The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog. Thank you for reading!!
Here’s an excerpt:
4,329 films were submitted to the 2012 Cannes Film Festival. This blog had 54,000 views in 2012. If each view were a film, this blog would power 12 Film Festivals
Well, we survived Christmas, and despite consuming silly amounts of food (mainly desserts and chocolates) I have not had to buy new clothes. This is good.
I would declare this Christmas a decent one, and I have absolutely loved being at home for an extended run of days. It has proved to me, as if proof were needed, that I would be absolutely superb as a lottery winner. I am a firm believer that if anyone wins enough to ensure they need never work again, and they continue working then they should be stripped of the money, and it be given to someone else, ideally me.
I don’t get this “I’d be bored if I didn’t work” thing. I have filled every day very easily, and that is without having the luxury of endless funds with which to entertain myself and the family. With a few million in the bank I don’t know how I’d find time to even think about my previous life where I was a slave to an alarm clock and overdraft.
Most weeks I go through the thought process, in some detail, of exactly what I would do with a sizeable lottery win. I won’t go into the level of planning I undertake as you would think me sad(der), but whenever those balls wish to drop I am more than ready. Are you listening Dale?
Anyway, back to xmas just gone, and as you are no doubt aware we were hosting. The burden was lightened by everyone who came bringing with them a vital element of the meal, so really it was just about finding somewhere for every one to sit.
The day started too early, with Rebecca as ever channeling her five-year old self. After trying to go for a quiet wee around 7.30am, I got back to bed to find a text from Rebecca asking if she could get up yet. Knowing that Emily’s body would probably require about four more hours sleep we tried to stall her as long as possible but within minutes she was up in Emily’s room making a nuisance of herself. Luckily Emily spared her life and we piled downstairs to open presents.
From various sources Oli had as many presents as the girls. He liked this one a lot.
The rest of the day was a blur of gifts, family, eggnog and food…so much food.
Since Christmas Day we have waved off most of the family as they left for Florida where they are right now. This.Is.Absolutely.Fine. Moving on.
So thoughts now turn to the New Year, and no doubt you are already overdosed on slow motion montages of 2012, and those ever so hilarious not at all scripted panel shows where they tell us all what happened in case we’d forgotten.
As I can’t do slow motion montages, I’ll keep my review brief. 2012 was, like pretty much every year, a mixed bag of ups and downs. It is tempting to slag off every year and say you are glad to see the back of it, but if you keep doing that all you end up is dead.
The year about to end was busy, traumatic in some ways but also included some good stuff too. Of course us somehow managing another Florida trip was a major highlight for me, but just to prove the point about ups and downs, of course Mum’s illness preventing them coming along wasn’t great.
Louise started her nursing course in 2012, which is the realisation of a long-held ambition, and despite some real downs I have ended the year in a really good place job wise. Incredibly after ten years in one place I have changed jobs three times this year. The first by choice, mainly on a point of principle after how they treated a load of people who worked for me. The second was more or less forced as the company was heading for a brick wall, and the third was flatteringly via some head hunting, but awkwardly only a few weeks after starting a new job. I am often the first to bemoan our luck and look for the worst in a situation, but the way in which that happened, and the job and company I have now settled with was pretty much a gift from the gods.
The girls are healthy, happy (as much as teenagers can be amidst their raging hormones and mood swings) and not on drugs, dependent on alcohol or familiar to the police. I’ll settle for that.
We also moved house in 2012. The fact that this happened right in the middle of job move number two made the early summer probably one of the most stressful times of my life. Having to secure a new job and deal with the inevitable nonsense of a move was not good. Sure, people go through a lot worse, but I don’t want to repeat that thanks.
The wider world outside the Williams sanctum has crumbled to shit a little more in the past twelve months. Financial disaster, corruption, scandal and lies have dominated the headlines. Basically if you were on TV between 1970 and 1985 you should expect to be arrested in 2013.
So looking ahead to 2013, I expect another year of similar ups and downs. Aside from the inevitable lottery win that is bound to come our way (isn’t it?) there won’t be a Florida holiday. I know, I know, you won’t believe me but unless a whole heap of cash falls into our lap there is no chance. The house is screaming at us to spend money on it, and a holiday is rightly someway behind all that in the pecking order.
In the few short months since we got here we have converted the loft, repaired the chimney, cosmetically enhanced the kitchen as best we can without a full refit, titivated Rebecca’s room and painted various bits of the bathroom. Of course I also bled the radiators!!
The list of what we still want and need to do is longer than the list of desserts I ate on Christmas Day.
Between now and the end of the summer Emily will be doing her A levels and Rebecca her GCSEs. The house could turn into a war zone in the battle to get them to do sufficient work and revision. I am of course looking forward to that!
Our journey into the new year will be just Louise and I, as both the girls are out at parties, and of course the rest of the family are in bloody WDW! We intend to raise hell with a visit to the pictures and a meal in local pub. I am the Ozzie Osbourne of the North West. Making it to midnight is not guaranteed!
So I wish you all well for the New Year, thank you for your support and time in tolerating the trip report(s), and your continued interest in and reading of these weekly verbal vomits is astounding and appreciated in equal measure.
So there you go, probably the only retrospective of 2012 you will come across without mentioning the Olympics…oh bollocks!
Till the next time….Till the next year…..
Craig.
Fear not, there shall be no political ranting this week. I finished work last Tuesday, and so I am almost at the stage where I am starting to relax a bit. It does usually take me those few days to shed the grinding routine from my system, and this was evidenced by me not getting out of bed this morning until 10.40!! That is testimony not just to my relaxed state but also to the very impressive performance of my prostate. That’s what I call bladder control! Take that middle age!
I have spent my days being busy but in a good way…..mainly. I’ve done a couple of decent walks with Oli, and done some of those long overdue niggling jobs around the house. I am not one to spare you from detail, so these have involved changing both toilet seats in the house and replacing about twenty-six bulbs that were out. I had not planned to replace both toilet seats, however having selected a new one for the main loo all by myself, as soon as it was fitted it became quite clear that it was not correct. Well, so Louise told me anyway. What is wrong with a bright white toilet seat on a cream toilet I do not know. Anyway, to save any tears (mine) I allowed Louise to go and choose another one, and I retired the bright white one to the en suite, where it still looks a bit odd, but no-one sees that other than mine and Louise’s under parts.
I have also shampooed our carpets. Really, how do you live with the level of excitement in these blog posts? Loo seats and carpet cleaning in one week must have you on the edge of sleep.
Christmas wise, I wisely secured a delivery slot with Asda some weeks ago, and this duly turned up on Saturday. The delivery driver had the haunted look of someone who had about a dozen similar mammoth deliveries to get through that day. Having spent an enormous amount I was somewhat aghast and let down to realise when he’d left that we had no actual food.
We have lots of booze, plenty of stuff for Christmas day but very little actual day-to-day stuff. So this morning I had to walk up to the local Co-op and do a mini shop just so we can eat before the big day. It sort of took the shine off my smugness at being so organised for once.
We are hosting this year, however, the burden is somewhat reduced as everyone involved is pitching in to cook various elements of the food required. So the more people we invite the less we have to do. If we get a few more round I only have to open the peanuts and buy a cheese board and we’re away!
One distinct advantage of living next door to my Mum & Dad is that we can devise a way to seat all twelve of us. We are going to dismantle their dining room table and bring it into our house. With a few emergency chairs and sitting close together we should be OK.
I’m sure you like us are plagued with the fear of having forgotten something key, and therefore disappointing someone who fancies a glace cherry. Oh bugger, we don’t have any glace cherries.
Thinking about it, should any of our guests require such a thing, I can live with it, as most of them jet off to Florida two days later. That’s right, my brother, his three kids (plus a couple of their partners) and my Mum & Dad are spending ten days there, and I don’t mind a bit. Giving dining recommendations through gritted teeth is perfectly normal isn’t it?
Should you all wish to club together and fund us to join them, call my boss and Louise’s University placement and secure the required time off, kennel the dog and cats and pack, then that would be a real nice xmas treat and no mistake!
Instead, I shall spend the remainder of my xmas hols in the elasticated pants, staying in very close proximity to the TV and Xbox, and determined to clear the cupboards in readiness for the inevitable new year diet. I am not in any way ready though for the already recorded onslaught of “New Year, New You” nonsense. You just know there will be the normal parade of leotard clad minor celebs trying to fool you into thinking their DVD will get you thin, when in reality they have an eating disorder and a history of surgical procedures to thank.
Still, soon be Easter!!
Merry Christmas.
Till the next time…..
I like America. I like it a lot. The fact that in terms of surface area I have only ever visited a very small percentage of it does not detract from the affection in which I hold most of it.
If at any point in my life I get both the time and the funds, I have every intention of visiting lots of different bits of it. This is a recognition that the bits I’ve been to are the sugar-coated, freshly painted tourist ready facades, but still, as a country it is on my list of things I like a lot.
Of course, like anything with positives it has some negatives too. Jimmy Saville did quite a lot for charity, but seems to have blotted his copybook somewhat by the small matter of also being the most renowned and prolific sexual predator in UK history. On balance then the negatives win in that case.
Despite my affection for the US, I feel I should probably bring up the fact that America is pretty much almost certainly politically corrupt. This is most likely a negative!
For example, if your brother runs a state where the election results might be a bit close, it seems it can be arranged that you actually win that state, even when you didn’t really. The fact that the real winner should have been Al Gore, who would have implemented massive mounts of green policies, and thus upset nearly all of the massive conglomerates who need to keep killing the planet to make their profits is just another coincidence surely?
Even when you get elected president it seems you are not safe. Should you be a really popular young handsome president who happens to make a few decisions that go against the grain, then the good old authorities are not averse to having you bumped off on National television just to smooth the running of the world.
So this country of glamour, glitz and of course fabulous holidays has a few flaws then. However, all of those are pretty insignificant when compared to the fact that there is actually a law that pretty much insists that you own a gun. In fact, the lower your IQ, or the higher your depressive EMO tendencies then the more you are encouraged to own multiple firearms.
This is of course every “Americuns” right, to defend their home. So having six fully automatic rifles to keep the marauding hordes out of your one bed apartment is A-OK. Daft, quaint things like burglar alarms, decent locks and maybe even a dog are just old-fashioned ideas that those funny folk across the Atlantic persist with.
So all this pithy build up is a prelude to a very unfunny scenario that of course happened earlier this week. I have to say that I don’t know all the details of the killings that happened in an elementary school, as I could not bring myself to watch the news. I know that around twenty children were gunned down along with about ten other teachers and other adults.
For a country that is so advanced, in so many ways, that gives the world so many great things, and of course that has given me and my family some of the best experiences and memories we’ll ever have, how can it be that in 2012 this global giant still allows any knob head to stock up on guns ready for the day that something doesn’t go their own way.
If this were a one-off, like of course our own tragic Dunblane, then we would mourn it as that, and put all our efforts into those affected. But these things are regular events, and how many do they need to get the hint that something needs to change?
So come on Barack, I suspect you are a decent sensible chap, even though I have never met you. Sod the rednecks who will piss and moan and sort out your gun laws. There are several children somewhere in America right now who will owe you a massive debt of gratitude if you do, but then again if you do, they will never know you saved them.
Till the next time…..
Emily met Dale Winton this week. OK, so met may be a little strong, but she was in the same room for many hours. I think it was Tuesday when she asked if she could go to the BBC at Salford to watch a recording of In It To Win It. Her teacher had somehow got some tickets and offered them out to the class, so off she went.
It was at best OK, but the whole experience seems to have been blighted by the audience having to endure sub-zero temperatures so that Dale’s tan wouldn’t be sweated off during the recording. As a student of Film and Media, experiences like this can only be good, and the endurance of low temperatures can only be good for the spirit in later life, especially as by the time she has her own place, heating it will require one of the lottery wins Dale so often introduces.
It was also good practice for our day out on Saturday. We (the girls and I that is) went to Blackpool on Saturday. A strange choice I hear you think…..but one sort of forced upon us. Emily needed to get some more photographs for her latest photography course work. The coursework is in two halves. The first half taken in WDW last August, and the second contrasting piece now being taken in a bleak mid winter UK, at various theme and amusement venues.
So we set off at around lunchtime, and about an hour later were parked up on the prom just outside the Pleasure Beach in the shadow of the Big One, which by coincidence is the title of an adult film….so I am told!
All the pictures here are mine by the way, not Emily’s!
By Christ it was cold. Of course as we left the house I went through the pointless ritual of telling Rebecca that what she had on was nowhere near sufficient for the expected conditions. As usual I lost, and as usual I was proven absolutely correct as her teeth began to chatter within seconds of leaving the car.
So we wandered up the prom with Emily snapping away, and popped into a couple of amusement arcades, amazed that they were open, and not at all amazed that they were deserted.
Whilst Emily took her photos Rebecca began her onslaught of miethering to have a go on those bloody claw games where you give money away to operate a mechanical arm for a few seconds. I was eventually worn down and kissed goodbye to a couple of quid, only to be amazed a minute later when Rebecca turned up with this.
I bet the owner of the arcade was gutted as she’d just wiped out his weekend’s profits.
Out into the cold again, and more photos down by the pier.
As we crossed back to the non sea-side of the prom it became apparent that times were tough, with nearly every other hotel being up for sale or boarded up. Those still trading looked one bad weekend away from joining them if I am honest.
Still, we were having a nice time to be honest. Spending time together like this is rare these days, and despite the slow onset of frost bite I was very glad we did it. Even the girls were smiling.
Yes Rebecca does indeed have Toms on with no socks!
We walked for quite some time up the prom, but as we went it was becoming obvious that we had all the photos Emily was going to get, and we were more likely to die from the cold before she got any worthy of that sacrifice, so we turned back.
We made it back to the McDonalds and went in hoping for a hot chocolate to warm our frozen bones. Alas, in keeping with the look and feel of the resort, the machine was broken, so we settled for coffee and cokes instead. As we drank and watched the world go by, the weather worsened, and the drizzle became steady rain…cold steady rain.
I left the girls finishing their drinks whilst I walked the rest of the way for the car, and drove back to pick them up. The fringes must be protected at all times. After the usual nonsense of trying to find the road out of Blackpool, we eventually found the motorway and headed for home.
I know that mid December is no time to judge a resort like Blackpool, but it was grim, cheap, tatty and of course baltic. I did jest with the girls that we could have holidayed there for the past ten years instead of Florida, but they knew I was bluffing. There is just no way we could afford to holiday in Blackpool for two weeks!
Saturday evening was spent walking the dog, dropping off and picking up Rebecca from a friends and being very pleasantly surprised at how much we all enjoyed The McFly Show on ITV1. I don’t know if it was the fact that it was a weekend show that didn’t involve any form of voting, or whether it was just genuinely funny and entertaining (apart from the odd Al Murray moment), but we really enjoyed it.
Sunday has been spent Christmas shopping. Nearly all of it online of course as I am not mental, but we did nip out to an actual shop to get Louise’s gift. She had asked for a bike, so it made no sense to either try to wrap that bugger or hide it away for two weeks so we went out to get her one.
Owning a clown car these days I had to employ the services of my brother and his amazing bike rack to get it home. Well, it serves him right for going to Florida the day after Boxing Day!
So a mini trip report has formed this week’s bloggage, which saves you from any sort of rant about crap TV, even worse traffic or just the fact that I didn’t win the lottery again. We should do this day out thing more often!
Till the next time….
If I start by telling you that this week and indeed blog will be a snot free zone, then just by doing that I have made it untrue. Anyway, after a full two weeks of my life threatening cold I appear to be recovered.
With that trouble behind me I have been enjoying the finer things in life, like sleep and the ability to breathe and as such was looking forward to the weekend. I should by rights have been in London for a Christmas do with work, but decided against it as to be honest I wanted my own bed over the weekend, and the do involved making decisions about what to wear in swanky London eateries and discotheques, and I honestly couldn’t be arsed with the shopping or selection process that might involve. At my age once it goes dark I just want to get home, draw the curtains and get “seckled”.
It would seem that the Gods of Christmas dos decided to take full and vengeful revenge for this indiscretion, as I have had a weekend that makes you think you should have either stayed in bed or gone and drank forty-eight tequila shots in Stringfellows with some work colleagues.
So Saturday started normally enough. The Big Shop was on its way from Asda, and for the past few weeks they have always turned up towards the end of the two-hour slot. With this in mind, I went for a shower leaving Rebecca to look out for the van just in case it arrived. So as soon as I had unleashed my toned and teasingly taught frame from the shackles of clothing and had one toe in the shower, Rebecca shouted that they were here. A mild inconvenience, and I quickly dressed and came downstairs to deal with the delivery.
The rest of the morning dwindled away, and after lunch Louise and I had the joyous honour of a visit to B&Q (on xmas tree buying weekend) to get some wallpaper for our long undecorated kitchen. Time was already getting on by the time we set off, and the traffic was a thing from the bowels of hell. The increasingly frustrating and depressing state of the traffic whenever I am trying to get anywhere is the subject for a whole other bile ridden moan filled ranty blog at some future date!
So it took an age to drive the few short miles to our local B&Q. We got out of the car, and I did my normal pat down routine to make sure I have everything….phone….car keys…wallet….bollocks. Now, I didn’t have to pat anything to know I had those. That last expletive was more of a cry of anguish realising that I had left my wallet at home.
How I laughed. I told Louise to go and choose stuff (I have no input into these decisions anyway) and I would “pop” home to get it. So I wrestled through the crappy traffic again, dashed in to get my wallet and set off again. I needed my wallet for petrol too, so as soon as we’d done the DIY thing we’d stop on the way home for that. A few hundred yards later, as I moved out to overtake a bus that had stopped, a press of the accelerator met with no response. It soon dawned on me that for the first time ever, I had run out of petrol!
I coasted to a stop, luckily in a legal parking place, tried to phone Louise to tell her what had happened, but of course as per usual her “mobile” phone was pretty much the opposite on the dining room table.
So I set off walking back home (thankfully I had only driven a couple of minutes) to get Louise’s car. I have to say that my stress levels were a bubbling at this point. I wanted to get the wall papering done, and I could feel time rushing away as I tried to walk home as quickly as possible without slipping on the inconveniently icy pavements.
With a vehicle secured, I tried again to get to the promised land of B&Q, and the traffic had gone up by about another 25%, so by the time I got to Louise I was a coronary waiting to happen. We checked out, and set off for home.
Once home, through more tortuous bobbins traffic, I looked for the petrol canister that Louise bought recently when she ran out of petrol! Of course, I couldn’t find it, so we set off again in Louise’s car to the petrol station. I paid a ridiculous £6.99 for a suitable and legal petrol container, as apparently they don’t let you dispense it into an Asda bag.
I then filled said container, and we drove back to my car, through even more even worse traffic where I got it going again and drove home. By this stage I had fallen out with the world….all of it, and I sat in a monstrous sulk for the rest of the day whilst Louise and the girls did the Christmas decorations. My aversion to festivity at this point measured about 400 on the Richter scale.
My anger was aimed at me, and me alone, (apart from the driver of the X reg Hyundai who did 24 miles an hour in front of us all the way back from B&Q) for being such a complete arse and forgetting my wallet, which kicked off this stupid and maddening series of events.
Still, no-one died, and as the night wore on I calmed down and got back to some sort of normality even though I had to sit through most of the X Factor. You can imagine how Christopher Maloney helped my mood?
So Sunday dawned full of fresh starts and new hope. Alas, today has consisted of decorating the kitchen, and I have documented many times what sort of frame of mind DIY puts me in. It is complete, and apart from one” is it overlapping at the top” comment from Louise as I was about ten seconds into the second piece, any unpleasantness was kept to a minimum.
Oh, and the dishwasher broke.
Ho, Ho, Ho.
Till the next time…..
I know that I may have mentioned my illness in semi-jocular stati this week, but bloody hell I have been rough. The standard cold symptoms randomly brought their great mates heart burn and muscular aches, and just as I was hopeful of waving the bugger off over this weekend it has thrown one hell of a farewell party. Over the past two days I have experienced pain unlike any other. I’d call it a headache, but it isn’t really. It is more eye ache!
A searing pressure like pain right in the middle of my eyeballs. It hurt…like proper big boy pain, and I don’t like it. As you know I handle pain and illness well so you really wouldn’t have known had you been here.
Today has been a slight improvement with no such repeat of that, and apart from feeling like I have been battered with a big stick, there are signs of recovery. I have done nothing today which has really helped. Well, I took Oli out, and had the intention of cutting my toenails, but I haven’t managed that yet!
Being below par has been really frustrating. I had a heavy week at work, with stuff going on that couldn’t be interrupted by illness so I took my germs to Marlow for two days. What joy I felt in my deluxe suite in which I stay, wrapped in a blanket hugging the lukewarm radiator watching crap football. Who says executive travel isn’t glamorous? By the time I got to Friday I was no good to anyone and crawled home mid afternoon and went straight to bed for a bit.
Still, a productive week, with a key supplier decided upon for a very important project and a key person, with actual technical skills rather than my invented ones, recruited to help me do it. Snot and success in unequal measure….there was much more snot!
So let’s put all that illness behind us (I hope). Some regular sleep and less snot will help so fingers crossed.
Affairs of the teenage heart have been in play this week too, with some “stuff” going with Rebecca and her friend who is a boy. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it now, there is nothing harder than watching one of them going through pain and not jumping right in the middle and knocking heads together or off altogether.
I am biting my metaphorical tongue, and hoping it all gets sorted out without too much upset, and the need for me to remove limbs.
Talking about removing limbs, Oli also came pretty close to losing a couple whilst I was away. It seems that he left a large and damp message all over our bed, and those of you who sees Louise’s facebook updates will have appreciated her slight displeasure at this.
Thursday saw me travelling about in London, and whilst doing so coordinating my parents and a cleaning company to all work together before we got home to make sure we had something clean to sleep on.
My Dad sorted the duvet to the launderette, and Chem Dry turned up to sort the mattress. Apparently they do a lot of work for hotels, so are used to similar work but I suspect for different fluids!
There are lots of theories about why Oli would do this, as he is superb at doing his stuff only where he should, always has been, so we are a bit baffled. I wonder if it is connected to me being away, and him marking his territory in some way, but to be safe he isn’t going upstairs again anytime soon.
Just to remind us not to kill him here he is looking cute and lovable.
By the time we did get home on Thursday we were mostly sorted, and even had time to nip to my brother’s for a drink and pie celebration of his birthday. I had soft drinks and lots of pie, as you need to feed a cold of course.
The other bit of news to share with you this week will hopefully be in the happy to hear category. After the bitter disappointment in the summer for my Mum & Dad who had to cancel their trip to Florida with us with days to go, they are now booked to go just after Christmas. Alas, we are not playing host, rather my brother and his family. The party will be a huge one, nine in total, with his two elder children each taking their partner, so I think they have hired a coach to get them around. Good luck with that!!
So I am offering some tips, mainly on where to find a donut burger, which my brother is slightly more interested in that my sister-in-law who I’m guessing won’t be partaking.
So here’s to a week of better health as we hurtle towards December. Someone might want to tell the telly that it isn’t December yet, cos if I see another version of the same advert from a bloody supermarket in November I might go and wee on their bed.
Why have they all gone for the same advert this year? A stressed mum being the xmas hero. I have no beef (or turkey) with the idea, but once you’ve seen it 48 times before December starts a dirty protest is the only solution. Maybe Oli was ahead of me there?
Till the next time….
This shall be briefer than a Helen Flanagan bush tucker trial. I am sick and tired. Not a reference to another impending rant but a genuine reference to my physical being. What I thought was just dog tiredness for the past week or so has turned into the lurgy. Whether the tiredness was a first sign of the illness or the tiredness allowed it to possess my body I don’t know and it matters not. I am male and ill….pity me!
The girls have had it for a week and just as they started to recover both Louise and I have inherited whatever they had. It gripped me on Friday and I spent a day at work in my dressing gown. This was for a pajama based day in aid of Children In Need but it felt quite apt. If only I had worn something underneath it, I may have attracted fewer strange looks, and less of a breeze that may have made matters worse.
So allow me to battle the throat, the sniffles the hot and cold sweats and weirdly horrific heartburn, and I shall return to you next week, plague free and back on form.
For now, I shall retreat to my bed, chair or whatever position of self-pity suits me best, and try my best not to infect you via this bloggage. Alas, I have a busy and travel full week ahead. Deep joy.
Enough.
Till the next time……
So it’s only taken the two months, but yesterday saw the 2012 trip report finally put to bed. During those two months, it has at times felt like a millstone around my neck. With the new job and new house it has had to take its place behind those two things. However, literally as I put the last full stop on the last sentence, it made me a little sad.
As ever finishing these reports absolutely puts the holiday to bed, and that is sad of course. Naturally a holiday forever sits in our memories adding interest to our nostalgia assets for years to come, and it does seem that a holiday just had can take a few months or years to be fully appreciated.
As well as those thoughts, I of course always regret having dashed several days off in a hurry, and wish I could go back and do them again without time being against me.
I mentioned in the final thoughts of the final day that this trip report may be the last one, and I’m sure that was greeted with scorn and derision, as of course for a decade now we’ve not been going next year. This year’s threat seems to be the closest I can remember to becoming a reality though. Even with unlimited funds I highly doubt Louise could be tempted to do another WDW based trip.
I agree to a certain extent. Naturally should someone shove four plane tickets in my hand and point me in a Trans-Atlantic direction I would gladly go and do WDW all over again. However, we are being drawn to other spots in the US. Should we be blessed with a lottery win I would whisk the family away on a Stephen Fry style tour of all the states, taking in the diverse nature of the various parts of the US.
Back in reality I suspect as and when funds become available we’ll do the West Coast thing next. So expect that trip report any time in the next decade.
Away from holidays and their associated reports I have been unable to avoid DIY this weekend. Parts of the kitchen need decorating. The previous residents had an unhealthy obsession with sauna style wood panelling, and I am attempting to turn it white. Two coats in, plus the assistance of my Dad and there is still no real sign of an end game.
The decorating is an evil necessity as we are to host the family for Christmas this year. So that totals twelve folks. Louise made this kind and generous offer at the wrong end of a bottle of red, and despite the fact we can seat six for dinner at a push with some emergency chairs, twelve it is. Add in a four stone sheep dog and our house should be an adventure come the big day!
Once I have finished painting the sponge like walls there is also some wallpapering to do, and the dreaded glossing.
On a different note you may remember me bemoaning a journey home from Marlow on a Friday afternoon? You may also recall me swearing an oath never to leave myself in that situation again?
So on Friday I had to drive home from Marlow. It was pretty much unavoidable. I left a little earlier but it did little to ease the pain. The M6 was gruesome and the M40 joined in too, not wanting to be left out. I crawled out of the car some five or so hours later, defeated by some bitumen or should that be bitch-umen.
I will make no similar vow that such a thing won’t happen again, but I’ll try really hard not to make the mistake again, and if I do, definitely not to moan about it again here.
I don’t think I’ve done a family update for a bit so you can have one.
Last week saw me attend Rebecca’s Parent’s Evening. Despite the fact that appointments are booked every time, they are then systematically ignored by everyone, and it is just a case of grab a teacher your child recognises as soon as the seats at their desk become free.
She is doing OK. She could pass the whole lot at GCSE, but the recurring theme is she needs to apply a little more effort. I tried my best at motivational speaking as we walked home again afterwards. I suspect it will have little effect as Rebecca was just too cold to listen to me. This was because she didn’t listen to me earlier when I told her she’d need her big coat on as it was really cold even though it is only a five-minute walk. The trials of fatherhood.
She also has the distraction of her Tom. If Tom tells her she needs a coat it would be accepted without question! You can but advise and guide, as they don’t listen much anyway.
Emily is progressing well with her driving, being told by her instructor to concentrate on her theory now as she needs to get that sorted and passed as by that time she should be ready for her test. It really does feel odd watching her drive off in a car for her lessons. This week was the wonders of the roundabout. After being extremely nervy to begin with she seems to have found her confidence now, and is enjoying her lessons.
In her spare time she has taken to sheep dog fancy dress!
Louise finished her first placement in a hospital on Friday much to her relief. It has been hard work, fitting in shifts and coursework as well of course as the grueling work of a nurse on a hospital ward. Some of the tales she tells of tubes, puss, vile body parts and in some cases viler patients confirm my conviction that I absolutely could not do that job. She is back to the less intense University elements of her course now until January.
Onto the wider family, and my Dad is still wrestling with the insurance company over his non-holiday with us. I am not one to suggest that these insurance companies use delaying tactics, but they have written back (by snail mail) half a dozen times to request extra and different snippets of information that they could have requested on the original claim form. Some of their clients might just give it up as the effort is too big, but they are fighting a losing battle with my Dad.
His persistence is only equaled by his retired free time, so they may as well just write the cheque and have done with it. We are also keeping him nice and busy with our DIY requirements. He’s in the middle of a project to un-damp our cellar which should keep him going for the next few weeks!
Mum is doing better. She’s had a couple of relapses into pain, but generally she’s doing OK. She saw a consultant last week who seems to have settled on a diagnosis of Irritable Bowel Syndrome, which was pretty much what we all thought before the dozens of tests and weeks of pain. Anyway, she’s on the relevant medication now, and we’ll see how that goes.
So that’s it I think. I had considered another vitriolic rant about the ways of the world, but thought better of it. The ending of the last/latest trip report is worthy of a mention both in appreciation of the time and effort spent on it and as a nod of respect to what could be the last of its kind. What do you mean you don’t believe me????
Till the next time…..
I have a fairly well-developed persecution complex. It appears to be a disease of the middle-aged man. Real or not, at times everyone feels that they are getting not just the shitty end of the stick, but the other end is being poked somewhere unpleasant too.
Such was my thinking on late Friday afternoon. There I was minding my own business, when I got the phone call that every man dreads.
It wasn’t that one of my daughters was pregnant (although in ten years this is more likely to be good news than bad, but at 17 and 15, I think not), it wasn’t that Louise had dumped all my belongings on the front lawn either. This is mainly because we don’t have a front lawn. This was uppermost in my selection criteria of any new house…..
“Yes Phil and/or Kirstie, we are looking for a seventeen bedroom period property with eighteen acres of land, with our own water-mill and miniature village on the back patio where we shall sit and watch herds of Wildebeest sweep majestically through the Home Counties with our children Saffron and Hercules. Our budget is tight at only 25.4 million pounds”…said me never.
No, our new house is modest but it has no grass and this is something I wake up thankful for every day.
Anyway, I digress, this dreaded call wasn’t any of that. It was that….
SKY WAS NOT WORKING!
Quite what I could do about it from twenty miles away I don’t know, but the girls had done the correct thing and gone next door for Grandad. I put the phone down thinking he may well sort it by the time I got home.
Nope. In fact I got another call from Dad, which turned into one of those conversations that you could never have imagined having.
Dad: “There is water coming out of your Sky box!”
Me: “Sorry, I could have sworn you said there was water coming out of the Sky box”.
It turns out that is indeed what he did say. Fast forward to my arrival home, and the TV and its plethora of boxes and gadgets are all over the front room soon to be joined by my will to live.
To cut a very long and painful story short, we discovered that the aerial cable coming in from outside was pumping water into our Sky box, which was now forlornly lying on the carpet looking damp and unlikely to ever work again.
This water was coming in via a circuitous route involving the cellar, which was as a result nice and damp too. So back to my point?
I had a right sulk on. In the full glaring horror of a post holiday cash shortage, with Christmas looming, once again, just as I could see us getting back to some sort of financial normality, shit happens. It was quite an epic sulk, and I could quite easily have torched the bloody house at that point and put in an insurance claim. Staring down the barrel of a new sky box, new cabling and who knows what else to sort out the cellar, I had a right hissy fit.
I was so upset that I almost didn’t eat my tea. THAT is how upset I was.
So with the Sky box down we watched a DVD on Friday night, The Black Knight, which was again awesome, and then went to bed, taking my bottom lip with me.
Saturday dawned and taught me (again) a lesson in perspective, patience and parents. After drying out the Sky box, I tried to connect it all up again (minus the water-bearing aerial cable of course) and it all worked. The scenes of jubilation were epic. It was like the Ewok party in the Return of The Jedi with even Emily raising an eyebrow in appreciation, her Dad being suddenly useful.
So we don’t need a new Sky box after all. Kerching.
My Dad then returned from golf and popped in with a plan to sort the cellar, and with news of a chap he golfs with arriving on Monday to sort out our aerial issues.
Having stared down the desolate barrel of a weekend without Sky, huge bills and a leaky house, come Saturday afternoon, Sky was restored, and the rest didn’t look so daunting.
So the moral of the tale is…
I am absolutely correct in my persecution complex. Life is just a series of obstacles and hurdles, most of which trip me up and see me sprawl across the running track of life. The thing is, it is probably the same for everyone else too.
Much as I put my girl’s worlds back together again on a regular basis, when they fall out with friends, lose a boyfriend or have coursework traumas, so in the circle of life does my Dad (and/or Mum) for me. The fact that he spent his entire working life in the building trade, and there is not a trade that is not represented now by a member of his golf club, means that these house related things are small beer for him.
The fact that I lose all perspective and patience from time to time is just how I am made. Louise knows this, recognises the signs and handles me in the way in which I need handling. That is to be left alone until the sulk passes, with some consoling words thrown in which pretty much fall on deaf ears despite her best efforts.
I’m an introverted drama queen, which is a pretty bad combination. Whether my Dad is picking me up after falling off a swing (not for some years now I admit), or from the precipice of a house related trauma, he’s probably used to it by now.
I shall try better to remember, appreciate and deploy the three Ps of which I write in future!
But for God’s sake who has ever heard of water being pumped into your Sky box by your aerial? (Not a euphemism!)
Till the next time….
Jazz Flute, wheels of cheese, sex panther and the gun show. It can only mean one thing. Yep, Anchorman is on, and it is one of those films that make me laugh no matter how many times I see it.
Every character is excellent, but I do have a soft spot for Brian Fantana, played by Paul Rudd.
So forgive me if I’m a little distracted as I rattle this off.
Last week I forgot to plug something that I should have. After a break of too long I finally penned something for the WDW Dads site, so please, if you haven’t already, pop over and have a read.
OK, so other than pointing you at day twelve of the trip report, I think we can begin.
The week just gone has been fairly ordinary, as it was filled with far too much work…roughly about five days worth. I made the schoolboy error of arranging to be down south in Head Office on Thursday and Friday for some meetings. As everyone knows, Friday afternoons is when the volume of traffic on the UK’s motorways doubles as everyone tends to be at the opposite end of the country that they need to be.
Thursday was a fancy dress day in the office. How I enjoy these sorts of things!! The theme was purple. I could explain why, but really it wouldn’t make that much sense, so I won’t. It may not surprise you to learn that my wardrobe does not contain a wide variety of purple garments, so this caused me an issue. I dallied with the idea of going the whole hog and renting a proper costume, but
a) I’m tight
b) I would have felt like a giant tool
c) I left it too late so sort one out
So instead, with an impressive amount of forethought, I sent Louise a text at 5pm on Wednesday evening, asking if she’d call somewhere on her way home to get me some “purple clothes”. The results were a purple polo shirt and a pair of purple jeans. Yes, I now own purple jeans…skinny ones at that.
So I left the house at 5am the next day looking like an overweight bruise. The day passed without too much to note, and I had guessed the level of effort correctly. It is always a concern with these things, especially when new in a company, that you gauge this correctly. You don’t want to turn up in a Barney costume only to find that everyone else has worn a purple hat. Ironically, someone did turn up as Barney, but most were just in simple purple attire so that was OK.
After a busy couple of days, the end of the week approached and for the first time I had to do the drive north on a Friday. The levels of fear and trepidation felt were totally justified, as the usual three and a half hour journey turned into five.
If it is possible to hate a section of tarmac then the M6 is it. Listening to the radio, they seemed to gloss over the severity of the chaos that was taking place. As I came off the M6 toll, the brake lights lit up in front of me, and pretty much stayed on until I left the M6 at Junction 22 several hours later.
It was pants. The constant stop start brake nonsense was only surpassed in the aggravation stakes by those who felt the need to fill the couple of car’s lengths I was leaving between myself and the braker in front. By Crewe my mood was black. Never shall I meet anyone in Marlow again on a Friday! Seriously, what happens to motorway traffic on a Friday?
Oh yes, and at the risk of generalising….if you drive a Mercedes Sprinter you are probably going too fast!
Once home, the weekend has been uneventful, due to post holiday insolvency and the fact that Emily and Louise have been buried in coursework. Of course, Emily has been off all last week for half term but felt it better to wait until the weekend to get it all done! Ironically once she had finished it about half an hour ago, she found out from a friend that it wasn’t due in until Wednesday. Justice!
We’ve spotted Rebecca a couple of times for meals and bedtime as her hectic social calendar keeps her busy. She’s started a YouTube channel with her friend, and on Saturday she went to Manchester for something called a YouTube gathering. I don’t really understand what it was, but I think it was an event where all these internet phenom….phanom….fenome….people who have lots of people watching their videos went to meet their fans.
Anyway, I should do a push for Rebecca’s You Tube channel, and ask you to subscribe as her numbers are a little low right now. Click this! I hope that is the right link. Go on subscribe, and make me a hero in her eyes!!
Next time I bump into her she may express her thanks if she gets a minute.
Who knows what next week will bring, but I can assure you it won’t see me on the M6 on Friday!
Till the next time……
Well, not quite today, but close enough. What is the anniversary to which I refer? The last time I had to blow dry my hair? The last time I wore a pair of pants with a waistline starting with a 2? The last time I had a positive bank balance?
No, none of the above. It was in the autumn of 1983 that I attended my first ever gig. I was fourteen at the time, and had to really convince my Mum to let me go with my brother, as it was at the Manchester Apollo, in Ardwick. Trust me, she was right to be worried.
Now, a fourteen year old in 1983 had a smorgasbord of musical delights to choose from as my first gig choice. A look at the charts of the time reads like a who’s who of big hair and pompous pop.
I was not one of normal tastes to be honest, and even now I tend to not like the mainstream. Adele, Coldplay, U2, and the likes do not and have never floated my raft. I may have mentioned that a couple of times?
Back in 1983, influenced by my brother for sure, I liked a band not at this stage really troubling the charts. They were cool, niche and under the radar, which is also known as skint and not famous. Being vaguely musical, which means that I’d started playing bass about six months earlier, and my brother at the time being a drummer, we appreciated the muso-ness of bands, and none came more muso than…..Level 42.
At this time they still wrote jazz funk instrumentals, and had some distance to travel to get anywhere near the chart topping days of about four years later when they found a few hits and multi-million selling album or two.
So off I went to my first ever real gig, and was blown away.
Fast forward twenty-nine years, and on Friday, the same two of us sat in the same theatre, with a few more pounds and a lot less hair, to watch them all over again. I’ve lost count of the amount of times we have seen them live in the intervening years, but it is a lot. The line up has changed a bit, but in recent years with a settled line up, and a re-established following, they are back playing fairly large venues again, and despite their advancing years they still have it.
I know they will not be everyone’s cup of tea, and most folks will only be aware of a couple of singles, but that’s Ok. I don’t need you to like them too!
In recent years the usually annual gig has become a chance for me to have a night out with my brother, which we don’t do often enough. Now you will know that any night out involving me will involve food, and on Friday we met after work in Manchester and wandered up to the ever so trendy Northern Quarter. A place full of grown men in cardigans and converse, meeting in pubs after a hard week creating mood boards at their inevitable agency.
We went to Trof.
The music was too loud, it was jam-packed, and there was nowhere to sit, but we got a drink and persevered anyway, based on my brother’s previous dining experience here.
We took a table as one appeared, and despite a small hiccup where my brother tried to order from some girl who just happened to be wandering past our table, we were soon eating.
We had a Middle Eastern Sharing Platter to start. It was your usual olives, feta, halloumi and falafel etc, and it was delicious. By the time our mains came we were already filling up, but I somehow managed to neck all of my Pulled Pork Burger and Fries. My God, I was stuffed, and we both had to leave fairly quickly to get some fresh air and try to walk off the impending cardiac arrest.
Thankfully we had a decent walk to the car, a short drive and then another walk to the theatre so we felt less like dying once we got there.
You may not believe me, but it was busy. The queue for a drink was in need of a fast pass so we didn’t bother. I couldn’t fit another ounce of liquid in my stomach anyway!
We took our seats, applauded politely for the support guy and waited for the main event. So the lights dimmed and of course a dozen numpties came charging from the bar, as they had to have every last second in there didn’t they. So this meant that they had to get to their seats in the dark, making the whole row stand up, and therefore blocking the view of half the theatre just as the show started.
These same folks then went for wees, more drinks, and inevitably more wees pretty much all the way through the show. I almost wore my tut out.
I took a bit of video, all dodgy quality but here is the opening, until the row in front had to stand up for the aforementioned twonks came in from the bar.
The gig was great as ever. We marveled at the musicianship, felt nostalgia for the video clips shown on the big screen behind them, and clapped a lot.
They played a mix of some really old stuff, which had some of the less cool and hard-core fans than us a little bemused, along with all the hits….and there are quite a few. Something About You, Hot Water, Lessons in Love, Running in The Family, are the most obvious ones, but they have shifted a load of records over the years.
They left us with ringing ears and a promise of a return in 2014 with a new album. We wandered back to the car wondering what that would bring, and picking out examples of the fancy Dan musician-ship we’d just witnessed that separates them from mere mortals and Dire Straits. Oh yes, I could never tolerate them either, despite that bloody Brothers in Arms CD being in every house in the 80s.
I hope you enjoyed the slightly different approach this week. It still more or less took the form of a trip report, but I did forget to take photos of our food! Mind you it was so bloody dark that us two old gits had to use the lights on our phones to read the menu!! Once illuminated we then had to move it in and out of eye range until we got a fix on the microscopic text.
That wouldn’t have happened twenty-nine years ago!
Till the next time……
Are you ready for another vitriolic both barrels attack on the shambolic state of the world? Don’t worry, I don’t think I have another one in me so soon after the last one. It takes me longer to recover in between these days you know.
Last week saw day nine and ten posted in an absolute flurry of trip reportage. I admit, day ten only went up today but that still counts. Double figure days mean that we’re getting towards the end now, so for those not a fan of these things it shall soon be safe to return to the trip report section of the Dibb and read about Wizzo’s toilet troubles.
I must admit to finding the trippies a little bit of a chore. A mixture of general busy-ness, a tiny touch of the post holiday blues and a slice of deja vu. I have written about largely the same holiday for a decade now!!
Ignoring the complete lack of funds or the likelihood of having any, we have discussed next summer, and Louise can confirm that we have decided not to go to Orlando again. It’s fair enough. We do fancy the West Coast though. I’m slowly catching up on Jakki’s twelve week long trip report, some of which includes the West Coast and it looks good. We’ve also chatted to my brother and his wife as they have done it a couple of times and say it was their best holiday ever.
So if we find some funds then that would be the most likely place I think. Although Louise has fallen in love with one of the islands in the Caribbean after seeing it on a TV programme recently. I think it was St Lucia. Both are equally beyond our fiscal reach so it hardly matters right now.
That is not to say that my fingers have not found their way to the odd Kayak or Skyscanner recently. It is both a sort of hobby by now and a mild form of torture.
Domestic life is a blur of hectic busy stuff right now. Work for both Louise and I is very time-consuming, Emily is battling her final year of A levels and Rebecca is caught up in a romance. We know this, as we haven’t really seen her, at all, since it all began. This happens, we’re used to it, and unfortunately, we are braced for what is most probably the painful and tearful conclusion, but, we shouldn’t pre-judge and she should of course enjoy it whist it lasts. That is unless she proves me wrong and marries the bugger….in a decade or so.
He’s a nice enough young chap. He’s polite at all the appropriate times, and has no visible tattoos or piercings. So Rebecca is out a lot at the moment, and as much as she won’t admit it, Emily is missing her a bit.
So with all this busy stuff going on, it feels a little hamster wheelish. So Louise has decided to outsource the ironing. The amount of weekend being eaten up with it was getting out of hand so Louise has employed a young fairly willing employee to get it done.
Yes, Emily is now employed as our ironer, and she has done a great job for her fifteen quid. It leaves Louise with lots of free time now to do her course assignments and other fun stuff like tidying the house!
I would outsource the bulk of my weekend’s activity too, but I’m not paying someone else to sit and watch TV whilst occasionally blowing off.
I shall leave you in peace now as it is quite clear I have nothing but inane dross this week, and Emily is waiting for the laptop. I secretly hope this is to complete some complex and detailed piece of coursework. More likely, she needs to add some songs to her phone for lessons tomorrow!
I will try to be incensed about something again for next week to make for some more interesting reading.
Till the next time……
Right, let’s have the shameless plugs out of the way first. Day 8 is up and almost worthy of a read, for no other reason that I spent some time writing it.
With that done, off we go.
They do say that nice guys finish last, and unless that is a reference to a male porn star, it is usually said with a certain amount of mocking disdain. I would, if pushed, class myself as a nice guy, having not really done much that would fall into a bad or evil category. Apart from that poo in 1997 that was like a house martin’s nest on the back of the loo and I didn’t clean up.
Still, I think you’d agree that is small beer (unless you were the one cleaning it up).
So with that in mind, with recent events of the world, I do wonder if that adage is depressingly accurate? The world does indeed seem content to be taking itself off to hell in a cart propelled by hand.
A non exhaustive list of proof?
The media is pretty much proven to be more or less entirely corrupt, hacking phones of dead teenagers, printing lies (Hillsborough) and being in close collusion with whatever politician has the most power at the time. The recent findings around Hillsborough seem to demonstrate that the hierarchy of the police, the media and the government were intent on rewriting events for their own benefit. It took 23 years to get anywhere near the truth and still no-one has gone to jail over it.
Politics. Well, of course they all rig their expenses as their salaries, at more than twice the national average are not enough, and most weeks one of them is resigning for some indiscretion or other. That of course is only the stuff we do know about.
Football, the national game is full of racist liars who can’t keep it in their pants, and that is just John Terry. The others are just too stupid to live, such as Ashley Cole, a black man, lying to protect a team-mate who, that’s right, abused another black man, for being black. Then, when the findings were published, showing how he had been found to be lying, along with this mate, he sends an obscene tweet expressing his displeasure. This guy drives a car…on the road….with other people around. He shouldn’t be allowed sharp objects in his house never mind behind the wheel of a car.
The church. Not one of my favourite past times or institutions, but that is a whole other rant altogether. The men of God seem to think this gives them a free pass to kiddy fiddle whilst preaching to their flock that they are all sinners, encouraging guilt and saying we should aspire to be like them.
Banks. Well, I used to work for one, but the nearest I got to corruption was taking a quid out of the till to buy my dinner as I had no change. Others it seems, as we all know, were above the law up there in their penthouses. We are still battling through the financial mire, and may be forever more.
And now, it seems the entire world of light entertainment is guilty of the biggest cover up since the bloke on the grassy knoll. Half of the BBC’s stars of the 70s and 80s appear to have been guilty of crimes against puberty, which is bad enough to find out many years later. What is completely intolerable is the parade of has been know it alls who have been grabbing their last five minutes of fame by claiming that everyone knew about it. Yep, that makes you look great! Enjoy the cheques for your stories, they may be the last.
I haven’t even mentioned the tragic case in Wales, which looks like it will turn out for the worst. That is not a subject for a pithy moany rant of a blog, it is just too tragic.
Is there an institution that is actually what it purports to be? Is everything in society rank and rotten? Is the only way to really get ahead to be either a conscienceless buffoon in a football shirt, a scheming politician or a greedy amoral banker?
I’m none of the above, and don’t really have the ambition, drive, ruthlessness or skullduggery to be. And I must admit, I am losing my sense of humour over all this. For us mugs that play by the rules, pay our taxes, and if we had forelocks, tugged them, it seems the spoils of war are less. I know, I know, I am doing fine. Despite the economic Armageddon and everyone else’s best attempts recently, I have never been out of work, and yes I too earn more than the national average, but that, I think, is through hard work and being half decent at what I do.
Perhaps it works the other way? Maybe when you get to be excessively successful and/or rich you begin to think you are charmed and not bound by the laws and morals of everyone else. That might well explain to some extent Saville and Terry. I acknowledge the former is innocent till proven guilty but I’ll take my chances and apologise if he is found to be innocent. I am not too concerned!
The latter is one of the vilest human beings I have encountered. A liar, a cheat, a racist and a thug. Still, he’s good old JT, an English Lion, a good geezer, and apparently is going to keep his job when certainly had I called someone in my line of business a “fbc”, I would be very quickly dismissed.
Mind you had I already been involved in a nightclub brawl (many have forgotten about that caught on CCTV), slept with my best friend (and colleague’s) wife, and assaulted a member of staff from a competitor in front of everyone (the Champions League semi final knee to the back episode, which of course he denied till he saw the replay) then I wouldn’t have been around to get sacked for racial abuse.
I know I am singling him out, and yes all teams have idiots. Barton, Suarez, Merson, Adams, Giggs and countless others have indiscretions they will not be proud of, but I am tired of the blind eye that seems to be thrown to this loathsome character.
I don’t rant often, but I do admit to it in my summary at the top of this blog. Call this a vent of the spleen. When I was growing up, if I had any ailment, from a sore toe to a raging fever to a missing limb my Mum would tell me it was because I was tired. I suspect this out of character rant may be down to the same issue. I feel pooped with busy work weeks, lots of travelling and equally busy weekends, so maybe my body is exorcising this in the form of severe grumpiness.
Still, this is my blog and if I can’t rant here where can I? It’s either this or some sort of Falling Down Michael Douglas episode on the M602 of a morning.
I may need a holiday? What do you think?
My grumpiness was not helped last week as I tried to get Emily insured for our raging beast of a 1.0 litre Peugeot 107, so that we can go out and help her learn to drive.
Quotes ranged from £3500 to £9000, and they all went up as soon as she eventually passes. Still, one silver lining was that I vented my rantage to Simon Mayo on Radio 2 for his “Wisdom of the Day” feature. I was amazed that he actually read it out.
I think I should go immediately to bed to catch up on some much-needed rest. I’m up at 4am tomorrow for another journey south (weren’t they a crap North East duo from X Factor?) so I think it is for the best.
How long till Christmas? Don’t tell me, it will only start another rant, and nobody wants that.
Till the next time…..
Just as I start to think I a recovering from post WDW blues, someone does something which brings all those thoughts and longings back.
As much as I do feel honoured that the chap or chapess who runs the Applebees twitter account found me and decided I was worthy of a follow, as I read that email it hurt.
There were two reasons for this. Firstly it was 4.43am. I was just about to set off down south to get to Head Office for a couple of days, but secondly and mainly it reminded me that the joys of an Ultimate Trio at an Applebees was so beyond my reach that the pain was tangible.
I suspect it is more likely that Applebees will open up some UK branches before we get to go back. That’s right, I am declaring right here, as is my annual tradition, that I don’t think we’ll be back next year. The new house demands attention like a naughty toddler, and more than that, it demands whatever disposable income we are likely to stumble across.
I won’t go on about it, as we all know that isn’t the first time I have been here, so we’ll leave it there and wait and see. It is Emily’s 18th next July, and she has been less than subtle in declaring where she wants to be for it, but that doesn’t magic up the multiple thousands of pounds required, regardless of the amount of guilt I would feel if we didn’t do something special for her.
In real world matters, Louise’s back is improving, thanks to some physio and lots of medication. She should be returning to her hospital placement tomorrow which is excellent news. The physio seems to think that the back problems are caused by a long-standing ankle problem which is forcing Louise to walk in a way that compensates for the pain she feels, and this in turn throws her pelvis and back out of kilter, and leads to her back “going” from time to time. So the end game is to resolve the ankle thing.
The first step (pun intended) in this process is naturally to throw away the £50 trainers she has had for a few weeks and buy some new ones which will be better suited to her needs. Smashing. Should anyone want a pair of black Sketchers that have been worn about six times do let me know. Best price guaranteed!
With Louise mobile again, I am hopeful that we will tonight complete a long-held ambition to enjoy a night with a Bat Man costume in a darkened room. This is not a Shades of Grey type reference, more a 50 pounds of Pick n Mix reference as we are heading for the cinema. Our local Cineworld is still showing the Dark Knight film, despite the fact it has been out since July, and having heard nothing but good things I intend to snack up, settle down and slob out for a couple of hours.
Next week sees me in Manchester, Marlow and London, none of which have an Applebees and this is something I am struggling to come to terms with.
However, my pain is but a low throb compared to the white-hot burning heat of a post WDW depression that @tweetwizzo is feeling right about now, having recently landed back in the UK. He’ll be starting his trip report soon so look out for it. At the rate I am getting through mine, not only will he finish his before me, he will probably have had another holiday too.
Mind you, neither of us seem to be enduring a lack of mojo on a scale to compare with Gordon (The_Finkelstein) who hasn’t been seen much since his return back in the early days of summer. I am thinking of hosting a 24 hour telethon appeal to get him the support he needs in these tough times.
Right, I must go. The X Factor repeat has come on the telly so I need to go and throw it out of the window.
Till the next time…..
As if I hadn’t let it be known enough already, Day Five is done. If somehow you are missing the social media bombardment announcing these things then you should follow me up and stuff, so I can be all up in your grill n stuff fo shure.
I have noticed, or more truthfully Louise has noticed, there are lots of spelling and grammatical errors in each day. This is a symptom of writing it in my hotel room of an evening, in a bit of a rush. Apologies, and I will try to do better as I hate that sort of sloppiness. As ever, my desire to write a good trippy is exactly balanced out by the amount of time I cannot find to concentrate on it.
Last week I was away again. I did three days in Marlow, enjoying the delights of the Prince of Wales. This is not another royal scandal involving one of them with too much flesh on display, rather the executive level accommodation afforded to one of my lofty status.
I don’t enjoy being away to be honest. At the moment though needs must, but hopefully after the next few weeks I can keep that to a sensible level. It is doing nothing for my waistline I can tell you. Thankfully the Price of Wales is low brow enough not to have the facilities or will to provide a full English breakfast. No matter how good my intentions are the night before, if I wake up and have even half a chance of such a feast, I can only spit at the croissant as I trample folk to death en route to the bangers. Again, that isn’t a Royal reference.
A yoghurt and some cereal are my start to the day, but it is at night where my waistline attracts further girth. I have no issue with sitting by myself whilst eating. After all, I am still eating. To be honest though, I’d rather just sit in the room, watch a bit of telly and relax, so I have taken to going to Sainsburys and getting some tea from there. Something noodly with chicken, some salad, olives with feta and perhaps some chorizo, followed by a family bag of pretzels. Yep, I’m a fat knacker and it must stop.
Next week I just have the one night away, and I am determined to do better. I had resolved to “do better” this weekend too, but I’d only give myself a 6 out of 10 to be honest.
Louise is still suffering quite badly with her back, and despite some brief episodes of relief (again, no Princes involved) it hasn’t really improved at all. Indeed yesterday we spent a few hours in A&E as the pain was so bad. She literally could not sit, stand or lie in any comfort, and as you might guess, that isn’t any fun at all.
All that A&E could do was offer a leaflet on back pain and one dose of Diazepam. Louise necked the tablet and battered the doctor to death with his bloody leaflet. Hopefully things will improve over the next few days as she is desperate to get back into her hospital placement.
I had been looking forward to going to the pictures this weekend to finally watch the Batman film. Yes, Bolton Cineworld are still showing it incredibly. Mind you, Carrie only finished last week. I did get to go to the cinema, but only to transport the girls there and back, as they went to watch the House at the End of the Street or whatever it is called. Emily went with her friend Chloe and Rebecca with her friend that is a boy, Tom. Their relationship is not yet officially confirmed as anything more than that, but they spend more than enough time together for us to guess that she may be playing it down slightly.
Of course, as Rebecca suspects, Louise and I were beamed down onto the planet just before she was born, and we’ve no experience of this sort of thing.
As far as I can make out the film seems to be entirely about that girl from the Hunger Games running around in a sweaty vest. Well, I have no objection to that, and Bruce Willis built a career on it.
The girls thought it average though, and not as scary as they had hoped. The fact that Emily slept suggests that this is an accurate review, as at the first sign of a scary film she can go weeks without closing her eyes.
Having ironed, cleaned, made the tea and generally been an all round great guy for most of the weekend, I now intend to enjoy my Sunday evening. I worry for my intentions though as Emily has the remote, and is insisting on X Factor, which I can hear has just started. Louise is in bed and Rebecca out with her not boyfriend. I can feel a wrestling match coming on.
If there is visible bruising tomorrow then I shall do my best to conceal it. I wouldn’t know how to explain them to work anyway.
I shall assume my position in my “Dad’s chair” and see if I can find anything worth watching, that is if I can see the bloody telly over the dog!
Till the next time….
Rain, Downtown Abbey, Strictly, X Factor, darker nights, wearing my large pants and a lack of planning. All these are signs that we are entering autumn, and our holidays are well and truly behind us.
So the world turns most years. I am quite impressed that I have managed to get three days of the trip report done, which is a lot more than I thought I might. These low expectations of output were mainly as my return from holiday saw me start a new job…again. I really do want to keep the blog away from work as much as possible, so I won’t rattle on about it too much. To summarise, I was approached shortly after starting my last new job, by an ex colleague about an opportunity where he now worked.
It took some time, but just before I left for holidays it all got sorted and I started as we returned. Suffice to say it is just “better” in pretty much every way, and I’m a happy chap and consider myself lucky to have had the offer.
So on we go, and I really hope we can avoid any further talk of work for quite some time now!
I write this post on the day that is exactly 100 days to Christmas. I only tell you this as I don’t see why I should be the only one to deal with that fact. I simply cannot cope with a Christmas in my condition. There was no pre holiday diet this year, and despite only eating salads for the entire trip (plus the odd Donut burger, and a few desserts) criminally I have added a few pounds. For me though, the first few weeks back afer a holiday are the toughest food wise.
Whilst away your body is used to taking on food whether you like it or not. Indeed the biggest challenge of most of our days in Florida is trying to convince your body that you are actually hungry even though you have already consumed the calorific limit of a small town already.
So when back in the UK, mix in a massive change to the body clock, and a reduction in calories of around 3000% and you can pretty much guarantee that hunger is a constant companion.
With my new job I have also had to be away from home for a few nights. This means that getting a healthy diet is less than easy. So no doubt since returning, I have added yet more poundage.
So as I was saying about four paragraphs ago, I can’t afford any thoughts of Christmas just yet. So if you are feeling in any way festive feel free to keep it to yourself until around the 15th of December.
In real life news this week, Louise has a bad back. It “went” on Thursday, in a similar way in the way in which it last went in 2010. I know it was then, and can tell you the exact day as we were away in WDW, for my fortieth. I remember her literally having to crawl across the room at Beach Club Villas to use the loo.
Similarly incapacitated this time around she has had to spend much of the last three days laid low, and in a lot of pain. There are signs of returning to normal but she is still struggling.
Emily went to Blackpool yesterday. It was to work on the second part of her Photography coursework. The first half was to take photos in WDW, and then once home do the second half somewhere not quite so glamorous as some sort of contrast. She did OK and enjoyed most of it, apart from the drunken brawl on the train on the way home. She wasn’t actually involved of course, but was very close to what sounded like quite a bad punch up. The police came and turfed them off the train, and Emily and her friend continued their journey pretty shaken up. On top of that Emily has had a bit of a set back, in that it appears she is unable to apply for the Disney Programme she wants to do until she is 18. That isn’t until next July, which would mean she probably couldn’t start until the summer after.
So now, she has the problem of what to do with herself during what is looking like an enforced gap year. Ideas on a postcard please.
Emily has started work at a local charity shop to get some retail experience for her Disney application whilst she looks for proper paying part-time work. Again, ideas and offers of employment are welcome. Her specialist skills are lie ins, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram and Facebook with a high level of expertise in shoulder shrugging and TV remote control use.
Rebecca’s weekend has centred around a “gathering”. She went to a boy’s house last night with a few friends for a “gathering”. We suspect she has designs on said boy as there has been quite a bit of socialising and tweeting, and the preparation for this casual “gathering” began at around 9.30am on Saturday and she left the house at about 7! It is best that I don’t ask too many questions in these situations, but I have sent the boy in question the customary horse’s head so that he clear of the consequences of any behaviour that may not be in the best interests of my daughter!! These are testing times for a Dad.
So my weekend has been a bit hectic with Louise laid up, with big shops, trippie writing, taxing the girls, tidying etc. Before writing this here blog today we all watched The Father of the Bride for about the millionth time. It is one of our all time faves and one that we can watch time and time again. Each time I do watch it, it reminds me that the events of the film rush ever nearer to us, and whilst I can guarantee that neither of the weddings I will be paying for will be as expensive as the one in the film, I do wonder how I would cope with “giving” them away.
Granted, some days I would gladly pack their bags and drive them where they wanted to go, but I have to say I’m not looking forward to that.
So after waffling on about nothing in particular I shall leave you. It is clear that I am not yet back in the swing of blogging and promise to do better next week!
Till the next time…..
Hello All.
Apologies for blogless Sunday, and this is just a very quick post to confirm that we have indeed made it back home in more or less one piece.
There is perhaps a little more of me sat typing this than typed the last blog update, but such are the perils of a Florida holiday and I am classing every extra pound as a badge of honour for our latest adventure.
The trip report has started, but only just, and Day One, can be found over at the Dibb. Day Two has not yet been started but I hope to get to it this week. Work has had me all over the place since getting back, both mentally and physically. I’m away again Tuesday evening, and this, as it did last week, should give me the time to get it done. There is little else to do in the bustling Metropolis of Marlow (no offence Marlowians).
We are all back into our respective routines, me as I said above, right in the deep end of a load of new work stuff on my return, the girls into their own important school and college years (we’ll have one doing GCSEs and one doing A levels this year!), and Louise’s nursing course now has her in her placement doing some actual nursing.
She’s doing shifts and all sorts, and working hard, as nurses do, but she is enjoying it which is the main thing.
I won’t steal any of my own thunder by talking about the holidays, but I will give you this photo, as I think it made it to Facebook via Emily anyway.
This was without doubt the tastiest thing Emily and I ate all holiday. Honestly. Right there on that plate are about half the pounds I gained! I shall leave the rest of the story to the trip report, and await the varied comments from “Yum” to “Vomit”.
Normal service next Sunday hopefully, but I shall keep bloggage light so that I can spend the time getting more days done.
I should also encourage anyone who doesn’t already to follow Wizzo from the Dibb, as he is about to embark on what I think is his sixth trip in as many months…something like that anyway. @Tweetwizzo is what you need if you twitter, and I’m sure he will be treating us to food porn and extreme gloating pretty much from Wednesday onwards, and I don’t hold it against him one bit!
Till the next time….
So the build up to this trip continues to be anything but smooth.
I just wanted to post a quick update to let you know that our travelling party is down to four now. Unfortunately, my Mum & Dad won’t be coming along as planned due to illness.
Last week they were away in France, and had to fly home early as my Mum was not well at all. To cut a very long story short, she has since been admitted to hospital with what is suspected kidney stones, but no-one is sure of the diagnosis as yet.
We feel gutted for them, as they were so looking forward to going again, and it is a cruel twist of fate to suffer illnes in the few weeks of the year when holidays are planned. It has put a bit of a dampner on the final few days of countdown, and it is hard to see the look of dissapointment and upset on their faces now that we are about to leave.
I know that they will want us to go and have a fab time, so we’ll try our best to not let this take anything away from the trip. My Dad is busily filling out insurance forms, and hopefully he will get back the vast majority of what he has paid out.
With all the “stuff” that we’ve been through in the build up to this holiday it surely is now bound to be the best holiday to be had ever in the history of holidaydom! Here’s hoping.
We’ve changed a bit of the plan in light of this, mainly the fact that we are now doing Airport parking rather than a mini bus, being only the four of us now. I got a good deal (I think) with a meet and greet service at the Terminal kerbside for £44. However, I had forgotten that we’d changed cars recently to much smaller models, and now we’ll be driving to the airport with kids and suitcases sellotaped to the roof. I know I’ll have a seat though so all is well.
So there we are. Surely that is it. There can be nothing else in our way now. I will just be so relieved to finally get going.
Watch out for the occasional update via the usual media, otherwise we’ll see you in September. Onwards!
Till the next time…..
So dear readers this looks like the last blog before we embark on our latest American adventure. This time next week, we shall be airborne over lots of water, full of barely edible food, anticipation and good spirits.
This will not be new news to you unless this is the first time you have stumbled this way. Certainly if you have the misfortune to encounter any of my social media outpourings, then surely by now you will be sick to the back teeth of smug countdown tweets and over excited nonsense.
As most of you will know, the smaller the countdown gets, the slower time goes by. The last month has been turgid, and now with just a week to go, it stretches out ahead of me like an endless runway of meh.
I don’t know if this is just us, but when we are deciding whether or not to book these holidays, we tend to tell lies to ourselves, such as, we won’t need to spend a fortune on holiday clothes, and we’ll just make do with that we have.
If I lived with three men, rather than three females then this may be doable. It would also be a weird type of family unit! So over the last few days we have been ticking off the essentials of the items required for such a trip.
Of course for me this must mean the purchase of some trainers that can be seen from space. I am complete. Other than that though I shall be rocking the same holiday clothes that I have enjoyed for the past decade or so. Why change a classic look?
We’ve done a couple of Trafford Centre trips to get the girls sorted with their staple items of denim shorts and T-shirts. In my next life I am going to be a denim short seller…seriously how much????
Rebecca is so excited that she has more or less packed with a full week to go.
Whilst I was taking that picture of Rebecca’s case in her room, I noticed some of the snaps she has on her shelves, and it brought home just how much history we have with these holidays, and what a massive part the place has played in our lives. I can only imagine what that’s like for the girls as it is all they have known really.
I took some pictures of the pictures, so apologies for the quality.
This next one is (I think) one of the earliest we have, from 1999, when Rebecca was just two.
We shall not be attempting a reconstruction of this photo this year!!
So many memories, and it is about this time in the countdown that I try to remind myself to enjoy every second. Even the boring bits like the flight. Who knows what memories we will make this time, and which of those will stick with us for the years to come.
Each year is different with the girls at different stages of course. As young adults now, I look back on memories of them in the photos above with great fondness. The strollers, the extortionate and endless Princess dresses we bought them, and their wide-eyed delight at every character encounter.
We’ve worked so hard for this trip in so many ways, and in equally as many ways we shouldn’t be going. We booked in a rush of blood and crossed fingers, and events have done their best to conspire against us at every turn.
We have dodged every one as best we can, and still we sit here, seven days away from departure still able to go, and determined to have a bloody good time. What happens when we get back….well we’ll deal with that then I suppose. I’ve been working on something that may make those long winter months and credit card bills less depressing, but more of that some other time.
I had a thought earlier this weekend, caught up in the euphoria of Mo Farrah’s incredible race and second gold medal. The country is currently experiencing some of the atmosphere and magic that us Disney idiots revel in. The shared and overwhelming feelings created by an event like this, the massive crowds, the shared focal point of everyone’s attention and goodwill, is much of what the crowds leaving Magic Kingdom after Wishes will feel. When you see photos of a line of Police doing the “Mobot” as the crowds leave is the equivalent of seeing the Cast Members waving you goodnight as you follow the crowds out towards the monorail.
Close your eyes, imagine the perfect heat of an Orlando night, the tiredness in your legs from a full day of touring, and that post Wishes lump in your throat as the perfect background music carries you on a cloud to your exit plan of choice.
Then, the endless twinkling magic of the resorts through windows as you speed past them on the monorail with *that* voice telling you what you know already about staying clear of the doors and which resort you are approaching.
These are a few of my favourite things.
I apologise for the cloying over sentimental tosh, but you will have to forgive me. I am a week away from a trip, not knowing if it may be the last for some time, and I intend to eek every last drop from it, and then some.
Before that of course I have to endure every painful moment of five endless days at work. It appears insurmountable from here, but I’m sure somehow it will pass. Won’t it?
So from a blog perspective I shall see you on the other side, as I cannot imagine updating this whilst over there. We probably will have a laptop with us, but I think the most I will muster is an odd tweet or Facebook update just to remind everyone where we are and where they aren’t. It pleases me.
Now, I have to go and be over excited, over emotional and overweight somewhere else. In this state, the Olympics closing ceremony may well have me in tears, but I suspect that will be for the wrong reasons when the Spice Girls take to the stage. Watching them? I won’t Wannabe!
Till the next time……
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