The way through the woods.

We're 'staycationing' at my parents house for a week as our kitchen is being refitted.

Last night as we were about to settle down to watch 'Frost Nixon'* we noticed a family strolling along the main road.
"LUNATICS! THEY"LL ALL DIE! FOOLS! SOMEBODY, MAKE THEM STOP! OH THE HUMANITY!" (and that was just father trying to find the remote control).
It's fair to say that we were alarmed by their seemingly carefree amble along the middle of one of Norfolk's busier 'B' roads until we remembered that the road had been closed for 24 hours for essential maintainance.

So Frau Random Doubt and myself took advantage of the live in babysitters and took a stroll ourselves.

*Mutually acceptable viewing
West, towards Wicklewood.
West, towards Wicklewood.
South East, towards Wymondham Abbey.
West, towards Wicklewood.
The B1135 towards Wicklewood.

Despite the sound of workmen in the distance there was an amazing sense of calm, It made one think of a world without cars.
It was beautiful.


.

Geekfest 2009!

A sneaky trip to Duxford.

The nephews loved the saucy artwork on the side of this B17, "She's got BOOOOBS!!!"
A full on lads day out was enhanced by the aforementioned B17 actually taking off.

And flying away...

Domesticity

I've decided I don't like figs.
A kind neighbour cornered me with some the other day.

"Oh you must try them, they're delicious"

So I took a few and left them to ripen on the kitchen window sill.
Today, whilst emptying the kitchen in advance of next week's renovation I thought "better try one, can't live a life less travelled" and all that.

Not for me.

Award winning Blog!

A medal for turning up at a regatta but not actually entering a race was not the only thing won around here over the last few days.

The top person's sailing Blog Propercourse
has voted TRDOWM's Hickling Broad Regatta post (see below) as it's best regatta blog post of 2009!

I'm not sure what we win and I'll be looking for the invitation to the glitzy awards ceremony in the post (once the postal strike is over of course). This award means a great deal to all of us here at Mondale House as it's voted for by the listening public and record buyers and not the record company fatcats.

Thank you, and thanks to Jamie, Will and Sim for making the weekend such fun.

Hickling Broad Regatta 2009

It all started out as an idea over drinks. I had dragged some fellow dads along to see a film, only to find that the cinema showing the film was, well, not actually showing the film.

Having popped into a pub to discuss my inability to select a cinema the conversation turned to boats. It was suggested that a sailing trip might be a bit of a laugh.

With a bit of time, knowledge and the go ahead from Frau Random Doubt I set about organising a summer jaunt. I called my favourite boatyard and made enquiries, knowing that a date isn't a date until we've all got a) our wives permission and b) the date cut in stone.

Hickling holds an 'alternative' regatta every year in August. It's an occasion to meet and be merry, you certainly don't have to race which was handy as that might require effort and skill. We were happy just to get there, and with such light airs that was an achievement on it's own.
August 8th, 2009. Hunters Boatyard, Ludham, Norfolk. Buff Tip is ready to go. Four of us, Myself and Will (sailors) and Jamie and Sim (non sailors) were about to spend the weekend sailing, drifting and drinking and eating bad food.

Arty shot of Buff Tip's main.
One of my favourite aspects of the weekend was the enthusiasm of the 'non sailors' for getting stuck in, having a go and (pardon the bloody awful pun) learning the ropes. Both Jamie (above) and Sim did really well in some difficult (hardly any wind) circumstances.
It didn't take a pair of binoculars to see that Buff Tip was in a spot of bother.
Woodcut strutting her stuff on Hickling Broad.

The outward leg was tough, very little wind and lots of tacking up narrow rivers. I normally object to such things as mobile phones when sailing but it was nice to be able to text the race committee and let them know of our progress. It was also nice to receive their sarcastic responses.
A view of Hickling from Buff Tip.
A spot of civilised sailing. We swopped boats halfway through the outward leg but forgot to swop facilities. I was thus left gasping for my celebratory pint upon finally reaching Hickling Broad. Woodcut had all 6 bottle openers on board! We had to engage them in order to ask very nicely for a bottle opener so that the CO could have his customary pint.
Our gorgeous moooring at the top of Hickling. Woodcut on the left, Buff Tip on the right.

We had left Ludham at 10am. The plan had been to arrive at Hickling just after lunch. We finally moored up at about 5.30pm
The Hickling Broad regatta (NOT to be confused with the Hickling Broad Sailing Club regatta) was a delightfully laid back bohemian affair. An open b.y.o barbeque, a selection of benches, bunting and a tent.  Most of all a friendly, mildly disorganised approach to sailing and life and fun. A small spot for free spirits in the middle of a world of turmoil.
The view from the barbeque. If you look very closely you can see my barbeque speciality, banana bacon. I asked the gathered few what the 'rules' were for the barbeque. "Oh just bung it on, come back in half an hour". About an hour later the same man strolled over to us and pointed out that it might be worth checking out the barbeque as our food was clearly cooked and people were getting quite enthusiastic about the banana bacon.

I loved the old Land Rover with ketchup and stuff for people to share, I also loved the fact that there was a tinny little radio in the middle of the lawn gently playing Radio 3. 
Your host, Will with Woodcut's extensive bar.
Sundown at the prize table.

The weather on both days had been outstanding with only one slight problem, little or no wind. A sailing weekend needs a bit of a puff.
Dawn. Still no wind. (Then again there never is at dawn)
Sunday morning can mean only one of two things, Church Parade or black pudding!

We chose the black pudding option.

Sim gets stuck in.

I don't like to brag but I can throw together a bloody good brecky when needs must. The others laughed at the teapot when they saw it on Saturday. By god they were grateful on Sunday morning. Endless gallons of tea!
The regatta committee got the flag up a few minutes before the sailing club, thus 'claiming' the broad for the day.
Before we left on our homeward leg we were presented with medals. I love medals! 
Ross (regatta organiser) presents Will with his 'longest distance travelled to visit regatta but not actually enter a race' medal.
Woodcut on her way.
Jamie and Sim getting us through Potter bridge.
Heads down.
Geek shot of rigging on Buff Tip.
Yours truly  wearing that shirt. I had forgotten that the day before, Norwich had been destroyed 7-1 on the opening day of the season. even in the slightly rarefied atmosphere of the Broads I was happily heckled by a few well intentioned types.

All in all a truly delightful weekend, the weather could only have been bettered with a bit more wind, we spent most of our time sailing and the rest enjoying the company of some of life's better souls, boats and humans.

Sailing

I'l do a proper post in a day or two.
I'll just say this.
I feel like an old wooden door, an old wooden door with blistered hands and a lot of sun.

And I'd do it all again tomorrow!

Hickling water frolic

Lots of drunken sailing coming your way soon.

Book learning #53

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh.

I don't think I've ever picked up a book with such loaded preconceptions before. I don't think my preconceptions have ever been dashed away in quite such an agreeable fashion.

Up until July 2009 I associated the phrase 'Brideshead Revisited' with useless upper class fops wincing about Oxford and hugging teddy bears. I thought that was the whole story. Despite the fact that I have read and for the most part, enjoyed, a lot of Evelyn Waugh's books I had never tried this one, the image of the 1981 TV dramatisation (abovementioned fops etc) completely put me off, despite the fact that I had never even seen the TV version.

It was a wet Sunday afternoon when I found this on a shelf at a friend's house. I took it home and became engrossed. It was perfect for light summer evenings, romantic and nostalgic yet real enough in terms of characters and plot to keep the lower middle class twentyfirst century reader engaged.

There is only one teddy bear hugging upper class fop, though prominent throughout as a theme, he features little in person. Even then, in the book he's a sympathetic character.

2016

So how does this seven years bad luck thing work?

Is it all disaster from now on?

Are there some light moments thrown in? Just to make me feel safe again?

Has anyone out there been through this and come out the other side?

Doesn't seven years seem a bit of a weighty punishment for simply moving a wash bag too hastily?

Postscript: In the two days since i broke that mirror my carburettor died and I've had to handle real poo three times.

Summer Mondale!!!!!!!!!!*

Yes.
Thank god.
The summer holidays are here.
It's been an incredibly long and supremely frustrating school year**.
I've spent the last few weeks batting googlies and praying for this day to come, pass without incident and come to a mildly tipsy close.
Just one Baker day on Monday and then it's seven weeks of daddy day care, huntin, shootin, fishin and some sailing.



*I love the multiple !!!.
**I still love my job, just not the politics which has resembled the worst aspects of the Bush***/Nixon****/Stalin***** eras.
*** The trouble with being the decider is deciding which Bush to model yourself upon. I tend to aim for the Bush 41 model, not ideal but suitably devoid of emotion to get through the day, that and a natty dresser (in his own way).
**** I told the school council "If the Senior teacher does it, it's not illegal". Would they listen?
***** The purges in the autumn term were a bad idea. I see that now.

That July 4th thing.

For those of you following this scarce blog (it's a thin period, some great, heavyweight blogging just around the corner but nothing I can report at the moment, in almost every sphere of Mondale reality there is 'big stuff around the hill' but not yet) you may be wondering... "What did Henry wear to the July 4th BBQ?"



Yeah, we dropped the ball on that one, sorry kid.

Twenty years ago today! Sort of...

Stone Roses, Norwich Arts Centre, June 26, 1989. 

Small venue.

Big gig.

Ah, nostalgia, It's going to kill me.

July 4th.

The big question?

What's Henry to wear on July 4th?

I've decided that every Independence Day until he reaches his age of majority (or hopefully his mid sixties) he will dress as a US President. Last year he was George Washington.
Accordingly, following the logic (but not the precedent) he should be John Adams, right? In my experience of US history he has slipped through the net and I have yet to see the biopic so I might need some support for this idea.



Or should I jump to Thomas Jefferson?



Or just go back to a winning formula?



If I decide to follow the President a year idea it could be an interesting future. Polk? Cleveland? I'll certainly have something to look forward to in 2043.
I'm worried that by the time he's 7 or 15 or 24 he'll grow tired of the idea and reject it completely, thus failing me as a son ans I'll have to stop loving him.

Should I try Chief Justices of the Supreme Court instead?

Camera?

Of course we forgot the camera.
Of course, we decided to not go shopping but visit a local historical spot instead.
Of course we stumbled upon a fantastic bunch of civil war enthusiasts, complete with pikes, muskets, washerwomen and seventeenth century extreme left wing political bickering.

I paused for half a second too long and ended up getting drawn in to a brilliant impromptu lecture about musketry.
Frau Random Doubt was treated to a rant about the rights of women in the Stuart era.
The wee hen just loved the swords!

Worth every penny of the free entry.

What's wrong with me?

I've become obsessed with shackles.
I mean, I want to base a society on them, people should wear them and honour each other with the presentation of shackles.
I've even decided that when Henry gets his grown up Viking* name he will wear a shackle around his neck on a chain.

*After plunging into the North sea fully clothed a few weeks ago he has already got his juvenile Viking name ,
Crikey Thorsvaldsson.

Book learning . Help!

I'm in that place again.

I need suggestions.

Thanks.

European/local council elections 2009. Zzzzzzzzzzz...

...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.



OK, But seriously.

Another day, another election and don't listen to the naysayers, this one MATTERS.

I'll do want I normally do. Ponder the issues, think hard about the comparative policies of the main players, read the manifestos.

Ah, sod it, I'll vote Liberal* like I always do.

(and how can you resist when they have pedigree like the picture above?)

*In all seriousness, the Liberals are the party of Europe, check.
They are also the only party worth a breath against the all conquering Tories, well around here anyway.
Also, I heard their leader on the radio today, he made a bit of sense and wasn't sweating.

The European Cup Final

Since our relegation to the Third Division I have taken to rewinding history and referring to things by their pre corporate nomenclature. I'm not trying to be a wanker, it's just that things seems less confusing to me, it's a very confusing world and inside my tired mind I need a touch of clarity.

Hence the fact that I am very much looking forward to tomorrow evening's European Cup Final between FC Barcelona and Manchester United.

Of course, as a Englishman I should want United to win, but as a Norfolk nationalist I have tremendous sympathies with the Catalan peoples of Barcelona. Oh I don't know, just hope it's a cracker.

I also find evening games much easier to cope with, what with a toddler and all. There's no way I could sit down in the middle of the day and watch a game right now, whereas a 7.45pm kickoff is perfect, a beer or two, an early summer evening, that slightly magical scent of the European finals of one's youth, Wonderful.

I should also add that the European Cup is a thing of absolute beauty, the most perfect sporting trophy in the world.


POSTSCRIPT

Another 'win win' situation, United were awful and deservedly lost. I was able to enjoy seeing them humiliated. Barca were great, Thierry Henry was great and to cap it all off United were sponsored by AIG whilst Barca reject sponsorship and actually donate money to UNICEF.
Maybe I'm being a bit too new worldy about all this but it felt good at the time.

Brushing teeth

Ah, the mac was slow and grumpy. 

Things were getting lost and awkward.

I emailed the mac man.

He emailed back, swiftly and politely.

Then.

Frau Random Doubt found 4567 pictures in our iphoto trashcan.

It's like we've brushed the 'puter's teeth.

Things happen when you want them to.

Book learning # 52

America, Empire of liberty by David Reynolds

I have a favourite brand of chocolate bar. Well known within my family, I receive one twice a year, at Christmas and on my birthday. On each occasion I unwrap the chocolate bar, place it in the fridge and nibble on it for months (not being a huge fan of chocolate) a chunk here, a week or two later, another chunk. It's treating chocolate the way some people can smoke twice a year when they enjoy a little too much red wine. It's a testament to the non addictive side of my personality, a feat of restraint.

I was given this book for my birthday at the end of March, on the same day that I opened my

 biannual choccy treat. Like the chocolate I was able to dip into this book every now and then, swill the flavour around in my mouth and delight in the taste.

In 645 pages Reynolds attempts to provide an overview of American history from prehistoric times to November 2008. Of course there are gaps and the weight is clearly post 17th century liberal. But it's still a lovely thing to hold and behold. It was originally a BBC radio 4 series broadcast last year, 15 minute shows focussing on a different element of the American story. As a result of this format it's an ideal read for the moderately informed (or, like me, well informed in parts but clueless in others) This book has proved to be a real comfort of late, chapters and sections manageable enough to sit with for half an hour here or there, in the garden, on the loo, late at night in bed. Not only has the content been interesting and enjoyable but the style has made it a pleasure to engage in the art of reading.

If all book could be such.

Carru'rud

Here are a few shots of my day playing footy at carru'rud.

Posing before the player's tunnel.
Posing before the Barclay.
Posing before the Jarrold stand (shall I go on?)

With my brother (Wor Bobby) in the dug out.

There were more pictures but I played on the far side of thr pitch so no good action shots. Also, I entrusted the silver fox with the camera but he spent the entire game grilling the club official (OK, steward) about the severe crisis gripping the club and didn't take too many pictures. 

I don't blame him.

We lost but it was great fun.

Carrow Road

At last, some good news to come from the newest Third Division football ground. On Sunday I will join 21 others and play at Carrow Road! Just as long as I can shake off this swine flu.

No more hypotheticals.

Just over 24 hours ago Norwich City were relegated.

For the first time since 1960 they will play in the third tier (The old Third Division as I still think of it).

I didn't watch the final defeat, preferring to spend time with my family at the beach.

I turned off the radio with 9 minutes remaining.

For a while things were uncertain, in my mind anyway.

The bush telegraph has been silent, you know things are really bad, people are hurting when nobody talks about it.

I left my phone off, didn't look at the telly or the internet, tuned into music stations on the radio.

I got on with the otherwise agreeable family weekend.

That's how I handled the initial stage of relegation, the other stages will follow.