I don’t mean I am on the streets, caving in Currys shop window and liberating TVs. I do though find myself with a massive resistance to the corporate conditioning that seems to be happening. What do I mean?
Well, if the TV is to be obeyed, right around now I should have booked next year’s holiday, bought a new sofa from a shop consisting of any three letters you want to choose (DFS, CSL, JLS, WTF) and taken ownership of the latest fitness DVD from (insert minor celebrity name here). This isn’t quite George Orwell stuff, but the “laboratory mice” feeling is gaining momentum with me.
The mass distraction tactics of X Factor and Strictly Come Dancing are done for this year, so what will the masses do of a weekend once we are all back to our normal routines next week? Whatever it is, I can guarantee that Sunday nights will include at least one costume drama. Then we’ll have a three month build up to the Royal Wedding, as it is used to distract everyone from the endless round of cuts and disasters. How exciting!
Herrumph!!
So since we met last, the snow has finally gone, the garage has moved no further towards being a bedroom, as the builders are off enjoying the xmas break, and yes we have had the festivities.
Grand Opening
The girls were up at a very sensible hour on the day itself, which is a real benefit of having teenagers. Their main presents were, a new bass guitar for Rebecca, and a Blackberry (a phone, not fruit) for Emily.
After having the usual conversation with Louise pre xmas about not getting each other anything big, she of course ignored that, and after giving me a Two and a Half Men box set, went on to surprise me with another gift. I am once again the proud owner of a bass guitar myself, after a break of what must be fifteen years. I have been laying down some tasty licks, and awesome riffage these past few days I can tell you!! I am a little rusty it has to be said.
I got Louise the Les Miserables 25th anniversary concert DVD, as a holding present, as the real one (I ignored the conversation too) is still stuck in some overseas postal hub!! I cannot say what it is, as Louise doesn’t know what it is yet of course. It may be here for easter.
On the subject of that Les Mis DVD, it is superb. We watched all three hours of it on Boxing Day, and loved it all.
Christmas day itself saw my Mum & Dad and Louise’s Mum at ours, and everything went pretty well from a catering point of view, and indeed it was not possible for us to have eaten any more in one day. My Dad won the prize though, by accepting a turkey sandwich in the early evening when everyone else was struggling to even get liquids down!!
Even Henry got into the spirit of over eating by trying to will a chocolate out of the bowl and into his mouth!
Come to Poppa!
I am afraid to say that the tree came down the day after boxing day. A combination of central heating, and eternal dust clouds from the building work saw it come to an early demise. Wrestling the bugger out of the front room, and to its new attractive position under the front window was fun I must say. The pines were so dry and brittle that handling it required protective gloves and eye wear.
The girls got cash from many relatives, and so, trundled off into Manchester to squander it as quickly as possible. Clothes were procured, with the highlight being this little number.
Emily, Danni, Rebecca and Kirsty in their new outfits!
I was back to work on the 29th, but took the decision to work from home for those three days. None of my team were due to be in the office so I had no-one to manage as such, and anything I needed to cover could be done from home. Louise too has been back to the grind. Boob photography waits for no man it seems.
Just to be serious for a second, if any ladies reading are considering not going for their boob photo when they are summoned, I must encourage you to do so. A few weeks ago, my Mum had the letter, and it was really only the fact that Louise works in the breast unit that encouraged her to go along.
To cut a long story short, something was found, operated on, and irradicated within days just before xmas. My mum could very easily have ignored the letter, thinking it to be a hassle etc, and who knows what would have happened. Go, let them photo your boobs. You know it makes sense, and if you go to Bolton hospital, Louise may be the one to do so!!
We don’t have major plans for New Year’s Eve. A curry out somewhere, and with that done, the probability of falling asleep pre midnight is quite high. New Years Day sees us at Louise’s Mums for a meal in the afternoon, and the festivities will be rounded off with a visit to Mike and Amanda’s on Sunday night, where it seems we are being given Pheasant. This will be a first for us, but I have known for some time that Mike is a renowned Pheasant Plucker.
My hopes for next year (beyond the usual wishes for good health for all) consist of a quickly completed garage conversion, decent GCSE results for Emily, an end to Louise’s health issues, and a decent holiday come the summer. As an extra, if someone is looking to pay enormous money for someone to write them some lyrics, then that would be swell too. I wouldn’t mind having a go at that for a living. Anyway, as news of my major rock riffage spreads, I am bound to be invited on tour by some major star. Aren’t I?
Have good times, and I wish you all well for 2011, and as ever thanks for coming here to read this stuff.
Not that I watched it, but I think that Armageddon was on telly recently. This is a film which plays out a scenario of the world being threatened by a giant haemorrhoid, sorry I mean asteroid, whilst Steven Tyler screams in the background. There are many films about the end of the world, and being from Hollywood they tend to use scenarios that are ideal for the big screen. Deep Impact, if I remember correctly was an almost identical film released around the same time.
I suspect when the end of the world comes it won’t be battled by Bruce Willis, and accompanied by an aging rocker. In reality, I suspect it will present itself in a more subtle way, that may well sneak up on us all.
Perhaps that sneaking has already started, or maybe it is just Christmas proving to be too much for our over stretched infrastructure, fraught nerves and creaking overdrafts? Or is that just me?
Whether this is the end of the world, or just a slight over reaction from me (never!) things are looking a little worrying right now.
We are all painfully aware of the financial meltdown of recent years, and what could be a more telling sign of impending doom than Woolworths going bust? Surely a portent of darker times ahead? In response to that a new government have been elected, who have immediately used the “oh it was all a lot worse than we thought” line to rip up anything said pre-election, and begin to undertake all the usual actions that we saw last time they were in, but had promised not to this time around. I don’t want to make this a political thing, as I’m sure that whoever had the poisoned chalice this time around would be doing very nasty stuff to us.
Other signs that Bruce better get his vest on are more subtle than this. It is clear then, isn’t it that the eco-system is on the blink, as we have had several flakes of snow country wide, and this naturally has been more disabling in the UK than real disasters are around the globe. Earthquakes in LA, bush fires in Australia and floods in Asia get around seven seconds on the news, but if it ices over somewhere near BBC HQ, we have 24 hour rolling coverage of events for seven days.
Soon to be the centre of the world
Soon, the BBC and ITV will have large chunks of themselves in Manchester at Media City. This is just over the road from my desk/office, so I look forward to such coverage of the chaos and disaster in years to come at Salford Quays when the temperature dips below zero. Bound to happen right?
All the chaos from the snow has been heightened of course by the on rush of Christmas, and the madness that this brings. Without extreme weather (well, it is just snow but hey ho) Christmas will make most people behave strangely. We’ve all fallen victim to the last minute panic buys in the run up to the big day haven’t we? The shops will be shut for around 36 hours, but still, if we don’t get that jar of Hollandaise sauce, then the whole festive season will be a disaster.
Airports around the country are full of people wanting to be somewhere else, and it seems six inches of snow disables the entire travel network. Families sleeping in foil sheets in public buildings would surely be a scene from a “The Day After Tomorrow” sequel? The Day After, the Day After Tomorrow….this time it affects Christmas!! I copywrite that idea immediately, and expect to get a greenlight on that project sometime in the new year from Spielberg.
Then add in smaller catastrophes, like Skype not working. This, I admit, is not in itself a disaster. Indeed some of you may not even know what it is. However, the time of year again heightens the impact of this thing breaking down, when it seems to have been running fine for ever. Skype is basically an online tool for talking to people, over the internet, for nothing. Those with relatives around the country and indeed globe, will be relying on Skype to communicate with those over Christmas, mainly as the poor buggers can’t travel home as the entire travel infrastructure is broken.
So either the end of the world is nigh, or Christmas is just a bridge too far for our fragile, overly complicated world these days. (By the way, as long as A Bridge Too Far is on telly over the festive period then all is well with the world again, no matter what else happens!!)
I have a theory though. Perhaps all of this is a sign from God (or whoever you believe in) to give us a message, nay a warning. And what might that warning be?
I can’t say for sure, but I think he is saying something like….
“Armageddon really bored of the same dozen Christmas songs being played back to back for four weeks again, and I am going to keep breaking things until you abandon them or you cancel Christmas altogether”.
So this is something for Noddy Holder, Mariah Carey, Shakin Stevens, Wizard and all you other one time a year PRS cheque getting types to think about. Please, let’s retire these “classics”, even for a year or two. Why not hire the brightest and best songwriters we have, like you know, The Cheeky Girls or David Guetta to write some new ones.
If we don’t, then each year will only get worse and we only have George Michael to blame.
Don’t get me wrong, I like Christmas, I am only sulking mildly this year as I have no holidays left to take, and have to work through it, whereas in the past I take a full two weeks off. In a way, what is there not to like about it? It is a time of year when overeating is mandatory, and you get given stuff for free. Right up my street, I think you will agree, but really if I hear Noddy tell me “It’s Chrrrrriiisstttmas” one more time, I may have to track him down and undertake some sort of dirty protest on his Christmas lunch table.
Apologies for the inevitable return to Meldrew-esque ranting……I put this Humbug style post down to the horror of being in work right up until the day, the stress of living in a scene from Auf Wiedersehn Pet, and having no definitive plans for (or chance of) a summer holiday. I’ll get my coat…..
As mentioned last weekend, we had guests to stay, and we had a lovely time, in good company, with great food.
After lunch on Saturday we had a drive out to Whalley. A pootle round the shops, and an overly expensive coffee in Maureen Cooksons. This isn’t some old dear we visited, but a rare thing, an independent department store with a coffee shop where a coffee is a similar price to an item of clothing. All was well though as Steve paid!! The highlight had to be the hot chocolate shot. It was, as it sounds, sickly, overly sweet, and likely to remove a tooth or two, so it was right up my street.
There's a light that never goes out....
Steve and Di took us to a mutual friend’s house, (they live in Whalley, the mutual friends,not Steve and Di) via a local landmark. The saving grace for this house is that they do it each year for a hospice I think, so it is just about excusable.
A brief stroll later, we stopped for a drink of varying degrees of softness depending upon who was driving (that would be me), and a good chuckle at Mark’s (chap of the house) failing attempts to get his outside xmas lights to work! How ironic when around the corner, the other house don’t seem to know how to turn them off!
We returned to Bolton, and partook in a Chinese of enormous proportions as promised. This catering option is not totally driven by our lack of culinary skills, but more by Steve’s hankering for a decent Chinese takeaway. They live “in the sticks” and their nearest take out is a good twenty minute drive away.
The rest of the evening was spent chatting and playing games on the Wii and Xbox. Not Black Ops of course, not with mixed company so we resorted to Scene It instead. It isn’t important, but I won. Just saying!
Youmeatsix...no, it was just me at 11.15!!
Again, pre-empted by a series of moany tweets, Sunday night saw me happily picking the girls up from the Manchester Apollo, following a Youmeatsix gig. I ranted a little at certain parents being allergic to getting off their arse past seven o’clock to pick their kids up, and instead rely on others (always us) to do the honours. This is because we refuse to let a thirteen and fifteen year old get home from Manchester on public transport after 11pm, on a school night. Yes, I do sound 106, but I’m not bothered. That is just ridiculous.
They would rather they took this chance than not have a drink all night and go and pick up their daughter. Knowing all this they “offer” to drop them off at the train station on the outward journey. Gee, thanks.
On to the week, and as those who endure my tweetage will know, the weather conditions are having a detrimental effect on the garage conversion. I fully appreciate as ever, that the weather is both worse elsewhere, and affecting many more serious issues than us gaining a bedroom, however, I can only write of my own experiences!!
This week was all about removing the garage door, and replacing it with a window and wall. I guess now, we are right on the cusp of stopping calling it a garage, and starting to call it a bedroom. The construction of the front wall took three days rather than one, due to snow and frozen sand, but we are all but water tight now. Hopefully with the rest of the work being inside we can make good progress this next week.
I did learn this week, that the best directory of “workmen” is to be had by a relative being a member of a golf club. My Dad is, and whenever we have something that needs doing we usually give him a bell, as no doubt within the ranks of golfers there is at least one of every profession. This held true this week, as we needed an aerial sorting, quickly, for the new bedroom. It had to be done asap as we are wall mounting the TV, and so the cables had to be laid before they finished boarding the walls.
One call to my Dad, a referral to a Steve, and he was there the next day, doing his thing, for a very reasonable price.
With the project coming to a full head of steam now, it has been a bit of a shock to my system. The amount of money I have had to spend this week has been frankly quite distressing. It is all (more or less) budgeted for, but it appears that everything is required now. Bathroom stuff, tiles, TV, aerial for TV, the list is endless. Well, it isn’t really as it just ended, but you know what I mean. This outflow of cash goes against my natural instincts!
Christmas came a little early on Friday evening. With my brother going over to France to his house for the whole of Christmas and New Year, we had a family meal on Friday evening to exchange gifts. We had another Chinese, and I knew it was good as I was so full I was in considerable pain. The true sign of a good meal. As we headed for home the snow came. It was so bad that we couldn’t get the Mondeo up the hill to our house and had to park it up and walk the last few hundred yards. This was big snow, and it was to keep us housebound for all of Saturday!
Speaking of which, how can it have come to pass that I have made it to the ripe old age of 40 without ever seeing It’s a Wonderful Life? I know not, but that was the case until yesterday afternoon.
Snow chance of going out
With more snow outside than backstage at a Depeche Mode gig, we literally could do little else yesterday than settle down to watch one of the many Christmas films that Sky were dusting off. Having sat through the first half hour of Home Alone 2 earlier with Rebecca, I marshalled Louise and Emily onto the couch, cracked open a box of Quality Street and settled in. For those wondering, Rebecca was going out with a friend to get their fringes wet in the snow.
I'll never get my Mondeo up that hill in this weather!
I was, as you may have guessed delighted with it, and somewhat surprised at the way the comedy in it still works today. James Stewart is well, there aren’t words I can use to describe his performance. Classic.
Looking at Facebook later, it seemed half the western world were also tuned into the same film!
Now then, speaking of stuff on the TV, I have to comment upon something that bugs me more with every passing pre xmas day. I appreciate this is a propos of nothing, but I can make my own rules here.
What the hell is going on with these ridiculous perfume ads?? I have never come across such arty, pretentious, up it’s own arse drivel in my life.
I can only imagine the conversations around boardroom tables in advertising agencies across the land throughout August.
“So here’s my concept, we get some hairy bloke to dive off a cliff into water, and then as he gets out, he shakes his hair all sexy like, and flexes his love handles a bit. All the time he is being watched by some decent looking bint, and this will sell loads of toilet water”.
Even though diving into water would remove any smelly stuff from his flabby body, I can almost see a connection between the product “Cool Water” and him lobbing himself off a cliff into the sea.
However, my absolute favourite of this festive campaign is this nonsense….
From what I can make out this appears to be some sort of game of charades. This blonde piece is like some sort of modern-day Una Stubbs, acting out some sort of very long and complicated film. If you watch closely at one point she definitely does the sign for two syllables!! My guess is One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest!
Even ones that seem to have a very good premise, which in this case is Charlize getting her baps out, they have to go and spoil it all by having her talk French.
Nearly every perfume ad is done in French, and based on my assumption that less than 5% of the UK population can speak French (well, why would you!) this cannot be a sensible ploy. You don’t see other products sold this way. It simply wouldn’t work.
Vous ne pouvez pas obtenir plus vite qu’un installateur ajustement kwik. Let’s see how sales go off the back of that ad campaign shall we?
So to all thick rimmed spectacle wearing, pink shirted, pointy shoed, £100 cuff link wearing twonks who work in advertising, (and I have met many in the line of duty) perfume makes you smell nice. It does not make you look like that berk on the cliff or give you jumblies like Charlize Theron, so please don’t insult and offend us with this constant stream of arty nonsense.
This week I learnt something. Apparently it is not possible to mix concrete if the temperature has the audacity to fall below freezing!
The cynic in me immediately assumed that the builders were simply work shy fops, who had some objection to working all day in the midst of snow and temperatures that would see monkeys “sans globes”. I could have checked this out via google or some such device, but felt better wallowing in my bitter pit of cynicism to be honest.
As the next stage of our garage conversion is the laying of the floor, apparently this concrete lark was pretty fundamental to progress. Hence, we lost two days, and I can’t tell you how depressing it was to stare at the same desolate scene in the garage for all that time, especially after witnessing significant changes in week one.
On Thursday a builder returned, somewhat reluctantly, and progressed the project a little. His day was spent trying to break up frozen sand. Nice.
My infantile mind could not reconcile these practical problems encountered by the builders with my reality of dealing with these super low temperatures. I have been moaning all week about having to walk three feet to my car, defrost my bloody car door handles, and thinking this was a major inconvenience. I then proceeded to moan that the builders didn’t turn up for two days!! I am an arse at times. (Comments neither required or welcome).
With the house resembling one on Coronation Street at the moment, we had a debate about whether to postpone a long-planned visit this weekend from our friends Steve and Di. I work with Steve, and have done for over ten years. We worked together at my last place, and I persuaded him to make the move to the new job with me too. They have also been lovely enough to be the source of DVC points for some of our prior visits to Florida. In addition to that, they have even looked after my snotty cocker, which isn’t something anyone could do! They are officially documented as being the nicest couple on the planet.
In the end, we decided to go ahead, and they are aware they must take us as they find us. These weekends normally take the form of much eating, some drinking, a visit “out” somewhere if the weather and season permit, and then a Chinese takeaway of illegal proportions, and a chat about Disney, the Universe and everything in between.
The reason for the earlyish posting of this here blog is that I expect not have time this weekend to squeeze it in.
Our plan for this weekend is to stay nice and local, and just have a wander around the Last Drop Village, which is about five minutes from us. The other suggestion was a trip to the German markets in Manchester, but we’ll see. The coldness will be a major factor in our decision, and there you go, once again, my cynical ramblings about work shy builders is highlighted for the hypocritical nonsense that it is.
I have also promised Steve that I will show him Call of Duty Black Ops on the Xbox as he does not own it yet. I am duty bound to honour his request as he is a guest in our house! I’m sure there will be some hours spare whilst the ladies ready themselves for something at some point.
Bring me, bring me the horizon
On Wednesday this week the girls were at yet another gig. The seem to spend as much time at the MEN arena as they do at school! This time the headline act was Bullet for My Valentine, supported by Bring Me The Horizon. Usually I can appreciate much of their musical choice, but these are both far too “screamo” for my tolerance. I can’t say I could name you a song from either, but I do know that when they girls put them on in the car, I really have to bite my tongue to avoid the classic Dadism of “who the hell are these jokers?”.
So the attendance of a gig, as usual, saw me in Manchester, at 10.30 on a school night, waiting in a sea of eyeliner and angst, to pick the girls and their friends up. One of these times, their friends parents will do the honours!! Sorry, did I say that out loud?
Rebecca had done herself some serious damage headbanging, and looked worse for wear all the way home. She was immediately despatched to bed with two paracetamol and a life lesson. Emily, ever the sensible one, had “mini moshed” as she put it, in between taking 666 (a number worthy of the hard rocking devil worshippers she was watching) photos, most of which look the same, but of course are crucially different to those in the know!
Strangers to the Shower.
I got home around 11.30 after dropping off fringes all over Bolton.
Sunday sees them watching Youmeatsix at the same venue, and I can only hope some other parent will feel guilty enough to volunteer to taxi them around this time.
Emily’s mocks seem to be going OK. I ask every night how she has got on that day, and the standard answer is a shrug of the shoulders and “Meh”. Make of that what you will. She has had one mark back already for one of her Maths papers, and it was a good one, so I’m playing it cool and accepting “Meh” for now.
She’s also been filming her media studies project, and has roped in her friends to star in her production. It is inevitably a horror epic, and I look forward to seeing the full two-minute cinematic masterpiece shortly. Homework was never that much fun when I was at school. Dammit, I swore I’d never do “in my day”.
Rebecca's great great great uncle (I can't be sure I have the correct number of greats there)
Rebecca has been working on a History project this week, and she needed to do a project on a soldier who served in World War One. Luckily for Rebecca my Dad has been researching our family tree since he retired, and was able to hand her the entire contents of her project on a plate. Well it was several sheets of A4 but you know what I mean!
He has done a cracking job though, all the way back to the 1600s, and he has photos and documents of many of the family. It is also amazing that only two generations ago, having seven or eight kids seemed to be the norm! I shudder to think.
For starters how would I get them all in the car after these gigs!!
Looking at the photo of George here, puts my moans about concrete, trips to the MEN, and well, everything else I whinge about in perspective. He died aged 22, at Ypres in April of 1918.
I can’t and don’t want to imagine what he went through and saw in the three years that he served in the war.
So on that cheery note, I shall post this entry, and leave you to your weekends.
I will see you back here next week, on the other side of some beer and possibly a Chinese takeaway so large it may endanger my health. Steve has an appetite to match mine, but he just manages to control it better….well control it some would be more accurate!!
The highlight of the week was without doubt the return of Rebecca from Germany.
Team England in Germany
She had been a mixture of homesick, tearful, joyous and most things in between throughout the ten-day trip, and so we were very glad to welcome her home on Friday evening. She arrived with a case full of dirty clothes and presents from “her german’s” family. For some reason they were all ginger based, with several different variations on the theme of ginger cake. That is in no way a complaint, any gift ending with the word cake is welcome in our house.
She had of course “fallen in love” with a German boy whilst over there, and within hours of her return was missing him. Having longed to come home for half the trip, she was very soon wishing she was back over there!! This was not helped by an incident involving her phone. You may remember a few weeks ago that she got a new Nokia E5? Well, just before she left for Germany she reported issues with it, but we didn’t have time to get it sorted before her departure.
As 99% of her phone use is text based, which was working fine, she managed whilst away. On her return I phoned Orange and they diagnosed it as faulty, and impressively said a new one would be with us tomorrow. Saying that I called them at around 7.00pm, that was pretty good. So true to their word a new handset arrived the following morning, and we had to hand back the broken one. Retaining the battery, sim and memory card was however not enough to preserve all Rebecca’s contacts, and the text messages she had from Tom, the boy from Germany!
She was devastated! I felt awful, and she is now in the process of sourcing all her missing contacts, but can’t get her texts back. This was not a “Dad of the Year” moment I can tell you.
As is the way, she seems to have got over it now.
This week also saw the snow finally arrive in the North West. We have been a pocket of resistance against the seemingly unstoppable snow until the back end of the week. I wouldn’t claim to be snowed in, but even the threat of snow caused a two and a half hour journey to work on Monday (I travel twelve miles), so on Thursday with actual white stuff on the ground, I elected to work from home.
This wasn’t an option earlier in the week as the garage work has well and truly started, and this manifested itself, in the first day or so, in a complete lack of central heating, as the plumber moved the boiler to a new location. Had it stayed where it was, it would have been in our future shower!
Our poo will go through that!
Safe in the knowledge that the house would be warm, Thursday at home was productive, if not dust filled, as the first week of the job, it turned out, involved lots of digging, to put in drains and soil pipes to remove our future ablutions. So watching this also made me very, very happy to be an office drone. Tedious it may be, but at least it is warm. Watching the chaps trying to dig a trench through a concrete floor in sub-zero temperatures more than convinced me that I am in the right place. Yes they may enjoy the four days of summer more than I, but the pay off is simply not worth it.
Temperatures were so low during this work that they broke three digger machine things!
Our house, it will not surprise you is a mess. The assurances that the work would be contained within the garage were ambitious. Dust gets everywhere, and we temporarily have a washer and dryer in the middle of the kitchen until they can replumb them into their future homes.
Saturday morning, early, I was out in my finest bobble hat, digging out Louise’s mini from the snow. The need for food was probably the only possible reason that I would undertake such work willingly. The mini was the weapon of choice as it seems to cope far better with these conditions than the marauding beast that is the Mondeo.
Louise returned a little later with enough food to survive a nuclear winter, so we should be OK should we get any more snow.
So with a house with a look of Beruit we naturally went out on Saturday to get our Christmas tree! After years of falsies, we went for a real one this year. The main driver behind this decision was that the good old fake one lived in the garage, and now with that becoming a bedroom, it had no home and had to go. It was about the same age as the kids, so it was time.
So battling road conditions, and the urge to stay in the warm, Louise and I went to the local Garden Centre, and picked one out. The cavernous world of the Mondeo boot proved essential once again, as it easily swallowed up the 6ft tree, and laughed in my face, as if this would be any sort of test. I’ll be finding pine needles in there for about six months.
The decoration of said tree took hardly any time at all. The lights worked first time, and crucially, and unusually, did not take the customary three hours to unravel. I always put them away wound up nice and neat, but at some point in the intervening months some bugger finds them and ties them into un-doable knots!
Louise had been to John Lewis earlier in the week and spent an obscene amount on specific baubles, so these are all that adorn the tree. Most years we have everything plus the kitchen sink on the old false one, as it was huge. The minimal look is a winner on all counts!
The Louise update this week is that she did not return to work as planned. The doctor wanted to do some more tests, for the “other thing” she may need an operation for, and therefore suggested she stay off until those are done, and they know what they are going to do. The plan now is for a return on the 14th of December. She did however get some good news this week. She had word from work that she has now completed her NVQ Level 3 Health. With her health woes this has been a fine achievement, and hopefully once back at work, will mean progression, and of course some more cash!!
Health wise she is pretty much fully operational now, as evidenced by her shopping ability. In fact having her back in work for four days a week may be welcome to restrict the amount of time available to her to demonstrate this in retail establishments around the North West.
To complete the family round up, Emily is building up for her mocks, and should be revising. She assures us she is, and only has two days left at school this term, as the rest of the time is taken up with the mocks themselves, or study days. Unluckily for her, Louise will be at home to make sure these are not Facebook and MSN days!! Life is cruel sometimes.
So with the weather looking like this outside….
BRRRRRRR!
The plan for this afternoon is to stay indoors with the TV and the Xbox, and enjoy some lunch which will no doubt involve something of a ginger nature.
I will point out now that the above title may well be the one and only time I shall refer to my youngest daughter as anything other than Rebecca. I use it today for the sole purpose of creating a title for this post, as Rebecca sounds nothing like Pet, and frankly even Becks is a push! Friends and even teachers use Becky and/or Becks, however, I stand firm, and use her given name!
I write this with a daughter in Germany. Wednesday morning saw Louise and I waving Rebecca off, in a dirty, and mechanically suspect mini bus. The hour or so prior to this were the usual pre holiday panic of case cramming, essential checking, make up applying and hair straightening. I was not involved in the last two of those.
As Rebecca says, this is "her german".
Rebecca was quite nervous I think, as she is staying with a family she has never met before, who of course don’t speak English as their first language. As previously documented, Rebecca speaks not one word of German, so to her credit she did get several key phrases off of the internet before she left.
As usual of course, to the perpetual shame of the UK, the German family all speak good enough English to communicate so she should be OK. Rebecca’s fine as long as she wants some black forest gateaux as I have coached her well there.
She has updated us via text and a quick phone call that she arrived safe and sound, despite being left on the final train with one other boy, as the doors closed before she could get off. Thankfully, they had the sense to travel to the next stop, get off, and somehow manage to find their way onto the right train to get back. Not bad for a thirteen year old, in a foreign country I must say. Perhaps the teachers should have been last off the train? Just a suggestion!!
Earlier this week, I endured a trip to Harrow. With all due respect to Harrowians, I have had better days. The town itself was of course fine, but the journey to and from was frankly as horrific as I had expected. Travelling down only took the four hours, without interruption from anything more major than a tinkle around Watford Gap (which I must point out is absolutely nowhere near Watford!).
My habit of being early stood me in good stead to
Find a car park
Find the Costa in which my colleagues were waiting
Find the venue of the meeting
The meeting was fairly unremarkable, and took the form of a workshop for a fairly large retailer/convenience store, comprising us, two competitors, and the great and good of the retail organisation. With that sort of crowd it turned into a bit of a willy waving do between the three suppliers, and I happened to be sat next to one of them, who used the in the air punctuation mark sign with his hands so many times, that there was more of his contributions inside of virtual punctuation marks than out of them. I had a special name for him, which did not require those in the air punctuation signs, from about ten minutes in, when my tosser radar went off. It is remarkably accurate.
Finishing the meeting around 4.30pm meant that after a quick post meeting debrief with colleagues, I was back in the Mondeo at around 5pm, and trusting the sat nav to get me out of the gridlocked town centre and somewhere near a motorway as soon as possible. Once on the M1, things were nice and easy until Newport Pagnall Services, where around two minutes before I arrived, a few drivers had decided to abandon all common sense and driving ability, and come together in a carriageway closing extravaganza.
An hour I sat there, just far enough past the services slip road that I couldn’t pull off, but close enough to be able to smell the stale Ginsters and over priced chicken wraps, as my stomach growled its complaints.
The growling was quelled a little further up the motorway with an overpriced sandwich, over sized bag of crisps, and under whelming bar of Milka chocolate that I was blatantly upsold to at checkout. The remnants of said meal are still in my foot well, and may taste better now than they did at the time of consumption. That lot will be going on the expenses I can assure you!
So with all that I eventually arrived home at around 9.40pm, feeling brain and bottom dead. I’m not sure which affected me more!
Louise had her “back to work” meeting, and is indeed due to go to back to work next week. However, as it now turns out she may need another “procedure” to fix other issues (not for discussion on here by a male!!) the debate now is whether they can fit her in pre xmas or if she has to go back to work and then get it sorted around February time. It also turns out that the doctor she saw this week was amazed the other doctor/surgeon didn’t sort it all out in one go, but of course this would have been all too simple.
In what seems a strange move, when my frame expandeth in all the wrong directions, I have cancelled my gym membership. With the new job, rubbish traffic, cold weather and general apathy, I am just not getting any use of the silly sums of money being given over to the gym. I shall welcome the cash saving, but fear for the extra funds required to equip me with a wardrobe of clothes large enough to accommodate my expanding girth. I MUST cut down on the stuff going in.
In what is turning out to be a busy week in retrospect, on Monday (and why am I outlining events of the week in reverse order??) my brother celebrated his birthday, so I popped round with a card and pressie to be entertained by George, my four year old nephew, who ran through his repertoire of every song from the Johnny Depp Willy Wonka film. Truly impressive stuff, especially whilst wearing his Woody from Toy Story pyjamas….George that is, not my brother, as at 46 that would be silly.
It takes more power than a small town
I know many of you will have been awake night after night, scouring the internet, consulting with experts and haranguing HTC themselves to solve my bluetooth issues with my phone. Fear not, I have found a solution!
That solution was to get a different (note that word does not say new) phone from the IT boys at work. Found somewhere in the darkest corner of the dustiest cupboard, I have been presented with a HTC HD2. If you seen a film on iMax recently, the screen is a similar size. It is a Windows phone (for those who know or care), but alas not one of the new ones currently advertised on the telly, it is a 6.5 thing, and works OK, crucially in terms of bluetooth, but the Marketplace, where you go to get apps for these Windows phones is about as full as Gillian McKeith’s bookings diary for next year.
The choice of apps is pitiful, and I mourn the loss of critical apps such as Angry Birds, which I used purely as research for my job in the mobile industry.
The screen is so large that if anyone phones me in the car whilst it is dark, it lights up the car, three surrounding streets, and causes several low flying aircraft to land on the M60, confusing the lights for the runway at Manchester airport. Hopefully, the bugger will break soon and I can get a real one.
The weekend arrived like a long-lost relative, but one that you actually like, perhaps one that is at death’s door with a favourable will. We then proceeded to insult it, by taking on a challenge greater than anything thrown at those jungle folk, and I almost fainted at the prospect.
Swedish for Hell!
With Christmas shopping in full swing, we “had to” go shopping for some stuff for the house. Fine, thought I, we’ll nip into Bolton, do the deed, and be back in a few hours. This was until Louise announced that we HAD TO go to Warrington! I repeated the word WARRINGTON in a similar style to the well known Peter Kay Garlic Bread catchphrase. Why Warrington? No offense to folk living there.
It turned out that the holy trinity of retail worship, Ikea, M&S and Next all had large shops there, and would have (and I quote) “Lots more choice than Bolton”. Remember that.
We arrived at Gemini Retail Park, and first popped into Porcelanosa, which is a bathroom shop. With an ensuite to fit out in the coming weeks, we popped in to see what our options are. In that shop, it turned out that our options were to get out before we were ejected on the grounds of my pitiful earnings. They had some lovely stuff, and we can only hope B&Q have similar versions somewhat closer to our budget.
With that behind us we did M&S and Next, neither having anything we were looking for (a rug, and some lamp shades) so we entered the devil’s lair, Ikea. I always feel like one of those lab rats in Ikea, forced to navigate the maze and find the exit. The way in which you are forced through the store in that one way system brings out my deeply hidden rebellious side, and I always end up saying at least once, “How the hell do you get out!”
So, for all that driving and walking, we returned to our car with a pack of spotlights (one had gone in the kitchen), and on the wrong end of one of the worst cappucinnos in the history of mankind. Let it be recorded, here, that I was indeed right and Louise was wrong. We headed back to Bolton, and to cut what is becoming a long story short, we ended up buying a rug in a shop about seven minutes from our house!! Sigh!
Last night, with Rebecca in the Fatherland, and Emily sleeping out at a friends, we had the unusual occurrence of being home alone. With this in mind we decided to go out for a meal at our local Italian restaurant. Don’t let the local tag fool you into thinking we’re regulars. I think last night was our second ever visit, and having been overwhelmed by the total averageness of the food, that may well be our last.
Full up, we headed home to make the most of our time alone, and of course, this manifested itself in Louise falling asleep on the couch by 9pm, and me flicking through endless channels trying to find a TV show that didn’t include people voting for something!
Tomorrow sees work actually start on this garage thing. It seems I have been on about it for weeks, so it will be good to actually have stuff happen. Snow permitting, the chaps are quite confident that they will be done before Christmas, leaving us to decorate etc. We should be in by early to mid January, depending on our ability to paint.
For me, next week nothing earth shattering is on the cards, and the best I can hope for is a downfall of snow so severe that I can work from home for a few days. Rebecca is home next Friday, and to be honest it can’t come soon enough.
The last three posts have been a mini trip report of my time at DLRP, but fear not, these tales of exotic travels are at an end and we can get back to the really important stuff like how much I don’t want to go to work, my life of woe as the world turns against me, and my life as taxi driver and bank for the girls. What more could you want?
Whilst we have all been away in France not a great deal has happened that I need update you on. Garage wise not much has progressed as we still await a resolution to our gas issues. Not an unfamiliar state for me. At least now we have a date, and that date is the 29th of November. With that in mind work actually starts on the 1st of December.
We're going to sleep in there???
My efforts to ready the garage for the arrival of work men have long been documented via Twitter and this blog, and we are now seeing light at the end of tunnel, not to mention some floor space. Previously, with the garage chock full of essential crap, every inch of floor space has been occupied.
After one fully loaded Mondeo, and a trip to the tip, yesterday saw me “break the back” of ridding us of about nine years worth of hording. It didn’t all go. Some stuff we want to keep has been redistributed to other areas of the house, where it can gather dust for another nine years. But the stuff retained is worth it, as it was memory stuff. Photos, school books, paintings by the kids, from a time when we could decide what they wore, and how their hair was.
Browsing through some of that stuff did delay the task yesterday. There was a fair amount of head shaking, and wondering where the time went.
For those who plan to still be reading this nonsense in a few weeks time, the picture above, and the one below shall serve as the befores, compared to what will be several lovely looking afters at which we can all bill and coo.
Ignore the bins, Louise will hate them being on this photo!
Speaking of wondering where the time went, earlier this week on Thursday, Louise and I spent the evening at school, attending an open evening for the sixth form college, as somehow she is now in her final year at school!!! Seriously, how did this happen? It was only last month that I was sat on a miniature chair in the school hall of the local Infant school, fretting at my eldest striking out on the scary road of attending school.
The night was very helpful, and it only took about half an hour for Emily to choose the subjects she wants to do at A level. It was at this point that I officially became old. I used the phrase “in my day”, whilst trying to explain to Emily that when I chose my A levels, I had a choice of boring traditional subjects, such as English, History, and I pushed the envelope by also taking Economics.
Our quick tour of the sixth form’s TV studio, editing suite and gallery convinced Emily to take Media Studies and Film Studies. A further chat with another member of staff, and she added Photography to the list, having dismissed Product Design!! To be able to study subjects that truly interest you must be a joy, and I “pecked Emily’s head” for the journey home, explaining how important it is to find a job/vocation that enables you to wake up every morning and not consider chopping your right arm off as an excuse for not getting in to the office.
She didn’t get it, as of course she is fifteen, immortal, and a million years away from all this adult nonsense. All she has to do now to get into sixth form is deliver her predicted grades. She seems quite relaxed about the whole thing, and I wish I could be too, but I seem to be living in a perpetual panic attack at the endless milestones hurtling towards us at a million miles an hour –
GCSEs
Getting into College
Will they go to Uni? If so how will we afford it?
Learning to drive – fills me with fear and dread.
Relationships, and heavens forbid weddings!
I keep telling myself that there is no destination here, and the trick is to enjoy the journey, as the discovery of those photos in the garage demonstrated, if you keep waiting to arrive, you miss all the scenery along the way. Nice words, but putting them into play is not my strength.
Rebecca is getting ready for her school trip next week. Again, “in my day” would apply here, as she is off to Nuremberg on an exchange trip, rather than the local museum to see some bloke in a low quality costume talk about the life of a blacksmith. She has been exchanging emails with her pen pal (although no pen has been involved) for a few weeks, so I hope they can stand each other in the flesh for ten days of the trip.
Getting ready for the trip translates to having clothes bought for her at the Trafford Centre yesterday. I of course had other tasks at hand so Louise did the honours. I am sure I got the better deal.
One trifle, two week's calories
So after a hectic Saturday, today has been a little more relaxed. Some ironing aside for Louise, we’ve been what is called pottering, and Rebecca is making a trifle for tea. Having seen the ingredients in her own special recipe, I’m either going to lose some teeth, or about five years of my life expectancy after eating it.
I’ve just booked our tickets for the Harry Potter film tonight, and my main concern is when to eat the trifle. The last thing I want to do is take the edge off my sweet tooth before the film. It looks like a long one, and may involve a double-header of Pick n Mix and Popcorn. I’d hate to run short of eats at a crucial time in the plot, and become distracted.
No doubt I’ll spend the first half hour of the film marvelling at how grown up the three principal actors look. I don’t have any photos of them in the garage, but the same time machine has been at play it seems. How this can happen when I am not aging at all is, as Toyah once said, a mystery. Not that I am old enough to know who Toyah is of course.
Looking ahead to next week, Louise meets with Occupational Health to assist her in her return to work, and I have a meeting in Harrow on Tuesday. My how I am looking forward to those eight hours in the car, probably about as much as Louise is looking forward to going back to work. Her knowledge of day time TV is very impressive, and her obsession with Coach Trip is quite frankly a bit worrying.
By the way, on the theme of time flying by, as it turns out this post has all been about, I am wishing this blog a slightly overdue Happy 1st Birthday. It was the 5th of November last year that this thing sprang into life, with just me Louise and two others reading it.
I am astounded that I have kept up the postings and that now hundreds of folk each day come here to see what nonsense I am rambling on about. I know, I find that hard to believe too. Who would have thought it?
Close your eyes and make a wish, and it can't be that there isn't a 2nd birthday!
So I will count Rebecca’s trifle as a birthday treat for my bloggage, and therefore I’ll be able to justify the few thousand calories with my name on them at the local Cineworld. I’ll be coming down off of my sugar rush just in time for work tomorrow, and who knows, removing an arm may be more appealing than the M60.
Despite a very tiring day on Saturday, we embraced the theme park commando ethos, and Adam made a point of setting his iPhone alarm for 8.00am. However, with the whole clocks going back thing, this all went wrong, as Adam manually adjusted his phone before going to sleep, only to find the iPhone then adjusted itself during the night.
All this confusion meant that when his alarm went off it was actually 9am, and not 8am. As welcome as the extra hour of sleep was, this now meant that all our plans of getting to the Studios early lay in tatters amongst our twisted duvets and dirty clothes.
However, we did not do anything stupid, like miss breakfast. After quickly showering, dressing and packing, we made our way down to the restaurant to find a fairly long queue to get in. This was a worrying sign for the day ahead. We were soon shown to a table, and unleashed on the crepery etc once again.
After checking out, we joined the cast of Ghandi outside the hotel, who were all waiting for the next bus to the parks. As it arrived, Adam trampled several small children and got on, but alas, I was trapped behind people who were quite frankly bigger than me, so I could not get past them. No matter, the next bus was only five minutes away, and I met Adam at the train station, after he had checked that France actually had trains running today. Luckily, today was one of those special non strike days in France.
Once again, the scrum to enter the park was large and unorganised, and we had to do it twice, once to get into the Disneyland park, and check our luggage in Guest Services so we didn’t have to cart it round all day, and then again to get into the Studios next door, as the latter has no facility to hold your luggage. When checking in my bag I put my receipt in my back Jeans pocket, along with my mobile phone (which now has a full charge!). That might be important later!
Don't get RC with me!
Adam was keen to try to ride the RC Racer ride first, as it was new. Having not arrived at the park at first opening our fears for the queue situation were large and valid, as the posted time was 75 minutes. As it was only likely to get worse, we decided to give it a whirl, and were then delighted to spot a single rider line. We clambered through and over a couple of barriers to get to it, and waited around 15 minutes for me to get on first, shortly followed by Adam a few minutes after.
I took a video of Adam’s go, which is both the wrong way around, and the reason I then had minimal battery for the rest of the day again!
The ride itself was another one of those that looked less intense than it turned out to be. I wouldn’t say I would wait 75 minutes for the two minute experience, but it was good fun, and worth the 15 minutes we waited.
Adam was not keen to ride Tower of Terror, and wanted to take some photos of the new Toy Story area, so I toddled off, VIP Fastpass in hand, to ride it solo. I couldn’t spot the Fastpass entrance initially, as it had a queue all of its own. I was shocked to realise that this queue was (mainly) French folk, waiting to speak to the CM, and see if they could get in now with a 2.30pm entry time!! I floated gracefully to the front, with my timeless, uber Fastpass, and endured the hatred as I was allowed into the hallowed halls. Once inside, I used local knowledge (from Orlando!) to stand at the right place in the library, allowing me to leave first and get to the loading area.
The ride itself is a good one. There is no forward moving section as there is in Orlando, but the droppy stuff is just as good.
After meeting up with Adam in the gift shop, we made our way over to the Rock n Rollercoaster. Another 75 minute wait is thankfully avoided with the magic pass, and again, a ride similar to Orlando, yet different. It was very good indeed, and brought out similar shrieks and screams all the way round.
Hello Mr Bonks!
Next, was one of my favourite attractions of the weekend, Cinemagique. This to me is a great example of what Disney does best. I don’t want to spoil anything for anyone yet to experience it, but it is a live action and film show, brilliantly executed, and thoroughly entertaining. As an added bonus for me it stars Martin Short, who I love in O Canada, and no matter how many times I see them, makes me howl with laughter, as Franque in the Father of the Bride films.
I did some extensive gift shopping in the area where last night Cast Members were “attacking” guests in a ghoulish manner. Today was business as usual really, and in a typical Dad type shopping session, we are were quickly in and out of the shop area, equipped with two suitable presents for the girls. Job done!
Having largely done the park now, in addition to what we covered last night, we headed for the exit, and across to the other park. You may have noticed a complete absence of food since breakfast, so we remedied this at this stage with a welcome Hot Dog at Caseys.
Suitably refueled, it was time to do battle on Buzz Lightyear. Being honest, my expectations of victory were low, bearing in mind Adam was a veteran of 35 previous visits. We got through the first battle, which was the usual congregation of confused French folk around the Fastpass entrance, trying to negotiate with the CM, that it really was time for them to go in.
With a wave of our “golden ticket” we were in, but still had a 10 minute queue or so before loading. As expected Adam wins easily, however he was very gutted that we both achieved the same level (Level 4) even though our scores were miles apart. I counted that as a creditable draw, and quickly moved on.
Star Tours was next, and this was almost identical to the one I am used to, apart from, of course, the fact that the pilot does the whole thing in French. No matter. Having ridden it countless times I knew the script anyway.
Dragon's Den
Next, we wandered to the castle. It was very pleasing to see that they have actually used it for something more useful than just a restaurant, and a place for Tinkerbell to jump off. There are shops of course, in which Adam bought a Christmas bauble, but they also have an area you can wander around, and do some sort of walking tour, plus in the basement, an impressive dragon in its lair.
After watching a few minutes of the show currently in progress in front of the castle, it was time to make our way out, and head for the train station. Upon collecting our bags, I discovered that my receipt must have fallen from my pocket upon me taking out my phone to see how little battery I had left somewhere in the park. Luckily, with some ID and a description of my bag, it didn’t pose a problem.
At the train station, Adam discovered that his original train was delayed by an hour, which would have meant he missed his flight, so after a quick review of the time-table he realised he had to take the train leaving, sort of nowish.
So a rushed thank you (from me) and good-bye, and he was off to his train. This left me with nearly two hours to kill until my train, so I set off for a wander around Disney Village. Having my bag with me, I was wanded at the entrance. Beggars can’t be choosers!! A touch more shopping happened, in which I picked up a present for Louise, and then had a general mooch.
Disaster was narrowly averted, when in a crowded shop, I turned around only to hear the bag on my back bash into a load of Disney mugs hung up in the aisle. I closed my eyes, and prayed that no further sounds followed, which would signal the smashing of the mugs, and either a quick getaway or a painful use of the credit card. Luckily, nothing fell to earth, and I quickly moved on.
Having exhausted my interest in retail, I went back across to the train station, bought a drink and sat outside people watching for quite a while. I then wandered around the station, and frustratingly discovered a source of power for my phone in the waiting room, about ten minutes before I was due to board!! A quick injection of juice, a tweet bemoaning the shocking battery performance of my phone, and it was time to go to the platform.
I won’t bore you with the details of the train journeys home, as everything was on time, and pretty uneventful. I will comment on the delightful food I endured on the Eurostar leg, which was basically a microwaved pitta bread with a slice of dairylea and wafer thin ham. It only cost me around £7, with a soft drink!
The walk from St Pancras to Euston was brisk, as the time between trains was short, but I made it quite easily, and took my seat in First Class (this is very cheap at 8.30pm on a Sunday night!!), and settled in for the last leg.
Louise picked me up just after 11pm, and I was more than happy to find my own bed about half an hour later.
I have to say that I really enjoyed the weekend, and would once again like to thank Adam, Juz and Craig (the DisneyBrit Podcast folk) for their generous prize, and of course to Adam for looking after me all weekend.
Having never really fancied or planned a trip to Disneyland Paris, I was pleasantly surprised by the experience. Once inside the parks, they are of the same quality of the Orlando parks, and indeed some parts are better! For me, my obsession is not just with the Disney parks, but now I realise it is with the whole Florida experience. The whole place feels like a theme park!! In Paris, I felt that once outside the gates, the “magic” did not pervade. I’m not saying anyone was rude, or we had bad service by any means. It is an intangible thing, that you just feel.
The one thing that did strike me was that unless you are careful, a weekend at DLRP, with the family could get very expensive very quickly. With flights (or trains), hotel, park tickets, food etc you could easily be into a couple of grand. I’m sure you can do it for less of course, with knowledge and experience, just like Florida, but I’m not sure I would want to invest that sort of cash into such a short break.
If money was not an issue I would gladly return, with the family, and have a really good time I’m sure.
Thanks for reading these unusual blog posts, and with these travel journals providing a break from sheds, garages, work and general Meldrew style moaning, normal service shall be resumed next time around.
Adam’s alarm woke us around 7am, so we had a plentiful five or six hours sleep, which was splendid.
Brown sticky stuff.....it's crepe!
We showered (separately), and made our way to the restaurant for breakfast. Things were pretty quiet at this time of day, and we had “kids in a sweetie shop” expressions as we cast our eyes over the pretty impressive array of wares on offer. A little cereal got us warmed up nicely, as we then progressed to the cooked items, which included, quite weirdly we thought, chicken sausages, and finally we have a really big crepe. That’s French for pancakes.
First on the agenda this morning was an interview with the manager of the hotel we were staying in (and the one next door) for the podcast. We loitered in reception until she turned up, and Adam had his microphone out and everything. She’s all polite of course, but it turned out she did not want to do an interview….at all. Not to worry, we accepted her offer of a tour around both hotels anyway.
Halfway through this I had a horrible sinking feeling that I had left my phone in the restaurant after breakfast and I was ever so slightly distracted for the latter part of the tour, being keen to get back there and find it.
Once we were done we quickly dashed back, but with no joy. I then realised that I was indeed an idiot, as I must have taken it back the room after breakfast, as I had taken a photo of the view from our window.
Still, I was still ever so relieved to see the little beast, charging next to my bed. This is a situation my darling phone would find itself in for much of the next few days.
Our room with a view
Senior moment over, we got ourselves ready for the day ahead, and headed for the parks. The bus service to the park was (as it was all weekend) pretty good, and we were soon on our way. Upon arrival at the main entrance, the weather was the worst we would see all weekend, with a light drizzle. However, the weather was nowhere near as grim as the queue to get in. A huge crowd was congregated, slowly inching its way to the bag check. It turned out that we were through it in a few minutes so it was not as bad as it looked.
A crowded entrance
At this point we needed to convert Adam’s magic letter to actual park tickets, so we joined the horrific looking queue at the Guest Services windows. There were only three of them, which would have been OK if they were just used for queries etc, but they were also being used for normal sales, despite there being about three hundred other sales windows ten yards away.
I would say we waited here for about an hour, with the star of the show being an Italian chap who occupied one of the windows for at least forty minutes all by himself. I obviously could not understand what he was discussing as I understand neither French or Italian, but I did feel quite a bit like punching him in the back of the head.
Finally after sorting our tickets, Adam suggested we go into Mickey’s Salon. Having no real idea what this is I of course agree. It turned out to be a special place for shareholders. It is a beautifully decorated room, with free hot and cold drinks, and the odd croissant, so it would have been rude not to partake. Anyway, with all this waiting around, it was hours since we had last eaten anyway.
Salon....
and on....
and on and on.
For me, it was at this point that things started to feel a lot like Disney, probably for the first time. Ironically, this experience is not available in Orlando for shareholders, for long complex reasons that I will not trouble you with here. So, like a 70’s disco, we were full of hot chocolate, and on our way to do some fun.
Ah not quite yet. One more stop at City Hall so Adam could pick up our essential VIP fastpasses. Looking at the hordes of folk around me as I waited, it was worth this wait, to avoid much more later on.
A pink castle
Now, whether this was Paris or Orlando, nobody was going to stop me taking the traditional first view of the castle photo. OK, so now it was definitely time for some fun type stuff, and we decided to ride Big Thunder Mountain first. Adam flashed the fastpass and we avoided the hour of queuing lesser mortals had to face. The ride itself was, like a lot of this place, strangely familiar yet different. The first thing I did realise was that if you come to Paris in the seriously cold months, then a couple of rides like this would see you picking ice out of your eyelashes. The wind chill factor took the temperature down a lot, so a balaclava would be essential kit in February!
We then wandered across to the Indiana Jones ride, and again from the special fastpass line, we boarded very quickly. I was mildly surprised to see that this ride went upside down, but coped manfully, and my warnings to Adam about my world-renowned coaster Tourette’s, were largely redundant.
There were some rides that didn’t have fastpass. After lodging my formal and official complaint about this we queued for Pirates for about thirty minutes. This seemed to pass fairly quickly, as it was constantly moving and we were chatting away about….well, Disney stuff. As the French might say, quelle surprise.
I remembered thinking that this version of the ride was probably actually a little better to the Orlando version. It felt longer (not that this is a guarantee of satisfaction of course!), and somehow more logical in the story line, although much of the ride is pretty much identical to its US cousin in many respects.
We then found ourselves in Fantasyland, and knowing that most rides here were aimed below our demographic, I still decided to queue for half an hour for the Pinocchio ride. Well, there is no point coming all this way and missing stuff out!
Two grown men waited 30 minutes to ride this!
Likewise Peter Pan saw two odd-looking (not old-looking in any way) blokes waiting amongst hundreds of kids, but hey I enjoyed it, and again felt this version slightly superior to the Orlando one. We walked across to Frontierland now. On this note, it was very odd for me not to have a clue where I was going, and not to have any sense of my position in the park. We long since stopped needing park maps in Orlando, so it was a little strange to be following Adam around all day. I think he knew where we were, based on his 35 previous trips!!
It was lunchtime now, actually around 2.30pm, and the eatery of choice was the Cowboy Cookout. We joined the line, and waited to order, and witnessed, in the adjacent queue the greatest contribution to Anglo-French relations since Sasha Distel. An English chap approached the French cast member on the till and started to order. However, he was of course using his best slow and loud English so that Johnny Foreigner could pick things up. However, being a part of the modern Europe he must have felt compelled to make some sort of effort to speak the lingo, and so we heard….
“Bonjour, could I have one diet coke and…..erm….deux….erm…..normal cokes”.
Genius. Sir I salute you.
The cast member, who no doubt speaks at least three languages, just carried on as if he heard this stuff all day everyday, and he probably does!
Our double cheeseburgers were huge, and tasty….and huge.
On our way over to Phantom Manor we passed Jack and Sally, and I don’t mean the characters from Coronation Street. The make up for Sally was excellent, and if I put some weight on, Jack’s suit might fit me nicely!
Jack isn't a character I am built to play....
Again, Phantom Manor was a no fastpass ride, so we settled in for a long wait. I think it was posted as a 75 minute wait, but it either wasn’t, or my memory has fooled me into thinking otherwise. Now, doom buggies aside, this ride is pretty different, and the house itself, to me, reminded me of the Bates Motel. You start with a stretching room type thing, but beyond that there are few similarities between the US and French versions. Both are very good, and both often stop mid ride a lot!
At this point we headed over to Space Mountain, which from the outside looks a very similar animal to the one I am used to. Adam warned me however that not much else was common between the two. After a restroom stop in Videopolis, which seems to be a vast auditorium built for a now dead attraction, currently being used to show old cartoons, and somewhere to eat your lunch, we took the fastpass back entrance, and still queued a fair bit. A sign of how busy the parks were today.
A mountain of space
Once at the point of boarding, it quickly became very clear that this is a VERY different ride. The fact that we got into a Rock and Rollercoaster style carriage with full on pull down restraints gave me a big clue that I had better take my glasses off for this one!
It was a wise move. It started like the Hulk, and I spent the next few minutes teaching the French some English swear words! A great ride though.
At this point, it was coming to the time that Adam had arranged to meet up with some of the cast from the Buffalo Bill show, for interviews for the Podcast, so we made our way out of the park.
Back at the Village, we waited a while outside the show, having a welcome sit down, and eventually Buffalo Bill (Trent) and Annie Oakley (Lesley) came out to see us. After brief intros and chatting, Adam whipped his microphone out, and launched into his interview, and I just loitered a bit trying not to get in the way.
They were both very lovely, and treated us both to a back stage tour of the arena. We shook hands with most of the cast, walked behind too many horses for my liking, and had a look at the buffalo too. They are pretty big!
Complete with our cowboy hats and tickets for the show we made our way front of house to mingle with the muggles now entering, and we watched the pre show in the lobby before going up to our seats in the arena.
At this point, we say goodbye to my phone (and therefore camera) for most of the rest of the weekend.
The food and drink were brought out almost immediately, and we take on board some welcome beer, and some pretty nice Chilli. I also had some (if not all) of the corn bread on offer! The rest of the savoury food wasn’t the greatest, but I guess this is to be expected at an event of this scale. The crumble to finish was nice though and we both made short work of that.
The show itself is based on the central sand arena, with lots of horse trickery, a section of songs including a few Disney characters, and it ends with a set of rodeo games that pit four different sections of the audience against each other, as we each cheered on our respective players. Good fun!
We left the show and headed for the bus. We were quickly back at the hotel, and in the room preparing for the Terrorific Night 2 at the Studios. This involved the addition of a few more layers of clothes, for me, a thicker warmer hoodie, an attractive hat, and gloves. Being two males this took us a matter of minutes, and we were back on the bus at 8.50.
Once at the studio gates we had the same organised chaos to get in. Having no bags, surely we could have simply walked through the no bag entrance? Alas, there wasn’t one, so we jostled with everyone else for about ten minutes. As we did get in, I was asked by a burly, surly security guard to open my coat, as with my 23 layers of clothes it looked like I was smuggling in a small child. I chuckled, and told him that I was simply fat, not a terrorist. My humour did not translate and I narrowly avoided Le Glove Rubber.
All around the park, the atmosphere was superb. Obviously at this point I had not seen the park in normal circumstances, so I could not judge how much work had gone into transforming it. Well, after seeing it the next day, my verdict was, quite a lot! Cast Members wandered the park, mingling with/attacking the guests, in some fantastic costumes. As the posters said, this was definitely an event for those over twelve years old. We saw one Dad rushing for the exit, carrying his young daughter who was quite distraught. Adam did a video of some of the night’s events.
Ride wise, we headed for Crush’s Coaster first. A ride unique to Paris, but also with a huge queue. This took around forty minutes, but the ride itself was very good indeed. Again, Adam told me it was very different to normal operations and I had to take his word for it. Anyway, it was a belter! Many of the attendees tonight had dressed up in Halloween costumes, and indeed I had come as a grumpy, overweight, balding UK Dad. Scary enough I think.
Next we decided upon the backstage tram tour, which for tonight had been rebranded as the Terror Tram (or something like that). As queues went, this was the Daddy of them all. It took an age, and towards the end we were both tired, cold and in danger of losing the magic a little. Finally we got onto our tram and set off. It all began quite normally, but soon enough the usual pre-recorded patter on the video screens “broke down”, and we had just white noise as we entered Catastrophe Canyon. This was pretty much unchanged, but upon leaving that we came upon a scene from (Adam told me) Dinotopia. If you have watched the video by now you will know that a scene was played out here with a large devil type bloke and his minions.
As they stole the young girl from the carriage it did take a few moments to realise the boyfriend was in on it. His subsequent “performance” as he himself then turned into a zombie was truly impressive, and he absolutely frightened to death the young girls sat behind Adam and I.
Next, at a London scene, more zombie types appear, only to be chased off by chaps in welder masks at the last moment, who then in turn, also reveal themselves to be “not of this world”.
All in all the whole experience was pretty amazing, pretty hard to describe here, but suffice to say, it was easily impressive enough to put all thoughts of grumpiness about the queue out of our minds. Typical Disney!
Our next ride was Armageddon, which in effect was “closed down”. Instead we were invited to do a walking tour, which quickly turned into an attack from more deformed types, this time in the shape of aliens. Again, anyone showing the slightest sign of fear was targetted for “ghouling” and there was a lot of screaming and shrieking along the way. Again, really good fun.
To finish off the night we ended up in the odd position of doing a couple fo rides in the Toy Story section, on a night of horrors and Halloween. I think this is called a juxtaposition, which I always thought were an 80’s pop band!
First we rode the Slinky dog ride, which is a pretty simple merry-go-round type thing for young kids, but we jumped on nonetheless as it had no queue at all. We had no shame!
Image pinched from Google due to lack of phone battery
We then did the new parachute drop ride, which was surprisingly more intense than it looked, and a definite tummy tickler.
By now it was going on for 1am, and we were both, not to put too fine a point on it, cream crackered. What we really needed then was to have to sprint to jump on the final bus of the night to avoid a forty minute walk back to the hotel. So after a full-blooded Dad run, a red face, and asthma attack, the bus then sat there for ten minutes with us sat on it, heavy breathing.
We got off the bus and into bed within moments, and it took me seconds to fall asleep!
So my trip to DLRP is done, and so I thought it only right and proper to tell you all about it. This trip really was sponsored by the DisneyBrit Podcast. Go on click the link!
I’m going to break this report up into three sections, each representing a day of the trip, so this one is primarily about trains!
My day started at around 8am, and after some breakfast and a shower (not at the same time), I had time to play a little bit of Xbox. I hope you realise this is the sort of crucial detail I shall be including.
Louise dropped me off at Manchester Piccadilly train station, which was handy, as this was where I was due to catch my train to Euston. I picked up my tickets from one of those clever automated machines, without struggling in any way to figure out how it works, as I am dead technical and clever.
Good Evans!
With twenty minutes to kill I wandered into WH Smiths to find some stuff to occupy me over the next endless hours on a train. I quite fancied the new Chris Evans book, and via his twitter, had found out that it was on special offer. It was that special that WH SMith had none left.
I therefore switched my attention to the fiction section, and chose a James Patterson novel. I’ve read quite a few of his, and they are decent page turning stuff, without making you think too much. This is a pre-requisite for holiday/travel reading.
So with that, a bottle of water, a newspaper, some paracetamol (just in case) and a pad and pen (for trip report notes) it was an astonishing £16.
Upon boarding the train, some bloke was sat in my reserved seat, but with lots of available ones around I just took another one. The fact that he was slumped across the table, and looked like he needed a good wash were other contributory factors. However, shortly afterwards I was asked if I would mind moving to let Keira (the grand-daughter of the woman asking me to move) to sit next to her. So I moved to the seat opposite, and settled in for the peaceful journey to Euston.
Alas no. Keira’s grandma is one of those so full of pride in her offspring’s offspring that she “performs” all the way to Euston. You know the sort of thing. Everything the child says is repeated, but louder, and with a chuckle in the voice, and a look around to see who is watching.
So the whole carriage “enjoyed” Keira and her grandma looking through her Disney Princess magazine for two hours. What do you mean I sound like a grumpy old git? And???
So I tried my best to read my paper, and then my book, but couldn’t really concentrate over the noise of grandma reading stories out loud.
About an hour in thankfully she fell asleep….Keira, not the grandma, so I made the most of it and played some games on my phone. This was OK as the train had a source of power for it. As you will learn my phone has a battery life shorter than one half of the Krankies.
The train arrived at Euston exactly on time, and I decided to walk to St Pancras rather than catch the tube, as my google map showed me it was just down the road. It took about ten minutes, and I went to more of those automated ticket machine things to print off my tickets for the Eurostar. After a few minutes of entering stuff with no joy (a familiar tale) I started to wonder if I had the right reference numbers etc, so I called home, and asked Emily to take a look on my laptop.
I was in no way a bit short and panic-stricken, and after realising I did have the right numbers, I put the phone down and went in search of a human being to ask. There were none. So I wandered deeper into the station and came across an Information desk. I joined the queue, and whilst waiting, glanced up at the sign above the Information desk. The one that said Kings Cross Station Information.
Realising I was sort of in entirely the wrong train station, I made a quick exit and went next door to St Pancras. Seriously, who the hell had the bright idea of building two stations next door to each other!!
Once in the right place I was now close to missing the train, and after quickly printing my tickets, I heard the last call being made, and I hurried through to check in. It entailed all the pre trip rituals of a flight, such as ticket check, passport control and security checks. I had somehow not imagined all this would not be necessary! At security, I did some bleeping, and this resulted in some big bald bloke wanding me. There is a first time for everything, and it didn’t hurt at all!!
I arrived on the platform, and luckily the train was still there. I checked with the member of staff on the platform that I was in the right place, and I indeed I was. I also asked him where my carriage was. He says the one right in front of me…..is number 2 and I am in 18, so I’d better start jogging!! With a sweat on, I clambered aboard carriage 18 and found my seat just as the train pulled away.
France...obviously.
I was sat next to a French lady (what are the chances?), and had to disturb her to sit down, and then again moments later to get at my bag again to rescue my book, and my lunch. Having had no time to procure anything close to lunch, I had to rely on the emergency Sports Mixture, packed for me by Louise. At this point they were literally a life saver, and I polished them off quickly as I got into my book.
Shortly after boarding, as usual I discovered that I was sat near to a screaming child, and this one was going for it big time. To me, it sounded like a tired cry, and my mind raced back to the days of my girls being this age, and at this point I would have been stood up, rocking and gently patting her on the bum to get her to sleep. I offered this to the young mum, but she didn’t want me to pat her bum at all.
Honestly, a screaming child does not usually bother me at all (apart from in restaurants, when the parents don’t take them outside if they won’t stop crying). We have all been there at some point, and as a parent I have developed the ability to block out child noises!! However, a couple sat just in front of me were having none of it.
One of them stood up and announced to the whole carriage that he was not sitting next to THAT all the way, and was off to find another seat. He demanded his boyfriend followed him, and off they flounced out in a flurry of designer clothes, stubble and false tan.
Very quickly we were under water, and then out again, and I took it from the emergence from the tunnel, that we were now in France.
We arrived in Lille bang on time, and I had about half an hour to wait for the train to DLRP. I wandered about for a bit wishing I’d taken French and not German at school, as it may have helped me read a couple of signs. In the end I asked at the Information booth, and was relieved to at least be in the correct station this time. It turns out I needed the Perpignan train and it was due to leave in ten minutes.
I watched the board for the platform to be announced, and soon enough I am aboard. Despite a couple of announcements on the train about its destination, I was none the wiser. By the time they did the same announcements in English the train was already moving, I couldn’t make out what he said anyway, so I just crossed my fingers that I was on the right train, or I would be doing an impromptu tour of France.
Thankfully, I was on the right train, and at around 6.15, the train arrived at Marne la Vallee-Chessy. It is a good job I had looked this up beforehand, as you might expect the Disneyland train station to be bedecked with all sorts of Disney stuff, and have characters parading up and down the platform. It doesn’t, and it is only as you ride the escalator up to ground level that the hordes of folk in Disney hats assure you that you have indeed arrived.
Village People
Adam had let me know he had been delayed, and this meant I had even longer to wait until he turned up. So first of all I went for a wander around Disney Village. It was very un-Disney like to be honest. The music was generic pop stuff, and it felt really just like a shopping precinct, which happened to have a few Disney shops in it.
It was nice, don’t get me wrong, just not at all like Downtown Disney. This is a theme I need to avoid, as it is unfair to compare the two locations, as I really don’t think Paris is trying to be Orlando.
After a quick browse around the shops, I nipped into McDonalds and had Le Big Mac et Pomme frites. I found a table for one and tucked in. A French child approached me, asking (in perfect English) if she could have the prize sticker thing off of my drink. I agreed, realising that if she actually won anything, the resultant wrestling match would be quite embarrassing, and not at all conducive to Anglo-French relations.
At this point I decided to head for the hotel, and settle in for the wait.
The train station really is right next to the Disney Village, and in turn the buses to the hotels are there too. The bus was waiting there as I arrived and I jumped on as it set off on the loop of non Disney hotels. Adam had let me know by text that we were staying at the Dream Castle, rather than the Magic Circus as first thought, so I got off at the right stop and wandered in.
The hotel is themed in a medieval style, and is decorated for Halloween as you might expect. I couldn’t check in until Adam got there, frankly as he was paying, so I made my way to the bar, bought a Stella (and the glass for that price I presume) and settled in with my book in a corner. The corner position was required, as I happened to have found a power supply behind a curtain, which means I could plug my phone in again! It had run all by itself for about two hours and so was now quite tired!!
So after lots of reading, I made my way to reception, and sat there for a while. I got updates from Adam about his hellish journey. His delayed plane meant that he had missed his train, and was now having to use the Metro (is that what it is called? I am so metropolitan, pardon the pun), and he expected to arrive sometime on Tuesday!
After a while I went back to the bar, had another beer, and a sandwich (I always eat when bored), and finished my book! It was now coming up to midnight, and I was so tired that I was tempted to go to reception and see if they had a spare room and just book it myself.
Anyway, being tight, means that I sat and waited instead, and finally Adam arrived around 12.45am. I shook his hand, bleary eyed, and we quickly checked in and went up to the room. I can honestly say I have never gone to bed with anyone so quickly after first meeting them!
We had a quick chat for half an hour or so and then realised it was bloody late, and we went to sleep.
Tomorrow, (and the next blog) some actual stuff that may be interesting, rather than trains and waiting.
We’ve had a bit of a change around here this week. I’m presuming you have noticed by now a new look to my blog. It was time for a change and a bit of colour to combat the unavoidable approach of winter. Do let me know if you like the new look or if you fear change like the ravaging demonic beast that it is.
On a genetal note I do enjoy getting comments, (he said in a needy type way), so always feel free to post your thoughts.
In a week that has seen Tsunamis (why the silent T???), more economic torture, and no doubt millions of other personal tragedies, I find myself wrestling with one of those really small annoying problems that really get under your skin.
Before I say what it is, I will admit it is completely trivial and of no matter whatsoever, but still it lives inside of me like some sort of technical tumor.
For months, my phone has worked perfectly with my car’s bluetooth system. I have jumped in and out of the red beast, with it pairing and unpairing as easily as Katie Price and Peter Andre. It has been one of life’s little miracles that I can speak to my car and it knows who to ring, and when someone phones me, it pauses the CD, or turns the radio down, and allows me to speak hands free.
For some reason, about two weeks ago, the phone started just randomly disconnecting itself from the car’s bluetooth system, sometimes mid call, so I would then have to shout very loudly…
“Hang on, the fecking bluetooth has gone” whilst I swerve from lane to lane trying to wrestle the phone from the cradle to speak illegally for a few seconds to say goodbye.
It will reconnect if I press enough buttons either on the car or on the phone, only to deny me again moments later. Then in a mocking style, other times it will connect and stay so, come hell, high water or a three car pile up on the M602.
In best man fashion, I have been looking for a fix. Men like to fix things. It is what we do in life. If a problem has no solution then it isn’t a valid problem.
I have thus far failed. Google has been of some help, and I’ve tried a few fixes that others have tried, but as yet no joy. In the back of my mind, I know that I should either –
a) Give the phone to the IT chaps in the office, demand either a fix or a new phone, and flounce off all diva like.
b) Ring the phone manufacturer and ask them to sort it out.
Well you may guess that the first option is not my style, and the second one fills me with mental images of overseas call centres, and three-hour waits listening to Linda Ronstadt.
So I shall continue my quest for a fix, and until I do…don’t phone me when I’m driving.
By the way, ten pop picker points for anyone who can tell me the song and artist from which I nicked the title for this post.
Let's talk about texts baby.
Elsewhere this week on the subject of phones, I have to share with you a bit of a deal. Rebecca has had her phone for two years now, and it bears the scars of a squillion texts. Her contract is almost up, and we’ve been counting down the months until she can upgrade. She’s been with O2 all her mobile life, and we saw no reason to change, and were preparing for a visit to the shop next month to pick out her new handset.
That was however until I got an email from Quidco. A cash back site I have used quite a bit recently. This email told me about a deal for new Orange Pay Monthly contracts, offering £140 cash back.
That keyboard is going to take some hammer
To cut a long story short, I signed her up for a Dolphin. Which is odd from a phone provider but with it she gets unlimited texts (vital), enough minutes (she doesn’t actually talk to anyone on her phone) and 500mb of internet each month for £20. A shiny new Nokia E5, and Daddy gets a nice payment of £140. I thank you.
On top of that of course, we now have an Orange contract within the house, which means we can finally take advantage of the Orange Wednesday scheme, which is quite apt as the company I work for “do that”.
This week has seen me realise that I also need to actually do some getting ready for my Paris trip, and luckily with Louise at home, she has been able to sort out some Euros for me (even though Adam has promised to pay for everything 🙂 ), and with the temperatures dropping faster than my council’s budget, some essential stuff to keep me warm.
So a wooly hat and gloves have been procured on my behalf. I am sure I shall look dashing and exotic.
Sunday sees a light drrrrrizzle.
A quick check of the upcoming weather for Paris shows that it may not be too bad, with some light rain forecast for Sunday, and with temperatures staying some way above freezing. Forgive me if I still pack the woolies and seventeen different layers. I don’t do cold very well at all.
Tomorrow sees a full day of travel, which of course will all go smoothly and to plan, and I get to Paris around 6pm. I then have a few hours to kill until Adam arrives, so I’ll wander around shops, eat, and perhaps eat as well.
If the phone works over there (and my IT chap tells me he has made it so) then see you on Twitter for blow-by-blow updates from what I hope is an enjoyable weekend.
People often say that no news is good news. In the world of trying to get your garage conversion done before Christmas, this does not apply.
No real updates on that front, and there probably won’t be until the good men of Gas arrive to move our meter about a metre. The one thing that did happen this week was that the funds for said conversion arrived in our bank account. I am a fairly sensible soul, but there were a few mad minutes where I imagined what sort of kickass holiday I could book with that amount of cash sat in the current account.
Shed's Up
Sanity, plus a healthy fear of Louise prevailed,and it got transferred to the savings account (nice to use it for something I suppose) and we wait.
But wait, Monday brings a major development in this whole Grand Design. Our shed arrives. Being frankly shite at anything that even includes the letters D I and Y, we have employed a crack team of shed fitters to ensure the erection is satisfactory. I would hate to have an unsatisfactory erection anywhere never mind in our back garden where the neighbours can see it.
Once we have the erection in a satisfactory state, then the real work starts, and I will be working up a sweat I’m sure. Yep, we have to empty the garage of vital crap, and put said vital crap into the shed, and jetison non vital crap to the skip via the cavernous delights of the Mondeo’s boot.
However, that shall not be next weekend, as I shall be away, jet setting in gay Paris. An unfortunate choice of words perhaps, when I admit that I shall be so with a bloke I met off of the internet. I refer you back to the earlier post in which I outline how I won a trip to Disneyland Paris courtesy of the DisneyBrit Podcast.
My journey starts next Friday morning and I shall be tweeting all the way there and back, so if you care, then please follow me! The prayers for fine weather have begun, alongside the hopes that the delightful French decide that next weekend is the one this year that they will not be striking over something important. I’m hoping to travel light, but this is balanced against the worry that it will be bloody cold, and I therefore need to take three hundred layers. This will of course be the reason for any unsightly bulk around my frame on any photos. As you know, I have a fine physique.
Thursday evening saw Louise and I drag my disease ridden frame to the girl’s school. Louise started at 5pm, for a meeting about Rebecca’s exchange trip to Nuremburg in November. A quick summary is, it will be cold, it will be expensive. Time well spent.
I joined Louise at 7pm for the next meeting, this time for Emily. As she has just started Year 11 aka GCSE year, we had to attend a briefing on how to help our Year 11 children through this difficult year. No bugger did similar for me. When I was doing my O Levels (giving my age away), it was a solo effort, and all of my revision had to be slotted in around the 1986 World Cup.
Now it seems we have roughly as much to do as Emily, and we were told how to spot and deal with stress. We were also shown how to use mind maps as a revision technique, along with a long session on how to plan and structure revision, course work, controlled assesments, and some sort of social life. Jesus, if I wasn’t worried about it before, I am now. Emily seems unfazed by the whole thing, and only appears from behind her fringe to ask for food and/or money. As long as she knows I am here for her!!
I arrived home, tired, scared to death for the year ahead, starving and close to death’s door at 9pm!! Smashing.
Now I know I may have let on more than once that I have not been in the rudest of health this week, but I have fought on valiantly, and made it to work all week. I did give in and leave early on Friday, as the illness was peaking, and once I’d come out the other end of my meetings which ran from 9.30 until 2.30 non stop, I was neither use nor ornament to anybody. The fact that some arse had been incompetent enough to have a bump on the M61 and made my journey home last over an hour only added to the magic of my Friday afternoon.
Wild Thing, you make my heart sink
Friday night was spent watching a couple of DVDs, interrupted nicely with some sniffing and coughing. We watched Where the Wild Things Are and It’s Complicated. The latter was much better than the former. Where the Wild Things Are was just weird to be honest. I can watch a kid’s film with little problem usually (no comments thanks), but this was just a bit boring to be honest.
No real plot to speak of, and this meant that the film just doesn’t seem to go anywhere.
It’s Complicated was better, if predictable. It was one of those non challenging films that you can just let wash over you. With a cast of Meryl Streep, Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin, you know you are in safe hands, and the plot is just about original enough to keep you interested.
Fair play to Alec Baldwin. Being on the chunkier side, he had no issue in showing of his Party 7 (not six pack), and I for one applaud him. If I had any weight issues I too would make a stand and have my kit off at every opportunity too.
My plan for the weekend is to do nothing….at all. I have less than no energy, so this seems to be the correct plan. Having felt rough for two weeks now I am getting seriously bored. I haven’t been able to get to the gym due to this, and if this carries on I shall be approaching Baldwin territory, and I don’t mean Mike.
So next week (and the week after) are four day work weeks for me, having booked Friday and Monday off for Paris, and that is just dandy. I’m not sure when and if I will be able to blog you again, with being abroad and stuff next weekend, but I would imagine Monday will be a good time to regail you with tales of missed trains, over eating and Space Mountain. Frankly, I hope it is more Space Mountain than Brokeback Mountain…no offence Adam!
My aim during next week is to finish off the trip report for our 2010 Florida jaunt (don’t hold me to that), so that I shall be free to quickly document the Paris trip, in a compare ands contrast fashion.
As I type this, Louise is unusually out doing the BIG shop. A task I normally undertake every Saturday. This is because when Louise does it somehow the shopping bill is tripled. We go to the same supermarket, and seem to eat the same food, so it is quite some acheivement. I await her return with trepidation, a headache, sore throat and an impressive collection of snot riddled kitchen roll.
This week’s ridiculous search term to find my blog is…… “hotel room littered with liquor bottles”.
I must have missed that particular entry, which is not too surprising if the room was littered with liquor bottles.
Moving quickly on to matters concerning the garage, this week’s update is thus. We have permission from the holder of our freehold to go ahead with the conversion, despite there being a term in our lease saying our garage can only be a garage. It is quite amazing how little such legal documents actually matter when compared to the large cheque they can have in its place. Of course, for them to take the trouble to look at our letter, consult the lease and write back we have had to cough up the Brazilian (or is that UK now?) national debt. It seems their favour can easily be bought.
If they had not given consent, we would have been faced with a choice of not doing the work or buying the freehold outright. In the end the costs were pretty similar, but permission ever so slightly cheaper. It was tempting to buy the leasehold though, just to be free from their money grabbing mitts. However my natural tightness prevented my moral outrage from out doing my propensity to save money.
The pain of actually getting an answer was massive. It took around a dozen phone calls over two weeks, and a week of delay whilst they wrote to us, yes as in a letter, not an email, as they think it is 1976, to tell me they needed more information. Now I know what the process entails it enrages me to know that we could have sorted it all out with two emails and a phone call in about three hours.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
So the builder has the go ahead, and the critical event now is the moving of our gas meter from the garage to an outside wall. Another small fortune has been squandered on that task as I moaned about last week, so I won’t again.
At work this week, I have been working with other departments, “bedding in” my new role and team alongside a change to the other department’s structure. Not easy in a world of differing opinions and corporate egos, but I think we got there. Once we’d done all of that, we then had to communicate it out to the rest of the company.
Being a global company it means a few “web meetings” with our international colleagues in Australia and the US. Whenever I hold meetings with my US colleagues, I have to remind myself that not everyone with a US accent is a Cast Member at Disney. Alas our US offices are in New York and Arlington, and not Lake Buena Vista, but once I’ve got my feet under the table a little more I shall be suggesting a relocation, and a new US manager!! Next week we do India and Lat Am.
Come on….seriously….you are going to let me get away with “Lat Am”? It is used of course as a shortened version of Latin America . Lat Am is the term used throughout our company when talking about our office in Buenos Aires. The saving of the in and erica from the end of those words is just not worth it when balanced against the sacrifice of sounding like a character off of some corny American office drama.
Whenever I use it in the office (which so far has been twice), I either smirk or blush, at the sheer crassness of the whole thing. I belive the folks in Argentina refer to us at Head Office as Great Man, sacrificing the er and chester for effect.
I hate corporate nonsense and buzzwords like this, and this week, I encountered another. A colleague on one of these presentations was outlining a process, and was asked by a US colleague if we were open to ideas. “Yes” he says,” in fact we’d welcome it, and we have a meeting planned next week, and in that we will reach out to all parties”.
Reach out???? Really??? This guy is from Wigan by the way.
Maybe I just don’t take myself seriously enough to buy into this nonsense. I still feel like at some point soon I’m going to find a job that I really should be doing, rather than getting away with things in my working life, until someone finds me out.
Elton Rifles
I have, as you may have picked up on via Twitter, also being fighting a life threatening bout of mild man flu all week. So this illness and a busy week of prep and meetings only served as a distraction from my constant monitoring of the sale of Liverpool FC to NESV.
I’m not sure if I have yet declared my colours football wise here, but I am and always have been a Liverpool fan. I cannot really tell you why, I just have been so for as long as I can remember.
I guess being a child of the 70’s, if there was ever football on telly, then it was Liverpool. Elton Welsby has a lot to answer for.
This week then has been fairly stressful, with more twists and turns than a twisty turny thing. Thankfully at work I have full access to the internet and Tweetdeck (which I highly recommend by the way) which allowed me to keep up to date (when not buried under mountains of work of course). I only hope the success off the pitch this week starts to be replicated on the green stuff pretty soon.
I like Americans as you probably know, but the exception to the rule are the two idiots that have been Liverpool’s owners for the past three years. Hopefully, the new Americans will be much more like all the other Americans I have met, with the additional benefit of buying half a dozen world class players and a new stadium.
I'm a PC and Facebook was my idea!
The arrival of this weekend then was very welcome, but it seems I welcomed it naively thinking I would be able to get some ass on couch time. Not as yet.
We went to a gig on Friday night, at a local pub. I haven’t been in this pub for so long that the last time I wasn’t drinking legally. Since then, perhaps not surprisingly, the owners have changed, and they have done a great job of turning it into a proper music venue, with a decent stage, great sound system and lighting.
We were there to watch my brother’s band, Mustard, rise phoenix like from the ashes of a two year hiatus, to gig again. We had a good night, and if anyone is looking for an excellent pop/rock covers band, let me know, and (for a sizeable commission) I shall put you in touch!
Saturday saw me in constant perpetual motion between chores and Mondeo. I did get a slight lie in until around 10am, but then the next time I was still was in the cinema watching Social Network last night.
So after a visit to the gym, taking Emily for her new glasses, doing the BIG shop at Asda and picking up some of the girl’s friends for an enormous sleepover, it was a good job that the film was good or else I would have been asleep before the trailers ended. I was wary of going to see this film, as usually any tale of some young and talented upstart making huge amounts of money with an idea I wish I’d had would just make me grumpy, and you know that isn’t like me.
The film of course did make me grumpy, as I want to be a billionaire too!! However, it was interesting and enjoyable to watch, and I think reminded me that history doesn’t all happen two hundred years ago, it happens all the time, and we just don’t notice.
On our return home there were frankly too many teenagers to count strewn across the house, and I did have a slight sense of humour failure when we had to “politely tell them to go to bed” at some silly early hour as their noise was getting ridiculous. I am just counting the minutes now until I get my house back.
Today is also packed with tasks, and of course a very important football game at lunchtime. I do however commit here and now that somehow by the end of today I will have completed Day 12 of the trippie.
I thought I had to do a special midweek post to mark a landmark event.
Anyone who knows me will realise that my life is a constant stream of injustice, bad luck and persecution. What do you mean I am a drama queen? What do you mean I have a lovely family, habitable house, enough money to service my debts, and enough food in the fridge. Don’t spoil my sense of self-pity please.
Well, it seems the tide has turned as I have actually won something.
I got a phone call late last night informing me that my entry into the DisneyBrit podcast competition was the winning entry. The competition celebrates their 50th podcast. I had to say in less than fifty words why I should go, and it seems my promise of a brown envelope stuffed with cash did the trick. I jest. I actually sent in an entry outlining the benefits of taking me along as my Halloween candy eating exploits will easily recoup any DisneyBrit expenditure. I can on board enough candy to maximise the return on the prize budget….or something like that.
I think Adam recorded the phone call for the podcast too, so you shall be able to hear my stunned gobsmackiness if you decide to listen to the next podcast, and you should. Luckily, I did not swear.
The prize alas is only for one person, unless you fork out for any other travellers, and with Louise officially recovering for the next twelve weeks, she will not be able to come along.
What about those bears!!
This leaves me in the rather odd situation of “bunking” (I said bunking!) with Adam, having never met him. This brings up images of the classic scene from Planes Trains and Automobiles, where Steve Martin and John Candy wake up in the same bed. “Those aren’t cushions!!!”.
I am assured we have suitably platonic sleeping arrangements in place.
So after breaking the news to Louise that I would be flying solo and some very quick research about Eurostar, I am all booked train wise. From Manchester to DLP for just over £100, including First Class on the way back from Euston to Manchester!!
Adam has given me a rough breakdown of the weekend, but I won’t go into it here, as I feel it my duty to encourage you to listen to the podcast after Halloween to find out what happened. I may of course do a mini trippie, because of course I don’t have enough on in that regard already!!
We are staying at the Magic Circus hotel, which looks splendid, but then most hotels that you stay in for free are!! The only other thing I shall tell you about is the advertised prize –
2 nights accommodation
2 day park hopper ticket
a ticket to Disney’s Terrorific Night at Walt Disney Studios on 30th October
food over the weekend
a few surprises
I’m not sure the “food over the weekend” element of this prize has been thought through to be honest. I hope the budget planning was suitable!!
So there we go. I am as you may have noticed a tad excited to be going to DLP for the first time, and with an expert such as Adam to show me around.
Last Saturday evening, we went to my brother’s house for a small get together. It was a celebration of his and his wife’s twentieth wedding anniversary. As my brother often says, ten years of blissful matrimony, but he’s been married for twenty.
During the evening, we played a game of Mr & Mrs. Now you might imagine that this is a recipe for disaster, with several drunk couples arguing over whether their partner is “sweet or savoury”. You’d be right! We came second. You can only imagine how hard I had to fight not to show my outrage and disappointment at this, to preserve the fragile facade of a nice night out.
We lost (yes, lost, not came second) by half a point. This was naturally all Louise’s fault. Well, Louise plus half a bottle of Bacardi.
Int Milk Brilliant!
We both missed out on questions about each other such as “Who would your partner want to play them in a movie of their lives” as they are quite subjective, and hard to guess at. By the way, for me I said Paul Whitehouse. Louise said Angelina Jolie…to play her…not me, whereas I said Megan Fox. Wait, here is a chance to post a picture of Megan Fox.
Megan is a fox
Those slip ups are fine, as the questions have a million different possible answers. But when I get asked what was Louise’s first job, and I get the right answer and she doesn’t, then my allergy to losing kicks in. The night trundled on from there, filled with Tapas, which was lovely, and alcohol, which did for Louise, and saw us revisit the Tapas at around 2am. I was delighted.
This week at work has flown by. Whilst it is always nice to get to the weekend a little quicker, the trouble is that those weekends shoot by at high speed too.
The reason for the whizzing week has been work. As I alluded to last time round, my role at work is changing, and I have spent most of last week in summit style negotiations with other manager types, sorting out who works where, and does what. Add to that the doing of actual work as well, then the week passed in a blur. This of course has meant a few late finishes, scuppering any plans to get to the gym and write any further trip report days. I finally got around to one yesterday.
The Oscars won't be troubled
So by the time Friday evening arrived I was knackered, and ready for some relaxing, eating and fun.
We ticked all the boxes with a trip to the local Cineworld to see The Other Guys, preceded by a visit to the local Frankie and Bennys. My one regret of the evening was eating too much there to allow me to unleash my full power on the Pick n Mix. I had a decent bash, but found myself having Pick n Mix left at the end of the film, which is a crime really, but fear not, I finished it off for breakfast the next day.
Will Ferrell, much like Jim Carrey, appeals to me, as they usually turn up in silly, funny films that allow you to let them to wash over you, without having to worry too much about complex plots.
The panel that hand out Oscar’s will not be troubled by this one, but it is great fun. Ferrell, again much like Carrey, tends to play the same character in many films, but I for one am not bored of it yet. His pinnacle will always be Ron Burgundy, (closely followed by the scene in Elf where he belches and says “Did you hear that?), but this was a good one too.
There are also some cracking cameos from the likes of The Rock, Michael Keaton and best of all Samuel L Jackson. His appearance is brief but just fantastic.
Whilst we enjoyed the film we left the girls and one of their friends (Mikey…and he is a friend who is a boy rather than a boyfriend) at home to watch Camp Rock 2. Having seen trailers for it both in the US, and again back home, I would rather watch a 24 hour marathon of Heartbeat, so our escape was well-timed.
The girls enjoyed it and I suspect Mikey endured it, but it also seems that they were inspired to create their own cinematic masterpiece. Frankly, I think that this beats Camp Rock too.
Click on Cookie Monster!
Looking to next week, the major event will be Louise’s admission to hospital tomorrow for an operation. We have been here many times before of course, but it is never something any of us look forward to. It is a fairly big one this time, and she will be in for the week we think, and then off work for a good few weeks after that.
I know you are all immediately feeling sorry for me, having to manage the household single-handedly, but please spare a thought for Louise too!!
The girls are staying at Nana’s all week, as I will be a blur between work and hospital, plus it means they can stay in bed longer of a morning as Nana lives about two minutes stroll from their school.
Hopefully (as we always say) this will be the one that gives Louise a decent run at a healthy existence.
An unfortunate side effect of this of course is an anticipated complete lack of trip reportage, for which I now apologise, but some things are more important even than that.
On a positive note, and one for Louise to think about in the next few days of pain and drugs, is that we absolutely have to return to the US for our next holiday. Why, you might ask? Well, yesterday, Louise found $33 left over from our holiday. We cannot be so frivolous as to let that sit festering in a drawer, as that would be an incomprehensible waste.
The fact that the credit card bills have arrived from our latest trip this week, delivering with them a complete shock to the systems as to how we could possibly spend so much in such a short space of time, had slightly dented our ambitions to book our next trip quickly. But now with a full $33 at our disposal, the die is cast.
Hopefully, with my next post will come news of Louise back at home, along with the girls, and some sort of debt restructuring package in place to allow us to consider another trip overseas.
It’s been an odd week, and a long week. It does seem like forever since our holiday, and I feel like I’ve done about twelve days at work this week.
The jet lag only seemed to linger over me until Monday I think, and I’m very glad that the girls had an extra day to recover as their body clocks were all over the place over the weekend. Louise returned to the UK with a very bad back, and without stealing my own thunder for the latter parts of the trip report, she really struggled through the last few days of the trip.
So after seeing both the emergency and proper doctor on her return she’s been on horse tranquilisers in an attempt to kill the pain and stay mobile.
The girls have returned to school, and we’ve been told that Rebecca’s hair is “inappropriate”. Yes I can see that a few strands of red hair is going to endanger the education of the entire school. Good to see the teachers are concentrating on what is important. We thanked them for their interest anyway.
Is there a doctor in the house?
Rebecca returned from the US in the unusual position of not having found anything substantial to spend her dollars (donated by grandparents) on. So I spent them instead. I did promise her that I would refund them in pounds on our return, so, with minimal delay, she claimed the funds this week, and purchased a pair of bright pink Dr Martens. Out of spite I might just send her to school in them!
Work has been pretty busy too, and I returned to find that we’re undertaking a fairly major restructure, and it turns out they want me to do something different to what I have been for the past few….well, weeks. Same sort of stuff, just more people to look after, and a bit more stuff on my plate. I approach these things with the usual sense of gratitude, relief they think I’m worth employing and outright fear that I am going to make a right ricket of it. We’ll see.
So, in my very brief blog earlier in the week I mentioned some sort of rant. Thinking about it, rant may be a little strong. Whilst doing multiple theme parks in Florida, I did come across a common behaviour by those inhabiting theme park establishments, and I thought that if I wrote my displeasure of it here, where a handful of people will read it, this is bound to fix the entire situation for the next time we return.
So, being fairly organised in my approach to these holidays, I’m also not bad at planning our route around a park “on the go” so to speak. I don’t need a map of the parks anymore, and I have a good idea of what to do, not only next, but like some sort of theme park chess master, what the next couple of things will be.
I think, a good analogy here would be when I was learning to drive. I used to go out of a weekend with my Dad, and only came close to death once really. One thing my Dad told me has always stuck with me when it comes to driving, and it was this.
“Don’t just look at the end of your bonnet, lift your head up, and look down the road so you can see what’s coming and plan for it”.
I’ve always remembered this, and I do consider myself half decent at seeing things coming on the road, and being aware of upcoming muppetry from others before it happens.
So how is this relevant? Well, as we approach an attraction, I already have everything I need. So if we are using a Fastpass, I have them all out, in an attractive fan shape, ready for inspection. I also take a good look at the entrance, and make sure I know which entrance is for Fastpass and which is for the unwashed. I had (in the past when relevant) a decent idea if the girls were tall enough, and if the ride was suitable for them.
This means that we are through the entrance and into the queue or attraction with minimal fuss.
Beware the Hulk's entrance
What started to really bug me was the high number of folk who walked up to something, with all their party, usually double figures, and then proceeded to stand right in front of the entrance looking at the ride as if it was an alien ship just landed, or fishing out fastpasses, or trying to talk their way into the Fastpass line without any, or asking the CM inane questions like what time the three o’clock parade is, or arguing who was going to go on with Uncle Harold.
All this time, I am trying to navigate my way through this mini minefield, with my Fastpasses in fan, a large backpack attached to me and all the while tutting for England.
This ride entrance paralysis drove me insane. For goodness sake, lift your head up, think about what will happen five seconds in advance, and don’t arrive at the entrance and then think it odd that the CM wants to see the Fastpasses stuffed at the bottom of your bag under four ponchos and three bottles of coke.
Then, when in the queue, don’t double back seven times to talk to a family member who hasn’t entered, to try to get them to come on, then expect to walk right back to where you were. I only have so many tuts available to me in my lifetime, and I fear I may wear them out pretty soon.
Had I read this a few weeks ago I would have thought the writer an anal, control freak, who needs to just chill and go with the flow. But remember this rant the next time you are in a park. As you come up to a ride, watch out for the loitering nuisances blocking the entrance. Kick them in the shin and tell them I sent you.
As rants go, that is quite tame I know, and it came nowhere near having a negative impact on the holiday. Besides if I don’t get to tut and feel superior to someone a couple of times a day I get all grumpy.
So, I’ll crack on with the trip report as time allows, but it may be a while. Work is about to ramp up to a whole new level of inconvenience, and one night this week I was astounded to find myself actually doing work at home, in the evening, after hours, not in the office, in my own time. Did I make that clear?
Hopefully Louise’s back will improve too, as that seriously looked like anything but fun.
We’re back, jetlagged, already sick of work, and sneakily taking a look at options for our next holiday, but don’t tell anyone.
The Trip Report has started with Day One now up on The Dibb. There is a link to it on the Trip Reports Page.
This isn’t a proper post, as with work, trip reporting and being fed up, I don’t have time, but I just wanted to say hello to everyone now we are back in the UK.
I’ll probably do a blog post this weekend if I can, as I have some inner rage to expel on some theme park behaviours I encountered that made my (usually calm) blood boil.
See you then, and of course, till the next time…..
This isn’t helped in any way by our house going up for sale, so as well as having to prepare for the important stuff, such as our trip, but I’m also having to cosmetically enhance the house to fool some idiot into thinking we’ve done loads of work on it rather than hand over all our renovation budget to the board of Disney.
A house has gone on the market down the road which Louise tells me we like and, therefore we are to see if we can off load our current one to secure it.
As you might expect last week at work did not fly by, but somehow the weekend arrived, with a slight sense of foreboding as I had an inkling of the amount of stuff we had to get done.
The weekend started with the revelation that the cheap as chips suitcase we’ve been using for a decade will not survive another trip. Really, is nothing built to last these days?? Indignant at having to spend money after only ten short years of dragging our current case across the Atlantic, the first task of the weekend was to secure new luggage. We also had a very brief discussion about buying a new rucksack. Louise pointed out one that would be suitable, and I reacted like she had suggested I lopped off my left arm. Ryan is getting on and he needs some work but if that were the criteria for being replaced I would have been gone long ago.
A case of bad taste?
We left the girls at home getting ready to go out with their friends, (which worryingly takes forever these days…there will be trouble on holiday if I am denied early startiness) and Louise and I scoured at least two shops to find something suitable. There wasn’t a great deal of choice if I’m honest, but the main criteria being, it is cheap, and it is well proportioned (hey, that sounds like me), we soon settled on the flowery affair you can see in the picture.
Size wise it fits the bill as either of the girls could get in it, which in hindsight could have saved me the cost of one flight!!
For the second time in recent history I then ventured to the Trafford Centre on a Saturday, as Louise “had no clothes at all” for the holiday. I needed a couple of things too, and as I needed Louise along to let me know if I liked stuff, it was two birds with one stone.
About to be blown off....
As we got in the car to leave I spotted something on the roof the likes of which I have never seen before in this country. As the photo shows, it is half dung beetle, half fly, and after snapping a quick photo I was glad to get into the car, floor the accelerator and see it be blown off in my rearview mirror, and that isn’t something you see every day, unless you go looking for it on the internet.
First things first, we had lunch. Then we started the tour of every women’s clothing shop in there. The day was full of ups and downs, with lows as “nothing looks right”, and then moments of elation as a triumphant Louise emerges from a changing room, garments aloft, wielding here switch card like a samurai sword.
I got some new trainers. The whiteness of these new trainers you cannot begin to perceive. They come with several sets of dark glasses to be handed out to passers-by. They announce the fact that I have just purchased them like the brightest beacon on the darkest night. Did I mention that they are white?
I also got some brown sandals. Now, as I told the girls this on our return home, their faces reflected the horror that phrase could mean. However, trust me they look very suave and sophisticated. I like them because Louise said so, and she also said they are good as they hide most of my horrid feet from view.
Our return from shopping saw me go to the gym and the supermarket as is becoming my Saturday routine, and Louise, not yet fed up with retail establishments ventured out again to the Middlebrook retail park, next to the Reebok stadium, even though a match was in full flow. She has no fear, having braved the Trafford Centre, she now struck out solo to face the traffic chaos that is the end of a match at the Reebok.
She returned with that holiday essential, a new phone! Yes, that’s right, with mere hours to go until departure, she felt the need to replace our perfectly good phone. I didn’t really pursue that for personal safety reasons, and she did seem to have bought enough clothes for the entire Magic Kingdom crowd, so I’m guessing she’s sorted now.
Bum Steer
Now, a word of warning. If you, like us, enjoy settling down as a family to watch a film, then don’t whatever you do, do so with one called “I Love You Phillip Morris”.
We are big Jim Carrey fans, so we were looking forward to watching this one, and the 15 certificate told us it was fairly sure to be OK for the girls, with perhaps a little swearing, which is nothing they won’t have heard anytime that I’m doing DIY.
I won’t go into details here, but the “bottom” line is that the girls quickly made their excuses and averted their eyes in a few “love scenes” as I quickly scrabbled around trying to find the fast forward button.
Don’t get me wrong, the film is very good, just not a family one!
Then, the day of rest dawned. Louise had been up for a while, making lists! I knew immediately I was in trouble. So today I have –
Hung a picture (minimum swearing)
Mowed the lawn
Cleaned the kitchen
Dropped the girls off somewhere
Popped in to see my Mum
Resealed the bath
Hung a mirror (maximum swearing)
Made tea (putting that pizza in the oven was a tough one).
Louise was last seen in our bedroom somewhere under a pile of clothes. I think I got the better deal to be honest. Rebecca has just done the “try on” of stuff in her drawers and selected the garments that will make the Atlantic crossing, and Emily is now upstairs doing the same. I suspect they will both return with more than they left with!
So we move into the last few days, and for once I am having to work right up until the day we go, as having just started at the new place, I have very few holidays to take. So Louise is off Wednesday and Thursday to get stuff ready, and I shall appear on Thursday evening just in time to sit on the case, zip it up, and then unzip it again on Friday morning to force all the last-minute hair apparatus in. I suppose I could leave my GHDs behind??
Emily’s idea of getting ready for holiday is to try on three T-shirts and then ask which take away we are having on Thursday evening. For the record she wants a curry.
As I type I can hear a conversation upstairs centring around knickers, and thankfully the verdict is she has enough. This is good news as this morning Louise took Henry to the vets. The amount of money exchanged there was on a par with the holiday budget, so if we haven’t got something now we’re doing without. Henry is fine by the way, apart from an infected ear, and issues around his anal glands.
Apparently, after a quick root around up there, and the appearance of some cottage cheese like substance from his glands, Louise almost lost her breakfast, and don’t forget Louise has worked in Operating theatres, and sees old lady boobs all day every day.
He seems much happier in himself now, and when Louise came home and described the procedures done by the vet, I sort of understood the amount of cash charged.
Anyway, he’s ready for his holidays in Yorkshire now, but the instructions for the giving of medication is longer than this here post, so the best of luck to Steve and Di, his carers whilst we are pet free.
So come on Friday, hurry yourself along. I only hope the trip is a magical one, and gives a good return for the sheer amount of hours that have gone into it’s making. For the record here are some of the milestones I am looking forward to –
The airport
Arriving at the villa
The first “big shop” at the supermarket (cake, beer, crisps with perhaps some fruit)
The walk up Main Street on our first morning
Food, all of it.
Hard Rock Hotel
Harry Potter stuff
Daytona
The Beach Club
and I even don’t really mind turning forty!
I will say goodbye for now, as I doubt I will blog whilst overseas. I may manage the odd tweet/facebook as the girls will have their laptops with them, and I shall see you all back here in early September for more tales of household chores, shopping and my dog’s backside. How could you resist?
The weekend has been less than restful, and it is only now that I have planted my backside on the couch, found an episode of Two and a Half Men I have only seen about twelve times, and commenced the me time.
Yesterday saw me tackle a task that has been festering at the back of my mind for months. I threw the back seats down in the car, ready for the trek to the tip, took a deep breath, and ventured into the garage. Someone once said that it is crazy that we leave thousands of pounds worth of car on the drive, and stuff the garage full of worthless crap. We had indeed, and it took many, many hours to get to a stage where you can now walk through the garage without striding over stuff.
To put the level of work into context, in one box we found the photo from the twelve week scan of Rebecca! Rebecca is 13 years old.
So with two trips to the local tip, we said goodbye to stuff we had kept for years, under the illusion that we would need it someday. Sod’s law says that we will next week.
The afternoon, as last week, was spent at the gym, and then Asda. I truly am living the dream.
This morning saw me wrestle with the downstairs loo. By that I mean that Louise had started to decorate it this week, and it was therefore my job to finish it. The room, as you might imagine, is small, so why is it then that it took me bloody hours, and it still isn’t finished. I ran out of wall paper just before I ran out of patience. There are so many nooks and crannies in there that not one piece of paper went on in one piece. The complexity of wallpapering is directly related to the level of bad language.
Pleased to have a reason to stop, I did.
So, that explains my opening sentence!
Keep going....
This week saw me produce a pre trip report, which was perhaps a little premature, but hey, such is the story of my life. I’m not a big pre trip writer, and have only done one a couple of times, as I’m never really sure what to put in there. Anyway, with my countdown racing to a conclusion, I felt obliged.
As a result of posting this, there may be a few new readers here at http://www.mkingdon.com so welcome to you if that is the case.
I don’t know if anyone else feels like this, but when we get as close as this to a trip, I try to tell myself to enjoy having a countdown, and in some way, fear the holiday racing past all too quickly, and then I’m sat back here staring a bleak winter in the face, wondering when the next trip will be possible.
So for now, it seems I can think of nothing else than the upcoming trip. I am looking forward to so many things it would be difficult to list them all. These things are not necessarily the big events either, it is also the silly things. For me, the sheer joy of the morning of the outward journey is pure magic. For once, no-one minds getting up at silly o’clock, and the drive to the airport is a jolly affair. Even the hours spent at the airport are special, and somehow I don’t mind paying over the odds for an average breakfast, and if the girls are looking to get anything bought for them, this is a good time to get me!
I don’t think Louise enjoys this as much though, as her fear of flying is pretty bad. I wouldn’t say that I enjoy the flight, but mainly due to an over eagerness to get to the front of the car hire queue. Louise however, is genuinely afraid of the entire thing. I suppose it shows how much she enjoys the holiday that she puts herself through it every year.
Two by Two
This year, I’ve booked seats right at the back of the plane, based on the assumption that if we hit any mountains then we’ll be OK, as you never hear of any planes reversing into these things. The layout of the plane is typically 3-3-3, but right at the back it narrows to 2-3-2. This means we don’t have to worry about one of us (me of course) having to sit with another family, and we can just concentrate on annoying each other.
In years gone by one of the grown ups (yes, that includes me) would have sat with one of the girls, as we would have had Polly Pockets to dress, and food to cut up, but these days the girls can sit together, share iPods, films and their opinions on any boy unfortunate enough to wander by.
The films on board look pretty good, with the latest Shrek, Iron Man 2, Valentine’s Day and a few others I can’t remember available so these should pass a few hours. For me, the worst part of the flight is just after the food, drinks and duty free have been around, and things settle down. It is at that point that I realise that we still have about six hours left, and the girls start asking me how long to go!
The big kid in me just wants to get there, beat everyone though immigration, be the first to get the car, and be free of the airport and en route to the villa. I will remind myself now, to savour every moment, even those that I find boring and frustrating, as they are all better than being back at work!!
I don’t usually deal with queues and people particularly well. You may wonder then why I continue to go to the one place on earth guaranteed to inflict both on me. I can’t answer that really, but I do know that this peaks on the outward journey, with a multitude of tuts heard at every stage, from the check in desk to the restaurant we have breakfast in. I promise to restrict my Meldrew-esque moments to a minimum Louise!!
Oh yes, I just remembered. A historic event happened yesterday. You may remember in a previous post my disdain at Louise’s suggestion that I may need some new shorts. I made the point that I only wear them for two weeks every year, so in effect, regardless of the fact that they are older than the kids, they are almost brand new.
Anyway, I bought some new ones! They should see me right till my 50th now!
I’m waffling now, so I should stop. My excitement is over-riding my ability to edit myself. If you think this post has been a winding piece of nonsense, lurching from one thought to another, all holiday related, just wait until next weekend, when it will be my last blog post pre holiday.
I’m not sure yet if I will be tweeting from Florida, I need to ask the IT chaps at work if my phone tariff will inflict thousand of pounds worth of data charges by taking it to the US. In a way I hope it does, as it will mean two weeks away from email. On the other hand, I could do with my phone to act as sat nav, mobile internet look up, and tweeter whilst away.
The week began with Emily’s actual birthday. Being a Monday, and Louise and I having to go to work we had to wake her at some silly time to bestow pressies upon her. This, on a school day is dicey, but to do it in school holidays is something that only the bravest souls should attempt. We did offer her the option of having her presents on Sunday evening, but bless her, she felt this wouldn’t be quite right.
Pigging Loud
It was probably the lure of presents which meant that she was awake, and amazingly smiling quite quickly and with minimum physical harm to either parent. We were not stupid or ambitious enough to actually assume she would get out of bed, so we did the deed in her bedroom and she was delighted with the gifts on offer.
From Nana, Grandad and Auntie and Uncle, a pig that you can stick your iPod into. Folk have been arrested for less, but it seems this is OK to do. It isn’t very big, but seems to have the audio output equivalent an Iron Maiden gig. In fact that would be preferrable to some of the shouty nonsense that has been pouring out of it this week.
Most of the girl’s music is at worst tolerable, and some quite enjoyable, but at the other extreme, is the shouty nonsense with a bloke using some sort of ridiculous deep gutteral noise to spout lyrics that no-one can actually make out. Yes, yes I know I now sound like every Dad in history, but I refute that claim. Where music is concerned I am fairly discerning, having almost been a pop star and everything, and I’m sorry but this stuff really is just noise.
Emily’s other main present from good old Mum & Dad was a camera. She’d asked for this a while ago, and in line with all good Dad traditions, I had told her she had no chance as they were too expensive, so she was nicely surprised upon ripping the wrappings off.
Sharp Shooter
She fancies getting into photography, which ties in with her overall interest in all things media, film and stuff. Having looked at proper SLRs, chuckled at the price and moved on we got her what I believe is called a Bridge camera. As the name suggests a sort of half way house between the usual point and shoot and those proper cameras where you need to know what you are doing.
As someone who is firmly in the point and shoot, leave it on automatic setting camp, I really hope she does get into photography enough to know her ISO from her elbow, then she can teach me. What it also means, is that this year we should have two lots of photos from our holiday. I suspect Emily’s collection will be quite select, as the “effort” of actually carrying it around will all be a bit too much…unless of course good old Dad shoves it into the never-ending rucksack.
The girls have been off this week as the holidays are now in full swing, which has meant getting to work has been a whole load easier. No teenagers to get out bed, no lunches to make, and the traffic on the roads has been a delight. Work itself is making a little more sense every day, and I feel like I made the odd positive contribution every now and again too.
So the week really passed without too much to note. Saturday saw the girls and I strike out to the forbidden land that is the Trafford Centre on a Saturday. My declaration that we had to be out of the house by 9.30am crashed and burned on the rocks of showers, hair dryers and hair straighteners. I must learn to get ready quicker! Anyway, we got there pre lunch, and the main job was to get Rebecca some shorts. Gone are the days of buying a multi pack of multi coloured shorts, possibly with flowers on from Adams. Back then, the girls would more or less wear whatever you put on them. My how things have changed, and we spent hours, scouring every clothes shop in the Trafford Centre for shorts….denim shorts.
Can I just say what an absolute nonsense female clothes shopping is. Items are not grouped together in one part of the store, so you might find a pair of shorts near the door, and several others tucked away in some dark corner. Then even when you do find them, the game of trying to identify what bloody size each garment is starts. These labels are not displayed obviously on the outside of the clothes, or on some large clear label, or even better hung around the top of the hanger. No this crucial information is hidden inside the shorts, on a label the size of a pin head, in a foreign language. So this means I have to root around in women’s shorts getting all hot and sweaty (so many jokes, so little time), as the girls will not exert that level of effort, as it may impinge on their job of looking cool.
Then, I had to summon the crash team to revive me when I saw that the price for a piece of denim, stitched into the shape of shorts started, yes, started at £20. I won’t continue the rant here, but we dropped a bunch of cash just to ensure Rebecca didn’t have to spend the fortnight in her swimsuit. Of course the expense was added to with lunch, the obligatory Starbucks, and a couple of T Shirts for Emily, as the sulk factor for having being dragged to the Trafford Centre, and not being bought anything reached serious levels after a few hours. Rebecca also secured herself a new pair of black converse as her old ones were literally falling apart. She does wear them as her school shoes, so Dad logic says, yes you can have a pair for the holidays, and then they will do nicely for the new term when you get back! Result.
Toys with your affections
The rest of Saturday was spent by me at the gym, taking a few ounces off in readiness for the calorie onslaught that will ensue in the US, then we went to see Toy Story 3 in 3D. It was up to the usual high standards, and Emily cried all over again. I say again, as of course she and Rebecca watched it last weekend for her birthday do.
Perhaps the theme of growing up and moving on struck a chord with Emily, as at 15, she has a drawer full of toys she just won’t part with. As soon as her back is turned, I am due an eBay bonanza.
How I wish I had this guy's job!
Over the weekend I have also watched the episodes of Man vs Food that I had sky plussed on Friday. It is on one of those high numbered channels on Sky that you rarely stumble to, but believe me it is well worth it.
The premise is that Adam Richman travels the US visiting eateries, and taking on various eating challenges. Some are truly ridiculous, and one episode stood out for that very reason. I can eat, but this meant taking down a 2lb sandwich, and 6lb milkshake in one hour. I won’t spoil it by telling you whether he did or not!!
If you haven’t seen the show have a look for it on Friday nights, aroundabout Channel 249 or 250 I think…or of course You Tube is your friend.
One last thing to point out, is that I have started to use Four Square. I can’t really tell you what it is, but it is a new social networking thing, so I thought I’d give it a go. I only mention it as it posts updates as to my location from time to time, so when you see them on Twitter or Facebook, it might explain why I am posting trivia about being at Asda!! Not that me posting trivia is anything new to anybody.
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