Nice comb-over. ..Erm, thanks Mum.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Saturday, November 06, 2010
I'm In Love With Myself, My Beautiful Self
A new sure-fire way of calming and mesmerizing George at the end of a long and busy day. Show him videos of...
...himself.
Much self-congratulation, admiration and applause. "Ga!"
(Self) indulgent, yes. But far preferable to In The Night Garden or Teletubbies.
BTW. Both George and Ted are completely un-bovvered by the, erm, Blitz, or rather Bonfire Night in north London.
...himself.
Much self-congratulation, admiration and applause. "Ga!"
(Self) indulgent, yes. But far preferable to In The Night Garden or Teletubbies.
BTW. Both George and Ted are completely un-bovvered by the, erm, Blitz, or rather Bonfire Night in north London.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
A Different View?
So here's me feeling ever so sorry for myself.
I go out to work for the sole purpose of keeping a roof over our heads, food on the table and everyone warm and clothed. I don't get anything for myself -- no treats, no indulgences, and definitely no thanks. The home is awash with buggies, trikes, toys, muslins, baby unctions, nappies, baby and toddler clothes and clutter.
Also, I have absolutely no control of this domestic situation. The home is run by two small children and a wife who sets the rules according to the needs of the kids. Indeed, the smaller, the more vocal and needy the person, the higher up the pecking order they are.
I can't properly dress myself in the morning, so as not to disturb the baby. I can't undress myself at all when I come home, so as not to disturb the baby. I can't listen to music, watch TV or flush a toilet -- so as not to disturb the baby. I can't eat dinner with my wife, because the baby cries for two and a half hours every evening and we take it in turns to sooth him. He won't settle until she goes to bed, and even then there's no guarantee that he'll sleep until it's past 10:00pm.
Forget about going out, going to football, staying-up late, watching a movie, having a quiet beer with a mate or having a lie-in. These simple leisure activities are impossible. And my dog is in semi-permanent banishment from the home, on extended vacation in the country.
I compromise my career by leaving home later in the mornings to administer wake-ups and breakfast, and by leaving the office early to get home in time to cover the eldest while the youngest is put to bed (only to wail for the rest of the evening).
All this chaos -- with no hope of control or sign of an end -- is making me tetchy, moody and really rather gloomy.
Oh, poor, poor me..
But let's look at this from another angle.
I have a wonderful family which adores me, and I them.
I have a loving wife who's taken me on when many would run a mile, is my best friend and favourite person on the planet.
My first boy is the light of my life and I'm devoted to him and receive enormous joy at his every action, utterance and development. We are as thick as thieves and my time with him is the happiest I have.
My second boy is growing fast and while more sensitive than his brother, is really rather endearing. He won't wail for ever and will soon fall into a routine upon which we can all adjust to and establish our own normalcy. I can't wait to see him grow and develop and look forward to spending a lot more 'us' time together -- and with his brother.
I also have a very good job that pays me well and affords me both the flexibility to attend to the needs of my family and enables us to live in a lovely house, and in relative financial and ambient comfort.
OK, I miss my dog, but she's impossibly happy in the exclusive care of my father, enjoys lots of long country walks, indulgent visits to doting aunts and playtime with my adorable niece and nephew.
I don't watch TV until everyone's in bed anyway, and there's frequently little on worth watching. Plus I get enough of what do want to watch on-demand and most Chelsea matches are broadcast on TV. Music is enjoyed with headphones. I'm too tired to stay up late, and anyway, lie-ins aren't essential if I'm not up too late.
When we're all in a predictable routine in a month or so, we can have a babysitter and go out occasionally. And time with friends just needs a bit of planning -- and I was never very spontaneous anyway.
We all have bad days, but mustn't lose sight of what's really important and where our priorities really lie.
So, half empty or half full?
I go out to work for the sole purpose of keeping a roof over our heads, food on the table and everyone warm and clothed. I don't get anything for myself -- no treats, no indulgences, and definitely no thanks. The home is awash with buggies, trikes, toys, muslins, baby unctions, nappies, baby and toddler clothes and clutter.
Also, I have absolutely no control of this domestic situation. The home is run by two small children and a wife who sets the rules according to the needs of the kids. Indeed, the smaller, the more vocal and needy the person, the higher up the pecking order they are.
I can't properly dress myself in the morning, so as not to disturb the baby. I can't undress myself at all when I come home, so as not to disturb the baby. I can't listen to music, watch TV or flush a toilet -- so as not to disturb the baby. I can't eat dinner with my wife, because the baby cries for two and a half hours every evening and we take it in turns to sooth him. He won't settle until she goes to bed, and even then there's no guarantee that he'll sleep until it's past 10:00pm.
Forget about going out, going to football, staying-up late, watching a movie, having a quiet beer with a mate or having a lie-in. These simple leisure activities are impossible. And my dog is in semi-permanent banishment from the home, on extended vacation in the country.
I compromise my career by leaving home later in the mornings to administer wake-ups and breakfast, and by leaving the office early to get home in time to cover the eldest while the youngest is put to bed (only to wail for the rest of the evening).
All this chaos -- with no hope of control or sign of an end -- is making me tetchy, moody and really rather gloomy.
Oh, poor, poor me..
But let's look at this from another angle.
I have a wonderful family which adores me, and I them.
I have a loving wife who's taken me on when many would run a mile, is my best friend and favourite person on the planet.
My first boy is the light of my life and I'm devoted to him and receive enormous joy at his every action, utterance and development. We are as thick as thieves and my time with him is the happiest I have.
My second boy is growing fast and while more sensitive than his brother, is really rather endearing. He won't wail for ever and will soon fall into a routine upon which we can all adjust to and establish our own normalcy. I can't wait to see him grow and develop and look forward to spending a lot more 'us' time together -- and with his brother.
I also have a very good job that pays me well and affords me both the flexibility to attend to the needs of my family and enables us to live in a lovely house, and in relative financial and ambient comfort.
OK, I miss my dog, but she's impossibly happy in the exclusive care of my father, enjoys lots of long country walks, indulgent visits to doting aunts and playtime with my adorable niece and nephew.
I don't watch TV until everyone's in bed anyway, and there's frequently little on worth watching. Plus I get enough of what do want to watch on-demand and most Chelsea matches are broadcast on TV. Music is enjoyed with headphones. I'm too tired to stay up late, and anyway, lie-ins aren't essential if I'm not up too late.
When we're all in a predictable routine in a month or so, we can have a babysitter and go out occasionally. And time with friends just needs a bit of planning -- and I was never very spontaneous anyway.
We all have bad days, but mustn't lose sight of what's really important and where our priorities really lie.
So, half empty or half full?
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Blog Rot
Esteemed BBC journalist Andrew Marr has told a packed auditorium of WI members and genteel ladies in Cheltenham that all bloggers are "..socially inadequate, pimpled, single, slightly seedy, bald, cauliflower-nosed young men sitting in their mother's basements and ranting. They are very angry people."
Of course, as evidence of these balanced and rational comments, only those in the employ of the BBC are qualified to publish ..anything ..at all ..ever.
Thing is Andy, mate, as a BBC journalist, you’re not supposed to espouse an opinion -- just report the facts. It’s OK to have all manner of idiotic opinions if you’re on a rag, but not from within Portland Place, dear boy. (You might want to remind your old mucker Jeremy Vine of this -– as he’s dragged the nation’s erstwhile flagship of journalistic integrity, Panorama, deeply into the gutter).
Your simplistic characterisation of everyone that blogs really is too rich coming from an objectionable jug-eared scarecrow like yourself. (..Hey you started it, big nose).
Should I read this as yet another example of the arrogance and elitism of the Beeb? Really, I’d expect a little more humility from someone on the licence fee-payer’s wage.
OK, I'm not being paid to address a bunch of blue-rinsed grannies in the interest of plugging my latest book or chat show, but to me blogging isn’t journalism. It’s whatever it want to be. Just normal people putting their stuff 'out there' for thousands, hundreds or a few to see. A democracy of voice -- whatever that be. (I notice you don't offer an opinion of Twitter, MySpace or Facebook etc. Isn't that just more virtual white noise from the inane -- and unfortunately, online -- chatting classes?) Any thoughts, Andy-poo?
But I accept and support the notion that journalism in or out of a democracy has an important purpose. But here the right of 'free' speech is co-opted and abused daily to sell newspapers or up the ratings, and promote racism, misogyny, selfishness and greed. And over 'there', where there's no democracy, blogging is possibly one of the only means of presenting the truth to the world. Isn't the BBC both a champion of, and user of the dissident voice? Don't you rely on it for source material, at the very least?
Of course, in the free world, we're all able to say what we want, how we want to and when -- regardless of our complexion, the amount of hair we have or marital and domestic status -- or indeed, the soundness of our opinion. Surely, you get that Mr. Marr?
..Erm, clearly not given you rather angry spa-town rant.
But Andrew, I bow, of course, to your evidently greater wisdom, experience and sense of professional efficacy -- in both the eminence of the journalistic art, and the metering of democratic expression.
I just hope your mother keeps her basement clean and tidy for her silly, spoilt son to play in. (Your brother's a great guitarist, BTW.)
Angry, abusive moi?
Poo off, poo face.
Oh, and where did I leave my Oxy10?
Of course, as evidence of these balanced and rational comments, only those in the employ of the BBC are qualified to publish ..anything ..at all ..ever.
Thing is Andy, mate, as a BBC journalist, you’re not supposed to espouse an opinion -- just report the facts. It’s OK to have all manner of idiotic opinions if you’re on a rag, but not from within Portland Place, dear boy. (You might want to remind your old mucker Jeremy Vine of this -– as he’s dragged the nation’s erstwhile flagship of journalistic integrity, Panorama, deeply into the gutter).
Your simplistic characterisation of everyone that blogs really is too rich coming from an objectionable jug-eared scarecrow like yourself. (..Hey you started it, big nose).
Should I read this as yet another example of the arrogance and elitism of the Beeb? Really, I’d expect a little more humility from someone on the licence fee-payer’s wage.
OK, I'm not being paid to address a bunch of blue-rinsed grannies in the interest of plugging my latest book or chat show, but to me blogging isn’t journalism. It’s whatever it want to be. Just normal people putting their stuff 'out there' for thousands, hundreds or a few to see. A democracy of voice -- whatever that be. (I notice you don't offer an opinion of Twitter, MySpace or Facebook etc. Isn't that just more virtual white noise from the inane -- and unfortunately, online -- chatting classes?) Any thoughts, Andy-poo?
But I accept and support the notion that journalism in or out of a democracy has an important purpose. But here the right of 'free' speech is co-opted and abused daily to sell newspapers or up the ratings, and promote racism, misogyny, selfishness and greed. And over 'there', where there's no democracy, blogging is possibly one of the only means of presenting the truth to the world. Isn't the BBC both a champion of, and user of the dissident voice? Don't you rely on it for source material, at the very least?
Of course, in the free world, we're all able to say what we want, how we want to and when -- regardless of our complexion, the amount of hair we have or marital and domestic status -- or indeed, the soundness of our opinion. Surely, you get that Mr. Marr?
..Erm, clearly not given you rather angry spa-town rant.
But Andrew, I bow, of course, to your evidently greater wisdom, experience and sense of professional efficacy -- in both the eminence of the journalistic art, and the metering of democratic expression.
I just hope your mother keeps her basement clean and tidy for her silly, spoilt son to play in. (Your brother's a great guitarist, BTW.)
Angry, abusive moi?
Poo off, poo face.
Oh, and where did I leave my Oxy10?
Hanging On The Telephone
Why is it that every service provider with an 0845.. number keeps you on the line for ages going through hundreds of options, directs you constantly to it's Website, and prefaces every call with the announcement that "we're experiencing unusually high call volumes. Please stay on hold indefinitely or call back at another time."
This really is pants -- and it cuts across 'service' providers. It's as if no one wants to provide a 'service'. But if you miss a payment, they're all pretty damned quick to send reminders and increasingly threatening letters.
All I'm trying to do is have a parcel redelivered.
Royal Mail, Virgin Media, Thames Water, British Gas, Direct Line et al, you all suck donkeys.
Addendum: And Tesco Metro is a constant shocker -- in every store. Twenty people stock-taking or stacking shelves, and generally getting in the way. Only two people on the tills. Maybe Tesco should serve its customers first and take care of the stock out of hours or during the quieter mid-morning or afternoon...?
This really is pants -- and it cuts across 'service' providers. It's as if no one wants to provide a 'service'. But if you miss a payment, they're all pretty damned quick to send reminders and increasingly threatening letters.
All I'm trying to do is have a parcel redelivered.
Royal Mail, Virgin Media, Thames Water, British Gas, Direct Line et al, you all suck donkeys.
Addendum: And Tesco Metro is a constant shocker -- in every store. Twenty people stock-taking or stacking shelves, and generally getting in the way. Only two people on the tills. Maybe Tesco should serve its customers first and take care of the stock out of hours or during the quieter mid-morning or afternoon...?
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Appeasement
Walking with both George and Ted is difficult.
Ted only sleeps in the buggy while it's moving. George is out of the buggy almost all of the time and likes to explore, but doesn't like going in a straight line. He prefers to find and throw conkers at the moment. So in order to keep George moving with purpose and direction, and therefore, Ted quiet, I had to coax him around the park in the direction of the ice cream van.
Here are the messy results.
Also, after a major sugar hit -- 1.George wasn't interested in his supper and 2. he was incredibly hyper until bath time. But went down as usual without fuss, clearly knackered.
Ted by contrast hasn't stopped screaming all day.
Ted only sleeps in the buggy while it's moving. George is out of the buggy almost all of the time and likes to explore, but doesn't like going in a straight line. He prefers to find and throw conkers at the moment. So in order to keep George moving with purpose and direction, and therefore, Ted quiet, I had to coax him around the park in the direction of the ice cream van.
Here are the messy results.
Also, after a major sugar hit -- 1.George wasn't interested in his supper and 2. he was incredibly hyper until bath time. But went down as usual without fuss, clearly knackered.
Ted by contrast hasn't stopped screaming all day.
Saturday, October 09, 2010
Sh-ite..
Looking at some of this stuff again -- damn, I'm good, if a bit sour. Where's my Observer column?
Guess Who's Back..?
..back again..
I'm thinking Facebook is actually just too much - and was rather wrong-headed in my appraisal a year ago.
So, will commune with myself and the occasional visitor here, henceforth. Indeed, I prefer my exhibitionism (for that is what all this really is) to be conducted within more controlled limits.
I do actually enjoy FB and have reconnected with some lovely people and it's great keeping up-to-date, but it's a bit too compulsive and just not real.
Friends are friends, whatever. I don't have 250 of them regardless of my avaricious status might say -- only about 5 or 6. And I tend to have a rather different level of engagement with them -- erm, actually, direct and personal. Will stay on, but only as an observer. My banal musings will be confined to this, my own piece of real estate.
..So for those that are willing to check-in here from time to time.. Aw bollox, Meldrew's back.
I'm thinking Facebook is actually just too much - and was rather wrong-headed in my appraisal a year ago.
So, will commune with myself and the occasional visitor here, henceforth. Indeed, I prefer my exhibitionism (for that is what all this really is) to be conducted within more controlled limits.
I do actually enjoy FB and have reconnected with some lovely people and it's great keeping up-to-date, but it's a bit too compulsive and just not real.
Friends are friends, whatever. I don't have 250 of them regardless of my avaricious status might say -- only about 5 or 6. And I tend to have a rather different level of engagement with them -- erm, actually, direct and personal. Will stay on, but only as an observer. My banal musings will be confined to this, my own piece of real estate.
..So for those that are willing to check-in here from time to time.. Aw bollox, Meldrew's back.