My second child is due on the 8th March, but why do I have to wait so long? Because nature, and my newest offspring is laughing at me!!
Lateness seems to run in the genes (much like diarrohea) in my family. Both myself and my brother were late, as was my son. He was originally due to share my birthday, but held on another two weeks to ensure no sharing of birthday (true proof that he is my son lol).
Not more than three days ago, we were facing the prospect of an induced labour due to a 'slightly higher than normal' glucose test. In a strange way, despite my girlfriend having nightmares about it, I didn't mind - it meant the arrival was sooner rather than later! But now, after a perfectly normal reading (much to the joy and satisfaction of Marisa) we are back to waiting for nature to take effect.
So, now all the wisdom and wives tales are being trotted out... pineapple, steady movement, curry and sex, none of which really bother me, I happen to like pineapple. Marisa heard a new one the other day - Castor Oil (??!) Suffice to say, we won't be trying that one in a hurry.
I remember a Michael McIntyre routine from a few years back (remember him? I wonder what happened to him?) where his pregnant wife was searching for things to bring on labour. She happened on advice to 'ingest sperm'. Michael got excited about this - a blowjob for her own good, every man's dream - but she suggested he just wank into a cup!!!
So, anyway, hopefully the next blog will be a celebratory one, with little Anthony or Helena somewhere in the background keeping everyone busy. Fingers bloody crossed!
Or at least I will have had an exhausting weekend... know what I mean? wink wink, nudge nudge... say no more...
Friday, 5 March 2010
Monday, 1 March 2010
A Good Moan
It must be down to me approaching 30, but I'm just finding loads of stuff to moan about. At the moment, I'm digesting the following:
1 - Why is it that Football Clubs are treated different to normal businesses? If a run-of-the-mill company had debts of £70 million, they would be shut down in a flash. Not Portsmouth. No, they get chance after chance after chance. And while the current owner tries to make headway through the mire he has taken over (purely because the previous owner defaulted on a loan), what of the previous management that actually plunged the club into such a mountain of shit? Probably sunning themselves on a beach somewhere. Bastards!
And it's not just Portsmouth. The list of clubs with huge debts is almost never-ending: Red Scum United, Liverpool, Crystal Palace, Bournemouth spring immediately to mind. Then there's the Notts County situation, the Chester problem, and the Glasgow Rangers conundrum. They all have money troubles, all down to over-extending themselves.
Then there's Peter Risdale. He virtually ruined Leeds, now Cardiff are struggling for money. He should have been banned from football for the abject misery he brought to Leeds United. Let's be honest, that's what happens in the real world.
2 - The Iphone. It's a rip off really. What do you need all those applications for? Really? It's an Ipod with internet that coincidentally allows you to make the odd phone call. Don't see the point.
3 - The bizarre music phenomenon that calls itself 'RnB'. This is bollocks. It bears no resemblance to the actual origination of R and B - for all you young un's thats Rhythm And Blues. I suppose it's like BP - it no longer means British Petroleum, it's just two letters.
That's enough for now... the ironing calls. That's right, I do my own ironing.
1 - Why is it that Football Clubs are treated different to normal businesses? If a run-of-the-mill company had debts of £70 million, they would be shut down in a flash. Not Portsmouth. No, they get chance after chance after chance. And while the current owner tries to make headway through the mire he has taken over (purely because the previous owner defaulted on a loan), what of the previous management that actually plunged the club into such a mountain of shit? Probably sunning themselves on a beach somewhere. Bastards!
And it's not just Portsmouth. The list of clubs with huge debts is almost never-ending: Red Scum United, Liverpool, Crystal Palace, Bournemouth spring immediately to mind. Then there's the Notts County situation, the Chester problem, and the Glasgow Rangers conundrum. They all have money troubles, all down to over-extending themselves.
Then there's Peter Risdale. He virtually ruined Leeds, now Cardiff are struggling for money. He should have been banned from football for the abject misery he brought to Leeds United. Let's be honest, that's what happens in the real world.
2 - The Iphone. It's a rip off really. What do you need all those applications for? Really? It's an Ipod with internet that coincidentally allows you to make the odd phone call. Don't see the point.
3 - The bizarre music phenomenon that calls itself 'RnB'. This is bollocks. It bears no resemblance to the actual origination of R and B - for all you young un's thats Rhythm And Blues. I suppose it's like BP - it no longer means British Petroleum, it's just two letters.
That's enough for now... the ironing calls. That's right, I do my own ironing.
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
Cor Blimey, how fings 'ave changed!
It's been a while since the last post. I'm enjoying my new job and that's gotta be good. Baby number 2 is now less than 2 weeks away and I'm in no way nervous. Seriously.
I've now got writers block, so this is a bloody short post.
But before I go, I would like to say how much of a shame it is that Millennium Insurance have completely disappeared. Well, it's a shame for the people who worked there, not for the people who ran it.
See you when I've got something to say!!
I've now got writers block, so this is a bloody short post.
But before I go, I would like to say how much of a shame it is that Millennium Insurance have completely disappeared. Well, it's a shame for the people who worked there, not for the people who ran it.
See you when I've got something to say!!
Monday, 23 November 2009
Finger Flickin Good!
I was minding my own business on Sunday night, when I happened across 'James May's Toy Stories' and his attempt to recreate the Brooklands racing circuit. Using Scalextric. On the exact route of the original life size circuit, now broken up with roads, housing estates, factories, ten foot fences and erm... ponds. This I had to watch! As the track took shape, I was mesmerised by those magic bits of track, and it got me yearning to get my own set out from my parents' loft. Oh yes, faithful readers, I still have my Scalextric set!!
Once the programme was over, I was up in the loft, fueled by memories of racing round bends, streaking down long straights with the trigger all the way in, seeing the cars taking off, unable to cling to the track. I recalled having the track set up almost permanently in the loft (previously the only space with enough hard surface in the house - I had terrible disapppointment upon discovering the problems caused by carpet!!). Hours were spent up there in my mid-teens with friends or even alone, sometimes racing seriously, but mostly trying to get the cars to leave the track and plummet through the loft hatch to the floor below.
And now that age and wisdom are on my side (not to mention picking up tips from the show), I feel ready to take on those black track sections, the cross overs, and hairpin bends. In my favour, my parents now have much less carpet down, and I can pass it off as being for my son.
I located the Scalextric set, but was immediately distracted by something much, much more exciting -Subbuteo! Now this really got my blood pumping, and my index fingers twitching. It was pretty much all there - a nice astroturf pitch, balls, a good selection of teams... but I couldn't find the goals!! I remembered selling some of my assets many years ago, but surely not all my goals?!! As I searched, I found my scoreboard, with box of cardboard team names, more teams (including the Arsenal away kit from 1992 - remember the awful yellow with funny blue detail?) and was transported back to my formative years, before Sega Game Gears, Sony Playstations and the like. This was REAL football as far as I was concerned.
I remembered the Christmas I received my first basic set - with teams Sampdoria and Poland. I remembered my dad glueing the pitch to a piece of chipboard so i could always have a flat surface (and playing on that surface until it was virtually non-existant). I remembered my first Subbuteo player casualty, crushed innocently underfoot after an over-exhuberant flick. Then the spending of pocket money on new teams (the ones that could pass off as more than one club), building up quite a collection allowing competitions of increasing size. The hours spent battling to beat my brother once, just once. I managed it a few times, but invariably my attempts ended in defeat. I can also picture the frustration and tension that came from trying to put those shirt number transfers on the players backs. Lord knows how many I wasted by getting them stuck under my nails, or accidentally folding them in half rendering them useless!!
I remembered the excitement when friends got new sets and new teams. Going round to a mates house with your new team ready to take them on... At one point a Subbuteo league was mooted, but never got off the ground. What I would give now to have succeeded. I recalled the sad day when I lost enough of my Polish players to render the team no longer viable and had to pack them away.
Then, as I grew and moved on to the computer games, the Subbuteo was sidelined into the cupboard, out of sight, but not always out of mind. But before long, too many years had passed by, and the Subbuteo was a forgotten gem. Then, I think I had one of those moments when you yearn to revisit your childhood (usually in the moment you realise it was over about ten years before) and demanded to see 'my Subbuteo'. I can remember feeling disappointed at seeing the sparseness of my previously substantial collection (down to the aforementioned sale) and investigating the prices of new teams. To my horror, I saw that Subbuteo had changed!! It was now a pale imitation of it's former self - pieces of cardboard adorned with real player photographs had replaced the brittle plastic indiscriminate players. I felt a great resentment that Subbuteo had had to sink to these depths to compete with the likes of FIFA and Pro Evolution on all the games consoles.
But now, as with Scalextric, I'm ready to revisit Subbuteo and recapture the thrill of 'flick to kick'.
Once the programme was over, I was up in the loft, fueled by memories of racing round bends, streaking down long straights with the trigger all the way in, seeing the cars taking off, unable to cling to the track. I recalled having the track set up almost permanently in the loft (previously the only space with enough hard surface in the house - I had terrible disapppointment upon discovering the problems caused by carpet!!). Hours were spent up there in my mid-teens with friends or even alone, sometimes racing seriously, but mostly trying to get the cars to leave the track and plummet through the loft hatch to the floor below.
And now that age and wisdom are on my side (not to mention picking up tips from the show), I feel ready to take on those black track sections, the cross overs, and hairpin bends. In my favour, my parents now have much less carpet down, and I can pass it off as being for my son.
I located the Scalextric set, but was immediately distracted by something much, much more exciting -Subbuteo! Now this really got my blood pumping, and my index fingers twitching. It was pretty much all there - a nice astroturf pitch, balls, a good selection of teams... but I couldn't find the goals!! I remembered selling some of my assets many years ago, but surely not all my goals?!! As I searched, I found my scoreboard, with box of cardboard team names, more teams (including the Arsenal away kit from 1992 - remember the awful yellow with funny blue detail?) and was transported back to my formative years, before Sega Game Gears, Sony Playstations and the like. This was REAL football as far as I was concerned.
I remembered the Christmas I received my first basic set - with teams Sampdoria and Poland. I remembered my dad glueing the pitch to a piece of chipboard so i could always have a flat surface (and playing on that surface until it was virtually non-existant). I remembered my first Subbuteo player casualty, crushed innocently underfoot after an over-exhuberant flick. Then the spending of pocket money on new teams (the ones that could pass off as more than one club), building up quite a collection allowing competitions of increasing size. The hours spent battling to beat my brother once, just once. I managed it a few times, but invariably my attempts ended in defeat. I can also picture the frustration and tension that came from trying to put those shirt number transfers on the players backs. Lord knows how many I wasted by getting them stuck under my nails, or accidentally folding them in half rendering them useless!!
I remembered the excitement when friends got new sets and new teams. Going round to a mates house with your new team ready to take them on... At one point a Subbuteo league was mooted, but never got off the ground. What I would give now to have succeeded. I recalled the sad day when I lost enough of my Polish players to render the team no longer viable and had to pack them away.
Then, as I grew and moved on to the computer games, the Subbuteo was sidelined into the cupboard, out of sight, but not always out of mind. But before long, too many years had passed by, and the Subbuteo was a forgotten gem. Then, I think I had one of those moments when you yearn to revisit your childhood (usually in the moment you realise it was over about ten years before) and demanded to see 'my Subbuteo'. I can remember feeling disappointed at seeing the sparseness of my previously substantial collection (down to the aforementioned sale) and investigating the prices of new teams. To my horror, I saw that Subbuteo had changed!! It was now a pale imitation of it's former self - pieces of cardboard adorned with real player photographs had replaced the brittle plastic indiscriminate players. I felt a great resentment that Subbuteo had had to sink to these depths to compete with the likes of FIFA and Pro Evolution on all the games consoles.
But now, as with Scalextric, I'm ready to revisit Subbuteo and recapture the thrill of 'flick to kick'.
Monday, 9 November 2009
A point of issue...
So then, Gordon Brown made a bit of a faux pas with his handwriting. Yeah it's probably a bit upsetting if you've lost your child in an increasingly futile war and you get a poorly written letter where your name is spelt wrong and so on.
But that is where my sympathy ends for the mother of Jamie Janes (see, Gordon, I can get it right!!)
Let's get a few things straight shall we?
1) It was a HANDWRITTEN letter from the Prime Minister. How many of these letters has he had to write over the past few months? Most people would be happy to get any sort of recognition of a bereavement from the leader of the country.
2) If she was so upset she threw it in the bin, it should have stayed there. Not been retrieved so that
3) She sells her story to the Sun newspaper!! How much money did it take to get that letter from the bin??! Let's be honest, the Sun isn't exactly the most scrupulous publication, just ask virtually any Merseysider about the level of journalism promoted within those pages...
As far as I'm concerned, that cheapens the situation far more than Gordon's original gaffe.
So then, as controversial as I may be here, the memory of a committed soldier has been compromised by a mother who will have made money, however indirectly, from her son's death.
All she has achieved is that the country now knows what Gordon Brown's handwriting looks like.
But that is where my sympathy ends for the mother of Jamie Janes (see, Gordon, I can get it right!!)
Let's get a few things straight shall we?
1) It was a HANDWRITTEN letter from the Prime Minister. How many of these letters has he had to write over the past few months? Most people would be happy to get any sort of recognition of a bereavement from the leader of the country.
2) If she was so upset she threw it in the bin, it should have stayed there. Not been retrieved so that
3) She sells her story to the Sun newspaper!! How much money did it take to get that letter from the bin??! Let's be honest, the Sun isn't exactly the most scrupulous publication, just ask virtually any Merseysider about the level of journalism promoted within those pages...
As far as I'm concerned, that cheapens the situation far more than Gordon's original gaffe.
So then, as controversial as I may be here, the memory of a committed soldier has been compromised by a mother who will have made money, however indirectly, from her son's death.
All she has achieved is that the country now knows what Gordon Brown's handwriting looks like.
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