Love is all around us

You may have noticed that I've updated my profile recently.

I added Jesus and Cement to my Interests.

You and I both know that have no real interest in Jesus, but people keep telling me that Jesus is all around me. If you click the link, you'll find hundreds of thousands of bloggers who include Jesus as one of their interests. Clearly most of them THINK Jesus is all around me.

Compare this to cement.

I KNOW that cement is all around me, and yet when you click the cement link, you'll find only FIVE bloggers in the world include this versatile building material in their list of interests. And three of these are clear comedy hits.

Makes you think doesn't it.

Ironically it was Madonna who told us that we are living in a material world, but the interests of bloggers just don't reflect this...

iPox

It was my birthday a couple of weeks ago. Rob arrived with a belated, and very generous, present from Chicago for me last week.

An iPod mini.

This makes me happy!

I'll be tuning it up this weekend, which is lucky, as apart from the FA Cup final, we won't be doing much else, because India has come down with chicken pox.

This morning's tally of spots was five little pin-pricks. I predict that her face and body will look like a plate of baked beans by Sunday.

Star Wars may have to wait.

Other news:
Rob came back for his mum and dad's 40th [ruby] wedding anniversary. They hosted a wonderful afternoon party, blessed by the weather, great live jazz and a top-notch BBQ. James and I were the grillmen and so far so good, no reports of any food poisoning. There were of course some bitter-sweet moments: When Rob's mum and dad "first" danced after the champagne toast, I couldn't help but feel very sorry for their tragic situation.

Larry treated me to a day out at the Zurich Premiership rugby final at Twickenham last Saturday. Great day out. Friendly atmosphere, some great rugby -- highlight being the half-time rubber-suited mascot seven's game. Twickers was an impressive venue too: You're close to the action and it's got a real cauldron feel. Thanks Lazza!

Quiet on the job front. Saw the recruitment agency on Friday, have gone on a couple of OK short-lists, now have to wait and see what happens.

A Kick in the Balls

I have an interview with a recruitment agency tomorrow. The ball is rolling. A couple of people have mailed me to ask if I'm alright. The answer is yes, but slightly stressed and bemused by things. The atmosphere here at work is polite and professional. Yesterday I used my rights under the Data Protection Act to access my personnel file, and low and behold discovered that I am officially being paid under the market rate for my job -- something my managers have insisted wasn't the case for 18 months...

With a job change imminent, I'm taking the opportunity to channel the winds of change in the direction of my fitness too. I went for a run last night and managed to complete the moderate course without dying. Due to an endless cycle of chest infections and complaints, it was the first proper exercise I've done in almost two years. Although the lungs stood up to the test, there was an unsurprising lack of power in my legs. Every time I tried to pick up the pace to something kin to our Paula, there was no response. Bottom of the thighs and backs of the calves are a little tender today: An indication of just how unfit I've become.

After my run I shared India's bath. India got out first and whilst she was towelled down, Vic asked her the fateful question:

"Where's Daddy's balls?"

To which India correctly pointed at them and replied:

"Kick! Kick!"

Talk about storing up trouble.

The Pundits Say It's a Boy

Tamsin, my lovely sister-in-law, went into hospital this morning at 7.30 for her inducement. By the time you read this Vic and I may well have another nephew or niece.

Although we don't know for certain, we have read between the lines and reckon it's going to be a boy.

Either way, we wish Tam and Gav all the best for today. We understand that Tam was 6 cm dilated last night -- she's been suffering with pains and contractions since last weekend! -- but the hospital still plan to induce. And any lady who has been induced will tell you what a shit and painful experience it is...

Hopefully the new kid will arrive on the block today, as if he or she arrives tomorrow, they will forever clash with Vic's birthday.

Happy birthday Vic!

I Say, I Say, I Say

How do you manage to lock your car keys in a central-locking car?
Together with your mobile [cell] phone, house keys...
...and 18 month-old daughter?

How do you explain to your husband, who is a 30 minute drive away, that you've managed the above and could he go home immediately to pick up the spare car keys?

Answers on a postcard please to my wife.

Thankfully India slept through the whole event, and apart from one upset and panicky Vicster -- who also managed to phone the police (who couldn't help) -- and one annoyed Nobby, no harm was done.

I'm sure in a few years time, we'll all look back and laugh about it.


[As an aside, this wasn't my Ginger Woman-esque superhero moment]

Life Can Change in a Day

We moved. The packers were excellent and made it a pretty stress-free experience. I'll give you a virtual tour tomorrow. Think 1989 Travelodge meets the Circus of Death wallpaper -- in every room. We still have rooms full of boxes. India didn't freak out -- she postively loves the extra space in which she can race dolly's pushchair around / play football in.

I am back on the Sports and Social committee at work.

It is our 4th wedding anniversary today. Feels like yesterday we got married. I love my wife more and more everyday, blah, blah, blurg. Happy anniversary dear.

Rob's back from Chicago. Last week his Dad was admitted to hospital with blurred vision, dizzyness and slightly slurred speech. It wasn't alcohol. It's a brain tumour. The prognosis isn't good either. Rob was expecting the very worst news to be "your Dad only has 12 months", but having been through cancer with Gran last year, I suspected that it might be quicker than that. The doctors have predicted he only has months. Rob's Dad is going to have a course of radiotherapy and look at some other alternative therapy options, so there's still some hope, but that is one mighty big clock ticking. Rob is still in shock -- none of the family can quite believe it, as his Dad's symptoms have come out of the blue. It's so difficult to find the right words to comfort Rob -- it is impossible to put any positive spin on a desperate situation like this and there's nothing you can do to make things better.

I'm just so sorry for his Dad and the whole family.

Quick Fire

It's my financial year end, so I'm busy, busy, busy.
Here are some headlines:

We move tomorrow. The packers are in today and have boxed up our life in less than 6 hours. The oven at our new house is bust apparently and the kitchen will have to be ripped apart in order to repair it. We can have £250 to the repair cost though.

In an attempt to move away from the "no-trainers, I like Buena Vista Social Club" grey man stereotype, I am wallowing in the sound that those kids like -- rock, hard rock. Those Queens of the Stone Age rock man.

I am more of a local superhero than even Ginger Woman -- more on this once we've moved.

I hate my job. My bosses are cretins.

India's words include "turtle" and "daddy, your bosses are fuckwits". I don't know how she will cope come tomorrow's move: she will freak out that our house has changed.

iPod therefore I am

We finally exchanged contracts on the houses a week last Friday. I can't express how much of a relief it was. We got screwed by both ends of the chain at the last moment, tarnishing the whole process, but Vic and I are both settling into the idea that we're moving.
Things have been hectic. Although we're not moving until the 7th of April, we've been busy booking removal firms and spending time and money on new sofas, bedroom furniture and kitchen quotes. It's an expensive business moving house...

I'm currently burying my head in colour charts -- I can't wait to strip off all the hideous decor at our new place and start licking the walls with Apple Meadow, Chocolate Contessa and Almond White. Mmmmmm, right tasty.

Unfortunately, our buyer gazundered us at the last minute, meaning we don't have £3,500 to spend on things round the house and the odd treat or two.

One of those treats may well have been a mini iPod, as a handful of buddies have been singing the praises of the little babies. In order to assess the functionality and appeal of these new whizzy gadgets, I borrowed [work] Lynn's new iPod and got it up and running for her. Took a bit of tweaking and general head-scratching, but now it's churning out the crystal clear digital music, I'm loathed to hand it back.

Here's hoping she hates it and decides to give it to me.

I want one.


[note to readers: this should have been posted 2 weeks ago]

Nobby the talking clock

"Nobby recognises some voices better than others and works best when you talk to him at a distance of 1m. Don't shout or swear at him as he gets offended - he accused our testers of getting out of bed the wrong side when they barked out a question to him."

Uncanny.

Another 100 points

Some things you just don't blog.

For example, you'd be wise not to blog if you murder someone. Or have an affair. Or you're a gentleman who enjoys wearing ladies clothing at the weekend.

One thing I didn't blog last time was the first 12 weeks of our pregnancy with India. You can't be too careful can you...

So it made sense not to blog our pregnancy this time either.

Unfortunately -- as about one third of the people who read this already know -- we suffered a miscarriage two weeks ago. An emergency scan showed that at ten weeks, our pregnancy had not developed past the six week stage and there was no sign of a heart beat. A few days later Vic suffered some terrible and extremely scary bleeding, that saw us rush her into A&E at three in the morning. It hit her hard.

Things have settled down now. Vic's bleeding has stopped and, despite a few tearful moments, we're OK.

I've had a week off work with a chest infection. I badly needed it as the events of the last few months (two deaths, exams, house move, lost buyer, miscarriage) caught up with me last Thursday and in a fit of exhaustion, I felt on the brink of a depression. Completely drained physically and mentally. I felt as if I was in a little boat -- that had sprung a leak -- on a great boiling black sea. After some proper rest, things don't seem quite so bleak now.

Mission Accomplished

I passed my final CIMA exam!
I'm fully qualified (bar completing my statement of experience).
No more exams!
I have my life back!
Life is sweet!!!

Better News

We've received an offer on our house this lunch time. A low offer, but it's proceedable and from a serious buyer. We also have a third viewing booked in tomorrow from the girl who offered on day 1 of the house going on the market. She's still looking and keen. Fingers crossed we'll get another grand or two on the offers, then it will be back to the stress of waiting to exchange. The good news is that although it's going to costs us, we shouldn't lose the house we're buying.


Ainsley Harriot's Cup Soup is Crap

I wrote a letter to Ainsley today. Once I find his address, I'll be posting it to him. can you spot which bits are serious and which are not?! His wife is called Clare btw. Silvana is his food stylist.


Dear Ainsley,

I think you are a marvellous man and love your food. I own all of your cookbooks and use them everyday. I particularly enjoy putting your barbecue recipes into practice. There’s nothing like giving your meat a good spicy rub before sticking it on hot coals.

However, my wife says I’m a bit fat, so I’m off the pork chops and sausages and eating low fat food. I’m also taking sandwiches to work for lunch, but like you, I’m a big chap and they don’t really fill me up. In desperation, I’ve turned to cup soups. Normally I like Batchelors Chicken Noodle Cup a Soup, but during my weekly visit to Asda last week, I spotted your handsome face on a different brand and decided to purchase your Ainsley Harriott Wonderfully Wild Mushroom Cup Soup. We all like a nice drop of soup don’t we, and I noticed from the packaging that your Wonderfully Wild Mushroom Cup Soup is low in fat and therefore perfect for my diet.

I made up the soup according to the instructions on the packaging and was looking forward to having my tastebuds tickled by "the most sensational cup soup we’ve ever created!"

Frankly Ainsley, I was very disappointed by the soup. It’s like sludge. All starchy and with no taste. I asked my colleague at work what flavour she thought it was and she said asparagus, because it smelt of earth. She is German. I have analysed the ingredients and was shocked to discover that there is more Suzy salt and sugar in the product than mushrooms and cream, despite the fact the packaging calls the soup "dreamy creamy".

I feel like you’ve personally let me down Ainsley. This soup is dreadful and undeserving of your beautiful face adorning it. Even the recipe idea – which I can’t tell if you have endorsed or not – for steak sauce made from two sachets of the soup is crap. All of your fans will be weeping into their cups whilst this Cup a Sludge is still on the market.

In the meantime, I wish you and your lovely wife Silvana well. I watched Silvana on The Best and thought she was scrummy! Please could you send me a signed photo of you and her together, so I can hang it in my kitchen and gain inspiration from it.

Yours sincerely,
Nobby

The Timewaster Letters

As expected the bitch dropped us yesterday. In a rage of frustration, I disobeyed a direct order from Vic and emailed Dr. HP (the bitch) for some feedback from the horse's mouth.

My email:

I'm disappointed and distressed to learn from Paul of [Our Estate Agents] that you've offered on another property and withdrawn from our sale, when we were just a few days away from being able to exchange contracts on Nobby's House.

Paul has given me feedback on your reasons for pulling out:
a) Had time to think / reconsider.
b) Concerned about legal right of way.
c) Concerned about the [lack of] damp-proofing.
d) Answers to outstanding queries have not been forthcoming.

Frankly, I'm surprised at these reasons:
b) In almost four years we have never had any problem with using the access to our property's back garden. Our neighbour, Mrs. Kim has always allowed us access, as is our legal right. There has never been an issue of any sort. She has provided us with a key to the new gate lock she installed last year. She has offered us the use of the side passage for bike storage, etc. We use the access every week in the winter and more often in the summer.

c) We instructed an independent third-party surveyor (Peter Cox Ltd) to give a clearer idea of the true extent of the damp and costs of treating it on the 4th of January. Their report was available to you on Friday evening, but you have not requested a copy of that report. In summary, the cost of a new damp-proof course is just £400 (inc. VAT) and all work could be done externally -- i.e. no internal mess. As all of the internal walls downstairs -- apart from the hallway -- have been replastered in water-proofed cement sand render within the last two years, it is highly likely that no replastering apart from patches in the hallway will ever be necessary. The estimated cost of replastering the hallway is £250. The surveyor described our property as "being in good condition".

d) Our answers to all of your outstanding queries were available from our solicitor on Friday evening.

Considering that the cost of the damp-proof treatment was going to be no more than £650, our invitation to you to make a new offer at £201,500 was a fair and generous one.

That offer is still on the table, if you are inclined to reconsider.

Sincerely yours,
Nobby

I thought she'd reply "fuck off", but in fact I got the following:

Dear Nobby,
I am sorry you are disappointed and I appreciate that my decision will
cause you some delay in moving on, but I believe I have made the right
decision in buying another house.

I have had some concerns all along about no 79 and its suitability for
my family, but your house was the one I liked best from those available
when I was looking in November, and due to my need to move quickly, I
decided to go ahead with the purchase despite my concerns.

I'm sure Paul has outlined these to you, but in case he has not provided
you with the details, I will do so.

> b) Concerned about legal right of way.
I am glad you have had no issues with your neighbour. I spoke to her
twice and while she acknowledged the legal right of way, she made it
very clear that she does not want people to use the access that crosses
her back garden, especially in the summer, when she might be using her
garden, and at night, when she would find it understandably frightening
for people to walk past her window. Moreover, the passageway is full of
dustbins etc, which make it very difficult to pass through with
bicycles. As an alternative, she suggested we took rubbish, garden waste
etc through the house, which she said had always been done before.
This arrangement does not suit us because of (a) the very nice cream
carpets in the dining area, (b) the fact that we regularly go for bike
rides in the summer, and most importantly (c) because my teenage
daughter cycles to work in the evenings and would need to store her bike
safely on coming home. Your neighbour kindly offered us the possibility
of storing one bike in the passageway, under the condition that we did
not then use the back access but always used the front door; this
alleviates my latter concern somewhat, but doesn't allay my concerns
about freedom of access more generally.

> c) Concerned about the [lack of] damp-proofing.
> d) Answers to outstanding queries have not been forthcoming.

Both my solicitors and myself have been surprised at the unnecessary
delay in your solicitors' responses since the middle of December, given
that you knew I was hoping for a very quick purchase. I was
particularly disappointed by your initial refusal to negotiate on the
costs raised by the surveyor's report in order to organise the work
yourself, despite my hurry to move, and then hearing more than 3 weeks
later that you had not arranged for the work to be done but had simply
got a second quote for the work. This caused unnecessary delay in the
purchase, as we could have agreed a figure in mid-December. The fact
that you now wish to negotiate a figure for the work on the basis of
this second quote was not passed on to me until earlier this week, by
which time I had come across a property that I think is more suited to
us. I hardly need point out that if you had agreed a figure for the work
in December, we would have exchanged before this week, and this
situation would not have arisen.

I hope these facts clarify my decision . I hope you and your family find
a new purchaser very quickly - you have a lovely home and I am sure it
won't take too long.
Yours,
Dr HP


Which is lovely, except she's talking bollocks. "Facts" my arse. So I replied:

Thank you for your reply and frankness.
I shall be taking up the access right of way with my neighbour and solicitor.

However, I am very unhappy about your approach to the damp-proofing.
Your survey was NOT an estimate or quote of costs. The £2,500 retention was a joke and the surveyor recommended a specialist report. We commissioned that specialist report. You did not ask us to carry out any works. You offered a reduction of £4,000 on the purchase price -- a joke considering the work required. We could not get any work done in that "3 week" period because, as you are fully aware, it was Christmas and New Year -- how and who was going to do this work?! And why would we get work done without a quote first? How could we negotiate "in December" when our solicitor didn't receive your joke offer until the 23rd of December and we had no idea of the true cost of works on which to base any renegotiation? YOU wanted guarantees and work carried out by a specialist company -- the 4th of January was the earliest day ANY damp-proofing company in Oxon and Bucks could get out to assess things.

You clearly live on a different planet to the rest of us. You are a timewaster and with the beauty of hindsight I can see we are better-off without you as our buyer.

[End of communication]


I'm expecting a "fuck off" reply now, but so far, no sign.
I know it's childish, but the exchange has made me feel much better about things.
Vic is completely unimpressed, but an exchange of emails is far more civilised than an exchange of firebombs...

Bitch

The fucking time-wasting, untrustworthy, nit-picking, indecisive, psycho bitch has offered on another property that has just come to market. Fucking bitch.

We now have to wait to see whether her -- low -- offer is accepted. If so, we'll be dropped like a hot potato, and Vic will go knocking on her door and kill her. If not, we might be still on.

[2 min later update]
I've just told Vic and I quote "I'm going to go round and firebomb her house".
Followed by tears.

Fucking bitch.

The Doomsday Clock Tick Tick Tocks

The dread hands of human bone click silently on towards the midnight hour.

We're expecting a call any minute from our estate agents telling us whether or not we have lost our [house] buyer. On Friday she phoned up Lightfoots for "an update" -- things are progressing, we're addressing all your queries and £4,000 offer reduction* -- and finished the call by telling our agent that she would like to view some other houses. Probably a crude attempt to hurry things along and put some pressure on the chain. Oops. Big mistake lady, as by asking to view other properties you give our agent no option other than to tell us to put our house back on the market -- it has to work both ways our agent said (and he's right).

"Fine" was her response.

* Her offer was reduced in light of her survey that showed an area of damp in the hallway, and her concerns at the lack of guarantees on the damp-proof course. £4,000? When a new DPC costs £400 including the VAT?

"Why don't you go fuck yourself." is what I'd like to tell her. But instead we've offered a generous £1,000 discount off the original purchase price (which was too low anyway), with the tagline that it is a take-it or leave-it counter-offer.

Now we await her response. She's been thinking about it overnight. I guess she might make the call over lunch time.

The doomsday clock is ticking.

Fingers crossed it doesn't chime.

Waterlogged Pitch

Carlisle United's football ground is under 4ft of water. Irthington is on higher ground and far enough away from the River Eden to have escaped with just a soaking and a storm-battering. However, Ann and David are without power, heating or much food. David is planning to BBQ random meat out of their defrosting freezer indoors tonight -- he can't do it outdoors as the village is completely pitch-black. You might use the words "flood disaster zone" in normal circumstances.

The Daily Mail blames global warming.

When asked why she couldn't use her anti-terrorism stash of consumables and food-stuffs that she had been going on about for six months (at the same time telling us that we need one), Ann revealed that it has absolutely nothing in it. At least nothing that doesn't have to be cooked in the oven / on the hob. In fact their emergency provisions seem to consist of a slab of beers and a bottle of Chilean Chardonnay.

The Year of the Nobby

Welcome to 2005 people. I didn't post anything over the holiday period because we didn't do anything of interest over the holiday period. Which was great. India loved her plastic pirate ship -- she has already perfected a decent pirate "Ahaar!" -- and I got my classic King Kong movie poster*, so we were all happy.

* King Kong is coming out of the jungle, surrounded by scantily-clad, screaming ladies. He is currently being framed up at Bob's gallery, ready for his hanging in our new Art Deco style bathroom, when we eventually move**. It'll scare the hebe-gebe's out of India.

** Our buyer is pissing us around again. She's worried about the lack of damp-proof course guarantees and has reduced her offer by £4,000. As I told our estate agent, she can shove that up her damp course. We've had an independent surveyor out yesterday to give us a realistic report and quote on it. I reckon £1,000 and we'll offer to split this 50-50 with her in the form of a £500 discount on the price. TBC on receipt of the report. Her messing is also pushing the exchange date back -- and she was the one who wanted to move asap too... Earliest moving date is probably going to be the 28th of January now.

A Summary of Recent Life Changes:

1) I have cut my fizzy pop consumption down to one can a day for over 100 days now. I have therefore avoided almost 4 kilos of sugar. 4 kgs! No wonder I've lost weight.
2) I haven't worn a watch for four months. I am no longer ruled by time and don't get stressed when I'm running late. My time-keeping is actually better than it's ever been.
3) India is now longer a baby. She is a toddler.
4) The house move is progressing slowly, but is on course for the last week of January.
5) Last Christmas I had three grandparents, this year I have none.


Targets for Next Year:

1) New house.
2) New job, with a salary sufficient to pay the new mortgage.
3) Pass CIMA exams, if end of January's results are a disappointment.
4) Write a book -- this may well be the complete memoirs of my granddad.
5) Produce a brother/sister/tag-team wrestler for India.


Other Notes:

1) Friends seem to be producing babies all over the place.
2) We are starting to catch up with people we haven't seen in a while (due to the traumas of the last few months): Met Lazza and Cazza's Finlay and Sara and Stasher's Rory a fortnight ago. Saw Matt and Sam Jenkins -- who are pregnant -- for the first time in four (?) years. Saw Rachel and Robin's Daisy last night for the first time since April.
3) India hasn't pulled over the Christmas tree.

Best wishes to everyone for the holidays. Happy Christmas.

Side Track

It took us ages to get into the city last night. It's nice to know that Americans have to suffer traffic queues like we do. By the time we got to Jen and Mike's it was 9:00. Boy Town was jammed and it took us 30 mins to park. We then discovered the restaurant had valet parking.

Yoshi's Cafe is Japanese-Western fusion. It's also a "proper" restaurant -- as are the prices. Jen and I had a grilled teriyaki salmon fillet on a bed of risotto cake and fresh asparagus. Rob and Mike went for the MEAT option.

Then we hit Side Track: wall-to-wall guys. Jen was the only lady in there for the first beer. The place was cool. Nothing freaky. Except for the total lack of ladies. Compare this to a gay village in the UK where there are plenty of straights out too. There weren't even any gay girls there! Only tough moment for me was the visit to the gents. Stood next to a MASSIVE black guy. I was worried for my cheeks. Then he started singing along to the Madonna video playing over the speakers in a Judy Garland / Wizard of Oz voice. Same thing with the big butch barman... a tiny squeaky voice.

By the time we checked the clock it was midnight. Back home for one. I was knackered anyhow, so when the alarm went off this morning I felt terrible.

Still don't feel right -- despite throwing up half my Berry Blast fruit smoothie mid-morning [oh yes]. My sinuses are congested too -- I guess from the smoke in the bar.

Last night tonight. It's going to be a quiet one.

Motorola Is Go!

Rob's reflashed my mobile and my UK sim card seems to be working again.
I'm back online for text messages.
Lost my photos and ring tones, but gained a host of games.
The games will come in useful at Heathrow on Saturday morning, waiting for the flight to Newcastle...