Bad wind. Day off.

Talking of reality shows, glad they voted that Chav idiot Jade off BB, but blimey, talk about slow news week! Jesus the coverage.

I spent Friday off work; I called the boss and said all my trains are fucked up and I can’t get in and she said, no problem, talk it outya your annual leave! Nice one, this from the ‘working from home’ queen, the person that tacks on a working from home day onto the end or beginning of every holiday she takes. I went in to work today determined not to book last Friday off and to have a pop if she started making noises that I should, but so far she’s said nothing.

But my god, last Thursday, a bit of wind and all the trains out of London cancelled, or at least all trains heading north at any rate. All tube platforms closed due to over crowding but I eventually got to Cock fosters on a train crammed to the rafters only to find the station and it’s environs packed with Hertford bound commuters, queuing up for cabs or buses late into the night. I was traumatised by the whole thing, seriously, I was in a state so when I checked the railway company’s website the next day to find all trains still cancelled I breathed a shy of relief knowing that I wouldn’t even bother trying until it was all fixed. Went and had a nice pint at lunch time, then another, and an other then polished off a bottle and a half of red wine.

Saturday, managed to take the smasher to footie practice, then into town for football card purchasing, a DVD for us later on, not bad, Children of Men, some gardening, more shed landscaping and the rest of the day doing nowt, calm before the storm eh?

Sunday, trip to Oxford to buy a couple of wicker Summer House chairs off someone from eBay, £20 bargain, £20 petrol. Oh.

Pizza pepperoni cheesy melt

There’s nothing like a home made pizza, the texture and taste, the freshness of the dough and piping hot too. Best served on a plate and not thrown into a lap of course, ruins the overall home-made-pizza experience, which I duly pointed out to the missus, once I’d sponged off the burning tomato base from my testicles. I guess we were having a ‘domestic’ at the time, note to self; Do not engage in a domestic when the turn-off is preparing hot food, recipe for disaster. Recipe see? – Dancing with Stars in their minds have a lot to answer for and I’ll be writing to Ofcom after I’ve blogged this note.

It all started innocently enough, even light hearted in it’s own way. I’d just bought in the coal from the garden, picture the grim northern scene now, when I immediately noticed she’d switched the telly over to ITV and that excuse for entertainment was just about to start so I said, Oh no! I draw the fucking line at Dancing on Ice with the Stars, or whatever it’s called – turn this crap over! No she says, I like it, Uh-ugh I say, no way, enough with the celebrities and the reality now, come on, let me have the remote control. What do you want to watch? She says, Never mind that, I say, gimme the remote – Anyway, long story short, I win this battle, and have my way and I settle down to watch The Weakest link, but as I should know by now, it’s never over with the turn-off, not until she says it’s over. 10 minutes later I’ve ice on me nads and she’s watching Stars on Ice and my dinner is a sloppy mess in the bin.

For the missus at least, revenge is a dish best served incredibly hot...not cold

Happy new year!

Happy new year! – yeah, well, not a lot has been happening to be honest. I went back to work, became instantly depressed and have remained so ever since. We’ve run out of money to do any more on the house and garden and that’s more or less fine except for a couple of things to things to finish off, we’ll now have to bloody save for god-damn-it. Ah well, this life on the never never isn’t for me anyway, buying things on tick just makes you more miserable than having the money to do stuff with in the first place. For example, we have a new wooden floor and new windows, but so what? We had those things before, albeit older and more knackered. We had 2 sheds, now we have 2 new sheds, we had a carpet upstairs, we now have one upstairs…you get me? The only thing we’ve actually bought brand new that wasn’t there before was a dining table, no wait, we had one of those as well. Anyway, house done, garden more or less done.

What else? Well, today we went to a park in Steveange to let the smashers run and run to let off some steam. I was amazed that, even after all that over the new year about dangerous pit bull type dogs, the number running about that bloody park with their council estate scum puffer jacket and baseball be-clad owners pimp rolling or invariably waddling after them, talk about bubble, these people live in.

I took the opportunity to teach the elder smasher some basic football moves, because yesterday, yet again, I stood watching, what can only be described as less than much good from the lad after all these so called lessons he’s been having. The number of times he went for the ball, kicked and missed was embarrassing to watch and what’s worse is that after the lesson is over he’ll come running over telling me how good he is! Now, I’m an old fashioned parent I’m afraid, not one to wrap the lad in cotton wool, as the turn-off does, and lately I’ve been given him some tough criticism, for his own good like. It’s no use him believing he’s the next Beckham when he’s not and it’s no use praising him when he needs pulling up on his discipline and concentration, no, I think he needs some tough love. He’s asked if his mum can take him next week and I’ve agreed.