Off The Booze
With less than three and a half weeks to go to D Day I'm off the booze. This is in case I get the emergency "Go Go Go!" call from Vic and have to put my foot down to the hospital. Needs must. I'm going to drive to Sally and David's wedding this Sunday to ensure I'm not tempted to have more than two glasses of champagne.
Expected Benefits: Some weight loss
Friday, August 22, 2003
Thursday, August 21, 2003
Catch Me If You Can
Last Wednesday Larry popped in after his touch rugby session at Chinnor had finished. I was dealing with a call from Barclays Bank Fraud Protection – who were telling me that Vic’s debit card had been cloned and £300 of damage put on it – at the time, so was a bit air-headed.
I forgot to tell Vic (or Keir) that Larry was over again this week and that we’d arranged to meet up at the rugby club for a post-match BBQ. Larry’s better half, Carole, was coming over too.
So Vic was surprised when Larry phoned last night and asked her if “we’re still on for tonight?”. I got the usual Zero Notice is a Bad Thing grilling.
We managed to get up to the rugby club in time to see Larry refereeing the Grand Men’s Final. Very authoritative he was too, with a proper black & white ref’s jersey and a whistle. Carole was nowhere to be seen: she was asleep in the car. It took a few minutes to work out the rules – is it 5 or 6 touches before the ball is turned over to the opposition? – but I soon got the hang of what was going on. I’ve got to say that touch rugby looks a lot of fun. I may well give it a go myself next year, as long as I’m fitter than I am now. In my current state I’d be throwing up after two minutes of intensive running and twisting.
The post BBQ highlights included:
Larry revealing that he doesn’t like films (exceptions to the rule are Dirty Dancing and Wizard of Oz).
Larry spilling a whole pint of bitter when I started to sing Queen’s “Who wants to live forever” to him (Carole is Scottish and likes Highlander).
Who’s In Da House?!
I’ve always been a fan of hip hop. Bringing the noise to my boys since 1987!
My mate Tim Westwood tells me that being called Big Dog is a great honour in the black urban ghettos of Brixton and Thame. Well homies, my Baby Girl Vicster has been calling me Big Dog for years now, unaware that she was setting a new trend for my brothers and sisters on the street. Knowing that I'm the cream of the hip hop crop has me all fired up for my big rap battle showdown with Justin Ruffles next month at Sarah and Gareth’s wedding.
“I’m like a bug. I’m gonna bite.
There’s only one winner of this fight.
Ruffles can scratch, but my rhymes still itch.
Leave the stage, you’re my mother friggin’ b*tch!”
It’s going to be massive. I’m a bomb.
Practise Makes Perfect
When Gaby got made redundant she left behind a little friend for me. Chookie is a 19 inch black cock. He is a soft toy Cheeky Chums rooster, with beady eyes and an aura of general evilness. I love him and he’s one of the few genuine friends I have at work.
His current role is to act as a substitute baby. I’m using him to practise holding a baby and doing things – such as typing on a keyboard. Secretly I think he quite enjoys it.
I am resisting the urge to take him home and dress him up in some of our new baby clothes.
Last Wednesday Larry popped in after his touch rugby session at Chinnor had finished. I was dealing with a call from Barclays Bank Fraud Protection – who were telling me that Vic’s debit card had been cloned and £300 of damage put on it – at the time, so was a bit air-headed.
I forgot to tell Vic (or Keir) that Larry was over again this week and that we’d arranged to meet up at the rugby club for a post-match BBQ. Larry’s better half, Carole, was coming over too.
So Vic was surprised when Larry phoned last night and asked her if “we’re still on for tonight?”. I got the usual Zero Notice is a Bad Thing grilling.
We managed to get up to the rugby club in time to see Larry refereeing the Grand Men’s Final. Very authoritative he was too, with a proper black & white ref’s jersey and a whistle. Carole was nowhere to be seen: she was asleep in the car. It took a few minutes to work out the rules – is it 5 or 6 touches before the ball is turned over to the opposition? – but I soon got the hang of what was going on. I’ve got to say that touch rugby looks a lot of fun. I may well give it a go myself next year, as long as I’m fitter than I am now. In my current state I’d be throwing up after two minutes of intensive running and twisting.
The post BBQ highlights included:
Larry revealing that he doesn’t like films (exceptions to the rule are Dirty Dancing and Wizard of Oz).
Larry spilling a whole pint of bitter when I started to sing Queen’s “Who wants to live forever” to him (Carole is Scottish and likes Highlander).
Who’s In Da House?!
I’ve always been a fan of hip hop. Bringing the noise to my boys since 1987!
My mate Tim Westwood tells me that being called Big Dog is a great honour in the black urban ghettos of Brixton and Thame. Well homies, my Baby Girl Vicster has been calling me Big Dog for years now, unaware that she was setting a new trend for my brothers and sisters on the street. Knowing that I'm the cream of the hip hop crop has me all fired up for my big rap battle showdown with Justin Ruffles next month at Sarah and Gareth’s wedding.
“I’m like a bug. I’m gonna bite.
There’s only one winner of this fight.
Ruffles can scratch, but my rhymes still itch.
Leave the stage, you’re my mother friggin’ b*tch!”
It’s going to be massive. I’m a bomb.
Practise Makes Perfect
When Gaby got made redundant she left behind a little friend for me. Chookie is a 19 inch black cock. He is a soft toy Cheeky Chums rooster, with beady eyes and an aura of general evilness. I love him and he’s one of the few genuine friends I have at work.
His current role is to act as a substitute baby. I’m using him to practise holding a baby and doing things – such as typing on a keyboard. Secretly I think he quite enjoys it.
I am resisting the urge to take him home and dress him up in some of our new baby clothes.
Tuesday, August 19, 2003
One Down, Lots More To Come
James phoned us at 10:30 pm last night. He is a proud new father. Little Amy arrived safe and sound at 2:40 pm yesterday afternoon. Rachel managed to avoid the nastiness of being induced by letting her waters break a mere three hours before the inducement deadline. She negotiated the ten hour labour with just gas and air, and both baby and mum are fine.
James was celebrating on his own with a can of Fosters. He was on cloud nine. "I'm a dad!" was his opening line.
After I'd got off the phone with him I was buzzing. I can't wait for our D Day!
Lady of Leisure
Vicster finished work on Friday. She is now on maternity leave and is officially a Lady of Leisure. Yesterday was shopping and tidying up. Today is going to the cinema with Emma and Ruffles. I'm not sure I'm going to like this once the novelty has worn off.
James phoned us at 10:30 pm last night. He is a proud new father. Little Amy arrived safe and sound at 2:40 pm yesterday afternoon. Rachel managed to avoid the nastiness of being induced by letting her waters break a mere three hours before the inducement deadline. She negotiated the ten hour labour with just gas and air, and both baby and mum are fine.
James was celebrating on his own with a can of Fosters. He was on cloud nine. "I'm a dad!" was his opening line.
After I'd got off the phone with him I was buzzing. I can't wait for our D Day!
Lady of Leisure
Vicster finished work on Friday. She is now on maternity leave and is officially a Lady of Leisure. Yesterday was shopping and tidying up. Today is going to the cinema with Emma and Ruffles. I'm not sure I'm going to like this once the novelty has worn off.
