No, I’m A Celebrity….

Right, you had a week off from Freddie photos last week, so you know what that means.

Having slept for what seems like 90% of his life so far, he is indeed living the dream. As you can see from the above photo, his eyes are open more now and he is starting to take notice of his surroundings.

Tom has gone back to work after his paternity leave and Rebecca has managed her first week alone with him. Louise has been off work, so she has helped out a little, mainly ferrying her off to relatives to show him off.

As things are today, he has already been introduced to the world of filters too.

After his first few days of health worries he’s bounced back nicely, putting on weight in a way which proves he is indeed my Grandson and also now parting with stuff into his nappy that is a mix of chicken Korma and nuclear accident. Rebecca feels the need to share those with us via group chat on a regular basis.

The countdown to Freddie’s first Christmas is officially underway. I’m a Celeb is on, every advert is a festive one and most scarily Louise has started shopping. Speaking of I’m a Celeb, they way it is going, it is only a matter of time until I’m on it due to the fact that I once met Sonia and Big Fun at ITV’s Telethon in the 80’s. Oh, I have also spoken to Gemma Atkinson in the ladies toilets in a Manchester hotel. I’m expecting the call from Ant or Dec within hours.

Oh, and I also worked with the cousin of Howard Donald (Take That bloke) at the NatWest in Manchester in the 90’s… this rate, I am more famous than half of the current camp mates. Thinking about it, a week or so ago I was walking the dogs and bumped into Sam Allardyce who lives close by and at Christmas most years my dog walking route takes me past the house of Danny from McFly’s parent’s house and he is often there.

I have other celebrity encounters and tales which frankly mean that I am more famous than Jamie Vardy’s wife. That, along with my 1100+ Twitter followers means that I will also be getting a book deal to publish a children’s story that somebody else actually wrote. However, when they trawl back through my tweets they will find content that is unacceptable and I shall be disgraced and thrown back into obscurity with only the Daily Star kiss and tell story about my Gemma Atkinson encounter to support me in my old age.

Such is celebrity life in this day and age. It’s a world where unexplained celebrities such as Gok Wan get famous for saying bangers a lot and then for some reason nobody can explain, starts to do cookery and people pay him money to do so. Similarly Kirstie Allsop falls into a TV career about houses and then rinses the general public every year with books and TV programmes about making paper chains and decorations out of used tissues and spit.

Keep your eye out for which minor celeb spent the first half of 2017 putting weight on so that they could then lose it before recording their fitness DVD. You too can lose all your weight. All you need is to do it full-time with your own personal trainer and dietary consultant. Or give them £15 for their DVD which you’ll find a drawer long after their fifteen minutes has passed.

Whilst I’m ranting, there’s a special place in hell for the talent vacuums that exist within The Only Way Is Chelsea Island.

Well, that came from nowhere didn’t it. A few minutes ago when I sat staring at the blank page I had no clue that I would be spewing onto the page in such a manner. I’ll probably feel better for it.

Enjoy your Sundays folks. I’m off for a lie down with a wet flannel.

Till the next time…..

Bristol, Bangers and my hatred for Gok Wan.

This week’s travels have found me in Bristol and London. As much as the company I had on both trips was top notch, travelling in this way is often a labour rather than a love.

As and when I have interviewed folk in the past, and they have cited travel as one of their interests or hobbies, I doubt they’d class a couple of days on an Industrial Estate in Bristol as one of their aspirations in life.

Travel, as a pleasure, is a selective activity of course, and I don’t hate it, I just don’t relish it, unless it involves a trans Atlantic flight and life threatening quantities of food. Hate is a phrase I reserve for the important things in life that are deserving of the word and sentiment like the cellophane wrapper you get around a new box of tea bags, and Gok Wan.

In the Top Ten of things I can’t stand, tea bag box packaging is irrationally up there fighting for top spot. Alas, Gok will always hold that safe, with his inexplicable fame and need to appear on my television when I’m least expecting it. His talk of bangers, girlfriends and “rocking” anything want me to remove his or my eyes with a rusty spoon to stop it happening again.

His appeal, like his talent, seems illusive to me.

Anyway, back to Bristol. On Wednesday evening I was out for a curry with m’colleague and my most favourite and longest standing supplier. It was delicious, and was going down a treat until, distracted by some idiot trying to talk to me whilst I was eating, I mistook a ghost chilli for a green pepper.

I was in child-birth levels of pain, and was rendered speechless until about Friday. I do not recommend it, as you might have guessed. After about three hours of snot and eye watering, m’colleague and I left the locals we dined with to find our hotel. We both regularly navigate ourselves all around the country on business, and equally as regularly (nearly) cross the Atlantic and find stuff without too much messing about.

However, in the labyrinth like city centre of Bristol it took us an amount of time I am too ashamed to admit to find our bed for the night. How we laughed. Google maps and directions from others did nothing to save us from the persistent drizzle and incessant loops of the same shops.

On Friday my travels, and the way the day turned out, saw me in central London with a few hours to kill. With the weather being one step up from the Apocalypse, my options were limited. I had a walk up and down the south bank passing the London Eye and the silly queue for it. I guess it was still half term somewhere.

The Biggest of Bens
The Biggest of Bens

Ultimately to beat the cold and the boredom I ended up just moving from one place to another to eat and/or drink. By the end of the day I was close to causing actual bodily harm to anyone even suggesting another coffee. Starbuck’s, McDonald’s and for tea Nandos all saw the inside of my wallet, and I rolled home on the train needing two seats.

It seems London is fueled entirely by foamy coffee, foreign accents and surly expressions. Oh and anyone who can find the elusive combo of free Wi-Fi and a plug socket wins London. I did both in some poncey South Bank Arts place, and as I sat there for an age sucking up their juice and cyber space, I could see the security folks eyeing me continuously. I left without having to give either of those valuable assets back.

I am traveling again next week, but to the familiar territory of Marlow, so that is becoming so routine I’m stopping classing that as actual travel, and just a slightly longer commute.

This week also saw us make some very, very, rough and some especially ambitious plans for the 2015 holiday. With it being Rebecca’s 18th that year she is keen to do a WDW trip, as Emily did, and so we have made a mental note that we shall aim for that. We have no plans at all about how to fund it, but we shall cross that bridge at some point before or after the trip.

If you are in the middle of planning a trip, then, firstly, I hate you, but secondly, perhaps you could consider a fellow Disney-er and Dibber (I think) who has recently struck out on her own in the travel agent business. As I receive endless help here for all sorts of stuff from you kind folks, Sue Shellard asked that I pointed folk at her business, and of course I was delighted to oblige. Give it a click and a Like, if you so wish. To those who have continued to give their endless and unrewarded help and support this week, for reasons I cannot yet divulge, I thank you. There are some really lovely people who read this crap!

I have to go now and pick Rebecca up from work. She is enjoying her new job, and I am enjoying her not asking for money from me every seventeen seconds. Emily too had an interview for a new part-time job on Thursday and she is going for a trial shift tomorrow so hopefully that will see her earning once again. At this rate, I shall be able to buy myself some new clothes for the first time since about 1995. As and when I need them of course!

Till the next time…..