Olympic 2012 opening ceremony

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2knVqjpwJM

Hubble bubble

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8638263.stm
First image, top left, is it me or is god giving us the finger?

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

my new friends

So what does a man facing imminent fatherhood and the associate financial ruin do?
He buys a fish tank of course.

Actually its an old tank I had in the garage. But as part of the process of moving my beloved and her daughter into chez rich their fish needed to move. And his tank was much to small. (yes, I know you successfully kept a pet goldfish for thirty seven years in a teacup, but on the whole bigger is better with fish tanks). So I set up this 3 foot fish emporium and bought Anthony (or Emily depending on what mood Hannah is in) a few friends.

Its a long time since I kept fish and I had forgotten how much pleasure can be had in just watching a fish tank. Needless to say the long list of outstanding jobs around chez rich did not get any smaller this weekend.

Blimey !!!

its not that clear but its 2 bars... a direct hit.

The girl from albrighton...

she say YES !

Rubber fun

I received a pile of paperwork trussed up with a giant elastic band, which I put in my pocket.
So later I am idly playing with said band. Like you do.
And I wrap it around my head a couple of times to get the comedy Quasimodo look.
Like you do.

At which point the lift doors open.
No promotion for me again this year.

decorating

So, with a view to moving the girlfriend/potential carer and child/demon into chez rich we're decorating the box room for Hannah.
First this means moving out the computer & sticking it downstairs. Ok. No problem. I do that & invest in a wireless set up. So I read the instructions (not very blokey I'm afraid) and, in order to install I need the computer connected to the modem. But the computer is downstairs & the modem is upstairs. That's why I need wireless you fools. So I'm without Internet. (blogging from work. naughty but its Sunday & once again I'm doing unpaid overtime so sod em)

But its Sunday, Deb is at work, Hannah is at Nannies & I have no porn. :-(

And the box room is now a fairly garish yellow rather than the tasteful magnolia of yesterday. Its vile in every way and I'm very pleased with it.
Because its not, despite all mums prompting, Pink. Result.

To Dave or not to Dave

So that nice multimillionaire Mr Cameron tells me I don't need money to raise a child. All you need is love. And, obviously, to make sure that nanny tells nursie to remove the silver spoon from babies mouth before feeding.

Still, I find myself agreeing with tax breaks for married couples. Obviously, anyone reasonable includes civil partnerships and living together as if you are married, as we're a secular state. But, it seems reasonable that if one of you is a full time domestic and/or parent and is being supported by your partner rather than claiming huge amounts of benefit then you could share your unused tax allowance with your partner.
And good ol' David is going to implement this.

Ahh, no. My mistake. Dave would 'like' to do this. (provided your actually married and not some hideous queers or disgusting hippy couple) But he isn't actually going to do it.

So, Gordon Brown would like to end world poverty, combat global warming, massively fund public services and make Britain a global economic powerhouse but can't actually do it.
Dave C would like a tax break for married couples but can't actually do it. Talk about aiming high...

As I walk down the hill I pass a huge poster of a heavily airbrushed David Cameron looking down with a strangely bland expression. And I have this huge desire to spray paint the words "This man is a complete F***witt" across it.
Remarkably, as I proceed back up the hill after several pints I do not forfill this desire. With age comes wisdom. Or possibly apathy.

Tolerance

Its the Saturday before Christmas.
So, its carol singers and mince pies at the crown.
Deb has spent hours making her mincemeat & baking. OMR knocks some mince pies up.
And , OMR takes first place in the mince pie competition. Deb is unplaced. Its fair to say Rich gloats.
And has a celebratory ale or two.
And a little girl from the local paper awards me with my master baker certificate. And I give her a kiss. Possibly a little more enthusiastically than she is entirely happy with. She looks a bit shocked. So I do it again. :-)

Of course, I make it up to Deb at Christmas - by leaving her at home whilst I go to Gambia with Dad & Anna.

You can keep your white christmas. 35 and sunny. Now thats festive.

Some people may wonder why Deb puts up with me. Its because I'm damned pretty.

hic

ok. very drunk on that last one.
(guess who's girlfriend works on sunday nights?)

erm

ok. I'm a bit drunk. Like George B was a bit of a C***.
Except I can sober up. Maybe.

I live in fear of a tory landslide. Accepted Geordon brown is not PM material. But he is world class financialy. US let leman go, world going into meltdown and GB says no, dont do this, do this. World folllows and, given history, saves a lot of arses. Brilliaint chancellor. Shite PM.

Gorden Brown? complete arse? Yes!
but better the devil you know...