Thursday, 27 November 2008

All Hail Queen Rabbitty

My mum never fails to amuse me with her resourcefulness when it comes to playing with the kids. I come home to find a polar bear asleep in its sleeping bag (jiffy bag) and I know it's her work. And when she took B & H to a cafe last week, her latte sleeve was put to very good use...

Wednesday, 12 November 2008

There's a guy at my gym ...

... who blow-dries his balls. And his bum crack. Absolutely astonishing. Stands there in front of the mirror in the main corridor of the changing room, legs wide apart, lazily playing the hairdryer over his knackers and arse like it's the most normal thing in the world. Middle aged fellow, and hairy. Can't decide whether he does it for reasons of obsessive hygene, or simply for kicks. Sheesh.

Wednesday, 15 October 2008

"I know you like multipacks"

A young colleague of mine, C, had the hump because someone nicked her last pack of crisps from the family bag under her desk. She was contemplating a passive-agressive "Dear Crisp Thief" sign when the wonderful P came back from lunch with a seven pack of chocky bars for her, uttering the imortal words above. Sheer class.

Thursday, 7 August 2008

I bought a plectrum

God it was embarrasing. The wife kindly got me a guitar for my birthday so I thought I'd better get the bits n'bobs to go with. Trouble is it's just so intimidating - strolling into a guitar shop in London's Trendy West End and saying "I need a plectrum. Or is it a pick. Erm..." The guy said "help yourself", I said "what would you recommend" him: "they're all the same, just different colours" me "ok, two grey ones please, bye". None too rock n' roll...

Wednesday, 2 July 2008

Pride, Joy

A man who has 'learned' social confidence in adultood, and whose blood runs cold at the thought of audience participation has no right to expect his child to be a bold-as-brass 'pick me!' merchant. And indeed B is not that, and is quite often as shy and watchful as his Dad was and sometimes still is. So I practically burst with pride when he bounced up and down, paw aloft, volunteering to help in a bubble-making demonstration at the Science Museum. Took it all very seriously and remembers every detail of the experience including the name of the older girl he shared the stage with. S and I were both momentarily stricken by the whole thing. Our boy. Sigh...

And he followed it up at the lovely oval paddling pool in the courtyard of the V&A by stripping down to his Spiderman and Friends pants and marching around the perimiter, dipping his feet in and out to make prints on the stone surround, weaving carelessly in and out of other picnicers and paddlers, singing a little song to himself.

And much needed too. Horrible shit keeps happening to my friends. FF is off the chemo because there's no hope left anymore.

Monday, 16 June 2008

Playmobil Babylon

A four year old son enriches your life in many ways, but surely the pick of the bunch is providing a great excuse to play with quality toys. Anyone who tells you that toys are just plastic rubbish these days is nuts. Leave the arty wooden farm animals to the wankers and get stuck in to Lego and Playmobil, that's my tip.

Playmobil is well designed, durable, and ... well, actually a bit weird on occasion. Here's my (ahem) Playm-odd-bil top three:

1) BOY WITH SINK "Only 5 in stock - order soon!" says Amazon. Erm, maybe.

2) DOCTOR WITH BABY INCUBATOR - Surely that's Alex from A Clockwork Orange?

3) LAUNDRY SET - Strike a blow for the sisters.

And a close runner-up:


Friday, 23 May 2008

Pea on a Fork

... is the joyous description our friend W gave to the sleeping pose of a baby - arms thrown up either side of head. Makes me smile every time I think of it.

Monday, 19 May 2008


It's true. I take part in the least heterosexual form of exercise on the planet. You sit on a static bike in a classful of others. To your front is a staggeringly fit instructor wearing a Britney-mic, yelling commands and encouragement as you pretend to climb hills and sprint along flat bits, using resistance on the bike's wheel, to the accompaniment of loud music. Sound a bit silly? It certainly is.

But then it's the best exercise I've ever done. I begin to match the dark red studio wall behind me within 5 mins and at the end of the session I'm saturated with sweat. A few other observations:

1) By god the music helps. Cheesy euro house does the job fine, but I always find a bit extra for that drum n'bass remix of Outer Spaced by The Prodigy.

2) It can chafe.

3) The Friday instructor, despite being about 5'3" is so fiercely fit (and in fact simply fierce) that she actually gets the back of the heavier-than-me bike to hop up when she accelerates.

Sunday, 30 March 2008


Right well it's been several months since last post. Pity I didn't have the energy to blog daily about the excitements and strife of a new baby... but I didn't. Not even close.

So instead it's straight back to random posting.

Over Easter I discovered that S is not alone in her inability to countenance a sweet snack without accompanying tea. My brother in law B spent his entire childhood fielding cup after cup made by his mum, and finds the action of putting on the kettle her most characteristic gesture to this day. He, like S, just can't deal with a piece of chocolate, cake or a biscuit, without tea.

It's the sheer perversity of this that amuses me. The fact that both of them would deny themselves the confectionary rather than have it tealess. Beautifully illustrated by V, recounting B's reaction to her thoughtfully arriving back from a petrol station stop on a long drive with a creme egg for him. "What am I supposed to do with that?!".