22.02 hrs

Stuck at school with two of the nicest carpenters known to man, a cuppa and some biscuits.
Just hoping (before hope turns to prayer) that they can get their work finished reasonably soon.

With management responsibility comes a set of keys and alarm codes.

Facebook voyeurism

Search that kid you taught 15 years ago, the one with the unforgettable and unusual name.

Then discover he's Facebooked almost every other kid you taught at that school except that they are now all in their mid twenties.

Amused to see one or two of them have used images from their primary years.

It's one way of whiling away an hour.

I don't recommend this.

This, doing 60mph on a wide and straight country road at night.


meeting this, jumping right in front of me, appearing in my headlights about 4 feet away.


Absolutely horrible. Not to mention rather expensive.

Neighbours

We looked at an 18th century cottage yesterday. We're toying with the idea of a bigger space and there seem to be a few bargains around.
The place that we looked at had been empty for a while and had a small, shared courtyard.

We soon found out that the neighbours were experts at dealing with pesky estate agents spoiling their saturday morning peace.
Frau Random Doubt did wonder wether old man scratching himself in his underpants came included in the asking price whilst I marvelled at the charming yappity small dog that was released as I inspected the grounds.




The place was a non starter. I have since discovered that a good friend had an identical experience. 4 YEARS AGO.

I've also discovered (from same friend) that the building has issues with a scary sounding phenomenon known as 'chemical damp'.

Lovely.

The Grand fantastic Simon is 40 Subbuteo tournament!

My brother is about to turn 40. It was time to turn back the clock, return to our parent's kitchen, gather some old friends on a Friday night and play some serious subbuteo. I organised a subbuteo tournament just like the ones we used to have thirty years ago.
Two groups of four, semi finals and a final. Ten minutes each way. A table in the kitchen (Wembley) and one in the living room (Goodison Park).

The tournament had it all, a nervous start, concerns about the pitches and the lack of goals, some outstanding performances from all concerned as well as some controversial moments. The best match of the tournament was probably the semi final between Silver Fox and Birthday Boy (see the action shot below). The eventual winner was a bit of a dark horse but thoroughly deserved (well, he beat me anyway). All in all a top night of beer, banter and small plastic footballers.




We had the trophy, a magnificent thing borrowed from another time and place. I like to think she polished up rather well and no doubt thoroughly enjoyed being the centre of attention for the evening.



Proper man food for a proper evening of man sport. Beer, Scotch eggs and pork pies.



Tom ponders his defence at Goodison Park.



The only known real time action shot ever taken during a subbuteo match. The Silver Fox concedes an absolute cracker during the semi final against his elder son.



Pete was somewhat surprised to make it to the final. Simon was the firm favourite. Everyone was surprised and excited when the game went to extra time and then penalties.



We all knew that an Englishman would end up losing a penalty shoot out. I present the trophy to the victor, Pete.



"Eeh Aye Addio, I've gone and won the cup!"

Well done Pete, a surprising, yet deserving winner.

Book learning # 51

Fatherland by Robert Harris

I wanted to like this so much more.
This was a book that suffered greatly from the fact that my peak reading hours are the twilight snoozy sessions shortly before my tired head hits the pillow.
Not a dreadful read, just, well, predictable.
Maybe it's 'thrillers'?
Maybe it's me?

I need some serious suggestions.

Relegation

It is March.
I have become resigned to our fate.

The Cup.

The Cup in the olden days.



Me and my brother more recently.

Remember when I mentioned the '59 Cup run?

Here's a picture of me and my brother with the grand old lady of football, The Cup.

Actually, we think it's one of several officially sanctioned 'The Cups' that probably tour the country attending functions such as the one we attended.

Whatever the truth of the matter, we were not allowed to touch her.

And if anyone comments about how they replaced the original in 1991 because it was getting worn out, I know. we talked about it on the night, alot.

Thanks for the picture Mr Henderson.

Housekeeping

Henry's blog is back up and running. If you are able to, please check in. We'll try and post pictures at least once a week.

Tap dancing

What's worse?

Breaking the kitchen tap and flooding the undersink cupboard in the first place?

Turning the stopcock off and twisting the handle off, handle then falls into a hole beneath the cupboard beneath the sink, never to be seen again. Ever.

Calling your dad at 9.40pm to receive the 'you don't want to do it like that' lecture (and knowing that he's right).

Calling the plumber at 9.45pm and effectively getting the same lecture (albeit a slightly politer version).

Arranging a time with the plumber and realising that the boiler is being serviced tomorrow. The plumber points out that the gentlemen who are servicing your boiler are almost certainly going to be, well, how do i say this in your language? Plumbers.

I need to learn that it is the place for one such as I to provide employment for the skilled artisan and to stop attempting DIY myself.

I have yet to tell Frau Random Doubt that we have no water.

Catch a breath...

... we're potty training the wee hen.

It's only Monday but it's already turning into a very long week.
Every twenty minutes the bell goes and we clap our hands and dance and sing "IT'S POTTY TIME!!!"
Then one of us joins him in the loo with a massive Richard Scarry book whilst he does whatever he decides to do.

Mostly he joins in the routine, sometimes he does not.

It's one way to pass the day.

There has been bribery.

TV wonderland

I know things are bad but what's with the freaking funeral company ads?

The new camera!

Holychristalmightyittookuslongenoughbutwefinallyjustpickedupthecreditcardandboughtanewcameraaftertheoldonediedlastaugust.

There should be some more pictures being posted, especially on the Henry blog.

10k

This morning at 7.30 I went out in the frost with my running companion and fellow misplaced former New Yorker, 'House of Pain'.

I've been doing 10k or thereabouts for the last few weeks, the build up from the December hiatus (man flu, extremely unpleasant weather, a more sensible approach to recovery etc) has meant that just by stepping out of the door I'm likely to clock up around 8 or 9k without really appreciating it until I get home and get onto google pedometer.

This morning the aim was a 10k.

Nice and simple.

The sky was blue, the paths were a mix of light snow, clear ground and treacherous death ice. The air was cold and crisp , the sort of air that jangles in your throat and kicks your lungs (by comparison, Thursday night's fog was beautiful, like swimming in menthol).

I told House of Pain that I fancied the NY marathon in a couple of years. "When the kids are a bit older and can appreciate it".
"Kids? You having another?" he panted back. "I didn't mean that, I meant your kids as well. You're doing it with me".

I kept it going and kept the mantra "the brain is stronger than the body" when things got tough.

I wanted to do it under 55minutes.

54.55

A fantastic way to start the day.

Now I just need to reduce that time.

Where have I been?

And where did the time go?

I've been working on my impressions of the well known.

My top three impressions?

1. HM the Queen.
2. Brendan Foster.
3. John Stewart doing George Bush.

I also got my eyes tested this morning. I love getting my eyes tested.

book learning # 50!

Books that shook the World: The Qur'an by Bruce Lawrence.

The Qur'an was not written by Bruce Lawrence. It is the direct word of God as told to Muhammad (pbh).
I would not wish to confuse anybody.
This was not The Qur'an. This was a series of essays outlining different historical and political interpretations of The Qur'an.
And a good read it was too.
I rather wish I had actually read The Qur'an in order to have understood this a bit more.
As it is, I shall just value the enjoyment and curiosity I took away from this work.

Any day now.

Phew, an awful lot is being written about Tuesday. 

An awful lot of hope is being invested in Tuesday and beyond.

I've been trying to keep up with some of the stories and editorials and perspectives and ideas being thrown about, it's not been easy but I'm doing what I can.

Then it hit me. 

A certain aspect of the new reality.

The next time I'm taken into a side room at JFK for an undetermined ammount of time and made to wait in silence, the photo on the wall will not be this one.

The photo on the wall will look a lot more like this one.

1959

It's 50 years since Norwich City reached the semi finals of the FA Cup.
They were a Third Division South team at the time.

The days before 24hr-nonstop-super-sunday-footy on telly, sponsorship or money of any kind. The only foreigners in the English game were a few former prisoners of war who married local girls and decided to stay on. The players, so I'm told, used to travel to the ground on a Saturday morning by public transport, have a cup of tea and a fag and then get out there and play. After the game they's either go out for a pint or staright home for fish and chips and an evening in front of the latest invention, the telly. I think half of them still lived with their mums.

I'm sure that when they sent Ilford home in the 1st round few suspected that it was going to be any kind of special year.

They beat Swindon in the next round and in the 3rd round destroyed the mighty Manchester United 3-0. A game which we will remember on Friday night. To beat Manchester United 3-0 today would be unbelievable, in 1959 it was beyond the wildest dreams of a small provincial team like Norwich. They progressed by beating Cardiff, Spurs and then Sheffield United before losing a replay to Luton Town. Luton Town? Exactly.

According to legend, and so much of this tale is beautiful, glorious legend, people used to ride their bikes from miles around to get to games. One bloke even sold his bike for a semi final ticket. I remember being told about that by Dad and being mildly unimpressed. "HE SOLD HIS BIKE!" my Dad replied "IN 1959 SELLING YOUR BIKE WAS LIKE SELLING YOUR HOUSE AND YOUR GRANNY!!"
There's also the brilliant rumour about a bloke taking his horse into a pub to get it drunk after the Sixth round victory against Sheffield United. I really hope that one's true, I'll be telling my boy about it one day.
My Dad was 17.

Buddy Holly also died that winter.
Music has never been the same.

The three men my father admired the most were Sandy Kennon, Terry Bly and Ron Ashman.

He's talked about little else for fifty years.

This Friday night we're all going to a special dinner at Carrow Road to remember those glory days.
I suspect it will be tremendous fun, especially for those of us born years after the evenते.'ll be able to have a few drinks whilst watching the old fellas get a bit misty eyed at the passing years। I understand there may even be the odd star from those olden days there.It's the stuff of legends and we were brought up on these tales.
I've got good friends, friends who've also been City fans forever but they're not as aware of 'The 59 Cup run'. I guess their dads weren't there or weren't supporting City or something like that. Our Dad was and that's why we'll be there on Friday night.

2009 already?

Ugh?

January 13th?

This year I'm shedding my medieval level of superstition and making my own luck. Hard work and clean(er) living.

Let's go!

Book learning # 49

Pies and Prejudice. In search of the North by Stuart Maconie

I'm a professional Southerner.

I found this book lovely.

Lovely in that lovely, patronising way that Southerners have towards the North.
The sleeve makes a thing about Maconie becoming a National treasure, Its true, he's getting there. On the radio, the telly, in books, he's around a lot.

This book is a personal tour of the North, it's food, culture, sport and industry. It's also got a chunk of history and a bit of almost chip on shoulder northern working class stuff.

There were times in this book when I agreed with every word the man wrote, times when I laughed out loud and times when I reminisced fondly about family holidays to Yorkshire and Northumberland.

I almost got a bit bored at the end with the Brysonesque ramblings about Durham and Chester but I stuck it out.

Lovely, funny, insightful, a cracking read.