Be Careful What You Wish For

28th Jan 04, 09:30 Nobby laments lack of snow. Wishes that there were a couple of inches -- enough to build a snowman and cluster bomb his work colleagues.
16:52 Snow blizzard starts in High Wycombe.
16:58 Nobby leaves work.
17:00 So does everyone else.
17:01 High Wycombe -- and all roads leading out of the town -- is gridlocked.
17:40 Nobby has driven 200 yards -- 200 yards more than most people driving from the Cressex Business Estate.
18:45 Nobby has driven 1 mile and is queuing to get on the road to Lane End.
19:00 Nobby hasn't moved more than two feet, so turns car around (random woman gives Nobby a V-sign) and drives back into High Wycombe, cuts off corner of town and drives out along West Wycombe road and then towards Princes Risborough.
19:01 The road is clear of serious traffic -- Nobby curses his luck -- he should have gone this way in the first place.
19:20 Nobby grinds to a halt outside Saunderton at the back of a 2 mile long traffic queue that's going nowhere. He considers ditching car and walking in the snow to Saunderton railway station to catch a train back to Thame. Instead, he drives up winding country road towards Bledlow and Chinnor.
19:40 After a couple of minor skids, Nobby stops car for a wee. Spoils field of virgin white snow. Cannot try to write his name in snow due to lack of light. Whilst relieving himself at the top of a rise, Nobby can see that all the major trunk roads in the area are clogged. Car headlamps twinkle forlornly in the distance.
20:00 Nobby arrives back in Thame. The town is an ice rink of compacted snow. None of the roads have been salted.
21:10 Vicster arrives home after a four hour trip back from Marlow. Her 30 minutes journey took four hours, my 25 mins journey a mere three.

Sorry everyone, it was my fault and I didn't even get to build a snowman...
Be careful what you wish for.

Bad Day For Students

I feel let down by Tony Blair over the "won" vote on university top-up fees. He's broken one of his manifesto promises, and I don't think the policy's knock-on effects have been properly assessed.

I wouldn't have gone to university if these fees had been in place when I went and I fear that they will put off many lower-income and middle-class kids from going in the future.

Bad judgement call Tony.

I won't be voting labour next time.

Journals, Journals Everywhere

I used to work in industries that had trade journals that were worth reading:

Music Week
Billboard
New Musical Express

Casino Monthly
Slots
Electronic Gaming

I now have the chance to read the following exciting publications [all taken from my Marketing Directors' magazine stand]:

Journal of Microscopy
Surface World and Product Finishing
World Cement
Microscopy Today
Microscopy and Analysis
Finishing
Materials Today
Scrap
Chemistry and Industry
Materials World
Chemistry in Britain
Onboard Technology
SCI News
Spectroscopy

This is why I read random blogs at lunch time...

But can you imagine being the chief editor on World Cement?
Well, thanks to the web, here's your chance: A brand new world.
Subscribe today!

Round Up Before The Details

I've not had the time to update recently:

We went to Tenerife for a week of winter sunshine.
Came back to the funeral...
...and a dust bowl dining room: we had it replastered while we were away.

I'll give you the details when I have the chance...

False Dawn

I was going to tell you how great my Christmas and New Year had been:
We went up to Carlisle for a week, came back and spent some quality time with Rob, enjoyed a decent New Years Eve party and socialised, socialised, socialised with friends and family. Gramp had a miracle turn-around too -- his strangulated hernia unblocked itself, he started eating again, his bone-cancer was a misdiagnosis, and was -- as far as we were concerned -- out of the woods of immediate danger.

He caught pneumonia overnight and died at 10:20 am this morning.

I thought I was prepared, but the speed of his passing -- and the single hour between learning of his pneumonia and death -- has left me shocked and very upset.

I've spent an hour sat in the car pondering things, and have returned to my desk to eat lunch and post this up.

He was a wonderful grandad and I'm going to miss him.

Slow and Painful

My grandad is in the JR hospital. He's been in there for 9 days now. He went in due to being sick -- with blood in his vomit. He hasn't eaten for 9 days. It took the hospital 7 days to discover that he has a hernia that is blocking his bowel. He needs an immediate operation to clear the problem, otherwise -- as the surgeon put it -- he will die a slow and painful death.

Unfortunately -- due to the lack of food, as well as his low blood pressure -- he is too weak for the operation.

He has been given just "a few days or few weeks". They will do everything they can to make him comfortable.

Joy to the world.

Board to Death

My dad went up into the attic yesterday to store the empty boxes of his new widescreen TV, DVD and video bundle.

He managed to lose his footing and put his slippered size nine straight through the ceiling.

Thankfully he managed to grab onto the rafters -- so it was only a star-shaped section of plasterboard that crashed to earth -- as he was directly over the main stairwell...

A classic sitcom moment that could have resulted in a two storey fall.

He's getting a man in today to patch the ceiling and board the attic.

Unbelievably, despite buying a brand new digital camera last week, my mum failed to react quick enough and take a photo of dad's leg dangling through the ceiling. It did his hernia a world of good.

Air Today

The pushchair's rear onside wheel had a puncture yesterday. I fixed it last night and was surprised to discover that it was the first tyre puncture I've ever repaired. First one in 32 years.

I was left thinking what else I haven't done in the last 32 years:

Skiing
Rock-climbing
Pot-holing
Many other manly pursuits

On the flipside, I have dressed up in drag many times.

However, I can now add puncture repairing to my list of new skills. Plastering, plumbing and electricial engineering are scheduled to be added soon -- I want a complete career change.

The tyre was still inflated this morning, so unlike yesterday, India and Vic shouldn't be house-bound today.

Photo Negative

I've been set a dilemma here at work:

I have the twenty week scan photo of India on my desk. Vic framed it up for me in an attractive silver photo frame as a present. It's been sat on my desk for 30 weeks now. I love it.

On the day India was born -- the 13th of September -- my colleague Lisa had a miscarriage. It was the day of her 13th week scan. She never made the appointment.

Lisa sits six feet away from me.

She has had "issues" at work ever since -- clearly she is upset by baby talk, etc. I'm very careful to be sensitive to the situation.

Last week my boss queitly suggested that I might like to change my photo of India, or consider removing it from my desk. Apparently the scan photo brings it all back to Lisa.

I can appreciate this.

If she asked me directly, I would probably remove the photo instantly, but as the request is via my manager -- and I have quite a history of receiving downright rudeness from her over the last 2 and a half years (I don't like her) -- I am reluctant to remove the scan image.

I love the photo. It's been there 30 weeks.

So the dilemma is:

a) Remove the photo.

or:

b) Don't remove the photo and look like a complete c*nt.

A win-win situation.

I'm Wearing an Orange Wig

Tomorrow is "Wear a hat to work" day for Age Concern. Pay a quid to charity, wear a hat at your desk.

I look a fool in a hat, but will contribute by wearing my chef's hat. I may stuff it with paper to make it stand proud.

Today I'm wearing a "casual" shirt, rather than my normal "formal" shirts. I've decided to start expressing my individuality at work at bit more.

When I informed Vic of this change in work-wear policy, she suggested that if I want to express my personality at work, I should dress up in a clown suit.

[Honk! Honk!]

A Bad Week

I've had the flu for the last week. A voice like Barry White (I know he's dead -- that's what I mean), asthma to die for, and a five day course of steriods to make me look like the Hulk. In my hand I have a piece of paper from Mr. Doctor that is a prescription for a course of antibiotics. Thankfully the phelm has cleared enough -- due to the steriods giving me enough lung capacity to shift it -- that the prescription isn't necessary. Still coughing up strings and blobs of grey, green and yellow spittle, but hey, I'm alive... and back to work.

The astma is a real worry though -- a subject to deal with at another time.

Of course, the flu didn't exactly help my exam preparation -- it kicked in two nights before the big day. Neither did the International football either -- poor old Wales missing out again. I'm sure my hacking and spluttering cheered up all my fellow exam-sitting students no end. There's nothing worse than taking an exam next to a sniffler is there...

And I had a filling last Tuesday too.

And I had to hold India at the Doctors on Thursday while she had her first set of jabs. She screamed like a banshee. The needle was at least 3 inches long and stuck twice deep into her leg muscles. A real cocktail of nasties were injected and she's not really been herself since.


...But not that bad.

The exam went OK.

England are World Rugby Champions.

I won a four pack of beers off my Aussie mate Keir (well done Jonny W). "The Empire Strikes Back!"

India's been developing at a rapid pace -- she's a smasher!

Mark (from Chicago) visited for one night only -- we hadn't seen him for 15 months, so it was ace to catch up. He also fixed the PC.

Oxford United are top of the league!

Ghostly Mountain Retreat

We're up in Carlisle at the Inlaws. I'm revising for my retake exam next week at the usual mountain retreat. Keeping the dog away from India has been distracting: he's bemused and bewildered by the baby. He doesn't know whether to protect her or eat her...

India's been "talking" over the last couple of weeks. She'll mimic your grunts and goo-goos. Then do some of her own. It's very cool.

Weirdly though, when left on her own for a few minutes in the Inlaws old house, she suddenly bursts into mucho excited talking.

To thin air.

Like there's a ghost.

Then when you reappear, she quietens down.

Even the suggestion that India might be seeing dead people -- and many so-called experts reckon children and animals can sense ghosts and spirits -- freaks Vic out.

Its behind you.

Happy Nappy Hands

We have replenished our home hand cream stocks and Lisa at work has donated me a tube of concentrated Neutrogena hand cream -- the Norwegian fisherman's choice apparently*. As a result my hands are slowly getting back to normal. No more eczema or knuckles that look like elephant knees.

* Which would account for the slight fishy smell.


The Quiet Month of October

I've noticed that the majority of Blogs that I read have been very quiet over the last few weeks. It would appear as if October is a quiet month for Bloggers -- like the housing market is quiet in January and February. I've tried to spot a trend, but can only come up with everyone seems miserable and can't be bothered to write about it.

Fair dinkum.

My excuse -- apart from the 9 lb 4 oz bundle of joy / poo-machine -- is my Blog time has been diverted to setting up a blogsite for the Oxford magic community. As I haven't been playing much recently, I've had to satisfy my magic hunger in other ways...

Look No Hands

My hands are wrecked. Having babies does that to you apparently. There's so much washing of hands after nappy changes, bottle sterilising, dummy-picking up, etc. that your hands are left in tatters. Oh how sweet and soothing hand cream is.

Happy Birthday Steph

Our best friend Steph is 30 years old today.
Happy Birthday girlfriend! [as Mark would say]

Hard to believe really, as I still regard Steph as being a teenager -- just like Vic.

It was at Steph's 18th birthday party that I first set eyes on Vic and thought "Phwoar, she's the one for me!".

It's therefore extremely satisfying that 12 years on, I still think the same -- "Phwoar, she's the one for me!" -- about my Yummy Mummy wife.

We're taking Steph out for lunch to celebrate.

Two Weddings, One Option

We were invited to two weddings that took place last weekend:

Larry's in Scotland and Vics brother's in Kent.

Darren and Christine's was on Friday, Larry and Carole's was on Sunday, and the logistics -- and 500 mile trip -- conspired against us attending both.

Family comes first (at least in the world of Eastenders), so unfortunately we missed Lazza and Cazza's. [Grimace]

Darren and Christine's do was smashing though: Lympne Castle was a majestic venue and they were blessed with warm sunshine, good food and our company.

Not only did they copy our castle location wedding idea, but Darren ripped half of his speech directly from mine. It was if he'd sat down and transcribed our wedding video, changing the names to protect the innocent. Of course, if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Christine looked magnificent, as did I. Nobody could believe that Vic was so slim -- she has already lost her pregnancy tummy. India was incredibly well behaved -- both during the wedding and over the two nights in the hotel -- and everyone (and I mean everyone) pointed at her hair and exclaimed "oooohhh... look at how much hair she's got!" as their first impression of her.

My baby's going to get a complex.

Darren and Christine are now either in Vancouver or Hawaii. A hockey and hula hula honeymoon. Lucky devils.

First Prawns, Now Nappies

Vic has a habit of smelling prawns. Whenever she buys a prawn mayonnaise sandwich from Marks & Spencers, I have to watch her pick out every prawn -- one by one -- and sniff them to see if they are "off" or not. It's obsessive.

She has now taken to doing to same thing with India's nappy.

"Does she need a change?"

"Let me have a good sniff... No!"

I know it's one of those Things Parents Do, but I didn't expect Vic to be in the habit in just four weeks.


Feeding Time At The Zoo

The other night, when India's internal alarm clock went off at 1:27 am to let us all know she needed feeding, I admit to feeling a little bit

"Fragga ragga, look at the time, I'm knackered and not enjoying this."

But by 2:27 am, after I'd fed and winded her, and we were both tucked-up back in our respective beds, I felt a warm glowing sense of contentment.

"Ace, I've just fed my daughter and she's happy."

A wonderful feeling, and one that I'd managed to forget by 3:30 am last night ;)


Let's Watch The Football Daddy

Our first match watched together will be the big game tomorrow -- if it goes ahead. I expect a nail-biting nil-nil draw -- as without Owen, England are unlikely to score -- and a full understanding of the off-side rule from India.

Paternity Leave Over

I'm back at work -- something I dreaded-- as my paternity leave is over.
The last three weeks have been the quickest of my life. It feels more like four or five days.
The days have flown by. A repetitive cycle of feeding, winding, changing, cuddling, playing, comforting and sleeping. It's exhausting and eats up the time in a blur.
I don't think we realised how much hard work is was going to be.

India has been great. We've been very lucky.

Unlike some of the other babies from our ante-natal group, India has been feeding and sleeping brilliantly. Although we've had a few moments of griping and crying, she's settled into life outside of the womb well.

To give you some idea of what's been happening here's a quick round-up:

~ Our PC went down just before she was born, so no downloading of photos off the digital camera and no blog updates at a most interesting time.
~ We have already changed 130 nappies.
~ Vic's boobs have grown two or three cup sizes.
~ But I can't go near them.
~ India likes watching the snooker on the TV until 1:00 am.
~ She is now wide-eyed and alert.
~ She passed her hearing test and reacts nicely to sounds around her.
~ She is already smiling.
~ Even when she hasn't got wind.
~ She's now on one formula bottle each day -- the last one at night so that Vic can go to bed at 9:15 pm and sleep for a while in peace.
~ Her poo looks like French mustard and smells wheaty [I know you wanted this info!].
~ Changing your own baby is a very natural and pain free process. Natural programming kicks in and you just get on with it.
~ It's not just boys that can aim their wee: India is very talented at arcing a fountain over the cot and onto my pyjamas and feet.
~ She's changing every day and it's magic.

Anyway, PC's back online, so updates will be back online too.

The Eagle Has Landed

She's here.

India Autumn Yates was born at 10:50 GMT, Saturday the 13th of September, 2003. Weighing in at 6 lbs 8 oz, with a shock of black hair, she is, as the midwife put it, perfect.

We've been walking on cloud nine ever since.

I am so happy.

Things started for Vic at 23:00 on Friday night, straight after we got home from a pizza out with Emma and Scott. I think it was the chilli peppers on my American Hot that put things in motion.

Vic coped with the contractions with four baths and a shower throughout the night, whilst I managed an hour of sleep on the (brand new) bathroom carpet.

We called the midwife for advice at 03:30, but didn't call her out until 7:15. Vic was 6 to 7 cm dilated by then. She was brilliant.

The midwife Norma broke Vic's waters (watch out brand new bathroom carpet!) and we endured a slow 30 minute car ride to Wallingford. The guy in front stuck to the speed limit all the way >:(

Once at the hospital, she was fully dilated, so Vic jumped in the birthing pool -- absolute heaven -- and two hours of pushing later, out India glided.

Vic held her for a few minutes and then I had her -- skin-to-skin - for 30 minutes whilst Vic was checked over and cleaned up.

Complete magic.

Both mum and mini-poppet are home now and it's going really well.

Thank you to everyone for the cards, flowers and messages of congratulations.

I'm so proud of my girls.

365 Days Later

Tomorrow this blog is one year old. Happy birthday Blog.

However, as it's September 11th tomorrow, I won't be celebrating the fact this on-line diary has out-lived my previous pen and paper diaries by at least 49 weeks. No, tomorrow -- as long as I'm not in the middle of labour -- will be a quiet day of reflection. I shall close my eyes and remember the images of two years ago. And although I don't believe in God, I shall say a little prayer for those who perished.


Jump London

Channel 4's Jump London -- a documentary about the French pioneers of Free Running -- was shown last night and it was spellbinding. The master gymnasts / acrobats / stuntmen / fitness freaks free-ran 14 of London's most famous buildings and landmarks in a single day. And in some style, using precision jumps, leaps of faith, wall-crawling and cat leaping to turn the city into a playground. Their philosophy is a progressive mix of Bruce Lee's martial arts and Star Wars Jedi.

Unfortunately the program's use of drum and bass, cut-aways, and stupid camera angles / close-ups meant the viewer missed much of the classy action. But as a showcase for this new urban sport -- basically a pure form of extreme sports (e.g. skateboarding without the board) -- it was an impressive and unparalleled success.

It made me wish I was 16, fit, flexible and ten stones again. Pass me my running shoes.

Here's the best UK Free Running site I could find. Check out some of the (large) black and white jpegs for a taste of what it's all about.


Baby Update

I assembled the cot last night. It's a honey coloured cage. With a cute Humphrey Elephant Musical Mobile that Vic's workmates bought us. We're all set.