Spider
Dad has obviously spent most of the night emailing. Despite
his advancing years he often appears less mature than my nineteen year old
daughter. Last night’s batch of emails
were all entertaining enough except one, he wrote to tell me to check inside
the kettle before brewing up. Yesterday he found the remains of a rather large
spider that had come to an untimely death in the boiling bowels of his stainless
steel filter kettle. He only discovered it when he got to the bottom of his tea
cup and saw a rogue leg floating around. During spring spiders can come out of hibernation a tad too early, when the cold night sets in they look for somewhere warm to cosy up and as they are practically
blind they often mistake kettles for heating central heating systems and fall
in. I forwarded the email to all friends and the team. Although I am off sick I feel everyone
should be forewarned.
Published Date:
08/03/2010
Modified Date:
08/03/2010
Top 10 places for love
Hauled myself off the couch and came across this list online...the Top 10 Places To Meet Women. Hmmf, that maybe so but what they don't detail is the encounters you may have, not always pleasant. Here's my experiences so far.
1. The School Reunion - Before it became fashionable to re-aquaint oneself with bullies and creeps from the classroom I ventured along to a reunion, half hoping Miss Shellsby, the short yet attractive PE teacher would be there and she would still be single. It being thirty years since I left school it was highly unlikely however I trundled along in my best clobber hoping to wow fellow graduates with my tales from the frontline of hospital radio and the like. The do was held in the function room of a cocktail lounge in town. Arriving early I perched upon a lofty chrome bar stool with a fancy drink oozing strawberries and alcohol fumes and waited. Three overpriced drinks later I saw tumbleweed blowing across the dancefloor, called it a night when I fell off my stool one drink later.
2. Work - Two words, the team. The closest I have got to an office romance is buying edible underwear for the temp upstairs and that was a Secret Santa gift, so it doesn't count. Okay?!
3. Fitness Club - I realise that my stretch top trousers are straining and I should start buying outsize garments at Atlas Man however it is no reason for me to join a gym, even if love resides behind a weights bench.
4. Wine Tasting Night - My Ex once hosted an 'Evening of Sparkling Perries and Wines from Across the Globe'. It was the start of the 80's, we'd just moved into a semi detached in a relatively affluent area, she wanted to show off her new patio, I ended up vomiting in the flower beds all night. She had a drunken fumble with an accountant from across the road, I caught them at it in the downstairs loo. He moved away soon after, we stayed together for the kids.
5. Park - not sure about this one. I think they mean one may encounter love with a fellow dog walker when out walking. I've never owned a pet but overly familiar chap did try to entice me into the men's toilets with the offer of a 'two for one'. I love a bargain at the best of times but his giddy demeanour made me uneasy. I politely declined and the toilets were closed the week later. Strange one that.
6. Supermarket/DIY store - See I've heard of singles nights in supermarkets but I think they must only happen in places where one can cruise the aisles for an hour or two, wondering which bottle of organic wine would accompany the gourmet celariac mash. Not in a place where you hump around a cardboard box full of groceries, grabbing at the bargain fishcakes and milk before sweating it out at the till as the cashier runs everything through at lightening speed before demanding payment and that you move on PROMPTLY!
7. Book or record shop - Last time I met someone in a book shop was in the self help section. I reached forward for a copy of 'Unleash your Inner Super-Hero', she smiled and recommended it. We got chatting, she bought me coffee, I bought her a bagel. We arranged to meet the following week, same time, same place. I gave her twenty pounds for her train home (she lived in the next city). She didn't show the next week. My daughter told me I'd 'been had'. At the time I thought she was jealous as I'd just split from her mum, looking back she was probably right. These days I go to the library.
8. Dance or yoga class - Don't even go there. I once went to a salsa class, all was going swimmingly until I broke a woman's toe and she accused me of dancing like an uncontrollable tennis ball. Never been back.
9. Party - Chances of me being invited to a proper party these days are similar to me being marooned on a desert island with Sian Williams and a bumper pack of Cream Eggs for company. Highly unlikely but a nice thought anyway. Especially if Bill Turnbull isn't there, or Andrew Castle for that matter. Oops he's the other side isn't he?
10. Through friends - My ex-best friend is now sleeping with my ex-wife. My other best friend smashed up my home, now he is sober he is so fit and toned I can't bear to be seen with him. And my father is marrying a woman half his age.
So there you go, no mention of meeting the love of your life whilst laid up on the sofa with a bad back. So unless I can regain better mobility I am doomed to a life of bachelorhood on the sofa with just the TV remote and the BBC newsreaders for company.
Published Date:
27/02/2010
Modified Date:
03/03/2010
Free Gift
It's been a week since I last posted and for good reason, on Monday I put my back out shifting an excess order of copier paper at work. I was busy fixing a printer jam when my team leader flagged up the arrival of a delivery driver in reception. Knowing her dislike for matters of the administrative variety I hotfooted it back to my desk to be met by a scowling driver and thirty hefty boxes of paper. I exclaimed at the quantity, the driver shrugged and gruffly proclaimed to be parked on 'double yellas'. He urged me to sign the docket and told me to call their office, which I did and was told it was a 'free gift' for loyal custom. I would rather they have sent a fuzzy pom pom with googley eyes to stick on my PC monitor than ten extra boxes of paper. With a reception full of clients, young, old and inebriated I had no choice but to shift the whole lot to an upstairs store room. As my team leader looked on I began loading the trolley, slowly and taking every precaution I could. I saw her look of anxiety as reception got busier still but there was little I could do, other than pile one extra box on the trolley and carefully manouver it on. She commented that I should pick up my speed, so I hurried on but no sooner than you could say 'risk assessment' I was whimpering with pain and clutching at my back. The trolley came crashing down, narrowly missing my toe and reams of paper spilled across the floor. I was sent home in a taxi. My doctor says I have to rest but I'm finding it a struggle.
Published Date:
27/02/2010
Modified Date:
27/02/2010
All Brown
My daughter is a whizz at desserts, she can whip up a bowl of jam roly poly topped with steaming hot custard quicker than I can proclaim to be on a diet. She created a leaning tower of profiteroles for her Italian friend's wedding and won first prize at school for her prized Baked Alaska. She really is the Queen of Puddings. But whilst she is more than capable with 'afters' she completely lacks in 'befores', in fact I could go as far as saying she is a culinary disaster where main courses are concerned. Her steamed mince puddings are flabby, she burns steaks to a cinder and last time we had fish it resembled the sole of my right slipper. Understandably I did not jump for joy when she suggested cooking for us both last night. However it being the first sign of brightness in my daughter since the demise of her international love affair I agreed to her making tea and off she skipped to buy some ingrediants. Now I maybe partially to blame for the concoction she rustled up, my cupboards aren't stocked with chef's basics and neither do I have the time to read cookery books. In fact I imagine Louise gleaned the recipe for tonight's dish from the back of a cereal packet. A high fibre cereal packet at that. As I found out this morning she loaded the lasagne with bran. Aside from the burnt cheese crust it was tasty enough and she served it with a refreshing garden salad. Continuing on a theme dessert was a bran based Apple Crumble. Now this was delicious, melt in the mouth molton apples with a crunchy topping. It was so tasty I had thirds and Louise was smiling from ear to ear. She loves to cook and it melted my heart to see her smile. Indeed I thought of her happy face as I sat in agony on the toilet today, clutching my spasmodic bowel. I am still sure she cooked the meal for love and not for my Ex, who I am hoping didn't suggest the secret high fibre ingrediant.
Published Date:
20/02/2010
Modified Date:
20/02/2010
Valentine's Day
Spent the morning washing my clothes and clearing away chocolate wrappers from behind the sofa. A woman in mourning is certainly a hungry one. How Louise keeps managing to snaffle so many sweet things into the flat is beyond me, especially as she seems to be feigning agrophobia every time I'm around. Perhaps the secret sweet smuggler pops round when I'm out at work, either that or it's the Newsagent's son. Hmmm could be onto something there. Feeling much better than I thought I would on Valentine's Day. Although annoying Louise's mess keeps my mind off my lacklustre love life. It being a Sunday helps too...no chance of the postman not stopping by or my colleagues penning fake cards and laughing into their naturally dyed hemp sweaters. Yes it's a good day for Valentine's.
Published Date:
14/02/2010
Modified Date:
20/02/2010
Impending Doom
Little to report back on this week other than a horrible sense of impending doom as my Ex is due to drop by any moment now. I'm hiding in my bedroom with the laptop and a family pack of supermarket brand biscuits hoping she doesn't come creeping. When she discovered Louise had arrived back in the UK she insisted on coming over. I initially resisted, insisting that Louise meet her on more neutral territory but when it became apparent that Louise could barely make it to the corner shop without breaking down I relinquished and allowed one visit from the Queen of Venom. I think that's the door now, over and out.
Published Date:
11/02/2010
Modified Date:
11/02/2010
Foul Mood
Since returning Louise has done little else but mope around my flat, drinking cold coffee and crying. For the first few days of her stay I offered tea, sympathy and a generous supply of chocolate and gossip magazines but I'm becoming tired of coming home every day to her sullen face and foul mood. It's like she is a teenager again but without the slamming of doors and my ex wife going through 'the change'. Whoever timed my daughter's teenage years to co-incide with my ex's menopause needs to be struck off the creation register. Surely nothing can be more testing than living with two women at their least rational time of life. For two or three years my life lurched from crisis to drama, I returned every night from work to a houseful of hormones, a sink of unwashed pots and broken crockery. At one point I thought they were holding Greek plate smashing parties in my absence, only to be reminded of the force of their wrath one particularly turbulent Sunday dinner. With hindsight I think my Ex was secretly jealous of Louise's emerging beauty and the number of possible suitors clamouring for her attention. Thankfully I fell into hospital radio around this time so could escape once or twice a week to the safe environment of the studio. I know I should be more sympathetic to Louise's predicament. I can imagine it is hard splitting from someone you adore but there is little I can say, other than ask her to tidy up and water the plants. Perhaps that's what she needs, maybe she needs me to be the strict authoritarian dad. I always let the Ex do the discipline but perhaps I should call on my inner Super-nanny and get her to tow the line, well at least help out a little bit. She could at least wash up.
Published Date:
02/02/2010
Modified Date:
02/02/2010
Liverpool Airport
Arrived at Liverpool airport a couple of hours early so as not to miss Louise. Thankfully found a public internet terminal, excuse any typos, I'm sat on a spindley bar stool looking like an overweight budgie balancing on a tiny perch. I've already wobbled off once! Just had my lunch in one of the many fast food eateries in the airport, with so much time to spare I wanted to take time over my food - not eat fast! As I sat there munching away on my sauce drenched burger a trio of business types swung in, all smart designer overcoats, slick back hair and pierced ears. It was clearly not the kind of place they regularly frequented but with such a limited choice of eateries on offer they could do little else but be seated and enjoy a taste of poor man's cuisine. Dashing down their laptops and oversized leather holdalls they placed their orders in loud, brusque voices and chummily clinked their beer bottles with one another whilst eyeing up a gaggle of girls waiting for their flight. I watched intently as they flirted with the attractive woman behind the counter, each one of them clearly twenty years her senior but with the staggering confidence of a twenty year old. I made some mental notes and sloped off, vowing to swap my welly boots for cowboy boots.
Published Date:
29/01/2010
Modified Date:
30/01/2010