What's (been) going on?

Well I am just about over the joint birthday disco my daughter had with a friend whose birthday is close to hers.

Last Sunday evening I was invited round to the home of R's rich daddy to discuss arrangements for the party. R is an obscenely spoilt young person. I had agreed in advance to pay half the cost of the disco hire. I was asked round to discuss what food we should get. I said my mum and I would make sausage rolls and cakes. I then said I was skint and did not think that at these things the kids bother about eating. By making such a statement I was ignoring the bleeding obvious which is that R bothers about eating very much. And eats very much. And weighs far too much. I had earlier in that week had the horrendous experience of taking H and R shopping for the matching outfits they had decided they wanted to wear at their party. H is stick thin. R isn't. Trying tactfully to find something that suited them both was, to use a word we social workers resort to when faced with any kind of nightmare situation, 'challenging'. We found something eventually, but within the next three days R's mum brought her not one but two further outfits for the party to add to the one she had bought when out with me. H and R did not in the event wear the same thing, as H was quite happy with what she had bought in the first place.

So back to the food. R was there and set about producing a food list that would last the whole of Northampton should we ever need to take to a nuclear bunker for a 12 year period. I'm thinking "I did make it clear I am broke didn't I?" and also "R's dad isn't stupid enough to buy all that lot is he?" Not sure about the answer to my first question, but the answer to the second one is an unequivocal "Yes he is that stupid." I was absolutely mortified by the truck loads of supplies that arrived, including to add to my annoyance, sausage rolls and cakes - bloody horrible shop bought ones mind but all the same......

R's dad does something to do with window dressing for very posh stores like this one in New York, and so he also provided fabulous decorations for the village hall.

P's dad's new girl friend told me, in between deciding I was her bestest friend in all the world - I had met her that night* - that he had spent over £700 on the party. This made my £50 towards the disco (plus costs of surplus to requirement home made sausage rolls and cakes) seem rather tight fisted.I did however manage to resist the inclination to insist upon paying half his costs. And as I had said in the first place, the kids (except R) were not interested in eating and nearly all of it was left over (although me and my mum's sausage rolls and cakes went...just thought I would mention that ;-) )

So obviously anyway R was bowled over by her father's incredible generosity and kindness. Or rather, no she wasn't and over the course of the evening had at least three tantrums and told him to "fuck off and die" in front of everyone. Such a delightful young lady.

H had a nice time which is all I really care about.

Incidentally, there were plenty of 10 year olds there at the party as well as the 13/14 year old school friends of H and R. How any bastard can profess to think a 10 year old is actually 16 as in this case is just a sick joke. Even the most Britneyish young teenager at the party did not in any way look 16. The increased four year sentence is still a disgrace and an invitation to other paedophiles to rape kids. Back to trivialities......


Reidski and I have recently seen Atonement, and were glad we had both read it first. Actually, I thought the way they got round the twist in the book at the end was very cleverly done. And I want Keira Knightley's green dress! We also saw Michael Clayton which was an edge of the seat thriller, although all around us people were walking out throughout the duration of the entire film - bizarre behaviour, which reduced us to fits of giggles by the time the fourth set of people disappeared. We went to see The Editors play Brixton which was great,and also saw an
Alan Ayckbourn play which was fun.

And we have both individually this weekend watched lots of sport. Strangely the result over the weekend I was most happy about was this one. Is the man brain washing me I wonder?




* Where did he find her? She is completely and utterly insane and deserving of rather more detailed description another time.

Anxious? Moi?

Now I may in passing have mentioned that I am going to South Africa soon.

Yes I know - apologies for mentioning it at every available opportunity. But maybe because it is such a big deal - as in - once in a lifetime experience - I am getting a little anxious about it. Well I certainly am if my dream is anything to go by.

So in the dream we are there and I think that through thick fog I see a giraffe. It is when someone tells me I am pointing at a dog that I realise I have left my contact lenses at home and therefore will not be able to see any animals whilst out on safari. Then it started to snow. My friend told me we were promised blizzards in the morning, but it was OK, because there were lots of boy scouts on stand by to dig us out. I am embarrassed to admit that at this point in my dream I thought - "Must get photos of the snow as no one who reads the blog will believe me when I said it snowed otherwise." THAT was when I realised that I had left my camera at home.

Cut to me driving my car along the riverbank. (No, I'm not sure how I came to take my car to South Africa either but...)This leads on to another anxiety I have at present - one of my car's many warning signs is currently in real life illuminated, and I haven't got round to sorting it out yet.My car then started giving me messages running across the dashboard saying things like "You have left it too late. Your car is fucked." I mention this to someone who works at the lodge. He said it was OK and that he knew someone in Northampton he could ring and they would be able to help. I was quite impressed by this extraordinary knowledge, (and how did he know I was from Northampton?)and thought I should give him a tip. THAT was when I realised I had come out without any money whatsoever.

Next I was worrying that Reidski would be upset because I hadn't managed to ring him before I left. And then, as I am in real life wont to do when I am nervous, I spilt my glass of wine - and woke up.


Do other people get so worked up merely because they are leaving the country for six days?



Note to self....MUST get car seen to.

This is so wrong!

I got my daughter to have a good clear out of stuff she hordes in her bedroom.

I have just gone to empty a bin and what do I find but a load of CD's....Kylie, Beyonce, Sugababes and so on.

I asked her what they were doing in the bin. "Oh" she says, "I am throwing them away. They are old." (My italics.)

What kind of hideous precedent would this set if we had to throw out CD's (never mind the antiques that are LP's) because they were old????

No, no, no, no. It can't be done. I have of course, rescued all the CD's which were tip bound.

Or I am the one in the wrong. Blimey - those Clash LP's are 30 years old now - they will have to go.




(Not a chance.)

It's 5 past 11.

I suppose I really should get out of bed!

Nothing if not unpredicatable

After the debacle that was Tuesday night for at least an hour ofyesterday's match we could do no wrong and in spite of an injury crisis that we left Millwall with we deservedly won what was, once Port Vale decided to join in, a great game of football. (Port Vale's goal was a beauty - we clapped.)

Going back to our late arrival at Millwall, it transpired that the team were just 5 miles from the ground but had to have a police escort in what with Millwall fans being so unruly and all that. Anyway, traffic was terrible in the area as it was, but it sure wasn't helped by the police escort vehicle sustaining a bloody puncture! THAT was why the team arrived late!

And obviously I should be grateful that my team are unlikely ever to be troubled by European fixtures. I was quite shocked to see that yesterday - a SATURDAY - that there were only 2 Premier league games because so many of the pampered darlings couldn't cope with playing that day having exerted themselves in Europe during the week. Erh, don't they all have squads consisting of 50 or so players? Could they not possibly give someone else a game even if all the 11 that turn out in the week are feeling a little fatigued? What about the poor fans? The very poor fans if they are paying the ticket prices demanded by these clubs. Oh I was forgetting that they are the last people to be considered by the powers that be in football. Who cares if they have horrendous homeward journeys on a Sunday evening from where ever it is that their team is playing that day? Of course, even when they don't play European fixtures in the week they bugger about with match days and times due to the Evil Sky Sports.

Talking though of exorbitant prices for football ( Was I talking about that? Oh yes - got a passing mention in above complaint) we are playing at Luton a week on Monday. Now for those amongst you who have never had the pleasure of a trip to sit in the away end at Luton Town I have to assure you that this picture (with thanks to Duncan Adams - photographer) is genuine.





Yes, we really do go in through the middle of people's houses. As we go up the steps the other side we look down into people's back yards. We then - or certainly those of us with long legs do - sit bent double hugging our knees as there is no leg room at all - whilst trying to avoid the seats where the view is completely concealed by huge pillars. A pukka pie costs £3.00. Oh I don't believe what I just saw when looking for a link to pukka pies....I have to share this whilst checking which century we are living in........



That has completely thrown me! Where was I?

Oh yes, anyway - for such unaccustomed luxury we are expected to pay £23.50 a ticket. In the words of Ricky Gervais in Extras "You're 'aving a laugh." But hey - rejoice and praise the Wonderful Public Service that is Sky Sports. The match is being televised so I shall feel no need to go!


Did I just hear the words 'Two faced bitch' muttered somewhere in the distance?

It is only a game

Before we left for the game about 6.30 in the evening, we were cooking dinner and kept hearing sirens behind Reidski's house. I made poor jokes about the Mighty Cobblers Crew terrorising the locals. If only it had been that trivial.

Generous to a fault

Lots of faults actually.

Well, I was right to be worried about this. When a side has not won in 7 games they would be wise to ask for the fixtures to be rearranged in order to play Northampton next. An end to the losing streak would then be practically guaranteed.

Mind you, even by our standards we did go out of our way to help Millwall on Tuesday night by means of the following:

1) Bring two players back from long term absence due to injury.
2) Play four players out of position.
3) Arrive late. The team coach got delayed on the motorway and only arrived 15 minutes before kick off was due. Kick off was delayed to allow time for team and fans to arrive. At 7.30 me and Reidski were very lonely indeed in the away end with an estimated 48 others.
4) Due to late arrival, don't warm up properly and therefore -
5) Lose captain to injury after three minutes and as if that wasn't enough -
6) Lose best player to injury thirteen minutes later.
7) Concede two soft goals.
8) Play at an unacceptably poor standard.


What was that line again?

Oh yes.

"It is only a game."

*Goes off to find cat to kick.*

I wanna be the winner.

Hello! Hooray! Let the show begin,
I've been ready.
Hello! Hooray! Let the lights grow dim,
I've been ready.

God, I feel so strong.
I feel so strong.
I'm so strong.
I feel so strong.
So strong.
God, I feel so strong,
I am so strong.

If I keep going in this vein, maybe, just maybe, I will be able to persuade myself I am not worried about tonight.

Repeat endlessly throughout the day (plus all of tomorrow should the unthinkable happen and we lose)...."It is only a game of football."



Anyone else LOVE Alice Cooper?

Good times

I came down to London again on Friday. Reisdki and I had a night in on Friday - him mainly watching rugby and me mainly messing around with You Tube and having far too much to drink. Talking of You Tube, to save my loved one future embarrassment - Pete Wylie is to be seen after 2 minutes and 50 seconds of this video of The Farm singing Altogether Now (and if you don't know why he really needs to know that I refer you to this post, aptly entitled 'What a twat.')

Saturday morning was spent sleeping off the too much to drink of the night before and then I did a bit of gardening. Reidski has a garden that was obviously once upon a time very much loved and cared for, but for many recent years has been totally neglected.I think that is rather sad and have been hacking away at it in the past few months. I am very proud that one can now see to the end of the garden - believe me - that is a good start. We were surprised after a month or two to find a pond in his garden- even more surprised that fish survived in the hidden pond. And no - the garden isn't any bigger than a standard early 20th century London terraced house garden.

We went to Marylebone High Street in the evening. What a lovely area that is. It feels like a village, but it is only just off Oxford Street. We visited a couple of bars - Reidski made friends with some Italians in one pub where we watched the Scotland v Italy rugby match. The friendship lasted at least until this final score. Then we had a really nice meal at Strada, which is part of (as I now know but didn't at the time) a chain of Italian restaurants...and is highly recommended by me if not by this fat bloke. The shops round there looked very tempting too - I will return.

We managed to get back to his place on public transport without him single handedly taking on three drunken racists (verbally - not fisticuffs) which was both a relief and more than we managed a couple of weeks ago. ( I thought we would get knifed and was completely useless in the situation we found ourselves.) (I was still proud of him though - racist bastards that they were.)

Back home now until Tuesday when my team (you all know who they are - the Mighty Cobblers) take on his team (Millwall) at his place. That could make disagreements over when British Summer Time ends appear somewhat trivial in comparison!

We had a disagreement!

Me and Reidski had our first ever fall out. This may seem hard to believe as Reidski has been accused of being a little 'confrontational' on occasions by certain other bloggers, but in 20 months of being together we had never had a fall out.

The fact that I didn't know we had had a fall out is immaterial to this post as he had to text me and tell me he owed me a huge apology. I rang at once - what the hell had he done? The apology was that I was right and he was wrong about when British Summer Time ends. Well - I KNEW that anyway! He said it was always late September. I said it was always late October. I totally missed the fact that my conviction that I was right had really pissed him off because he was so convinced HE was right. From memory our conversation as to when British Summer Time ends lasted all of two minutes, but anyway, I now know that apparently we had our first ever fall out.

Making up was nice though!

If one

is going to fall over ones step at the gym in mid class I think one should always endeavour to do so right in front of the glass doors where a crowd of people is waiting to come into the following class. How else after all can one best add to the gaiety of the local Virgin Active membership?

I have a scrapped* and swollen knee. But my pride is injured much more deeply.



* Yes - thank you everyone for pointing out my error! I have now officially suffered enough over that one....surely???

Oh yes

I remember this dilemma even though mine are all long past that stage now.

Typically

as I was otherwise engaged this weekend my lads turned on the style and won according to both my son, and the score line, very convincingly. Apparently the Huddersfield manager told his team before kick off that we were relegation fodder. I wonder what he said to them after their 3-0 thrashing by said relegation fodder?

And the answer

is.......

Spoiler alert!!!!

I now know that there are two major inaccuracies in the song sang in The Wizard of Oz when they declare that the Wicked Witch is Dead, in that she wasn't wicked, and nor was she dead.

She runs off with the Scarecrow!

Anyway, quite good fun as a show. Clever plot. The woman who plays the witch who isn't wicked at all has a hell of a voice. Amazing sets. And yes, if you have teenage girls with you it is pretty much guaranteed to be a successful night out - unless one of them happens to be a 14 year old Goth and pretty much determined NOT to enjoy it at all. The Goth in our little group did eventually concede under intense questioning that it was 'Alright' which as a recommendation is probably on a par with 'Sensational!' says Heat Magazine.

Lots of women there, and lots of 'Friends of Dorothy' there. Hetro men were noticable only by their absence. Anyway, in view of the above, and the fact that the Apollo, Victoria has 2574 seats of which approx two thirds are in the circle, a question for you: What is the total number of toilets available in the circle at the Apollo Victoria for women to use? I will pop the answer in the comments of the next post, but do have a guess without cheating. I'm sure no one has anything better to do :-)

Just had a bit of a surprise

I looked at reviews of the musical I am going to see tomorrow night. Knowing that my friend's 12 year old daughter has seen Wicked four times already, I had a certain preconception of what it was going to be like, but whaddya know? The reviews are really good.

It is going to be a girly weekend for me and my daughter. Shame it doesn't start a bit earlier - like half an hour ago, for this evening, far from a girly night, I find my house invaded by numerous teenage boys bearing beer.

Bad timing too this weekend because Jim of TNR blog is down from Ayrshire with his wife at Reidski's for the weekend and I shall miss them.

Was at Reidski's last night and we went for a superb meal at a Turkish restaurant near London Bridge. I was at a conference today. Luckily he was starting work late and took me to the venue. I say luckily because it was in such an out of the way spot that without his help I feel I would be searching for it still. Not, now I come to think about it, that that would have been so terrible, because I would then have been saved from listening to an egotist drone on all day about how wonderful she is - but then if she has been reading reviews like these I guess it could go to one's head. Me? I thought she was rubbish and the book to be unreadable, but each to their own. Lunch was good though.

Back to the girly weekend which will comprise 5 adults, 5 teenagers,all of whom will be going on the trip mentioned previously to South Africa in a month's time. OHMIGOD!!!!!!!!! I AM GOING TO SOUTH AFRICA!!!!!!!!!(Sorry, just got a bit excited there.) We are going to a very glamorous clothes shop. I think I shall look really cool out on safari in my army surplus gear and I shall continue to think that until some one shows me the photos afterwards. Then we are going Up West, and shall catch the show afore mentioned. It will be fun...but am still sorry I shan't see Jim.



Back though to the Here and Now.

I do hope no one throws up in my house tonight.

Memory Lane

It was Wednesday 20th September. I was expecting my first baby on Friday 13th October. As if that date wasn't bad enough, it also happens to be the birthday of Margaret Thatcher and Edwina Currie and everyone in my family had girls which was a bit of a worry but I did know first babies are nearly always late.

I went to the hospital ante natal unit that morning - just for a routine check up, but they decided they would have me in on 1st October to induce the baby as he/she appeared to be a big un. I was quite happy about that. At least now I could start planning, buy the baby things etc.

That afternoon I went to my regular Wednesday afternoon ante natal class. Of all the bizarre things I have ever done in my life, they are right up there. That afternoon we got to practice 'pushing'. I was obviously a little over enthusiastic because much to my mortification, as I pushed I felt a dribble 'down below'. "Sod it!" Amidst all the indignities of late pregnancy, I had thus far avoided incontinence - until it appeared that moment - AND to make matters worse I was wearing white trousers. I excused myself from the exercise and tried to make my huge self inconspicuous for the rest of the class.

Home and I was knackered. I had a bit of a lie down, but was still bothered by the dribbling 'down below'. Some hours later I decided to investigate somewhat closer and collected a sample (something women are quite skilled at by the 8th month of pregnancy). *Thinks* "Hummm....my wee doesn't look like that." I rang the hospital and was a bit put out to be told I had better come in and see them. As I was driving there I remember wondering if I would be back home in time to see a particularly promising episode of Brookside which was on at 8.00pm that night.

I never did get to see Brookside. Although I wasn't in labour I had developed a leak. Nothing dramatic which is what I always assumed happened when your waters broke, but a slow leak. Nevertheless, as the midwife informed me after the most cursory of examinations, I couldn't go home as I was going to have a baby in the next 48 hours. And far from being prepared I didn't even have so much as a toothbrush with me, let alone anything for a baby.

But have a baby I did. Just before midnight the following day. And I bucked the family trend and had a boy. 8lbs 6ozs so I guess he would have pretty big if I had gone to my dates, but he was long - 58 cms long, hence the leak - poor child hadn't got room to stretch and basically put his foot through his too cosy accommodation. And tomorrow my baby is old enough to vote. And today he is 6 foot 4 inches long.

I have seen this week in blog land that Ally, who became pregnant towards the very end of an assessment to adopt a child, and also Salvadore have both had baby boys this week. I wish them the happiness my son has given me, but warn them that in 18 years time they too will be wondering as I am now, "How on earth did that happen so fast?"

This is where I am going wrong

in my unstinting efforts to get this blog published and onto the shelves at WH Smith.

I am not tragic enough*...unlike these lot as seen today in Milton Keynes!



For fuck's sake - how many miserable childhoods do the reading population need?????

The really sharp eyed amongst you might notice that one of the books on the bottom shelve amongst very many 'Tragic Life Stories' is Alistair Campbell's biography, 'The Blair Years'. Whether placed there in error or not I really could not decide.


* Doesn't supporting a rubbish football team for nearly 40 years count?

It;s going to be a great weekend

cos I get to spend it with him.

I'm not a detective

I am so full of surprises aren't I?

No, I am definitely not a detective, but yesterday an educated respectable middle class man came to see me and my supervisor at the office and lied to us. I can fully understand, in view of what he was lying about, that he wouldn't have wanted us to know the truth. But anyway, he lied and we both knew within the first two minutes that he was lying. He kept contradicting himself. He said he had no memory of something really major that had happened to him less than two years ago. He was sweating. His body language alone screamed out how uncomfortable he was. And much as I would love to relate the whole story which is so ridiculous, if it hadn't caused hurt to an Innocent person it would be funny, I can't because of reasons related to why my first blog ended. The only reason I mention it at all is because it was blindingly obvious he was lying.

You probably all know where this is leading, and it is of course the point where I finally fail in my determination not to mention the Madeleine McCann story here...even though like much of the rest of the population I am transfixed by the story which is without doubt the most astonishing and compelling real life drama I can ever remember. I saw yesterday that some reporters covering the story are refusing to speak to other reporters who hold a different view to them about the innocence or otherwise of Kate and Gerry McCann. I can identify with that having come close to throwing my eldest out the house due to his declaration from Day 1 that it was 'the parents what done it.'

As tales of more and more DNA 'evidence' is splashed across the news every day this is probably not the wisest moment to declare that I am simply unable to conceive that Kate or Gerry McCann could have had anything to do with the disappearance of their daughter beyond the undisputed fact that they had left their children alone. They have to live with that for the rest of their lives.

My reasons for this are by no means original and have undoubtedly been expressed by thousands of others who like me can not believe we have all been taken in for so long by what would amount to the most large scale callous confidence trick played on the entire public in recent history.

Not of course that now I have started I am going to refrain from giving my reasons for my belief that Madeleine's parents did not kill her and then conceal her body.

We are asked to believe that 1) They killed their beautiful daughter, conceived by IVF which suggests that they were not forced reluctantly into parenthood, but instead struggled to achieve that status.
2) Having killed her, presumably even their most virulent critics would accept probably accidentally, instead of responding with total and utter hysteria, they made a joint agreement to hide her, and concoct a story about her being snatched in her sleep. One assumes such a decision would not have been a quick five minutes chat, but nevertheless they then
3) Manage to take her out of the flat without anyone seeing them and somehow, in a country they have never visited before, find such a good hiding place that finger tip searches of the locality do not reveal her whereabouts.Then they went for a meal with friends...as you would.
4)They then lauch a massive campaign to keep their daughter in the public consciousness. Was there anyone in the UK, not to mention many other places, who did not see the McCann's on our TV screens? So huge is the campaign that they are followed every moment by the entire world's media. If they wanted to be low key and hope people wouldn't recognise them I would suggest visiting the pope alongside TV cameras was somewhat ill advised.
5)Then in spite of being watched everywhere they went and being probably about as unrecognisable as Princess Di was in her day, they manage to remove her body from Hiding Place A, and dispose of it in Hiding Place B without any one noticing, incluidng the police who were it seems at that stage monitoring their every telephone call.

Well if they did pull the above of they will have to rewrite the book on Master Criminals.

Going back to the beginning, lies are detectable. We watch, we listen, and we weigh up the available facts as they are known to us. I just can not accept that two individuals could lie for so long and so consistently about something of the unimaginable scale of killing your three year old daughter, to everyone watching on their televisions, anxious as we were to hear news of the missing child.

There. Now I have said that I expect we can expect the two of them to make a full confession sometime later today.

So convinced am I of their innocence it is only THEN I would think they were lying.



Just to add to what I said earlier, I saw this news report, and just to highlight this bit -

Mrs McCann was frequently seen writing her diary in private moments after Madeleine went missing from the family's holiday apartment more than four months ago.

SHE WAS FREQUENTLY SEEN WRITING HER DIARY IN PRIVATE MOMENTS.

But no one noticed a thing when she popped out to move her daughter's body?

Oh come on!!!!