Achy Breaky Body

There’s a reason that I don’t do a job that involves manual labour.  Well, there may be a few reasons, but the main one is that I’d be dead by Wednesday of the first week.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve put a hell of a shift in this weekend moving stuff and boxes, and more stuff, and oh, so that’s where that went to.  Two full days of non stop manual labour and my body is literally rebelling.  At around lunch time today still with endless amounts to move, my system started to go into shutdown mode.  I finally understood the phrase being out on your feet.

To stave off these feelings I have of course been shoving as many calories down my throat as I’ve been able to, starting this morning with a traditional Father’s Day breakfast.

I had to wait a little while, as I was up at 6.30.  Oli checked to see if I was awake at that time by jabbing his huge wet nose into my forehead a dozen times, and by that time, yes, I was awake.  I stumbled out of the bedroom into the hall (don’t forget, we are in the ex-garage downstairs) and saw what looked like a scene from Alien.

After a hard day’s work yesterday, my Mum & Dad treated us all to a massive Chinese takeaway at their house, mainly as we were too weak to even open the fridge.  On the menu were spare ribs, and Oli partook in about two dozen too many, and this led to him revisiting them all over the floor.  Just as I was finishing the mop up operation, Louise wandered in saying she’d do it and I should go to bed.  Yep, that’s right, just as I was finishing!!

Once awake, the brain was whirring, and sleep was long since gone.  I was up comparing car insurance by 7am!  Some hours later, the girls made it downstairs with their eyes almost fully open, and wished me a Happy Father’s Day, and thrust a Cinderella gift bag at me.  Inside were a card, and my present, a T-shirt, with the phrase Grouch Potato on it.  I didn’t even think to object.  After a few more minutes of banging and clattering, I was presented with a breakfast fit for a King.  Waffles, squirty cream and strawberries.  No full English, as I used to get when they were too young to do it themselves and Louise would do the honours.  Left to their own devices, operating the microwave and the can of cream is the full extent of their culinary skills.

It was delicious though.  With the festivities over, work once again began, with us shifting endless boxes from our current house to the new one.  We don’t exchange until this coming Friday, but as I’ve mentioned, we’re buying from family so this means we’ve been allowed access early to dump all the crap from the shed into our new cellar.  If this deal falls through now, I’m afraid it is staying right there and can be sold to the next buyer as a feature!

Louise isn’t able to get out of Uni on Friday on our moving day, so she will not be around for most of the day.  I wasn’t quick enough to think of a similar excuse so it looks like I’ll be in charge.  Anything could happen.

So ten years, almost to the day, are drawing to an end at our current address.  With the way this whole move has gone, should Louise suggest moving again anytime this millenia, she will encounter the full extent of my wrath.  Then we’ll more than likely just move again!

In other news earlier in the week, I have been out and about a bit visiting all four corners of the British Isles…well Nottingham, Knutsford and Liverpool…geography wasn’t my strongest subject.  These work related travels are showing signs of bearing some worthwhile fruits, and I hope to be in a much better place in that regard pretty soon.  I do not wish to jinx this as I said last week, so until you hear some fat woman singing, I shall remain the elusive, charismatic, handsome enigma that I am.

Oh yes, I have also had a cold!! I suspect my body has been fooled into thinking this is November by the lovely weather we’ve been enduring.  There is less moistness on the front row of a One Direction concert.

This week has also brought some discussion with Emily on her plans after college.  She isn’t too interested in University, despite her predicted grades being pretty pleasing, and so she has it seems been researching and plotting her course.  She is going to apply for Disney’s Cultural Representative Programme, which is a 12 month placement working in WDW.       This sounds great, and so we’ll be working on that with her until November when the application process opens.  If anyone has done it, or know someone who has, Emily would love any advice or insight you might have on the application and interview process.

So, progress on a few fronts.  I have an empty shed, some boxes already in the new house, a sniff of something like good news with my “issues” at work, and an ache in every muscle in my work addled body.

Now, I must return to the calorie consumption before I wither away into nothingness.  If things pan out as I hope in the coming days, next week shall be a return to full blown WDW planning.  You have been warned.

Till the next time…..