saw fuck all because there seemed half of Ware there too, but it was a morning out at least and we all got to wear our woolly hats and gloves as a family and I think that’s really important.

Last night, five pints in the crosse keys boozah in the City, not a bad night, no-one really interested in a session, mate has redundo looming at his place which he’s worried about, at his aged, so would I be…and his skill levels of course…still, we managed to cheer him up when, every time we took orders for the round, instead of calling his guest ale something something forty niner I called it something something P forty-fiver!…a-haahaha—oohh…ahaha…hmmms’funny….

Sizzling

Sunday, 13 November 2005 7:30am – somewhere in Hertforshire:

Smasher: The drawer’s come out of the hole daddy

Me: Whoa…who….eh?…

The smasher, walking into my room, carrying a huge pile of clothes..

Smasher: I just pulled it and it came off in my hands..

Me: (smirking) Uh-huh…well, put it back.

Smasher: Can’t too heavy…

And so another day begins….I was just thinking about my last pint I had the other day, Friday. The missus had taken the younger smash swimming and then to Tesco for the weekly shop and I’m there thinking, Hello! window here me thinks!

But first I had to get my first monthly rail ticket in 2 years, dreading the cost I go down into town and present myself to the ticket man. Guess how bloody much, for a monthly rail ticket, all zones…£245!!!! Jeeeesus, is it worth going to work? Can I afford it?! Outraged, I needed a pint, so, in a marked manner, I walked up to my local.

Lunchtime, full of the usual crowd, old people and very old people all tucking into their very cheap, sizzling style, meals; every plate arrives sizzling, even the salads.

As sure as night follows day, I’m halfway through my pint, enjoying my paper, when the inevitable mobile goes off and the display is flashing “HOME” at me. Even as I’m reaching down to accept it, my mind is telling m to ignore it, but I can’t, it just might be important…

Me: Hello

Missus: Where are you?

Me: I’ve just been to buy my monthly ticket…guess how much…

Missus: Uh-huh and where are you NOW?

Me: Oh, in the pub…I…

Missus: I KNEW it!!…Steeeve…we can’t afford it..

Me: I’m just having a pint, come and join me..

Missus: No…come home soon…

Hurrying, I drink up and rush home!….ahaha….no, I order another pint with some chips. Look, the thing is, I’m carrying the conversation with the missus on in my head, this will be my last “day off” in a while and I’m just spending some quality time with me, no harm in a man having a couple of pints and reading the paper, is there?

I get home an hour later, tired now, and head for bed…the afternoon naps I really am gonna miss, I tell ya!

Right.

Time I was off to work

Leather Strides

The other day a mate of mine said that, rather than actually see me anymore, they’d much rather just, like, remember me, as I was when we first met one another, years ago, because I’d become, over the years, something or someone they’d rather not look at anymore. A little harsh I thought, but fair enough I suppose, none of us likes being confronted with our own mortality. The other day, in fact, I bumped into an old school mate and as I stood there looking at his grey hair, wrinkles, beer gut and dull grey skins and eyes I thought, blimey, I hope I don’t like that to him…until I realised I was looking at my own reflection in a shop window…ahahah…oh-hoh…ummmm….well…..

I was reminded of that email, from that ex-mate, the other day while watching Tranny and Susannah, when they were trying to sort out a couple of sad old mid-life crisis fellahs and their 80’s wardrobes. Susannah went to this guy’s house, looked in his wardrobe and threw out most of his clobber, leather trousers, sports tops and bottoms, you know, all fair enough but including all his short-sleeved shirts. Overweight, middle-aged men ought not to be wearing short-sleeved shirts, she said, and I thought, hello!…I have many, many short sleeved shirts, mebbe I’m living in the 80’s too, mebbe I’m a middle-aged sado n’all, fashion wise I must look ridiculous and mebbe that mate of mine has a point, I am an embarrassment, a joke, a walking talking relic, so the very next day I binned the lot of them!!

True enough, I’ve only worn, most of them, once or twice anyway, realising, then forgetting and buying more of the bloody things, that they really do look bad on me…I also, for good measure, threw out all my polo tops too, short sleeved see?….That felt better, even though I knew I was now without anything to wear. My pledge then, fuck it, like those middle-aged mid-life crisis sados, I will re-invent myself, own up to being middle-aged, grey and fat without drawing attention to myself by wearing Fred Perry tops, drain-piped jeans and Doc Martin boots!...Anyone seeing me in a polo top, short-sleeved shirt, leather trousers, tee-shirt with a silly logo on it and with my hair scrunched and gelled up bloody hair, in the future, has my blessing, to remind me of my pledge.

Hello Sailor! 

Meads

People are asking about my new job....the thing is, well there was a bit of a fuck-up, no.....a misunderstanding more like. I said, cool, lemme start in 3 weeks time, from the day they offered the job see. fine, so I do a couple of weeks at the OU and have a week off, to prepare for new job, refreshed and all that...but wait...all last week I'm trying to get them to send me a start date/time etc but it wasn't to be.....they needed time to get my references back and sort a PC and passwords etc etc so I'm forced to take another week off, sitting about, not earning any money and the missus breathing down my neck all last week...Can't you DO something??!! She shrieked at me one morning, when it was clear I wasn't going to start the new job when I planned...
Instead, I'm taking the opportunity to truly relax. On Monday I went wandering along the river, thinking about the summer and my lonely wanders back then, then I took a detour back via the Meads, a natural flood plain between Hertford and Ware, along the new river that was built in the 18th century to bring water to London, oh yes, I stopped and read the history bumph at the sluice station. It's a lonely place, really quiet considering there's a road on one side and a fly-over....er....over it....lovely.
Yesterday we went to Enfield to buy some toys for the toy library, but Boots didnae have any in stock...so we left. Enfield, finally, getting shopping center upgrade it's been planning for a decade, place looks like a huge building site. Today, sitting in waiting for coal man...talking about memory posts...sheesh...

Time and tide...

You know, like, when you go on a two-week holiday and the second week goes by dead fast, much faster the first? – Well, it’s all to do with memory and experience, apparently. Think of your childhood, how long did it seem to last? Think about High school, what’s that, four years doing your O levels, seemed like forever didn’t it? Now think of the last four years, flashed by eh? Experiencing something new creates new memories or memory posts, markers for your existence.

Look: This is your memory post at 8 years old say; each post is a new experience, a new memory.

|..|..||.|..|..|..|..|..|..|..||||..|..|..|..|..|..|..|..|..|..|..|..|..|||||..

Now look at 38: fewer new experiences

|………………………..|………………………………………………|………..|

I think that’s proof, if proof were needed. The 38 year old has fewer new experiences so life seems to speed up, one day seems very much like any other, until, you go on holiday or take a day off to play golf or whatever. Thinking back on last year, I have memories of my family holiday in Greece and of the lads city break in Latvia and that’s pretty much it because one day was very similar to any other, time seemed to speed up....this year mind you...plenty of bloody memory posts thank-you....sheeeesh!

I was thinking about this last night when the missus was trying to get me to accompany her to her mum and dads amateur players skit/comedy and song evening at the local OAP retirement home. They like to inflict their non-talent on hostage audiences up and down east Hertfordshire and last night requested our presence for some reason, probably to stop the wrinklies from bolting through the nearest fire exit, and the missus didn’t have the heart to say no. But I did. Anyway, my point was that, actually, bad as it was, I really ought to have gone, not to show any kind of support or anything, but to imprint a new experience in my brain, mark Nov 6^th in my existence, rather than sit at home watching Batman Begins which I’ve already forgotten the plot of.

Mind you, a toss-up between a blank and the memory of my father-in-law doing his not-so-very-PC-or-very-funny Egyptian sand dance to a bunch of piss stained comatosed coffin dodgers I could do without…but you get my point right?

Jumpers for goalposts

So anyway, last month I thought I’d buy myself a couple of simple, woollen v-necked jumpers for work see, winter coming in, look smart for work etc and yesterday the missus decided they both needed a wash, but on a woollen setting to save them stretching or shrinking or whatever. When the wash was done she said they need to dry flat so put the green one over the back of two dining chairs and the black on over the seat of the other two dining chairs. Right? Flat see.

So, the fucking cat wanders in, spots the black jumper and aims his big fat hairy body at it. I come downstairs a little later Oi!! Get off my fucking jumper you fleabag!! And aim a toe at it’s erse…off he scoots…half an hour later, he’s back on it, finding it irresistible, right next to the radiator so again I hurl abuse at it and off he jumps…you get the picture, all day I’m shooing him off then, when the missus is at work I think, hello! Why don’t I just like, put the black jumper, now covered in cat hairs, that I pick off, one by one, over the back of the two dining chairs see, like the green jumper, happily drying flat and cat free…So, two minutes later, job done, why didn’t I think about that sooner?…I take myself off to bed, happy in the knowledge that I’ve bested that darn cat…

This morning, fucking cat on my black jumper, that’s been put BACK onto the seat of the two dining chairs like…Whoa!!….Oi!! get the fuck off…as I lumber over to the jumper…my fucking….aim toe at cat…jumper for the love of….swing leg at cat….GOD!!…

I’m furious all over, with the cat for using my new jumper as a bed all night, but more so at the missus who came home last night, saw my jumper tampering, and undid all my good work. And I’m like, shouting up at her, who’s still in bed, why did you do it?…why for Christ sake?…but I can sense her turning, like a trapped animal, she’s now angry and aggressive shouting down at me, alright alright, I’ll wash it again, calm down…so I back off….I know her, she’ll start blaming me for everything if I wasn’t careful, turn it all on it’s head, why did I buy bloody woollen jumpers in the first place?…What made me want a cat anyway?….why did I marry you in the first place?….oh yes, I know where it’ll end up and for the sake of a couple of jumpers, I’m thinking, it’s just not worth it…y’know?

Confessions of Felix

This weekend, I move the small TV and video recorder, from our room, into the smashers room. I’m thinking, he’s old enough now and the TV has no aerial so he can only watch his Thomas the Tank videos on it, saves him clogging up our room on a weekend or evening. The missus though, typical middle class stuck-up says ooohh no, I don’t want a TV in his room, he’s too young…too middle class for gods sake!

Nonsense I say and in it goes. We have another TV in the loft and promise to get it down at some point and put it in our room, although I’m not keen, the bedroom is for a radio only in my view..but anyway, that’s another blog.

So, I’m thinking, blimey, considering he has a new TV in his room, the smasher is remarkably un-troubled, taking it all in his stride like, no big deal dad, yeah, whatever…

In my day I didn’t have a TV in my room, sometimes, when the bailiffs came for example, we had no TV in the house at all. I was 14-15 when I eventually had a TV in my room, some old huge black and white job, sat at the end of my bed…a few months before I move out for good, and I’ve finally got a TV in my room!…

No more sitting down with mum in the front room and whoever she was with at the time, both smoking away, and/or arguing about something, her dictating what was on the telly. Finally, I had privacy and by sheer coincidence channel 4 had just fired up so I had access to some porn! Or as near to porn as I had ever seen anyway and at 15 a shampoo advert normally set me off. I think that’s why I was a late developer in the self abuse stakes, all my mates were at it all the time, it seemed, except me, no imagination see, no access to porn, nothing until channel 4 came along and screened The Confessions of Felix Krull then Bam!! Bingo! Welcome to manhood my son.

So, anyway, the smasher has a jump on his old dad, TV in room, video on standby and if he has a spark of imagination, any cunning at all, in a couple of years time, he’ll be digging about in my wardrobe looking for some of dads vintage adult videos the missus is urging me to throw away, in her words…”before it’s too late”

Mini Celebrations

8:30pm last night, somewhere in Hertfordshire

Yob - Trick or Treat!!

Me - Sorry, I’ve run out of sweets, you’ll just have to have some of these expensive mini-celebration sweets instead

Yob - Oh, I’m lucky then ain’t I?

Me - Well, yes I suppose…thank-you…

Yob - Grunt

Me - No son, you say “thank you to me now”

Yob - Oh. Yeah. Thanks

Me – Jesus….Next!

Trick or Treat!! – Jesus…for the 30^th time yesterday evening, I get up and open the front door, smile wanly, count the number of yobs at my door and distribute a bag of jelly sweets each, then close the door, sit down and wait for the next lot.

In all, last night, I must have fed 80 children – I kid you not. It all started, reasonably enough, around 5:30 with mothers dragging their kids up and down our road. The missus, throwing us all into the spirit, had festooned the house with lit pumpkins, inflatable ghosts cut-out bats and so on all over the window to advertise that our house can be targeted by anyone, at any time, that evening.

Nice. - Except, oh yeah, she was off out to work that evening and I’d have to do the fucking honours!

Now, it’s true I am a miserable sod and I’d rather turn out all the lights and ignore the trick or treaters but for our own kids sake I sort of go along with it all. By 6pm though we had run out of sweets, 30 bags gone see, so the missus drove down to Tesco for fresh supplies and while she was gone I had to raid our own private sweets stash and give out Mars bars, Twix, chocolate biscuits etc to satisfy to un-ending tide of bloody ghosts, witches, wizards etc.

So, the missus rushes back, throws the new supplies at me and dashes off to work with my moans about leaving me in the lurch and having crappy Halloween planning contingencies ringing in her ears….

And so it went on, all night…no sooner had I sat down when I’m up again…”I’m a wizard!” says one kid, yeah, whatever I say…Next!! I shout into the street, not bothering to close the door..

By 9:30, the house was bare, all sweets gone; all biscuits gone, me exhausted, lights out, inflatables taken in, balloons taken down. Shop-Shut-Up-Go-a-Fucking-Way…

Knock knock!!

Ring Ring!!!!

I ignore it…Knock Knock – louder this time…more urgent…then, the little bastards start at my window, hammering away at it – can you believe it?

FUCK OFF

I shout, so loudly my throat hurts immediately. Still does this morning.

Ware-rabbit

Well, the birthday went well, the smasher enjoyed the wee joke I played on him re: the Oil and the bike although I must say the missus kinda rubbed it in a bit too much like, over egged the joke to help wind the poor kid up like..."...oh wasn't daddy cruel to play that joke on you son..." etc when I'm like, yeah ok love, leave it now yeah, joke's over...yeah?...
Anyway, little git hates his bike, says it's too big for him and he won't use it. ever!...uh-huh...thass nice innit...
Later, we took him and his 2 mates to see Wallice and Gromit, fucking nightmare, little gits would not behave...I had enough by the end and dashed off, leaving the missus to cope alone. Went instead to the boozah in town for a right piss-up and it was ace!...
Next day spent in bed. terrible hangover. terrible.
Last day at OU tomorrow, got fuck all to do there now, all done. week off next week. missus nagging me no doubt...you coulda been earning ya lazy sod...instead of sitting around the house!...ah well, small price to pay.

It's a "bike" son...you use yir oil on it see...a bike, thass right...jesus 

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it - hey! it's what he bloody wanted!! 

The smasher, opening his bike oil on his bithday...I think he's pleased... 

MOT

Tomorrow I start my last full week at the OU….it’s been two months amazingly. In fact I’m only going to be working 3 days as I’ve booked Tuesday off to do stuff with my smasher on his 6^th birthday and I’ve booked the following day off so that I can get over the inevitable hangover I’ll have from the night before spending time with my so-called mates; It’ll mean a few bob less in my final pay check but what the feck. I’m working a day the following week, then that’s it, few days at home before the new job takes me over.

Not a bad weekend I’ve just had, had half a bottle of wine Friday night because on Saturday we had to go get my car’s first MOT…arrhhh…at 8:30am so I needed to be alcohol free blooded. The bastards charged me £44 too! And I only had it serviced a couple of months ago. Wankers. While they were pretending to MOT the car, we went for a MacDonalds breakie and a wander around Waltham Abbey, jesus, what a shithole.

The rest of the day, we did very little. I got some bike oil for the smashers birthday, the joke is, his old bike squeaks see, so I said tell you what, we'll buy you some oil for your birthday like, fixed that squeak innit and bless him, he's looking forward to having it fixed, he not know we got he a brand new bike. The missus said I'm cruel and I suppose I am, but fuck it, I like to. His little face, lit up as he opens his 3-in-1 oil…Oh Christ, I can see myself laughing now. In his face.

Lite the first coal fire of the winter and watched it’s all gone Pete Tong. Rubbish. Sunday, went swimming, carved pumpkins and did some tapping onto that old format mini disc! For my future commute…

Permanent

Did I mention I got the Southwark job in the end?...oh...well I did. I start in two weeks time. nice.

Elder smasher, his world has been turned upside down...literally!...you see..ahfuggit 

Younger smash, trying to potty train he, so he's smearing his sweaty nappyless erse all over my bloody bed...jesus 

Bend over

I dunno, went to an interview “assessment” day Tuesday, maths, English, verbal and physical tests for a job with Southwark council. Jesus, a complete nightmare in the back and beyond of Peckham

Still going strong at OU, they still dangling the carrot of something permanent at me, but nothing concrete yet, like a job offer or even a job for that matter. In the meantime, I have a telephone interview tomorrow and I have my CV in with Bedford council for a 10-week contract job, so fingers crossed for something. I must admit it’s dragging on a bit now

On the family front, not a lot of news, usual mixture of cheap and cheerful days out at the weekend. Yesterday we all cycled to Hertford, except the missus who drove on ahead and set up the picnic, the weather lovely, weird isn’t it?…The elder smasher, really looking forward to his birthday, when we’ve promised him some oil to fix the squeak on his knackered old bike….it’s breaking our hearts when he brings that up, littlie knowing we have a brand new one we’re dying to give him, still, only another week now.

Word is telling me the last few paragraphs are fragmented, ironic, as this is how I feel at the moment so I’ll leave the update here, in mid…

txt = pint kroni. ta. ;-)

A fairly dull weekend, here’s the jist; there was a major crash north of MK Friday evening, just before I get on at junction 14, so I had a clear run home along an almost empty M1 because all the southbound traffic was held up, of course I felt bad for the people involved. Anyway, I get home early doors and I’m ready for my first pint of the week, so I leg into me local, order a pint then call the missus, that way round see, not get home, then say I’m off for a pint, don’t work that way, tried it.

Mind you, nearly didnae get my pint as they have a new barmaid on, who doesn’t know my order, or my face come to that, so she ignored me for the first 5 minutes while I stood there, then she wandered over, not taking her eyes off her phone as she was busy texting someone at the time. I give her my order, pint of kroni please love, and she pours one handed all the while continuing texting, I mean, Service innit, I know you is claiming and this job is just pin money but I am your bloody customer here…Hello!!…ahfuggit…I take me pint and text the wife..one handed.

That evening I dreamt I went to Mandalay, or may as well have, totally out of it I was by 10pm. I know this because the next day, I put on Spooks and I’m watching thinking, hello, this is all very familiar somehow…so I deduced I must have watched it the night before. Clever old me, worked it out.

Saturday, hung over but happy not to be working so I’m up and we’re in town buying a suit for me. Later she takes them to her cousins who are leaving the country for Oz, Hoo-bloody-ray! One less of ‘em but I stayed behind and put together the smashers new birthday surprise bike. 20 minutes job. Not botha. Spent rest of day in pub. Nice one.

Sunday, lemme see, park, ducks, one pint, sleep in afternoon.

Ham roll

I sit by the lake most lunchtimes, it takes about 20 minutes to walk there, 25 back strangely and 15 minutes to eat my lunch, watch the water on the lake, say Hi to Louise the Irish setter before she leaps into the water. Today, after I shooed the bloody dog away from my lunch I’m thinking about the ham roll I’m eating and as usual I’m reminiscing about the pub my sister and I used to go to every Saturday to meet our dad; it was called the Havelock and is now a Burger King bar.

It was the kind of boozah they don’t have anymore, typical Irish customers, mostly jocks and blacks of course, all wanting to be Irish and all with boozah nick names like Black George, Larry the lamb, Bacardi Bill and so on. Every Saturday then, there we’d be, eating our pub ham rolls, no salad or anything fancy, just a roll with some ham in it and our cokes, happy to just be there, away from home, eating some food and watching dad enjoy himself with his mates and getting pissed…but we didn’t mind because he’d be generous with his cash, when he had any, and we’d take ourselves off to the shops or to the pictures or wherever.

I was watching 49Up the other day and during a moment when Neil, the one who went mad for a while, was talking about a butterfly that landed near him the other day, stretching his wings, enjoying being alive for however brief a time it is and the director inter-cut this story with Neil as a seven year old, old grainy footage, waving his arms around, like a butterfly, enjoying himself, his whole miserable life ahead of him and it made me want to wrap my arms around his kid and protect him from life and what it will do to him…it just made me incredibly sad

I thought today about the kid eating his ham roll in a pub that isn’t there anymore and that made me sad too. Think tomorrow I’ll change to tuna.

My new drinking buddy, well, you can rely on him and not yir so-called mates, who say they can't be bothered to meet up...then go out on the lash anyway! right Nige? 

Then we had a picnic by the lake...unwashed blackberries...yummm 

Sunday we went to MK to pick blackberries from a public footpath that runs alongside the OU... 

Saturday we all went to the funfair after a trip to the park and Macdonalds for lunch 

Car sick

Well, she was right, she made nearly £100 in the couple of hours she was there…. (not that she's given any of it to me yet, even though half the stuff she sold belonged to me..)..spurned on though, I listed a couple a dozen books on Amazon for re-sale and today I got my first order and made £3.05…I tell ya, this time next year…

The boss came back and I told her I’m done but she found me more work, so, for now, I’m staying put…she’s even requested they increase my hourly rate, so fingers crossed, it's not a bad place really, if it was permanent and paid more, I'd be happy enough

The elder smasher has been off “sick” so far this week, I dunno, but I think he might be faking it, nothing concrete just a hunch like, gets it from his mother, lazy good for nothings the pair of them!
This Friday I’m out drinking the health of my friends’ new baby, meeting up with some so-called mates as well…let’s see now…social inter…er…action…Christ, It’s been a while…

What's it all about?

Week 2 over and done with at the OU…blimey, it’s a tough one this, sooo boring and as predicted, I’ve actually completed the job, 2 months and 2 weeks early! Monday, I’ll have a word with the boss, who’ll be back from her holiday, and tell her the score. The missus is worried of course, I’ll be back on the rock n’roll but that’s just the way this one has panned out. I’ve been reading What’s it all about this week, the first philosophy book I’ve ever read and it’s very interesting because like most people, except the missus I found out yesterday, think about life and it’s meaning. No she told me, I’ve never really thought about it…what? Never I said, not even when like, you’re in a shitty job and you stop and think, fucking hell, why am I doing this? Why am I here?…why am I not on a hot sunny beach somewhere instead, letting a local hunk sits astride me, rub oil into my naked breast, watching his cock twitch and bob about under his tight fitting shorts?…no she said….never…

Dunno if I believe her as it goes…

Today, she’s really excited because she’s gone off to a car boot sale with a car packed full of our shared life, old records we once danced to…and made love to…old books I’ve enjoyed, taken away with me on holidays, scribbled notes in the columns, passages I’ve quoted to the missus to entertain her during camping trips and we had no telly or kids to occupy us…oh, I dunno, old clothes we once wore and felt so smart in…my wedding suit for christsake, bundled up and taken away from me…well she said, they’re only gathering dust up in the loft, we may as well make some money from them but I’m not so sure, I’d rather have the memories, I’d rather pop up into the loft every now and then, touching the clothes, feeling the texture, flipping through a book or fishing out a tape and playing it in the car….one thing I've learnt from that philosophy book, you get one life...don't let it pass you by....not sure if that means, sell yir shit, move on, let the past go...or like...cherish your life, hang onto shit, memories make up who we are....i'm only on chapter 3 though, so maybe the answers will follow...too late for my wedding suit mind you and my books....

CHiPs

We decided, as a treat, to get some fish and chips last night, well, I’m working again so why not? The missus comes back with some rock eel and chips for she and some cod and chips for me. The problem was they looked identical, but fear not, as the missus takes a bite from each battered fish and takes her rock eel away with her. The get the wine sorted and follow her a little later, swearing at her because she’s got X bloody factor on. I take a bite from my “cod” and gag! Oi, you got my bloody cod I say, oh, she says…erm…I’ve eaten most of it now (yes, she really does eat quickly) but you can have what’s left, and hands over what’s left..about a mouthful. I say, look, if you like the taste of cod, get cod in future…No, I prefer rock eel she says…well, no look love, you obviously can’t tell the difference, so just get cod from now on…yeah?…Are you going to moan all evening she says?..well, yes I am because my dinner consists of chips and you have had two bloody portions of fish ya cant!…seeesh, I mean I wouldn’t mind, but like…she can’t even tell the difference!!

The week went well, the OU is a great place, all set in it’s own grounds, with a river running through it, with bird hides in the marshes, a subsidised canteen, a shop, a bank, a nursery and every 10 minutes my boss encourages me to go off and explore, get away from the computer, have a cuppa etc…The thing that worries me is that, once again, these bloody institutions have over estimated how long the work will take, or they underestimate how fantastic I am and I reckon the work is at least half done already, and this was supposed to be a 3 month contract!..You can only milk it so far you know, before you collapse and confess all that the work is done and done!

so-called mate 

roll of fat, check it out! 

Our day in the woods 

z/drive

I spent a very rewarding week up in Leicester; the work was fine, producing a brand new taxonomy for an intranet was a real challenge. The week was tiring though, not least because of the heat and 4-hour drive daily. It’s all good stuff though and I think they’ll want me back in a couple of months to continue the work. Tomorrow, I’m starting at the OU for 3-4 months, or until Leicester call me back. The money isn’t as good, but it’ll keep me busy and add to my CV.

Saturday, we all went to the new Ikea in Edmonton for the morning, getting the final touches for the smashers bedroom Jungle theme. Then, in the afternoon, my so-called mate called round to pick me up and take me to St Albans for a day drinking. Another so-called mate turned up and a good time was had by all. Later that evening, when the missus had picked me up and rolled me home I noticed I’d picked up me mates mobile by mistake as mine is exactly the same. His missus called the mobile and I said I’d drop it round the following day. Now, what would you do? Go through the phone’s video and picture folders looking for nude pictures of his wife or porn? Course you would, and so did I and guess what?…............

Sunday, we took the smashers to a Hatfield forest, a national trust place, very nice, lovely hot day, ice creams and picnic.

Summer's over then...

So, I'm thinking, nice, have a wee holiday before the contract starts when I get a call, remember the job in Leicester, the one I interviewed for while on holiday, well, can I start tuesday? do 4 days, then possibly the weekend....and fit the remaining 4 days in somehow over the next month...er...OK...yeah, sure and at £300 a day I can't say no right?...sigh...there goes me break...oh yeah, I just had 2 months off right?...hmmm
So, went to see my sister saturday, gave the middle son his 18th birthday pressie, an eye brow bar for his new peircing and a tennah to blow on drugs, well, I'm all heart me. We then went for a nice 3 pinter at her local before dashing home for the missus to get ready for a fancy dress ball she's inviited to in Oxford. I chose to stay at home and worry about Tuesday! Today, she gets home and we pop out for 2 pints by the river, seems like I missed a crappy birthday party, well done me for being a miserable git and refusing to go.

Interview this...

Typical isn’t it, one week - 4 interviews, nothing doing then, out of the blue a call about a job, contract, with a start date, no interviews, no suit wearing, bullshit talking, swatting up, nothing, just a start date. Excellent.
It’ll keep me busy at least while I carry on looking for something permanent. Last week then, back from holiday and an interview in Leicester with a bank who wanted help with their intranet, specifically a controlled vocabulary for indexing content to it. All went well, except for the drive back when I discovered my brakes had gone and I was using the disc as break pads. (got it fixed next day, £500!! - thanks Dave, Nige and Nick).
They offered me the gig there and then but because they are at an early stage I think it may be a while before they get their act together.

Thursday, 2 interviews in the City, one for a business school as a fund raising researcher, the other for a charity who wanted to use Google adwords with their internet, or something. Both interviews went ok, the problem for me was the gap between the first one, 9:30am and the last, 3:30pm…talk about kicking my heels all day and it was very warm too, so a very unpleasant day. (I didn't get either, the candidates that beat me had, guess what?...fund raising experince and Google Adwords experience...or so they tell me. I'm not fussed though, I'm learning that I shouldn't say "yes" to all interviews, because I want a job, but to be more selective)

The weekend was dull, usual trip into town. The missus is busy re-doing the elder smashers room, out with Thomas the tank engine shit, in with camouflage curtains and bedspread and jungle walls…my son is growing up, next naked ladies and “keep out” signs, strange noises and funny smells…

Monday, another interview, this time local, good money and I was really looking forward to it…until I saw the library, sheesh, what a dump, quiet and dusty, staffed with a couple of lifers with a manager situated on the other side of the country who seemed to be in charge of reprographics, printing and the like, for the organisation and the library combined…not a good sign. He spent the morning, let’s say, in a reflective mood, moaning about budget cuts and the fight he has on his hands trying to keep the library open and funded!…I get home and an agency calls about a contract in Milton Keynes, start Monday week…I’m fed up going to interviews, sure I say…great.

Last day, a bit rainy, so we had a cream tea in Pately Bridge then went back to Lightwater for "crazy" golf. Later we had dinner at the Bull Inn, lovely end to the week. Xlnt. 

Day 5 Lightwater Valley theme park...sigh...birds of prey only wildlife on show fank gawd..full of Geordies pet mind like y'nah and the wee smasher could only go on 3 rides, but still..a couple more calls from agencies too..I should go away more often... 

Day 4. stayed in Rippon all day, the missus wanted to see where we were staying like, boring though, Rippon's dull, so we soaked in the hot tub all day instead and I went swimming in the health club next door.