New Car, Same Old Wankers
After an age of a wait I received my new company car, a beautiful black "pimp my ride" Zafira Design with chromey bits. 10 days into its life some fucker has already key'd all four of the passenger body panels...
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Bye Bye John
Rob's dad John died last Monday. He fought valiantly for 15 months, but it was ultimately a battle he couldn't win. We have the funeral tomorrow. I'm sure it will be a wonderful celebration of his life. Having seen John on his death bed on the Sunday -- which brought back some uncomfortable memories of my gran -- and how grey and ashen the rest of the family were, I have to say his passing will be a release for them all. I'm hoping that after the funeral, Rob will be able to start looking forward, as his life has frankly been on hold for the last year.
John was a good son, husband, father, host and friend to many. Bye bye John.
Rob's dad John died last Monday. He fought valiantly for 15 months, but it was ultimately a battle he couldn't win. We have the funeral tomorrow. I'm sure it will be a wonderful celebration of his life. Having seen John on his death bed on the Sunday -- which brought back some uncomfortable memories of my gran -- and how grey and ashen the rest of the family were, I have to say his passing will be a release for them all. I'm hoping that after the funeral, Rob will be able to start looking forward, as his life has frankly been on hold for the last year.
John was a good son, husband, father, host and friend to many. Bye bye John.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Fucking Israel
Mass-murders, land-grabbing, fascists. The Middle-East's biggest terrorists. Bombing civilians, minibuses, apartments blocks, hospitals, red-cross ambulances, children playing in streams.
Boycott food imported from Israel. Write to your MP. Phone up their embassy and tell them you now sympathise with the Iranian president.
Mass-murders, land-grabbing, fascists. The Middle-East's biggest terrorists. Bombing civilians, minibuses, apartments blocks, hospitals, red-cross ambulances, children playing in streams.
Boycott food imported from Israel. Write to your MP. Phone up their embassy and tell them you now sympathise with the Iranian president.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Out of Touch
So yesterday's Times2 supplement ran an article on emo's. It highlighted how out of touch I am with youth culture -- and therefore middle-aged and old -- as I hadn't heard the term emo before.
Apparently emo's are all emotional and are basically goths with frills and an internet connection: Boy emo's pretend to be gay. Girl emo's wear polka-dots and animal prints in addition to the black drain-pipe jeans and wide rubber, cut-disguising, bracklets on their wrists.
Ask an emo, Family Fortunes style, what a razor is used for and their response will be:
1) Cutting yourself whilst listening to Joy Division or some internet band nobody's heard of outside of MySpace
2) Ummmmmm.... Having a shave?
Of course teenage-angst, and dressing up like the Manic Street Preachers, is nothing new: Ironically the term emo is almost identical to the brief emu youth sub-culture that was spawned in the UK after this self-harming skin-cutting 1999 tragedy.
Play those Radiohead albums emu.
So yesterday's Times2 supplement ran an article on emo's. It highlighted how out of touch I am with youth culture -- and therefore middle-aged and old -- as I hadn't heard the term emo before.
Apparently emo's are all emotional and are basically goths with frills and an internet connection: Boy emo's pretend to be gay. Girl emo's wear polka-dots and animal prints in addition to the black drain-pipe jeans and wide rubber, cut-disguising, bracklets on their wrists.
Ask an emo, Family Fortunes style, what a razor is used for and their response will be:
1) Cutting yourself whilst listening to Joy Division or some internet band nobody's heard of outside of MySpace
2) Ummmmmm.... Having a shave?
Of course teenage-angst, and dressing up like the Manic Street Preachers, is nothing new: Ironically the term emo is almost identical to the brief emu youth sub-culture that was spawned in the UK after this self-harming skin-cutting 1999 tragedy.
Play those Radiohead albums emu.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Small Things Give Us Pleasure
Before the match I'd hoped for a last minute Ronaldo miss to level things, resulting in him crying his greasy eyes out.
There is a god.
And he waved his offside flag.
I had to wait 2 minutes before the local TV broadcaster showed the grease ball sobbing away, but it was a wonderfully uplifting sight, if not the highlight of the World Cup.
Recommended Podcast: Baddiel and Skinner's "The Britishers are Coming Home", chapter 8, 10-11 mins in.
Before the match I'd hoped for a last minute Ronaldo miss to level things, resulting in him crying his greasy eyes out.
There is a god.
And he waved his offside flag.
I had to wait 2 minutes before the local TV broadcaster showed the grease ball sobbing away, but it was a wonderfully uplifting sight, if not the highlight of the World Cup.
Recommended Podcast: Baddiel and Skinner's "The Britishers are Coming Home", chapter 8, 10-11 mins in.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Hello World
Elliot Ethan arrived at 04.34 Friday morning 10th March 2006, safe and well. He weighed in at a healthy 8 lbs 1 oz, bearing a striking resemblence to his big sister: a shock of black hair and facial features that are so similar, he could be India's twin. India had longer legs, but Elliot has larger hands and feet. Overall, he's a pretty boy.
Labour was a mere 4 hours: half the length of India's, and Vic did brilliantly. Once again she did it with no pain relief and frankly made it look easy. She stayed focussed and calm, and importantly listened to the midwife and pushed at all the right times. I'm very proud of her. The short labour time has already helped Vic's post birth recovery, as she is far less drained than with India. No stitches either. As a result, she was able to discharge herself yesterday morning, so Elliot and mummy have been home for a day and a half now.
So far so good too. Last night wasn't too bad. Elliot is a very hungry boy and wants attention all the time. With the milk yet to arrive in earnest, he's wanting a feed every hour or two, so we had a broken nights sleep -- which is less than ideal when you're knackered anyway... but it was certainly better for Vic, if not for me, than her being in hospital.
Vic and I are both very happy. It's a natural high. I've forgotten how amazing the whole baby-parent thing is. We're all in a sleep-deprived daze of course, but it's so worth it.
India's reaction yesterday wasn't quite as me had hoped. Despite being primed via numerous books and explanations, she didn't like hospital and was very quite when introduced to Elliot. Some clear jealous has popped up whenever Elliot is being fed or cuddled by mummy. Things are improved today though, she's been helping daddy look after Elliot and hasn't freaked as much as yesterday. She's wearing her "i'm the big sister" T shirt with pride.
I have the week off, we're being looked after by the mother-in-law, and I'm loving it.
Elliot Ethan arrived at 04.34 Friday morning 10th March 2006, safe and well. He weighed in at a healthy 8 lbs 1 oz, bearing a striking resemblence to his big sister: a shock of black hair and facial features that are so similar, he could be India's twin. India had longer legs, but Elliot has larger hands and feet. Overall, he's a pretty boy.
Labour was a mere 4 hours: half the length of India's, and Vic did brilliantly. Once again she did it with no pain relief and frankly made it look easy. She stayed focussed and calm, and importantly listened to the midwife and pushed at all the right times. I'm very proud of her. The short labour time has already helped Vic's post birth recovery, as she is far less drained than with India. No stitches either. As a result, she was able to discharge herself yesterday morning, so Elliot and mummy have been home for a day and a half now.
So far so good too. Last night wasn't too bad. Elliot is a very hungry boy and wants attention all the time. With the milk yet to arrive in earnest, he's wanting a feed every hour or two, so we had a broken nights sleep -- which is less than ideal when you're knackered anyway... but it was certainly better for Vic, if not for me, than her being in hospital.
Vic and I are both very happy. It's a natural high. I've forgotten how amazing the whole baby-parent thing is. We're all in a sleep-deprived daze of course, but it's so worth it.
India's reaction yesterday wasn't quite as me had hoped. Despite being primed via numerous books and explanations, she didn't like hospital and was very quite when introduced to Elliot. Some clear jealous has popped up whenever Elliot is being fed or cuddled by mummy. Things are improved today though, she's been helping daddy look after Elliot and hasn't freaked as much as yesterday. She's wearing her "i'm the big sister" T shirt with pride.
I have the week off, we're being looked after by the mother-in-law, and I'm loving it.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Hot Thai Food
No sign of any baby movements. We're going out for some hot thai food tonight in an attempt to flush the little blighter out. Vic's "bored" with being at home with nothing to do now that all rooms have been cleaned at least twice this week already.
Know Your Enemy, Mister Weasel
Hello to all my colleagues who shouldn't be reading this. Now go away. Leave this site. You are not welcome at this blog.
Here's the story:
I update on the Tuesday. On the Wednesday there is a print-out of my blog front page on the office printer. Not my printer though, it's on the management printer. I've not printed it and asking my line manager and the Finance Director, they haven't printed it either. Nor have the only other three individuals who regularly use that printer.
To be honest, I'm shocked that it's been printed at all: nobody at work should know of it's existence. Clearly someone at work has discovered my blog and decided to print it off in order to embarass me...
But how have they discovered the blog? It's written in a pseud, with no references that could be google'd up, unless you're really clever and persistent. Having checked with IT, internet logs are not viewed by IT, so it wasn't them. So either the individual has seen me writing the blog in the office -- not possible -- or I have to conclude they have physically gone onto my laptop and taken a look at my internet history.
Option 2 is pretty serious stuff considering that there were also a few company confidential links surfed that day, as well as numerous confidential spreadsheets that I'd opened too. The misconduct box is pretty much ticked there. The FD wasn't inpressed when I explain the scenario.
On Thursday I catch a couple of members of IT viewing this blog on line. Caught redhanded.
So now did IT get the link?
Well I have to conclude that the same individual who printed-off the blog also decided it would be great fun to email the link to their chum in IT. A great opportunity to nose into my private life, have a titter behind my back, etc.
They must think I'm an idiot.
I'm f**king furious that's what I am. Seething with contempt. This blog is for close friends, fellow bloggers, community friends, and complete strangers. I don't want Tom, Dick and IT reading it.
It's not difficult to piece two and two together. I don't even need the printer log or internet log from the Wednesday to finger the perp. I don't even need to check my Site Monitor for their IP address. I know actually who I cannot trust by their reaction on Friday to my cold shoulder.
Be disgusted with yourself.
No sign of any baby movements. We're going out for some hot thai food tonight in an attempt to flush the little blighter out. Vic's "bored" with being at home with nothing to do now that all rooms have been cleaned at least twice this week already.
Know Your Enemy, Mister Weasel
Hello to all my colleagues who shouldn't be reading this. Now go away. Leave this site. You are not welcome at this blog.
Here's the story:
I update on the Tuesday. On the Wednesday there is a print-out of my blog front page on the office printer. Not my printer though, it's on the management printer. I've not printed it and asking my line manager and the Finance Director, they haven't printed it either. Nor have the only other three individuals who regularly use that printer.
To be honest, I'm shocked that it's been printed at all: nobody at work should know of it's existence. Clearly someone at work has discovered my blog and decided to print it off in order to embarass me...
But how have they discovered the blog? It's written in a pseud, with no references that could be google'd up, unless you're really clever and persistent. Having checked with IT, internet logs are not viewed by IT, so it wasn't them. So either the individual has seen me writing the blog in the office -- not possible -- or I have to conclude they have physically gone onto my laptop and taken a look at my internet history.
Option 2 is pretty serious stuff considering that there were also a few company confidential links surfed that day, as well as numerous confidential spreadsheets that I'd opened too. The misconduct box is pretty much ticked there. The FD wasn't inpressed when I explain the scenario.
On Thursday I catch a couple of members of IT viewing this blog on line. Caught redhanded.
So now did IT get the link?
Well I have to conclude that the same individual who printed-off the blog also decided it would be great fun to email the link to their chum in IT. A great opportunity to nose into my private life, have a titter behind my back, etc.
They must think I'm an idiot.
I'm f**king furious that's what I am. Seething with contempt. This blog is for close friends, fellow bloggers, community friends, and complete strangers. I don't want Tom, Dick and IT reading it.
It's not difficult to piece two and two together. I don't even need the printer log or internet log from the Wednesday to finger the perp. I don't even need to check my Site Monitor for their IP address. I know actually who I cannot trust by their reaction on Friday to my cold shoulder.
Be disgusted with yourself.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
a fraughtnight to go
So we're down to just 2 weeks before delivery day.
Stress fractures are starting to appear.
Our wonderful midwife Norma, in whom Vic has the upmost confidence, is away for a weeks holiday, and as a result Vic is nervous and unreceptive to jokes, jibes or insensitive husbands. Vic is worried that the baby is going to arrive before Norma returns from holiday and she is going to be left in the hands of a less-able, or rather less-known, midwife. I was wrapped up in my own little world last night and managed to upset my wife with a couple of ill judged comments that failed to take into account her underlying fears into account.
Of course, their OUR fears, but for some reason I've switched off to so many of the concerns that we had first time round with India. I've almost sleepwalked into the position we now find ourselves: just 2 weeks away from a new baby, and to quote Vic, "the most painful experience of my life... thanks."
I've been thinking it's going to be like last time, but need to wake up fast to the fact that anything could happen. It's clicked that I've not been half as supportive as last time, or as I should have been.
I've been rolling in the barrel, gently floating downstream. I need to start paddling. I see a crocodile.
Reflective of my lack of support/communication, is the fact the name game continues. We still haven't collaborated on a middle name. I've at long last started viewing the baby name books for something unusual, cool, but suitable. I've discovered a middle name that has a family connection, but know it would just make Vic's mum and dad laugh: it's Vic's place of birth...
And finally, something that's been causing me frustration for about 3 months: I bought Vic the complete season of Lost on DVD from the US. And then is just disappeared. We couldn't find it anywhere. Seriously, I was staring to think it had evaporated/been stolen by a ghost. It was really lost and doing my nut in. Discovered it last night behind the playroom shelving unit. Looking forward to finding out what all the fuss is about by watching it at 2.00 am in a fortnight...
So we're down to just 2 weeks before delivery day.
Stress fractures are starting to appear.
Our wonderful midwife Norma, in whom Vic has the upmost confidence, is away for a weeks holiday, and as a result Vic is nervous and unreceptive to jokes, jibes or insensitive husbands. Vic is worried that the baby is going to arrive before Norma returns from holiday and she is going to be left in the hands of a less-able, or rather less-known, midwife. I was wrapped up in my own little world last night and managed to upset my wife with a couple of ill judged comments that failed to take into account her underlying fears into account.
Of course, their OUR fears, but for some reason I've switched off to so many of the concerns that we had first time round with India. I've almost sleepwalked into the position we now find ourselves: just 2 weeks away from a new baby, and to quote Vic, "the most painful experience of my life... thanks."
I've been thinking it's going to be like last time, but need to wake up fast to the fact that anything could happen. It's clicked that I've not been half as supportive as last time, or as I should have been.
I've been rolling in the barrel, gently floating downstream. I need to start paddling. I see a crocodile.
Reflective of my lack of support/communication, is the fact the name game continues. We still haven't collaborated on a middle name. I've at long last started viewing the baby name books for something unusual, cool, but suitable. I've discovered a middle name that has a family connection, but know it would just make Vic's mum and dad laugh: it's Vic's place of birth...
And finally, something that's been causing me frustration for about 3 months: I bought Vic the complete season of Lost on DVD from the US. And then is just disappeared. We couldn't find it anywhere. Seriously, I was staring to think it had evaporated/been stolen by a ghost. It was really lost and doing my nut in. Discovered it last night behind the playroom shelving unit. Looking forward to finding out what all the fuss is about by watching it at 2.00 am in a fortnight...
Friday, February 10, 2006
Make Way for Noddy
So we're now just four weeks away from delivery day. Vic gave up work last week and has been in nesting mode for some time: We've been rushing around turning our house into a proper home. New bathrooms, new carpets, new kitchen floor, and the dreaded Clown Room has been transformed into a tranquil nursery for Noddy.
As part of the acclimatisation process, we asked India whether we were having a boy or a girl and what India would like to call him or her.
She has decided that she is having a baby sister who is called Noddy. Despite telling her otherwise, she is convinced that when we visit Mummy in hospital there will be a baby who looks like the character Noddy, complete with blue hat and jingly bell. Whenever we use an alternative name for the bump -- which is rarely -- India gets most upset.
As mentioned, Noddy's room has been stripped out and redecorated. The clown wallpaper and raspberry carpet has been replaced by a new wooden floor and Kelp paint. If you take a look at the Dulux Editions colour charts you will see that Kelp is a beautiful and serene sea-green. Ideal for a tranquil nursery, and sufficiently neutral to suit either a baby girl or boy.
The paint went on as a nasty sage green colour and then dried to a colour that can only be described as
Baby Boy Powder Blue
...with no hint of green in it at all.
With no time to repaint it -- I've got bags of other jobs to do still -- Noddy, whether a boy or girl, will have to live with it.
Read into that as you will.
So we're now just four weeks away from delivery day. Vic gave up work last week and has been in nesting mode for some time: We've been rushing around turning our house into a proper home. New bathrooms, new carpets, new kitchen floor, and the dreaded Clown Room has been transformed into a tranquil nursery for Noddy.
As part of the acclimatisation process, we asked India whether we were having a boy or a girl and what India would like to call him or her.
She has decided that she is having a baby sister who is called Noddy. Despite telling her otherwise, she is convinced that when we visit Mummy in hospital there will be a baby who looks like the character Noddy, complete with blue hat and jingly bell. Whenever we use an alternative name for the bump -- which is rarely -- India gets most upset.
As mentioned, Noddy's room has been stripped out and redecorated. The clown wallpaper and raspberry carpet has been replaced by a new wooden floor and Kelp paint. If you take a look at the Dulux Editions colour charts you will see that Kelp is a beautiful and serene sea-green. Ideal for a tranquil nursery, and sufficiently neutral to suit either a baby girl or boy.
The paint went on as a nasty sage green colour and then dried to a colour that can only be described as
Baby Boy Powder Blue
...with no hint of green in it at all.
With no time to repaint it -- I've got bags of other jobs to do still -- Noddy, whether a boy or girl, will have to live with it.
Read into that as you will.
