I'm Spartacus

So its the joy of new life.

Its not creepy, horrific, alien resurrection-esque at all.

or so I keep telling myself.

So I used to love her but..

Layed the carpet in Hannah's room. (sorted the door. Its a bit up and down and I'm missing a knuckle but its a result).
Now its a long time since I've layed a carpet, but have to say it was a cracking job. Just needed the scissors to trim a few ends. Couldn't find the scissors. And there was this strange bulge in the middle of the floor.
So, between laying the carpet and lifting it to retrieve the scissors the room changed shape. Not by much. Just a few mill. Just enough to make the not quite fitted carpet look crap!

There was language.
Still Hannah liked it. So much she helpfully cleaned the windows with vaseline.
"look rich - its all shiney'.

Just twenty years and I'm in a care home. :-)

hallowed turf

My daddy took me to twickenham for the Irish game.

What to say - it was a grand day out.

It was a four oclock kick off. Which is just wrong. So we set of a bit later than usual. And got a bit drunker than usual. Slight problem as the river was high we failed to make the white cross and found the much loved 'something begginging with A' more by luck than judgement. But reached twickers before the anthem and may have had an overpriced keg crap pint. Or two.

The rugby in the first half was awful.

The rugby in the second half was exciting. (but still piss poor).

The least bad team won. Unfortunately not us, but ho hum.

It was a grand day out.

and three genuine conversations from the toilets at Twickers... (all in an irish accent)...

"boys, we need to up the pace. twenty miniutes in and I'm still not pissing blood"

(from the cubical) "Whats the f**ing score. Anyone. Please. Five quid for a fucking ref link and there's no fucking reception. If I was going to see the game I wouldnt need the f***ing ref comentry now would I? So whats the f**ing score? Barry? Anyone? ..... F*** me. There's no F**ing Paper...."

and

"we need to eat. We need to eat after..."

"after the game or after the piss?"

"well........Fucked if I know"

it was a grand day out.

I am the go of hellfire and I bring you...

So I'm fitting a carpet in what will shortly be Hannahs room. Because I'm naturally gifted at D.I.Y. And the door is going to catch. Unfortunately its an old plank door who's hinges are solid paint. So even if I could get it off I'd never get it on again. So how to remove 5mm from the bottom? I know! I'll use my angle grinder. What can go wrong.

Well. What can go wrong is that the door catches fire. Just waiting for the smoke to clear and its on to plan B.

So, I’m going to be a daddy.

Amazing isn’t is. Somewhere inside my lovely Mrs a collection of gunk is fermenting away and forming little Spartacus. Or something like that. It’s all horribly biological. It makes me a little queasy just thinking about it. And it makes the Mrs more than a little queasy. What sort of evolutionary survival trick is morning sickness? She is also polishing of the ginger nuts at an alarming rate.
And what if it’s a ginger. There is a worrying amount of ginger in my family tree. Facing the 20 years of financial ruin is bad enough but with a ging? Are you still allowed to leave them on the hillside for the wolves? And the suggestion that I’d be more likely to attend the birth if we got a pool in the back room of the crown went down like a lead balloon.
So it’s a traumatic time. But am I getting any sympathy. None.

'ware the beastie