#flattenthecurve Episode 12

WFH Day 9 of x

Prince Chow Mein

"Dad" said Henry this morning, "if you sing 'Prince Charming' in a funny voice it sounds like you're saying 'Prince Chow Mein'."

Now I wasn't aware that the boy was a fan of early 80s New Wave, but I couldn't disagree with what he was saying, so naturally I confirmed he was right.

"Yes Henry, yes it does. I wonder what other Chinese food Adam and the Ants enjoyed?"

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you our Prince Charming Oriental Remix:

Prince chow mein, prince chow mein
Sweet and sour's nothing to be scared of
Porky dumplin', porky dumplin'
Keep cooking Chinese, feeding me your fried rice.

So yeah, that was fun. If you like that kind of thing. Which I do.

Eva stared at us like we were weird, but then I wasn't the one ballet dancing topless in the front room later was I Eva?

Weirdness, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder. Or something like that.


Conversationalists

Belle and I have got into a little routine while I've been working from home. Whenever I need to stretch my legs, I poke my head into the bedroom where Belle spends all day asleep (it gets the sun and has a cosy blanket) and say "miaow" to which Belle always, without fail, replies "miaow".

Sometimes she looks at me, sometimes not. Sometimes she comes over to say her miaow, sometimes not. But without fail, she replies with a miaow.

Sometimes we have quite a conversation between ourselves, but usually that's only when I'm putting off taking over from looking after the kids.

Belle never looks at me like I'm weird, and I regret suggesting now that she'd be the first one to be sacrificed in a post apocalyptic famine.


Comestibles

I had broccoli and stilton soup for my lunch today. 

The window in the man cave stayed open all afternoon.

I shall say no more.

#flattenthecurve Episode 11 The Second Weekend

Saturday

For something billed as a Working From Home blog, I've noticed I very rarely mention work. Ah well.


Bike Ride

I'm not saying the wife has low standards of expectation for me, but as I was heading out for a bike ride with the kids on Saturday morning she crouched down next to Eva and whispered "Eva, keep an eye on Dad, A&E don't need to be dealing with idiots falling off bikes at the moment."

Eva is 7, clearly has no parenting experience and has been riding a bike without stabilisers for about 3 days. I am 41, have been a father for more than 11 years and ... actually, the wife probably has a fair point, I am quite clumsy. And over ambitious on my bike.

Eva was pleased that her bike was 'less broken' than the previous day. She later admitted to the wife that maybe the bike hadn't been broken after all, and maybe it could possibly, maybe, possibly have been her tired legs to blame.

Very gallant of her. Eventually.


Harry Hill

The weather turned this afternoon so out came (** insert dramatic sound effect here) jigsaws.

To be clear, jigsaw puzzles, not those DIY tools of the same name. I don't believe wrapping kids up in cotton wool is ever the best approach to child development, but there is no way I am letting my kids loose with any power based cutting devices; I come out in cold sweats just watching Henry attempt to spread butter with a table knife.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, jigsaws. A calm, quiet past time, I was impressed with the wife's forward planning and thoughtfulness. For about 30 seconds, that is, before the crying and the wailing and the gnashing of teeth started.

Eva is never wrong, so when her jigsaw wasn't coming together properly, it was the jigsaws fault. The fact that the jigsaw was brand new and was completed in the box before she took it apart meant nothing: she was right, it was wrong.

And Henry? Well, Henry sat on the floor surrounded by a sea of Minion faces and argued loudly with himself for I don't know how long before the wife stepped in to help.

"Henry" she said "you need to have a system." I noted the baffled look on Henry's face, but I have to confess I zoned out at this point remembering Harry Hill, Stouffer the cat and badger parades.*

I was snapped out of this moment of televisual nostalgia by Henry hollering "Eva! Eva! Mam says you've got to help me with my jigsaw!"

Everyone: "Henry, a system, you div, not a sister!"

Eva confidently, perhaps a little smugly, strode over to Henry's jigsaw, and after a couple of minutes mumbled it was very tricky and harrumphed off.

* Possibly a bit of an obscure reference to the late 90s The Harry Hill Show there. You could google it, but I suspect it won't have aged well.


Bored Games

Things took a turn for the worse later on when Monopoly Cheaters Edition made its first appearance since the post-Christmas/pre-New Year board game debacle.

It won't be coming out again any time soon.

The game, it turns out, is the ultimate test of parenting credentials, requiring strategy, skill and cunning. And that's just to keep the kids in order. It is a test where, I'm sad to say, I fell well short of the required standard.

It's quite straightforward in principle, the basic rules of monopoly but with an added cheat dimension where you can try to, as the name suggests, cheat. The cheats are limited in scope and number and are detailed on a handful of cards that are visible to all players. They are not an invitation for rampant, underhand skulduggery.

Henry paid no attention to the cheat cards and just did what he fancied. Though he shook with excitement every time he cheated, which was a bit of a give away. He also accused everybody else of cheating constantly, which is penalised with a fine and which in turn made him very grumpy.

Eva couldn't bear the guilt of cheating (even though it's in the rules) so burst into a prolonged spell of uncontrollable sobbing when she did try a cheat.

While the wife was dealing with these meltdowns I helped myself to a few hundred monopoly quid from the bank, which just set everybody off again as this, apparently, 'wasn't fair'. You snooze you lose, chumps.


Fortnite

Henry has had his Fortnite game time restricted, too much time on it makes him grumpy, edgy and restless.

I wondered about asking whether the wife had been playing too, but decided against it for my own safety.


Cats, Again

Belle has a morning routine that she follows without fail. She comes into our room early, meows and nudges us until one of us gets up and gets her breakfast.

She sniffs at it briefly before wandering off without touching any of it, and goes for a lie down.

Bloody cats.

The kids are the same to be fair, though they tend to eat theirs.


Thought of the Day

When does social distancing become anti-social distancing?



Sunday

And on the seventh day they rested.

And cleaned up Henry vomit. Poor lad. Hope it's not catching.


Moist

I noticed while at big Tesco that the toilet roll aisle was next to empty again. Don't worry, I was only window shopping, we still have enough to last a few weeks yet.

I say 'next to empty' because there was a couple of boxes of Andrex Moist toilet tissue remaining. I had the misfortune of having to, er, 'avail myself' of moist toilet tissue once. Not my cup of tea. Still makes me shudder thinking about it now. Is violated too strong a word to use here? Maybe. Maybe not.

Anyway, how can there still be no toilet roll on the shelves? Or kitchen roll for that matter? What are people doing with it? Not the kitchen roll, the lack of toilet roll probably gives a strong clue as to where kitchen roll is coming in useful. Actually, if Juan Sheet is to be believed, it could be a money saver.

In other disposable paper news, the wife has gone environmentally friendly and we have to make use of a reusable cloths or sponges now. Instead of kitchen roll, I should add - we're not animals!


Another Earworm

I think I've had enough of being stuck indoors now, judging by the earworm for the day: Break From the Old Routine by Oui 3.

I had to Google the song as I couldn't remember who it was by. It seems that was their biggest hit from the one album they released.

The lyric that was going round in my head was:

What do you mean we need a break from the old routine?
We need a break from the old routine.

Not surprised the band didn't last, their lyrics clearly suggest an inability to hold constructive conversations.

#flattenthecurve Episode 10

WFH Day 8 of x


Man Jobs

In our house we are all very modern, very progressive. We encourage the kids not to see gender as a barrier to achieving what they want to achieve, we avoid gender stereotypes and there are no 'man jobs' or 'woman jobs'.

As part of this dedication to creating a fairer, more tolerant society, I take on my fair share of household tasks, and the wife ... well, well of course there are jobs that the wife will not do. The fact that these fall into what could traditionally have been called 'man jobs' is entirely coincidental. I'm told. By the wife.

Giving medication to cats seems to be one of those jobs that the wife has deftly sidestepped. For those of you who are without cat, our feline friends do not like taking medication and Jessie is on antibiotics for the bite she sustained.

I am happy to confirm that I do still have all my fingers, but Jessie does have 7 tablets left so I'm not out of the woods quite yet.


Death in Service

Civil Service Pensions have recently made a pension forecasting tool available online, and it makes for interesting reading. You can nudge up or down your planned retirement age and lump sum requirements, see the impact on your pension and lump sum, and start planning which of the kids you will need to sell in order to make ends meet, if you want to retire before it's too late.

The wife wandered by as I was checking this out, and showed an unusual amount of interest in what I was doing.

"Do you know what your pension looks like?" I asked, hoping to start a sensible conversation about prudent financial planning.

"I'm just planning for death in service" she replied, before patting me on the shoulder and waltzing off out the room.

How negative, I thought, she's fit and healthy, enjoys her job, doesn't smoke or have any dangerous past times, there's no reason she shouldn't make it well into retirement.

I'll have to try having the conversation again at some point, but she's been very chirpy this afternoon so I don't want to dampen the atmosphere. I'm assuming she must be settling in to this WFH/home school thing now. Which is nice. I think.


Science/PE/Maths

Since the less than successful, and with the benefit of hindsight, overly ambitious lesson of episode 6, I've relied on straightforward 'sat at a table' type lessons with the kids. But my confidence has steadily grown and I went all out today with a multifaceted, multidimensional extravaganza of sports, science and maths.

And it worked! The kids enjoyed it, there was no bickering, there was even some mutual encouragement shown, and one of them (Eva) actually remembered some stuff we did well into late afternoon.

We learned all about aerobic and anaerobic exercise, planned a number of activities to test their aerobic and anaerobic ability, investigated ways of measuring and recording their achievements, and then took part in the first of a series of practical experiments that will measure changes in ability over time. We dropped the push-ups when Eva came close to face-planting into the mud after failing to trouble the scorekeeper.

To the casual observer this may have looked like we were playing in the garden. To them I say poppycock and balderdash, this was education at its best.

The wife seemed less than impressed, and wanted to know what parts of the Key Stage 1 and 2 curriculum I was addressing. Pfft.

#flattenthecurve Episode 9

WFH Day 7 of x


The Myth of the Homeworker

Something out of leftfield*, with apologies to Guiness

He waits, that's what he does. 

I tell you what, tick followed tock followed tick followed tock followed tick. 

(** Drums) dum da da dum da dum, dum da da dum da dum 

Andrew says 'I don’t care who you are, here’s to your dream'. 

The VPN returns to the laptop. 'Here’s to you, Andrew!' And the phat drummer hit the beat with all his heart. 

dum da da dum da dum, dum da da dum da dum

Or something along those lines.

For a poor imitation, see here:
https://youtu.be/U3JEORDUEqc

(* kudos to anybody who gets that reference)


Socks

Many of you* have requested an update on the sock position I shared with you in episode 1, where I boldly stepped (no pun intended) into the world of unmatched socks.

Well, I'm pleased to say I maintained the new standard of sartorial elegance until yesterday when two randomly selected socks unexpectedly matched. What a quandary! Eventually I went with the flow and wore the matching pair: who am to mess with fate?

Normal service has resumed today though, you'll be pleased to know. The right sock is understated in nature, black with a small yellow pelican on the side, while the left sock is a more flamboyantly decorated number with oranges, greys and blues. On closer inspection it is also a little threadbare on the heal so this could be one of its last outings. Sad times.

*By 'many of you' I of course mean nobody. Nobody has requested a sock update, and quite right too, I'd be worried if you had


Exercise

I've been struggling to fit in my daily allowance of exercise whilst combining WFH and child minding, so in order to maintain my peak physical condition (ahem), like many people I've had to get creative.

I now do just one walk a day, but split into two manageable chunks. The first half at around 8am and the second half in the late afternoon. It's working well so far, and still meets the one spell of exercise per person per day rule. Kind of.

#flattenthecurve Episode 8

WFH Day 6 of x


Cats

The Victory residence is home to two cats, the older one is Jessie and the younger one is Belle. Jessie is the long haired, cantankerous, hissy mother of Belle. Belle likes to stalk Jessie and playfully pounce towards her. Jessie does not like this, but Belle never learns.

Jessie likes to go out, strut and stalk around, bother the local vermin, chase shadows and miaow angrily at nothing; just the usual cat stuff really. She doesn't stay out for long (except a couple of weeks ago when she refused to come in after her early morning prowl and so spent all day cursing us while we were at work, and all evening telling us how displeased she was) so it was a bit of a surprise when she didn't come home for her tea yesterday. And still wasn't back a couple of hours later.

We eventually found her in the downstairs bathroom, she'd somehow managed to jump in through the open window and she looked very sorry for herself hobbling around quite badly. The 24hr vet got us to do some checks over the phone, and decided she didn't need a trip to cat A&E but we'll need to take her to our vet this afternoon.

She's eating, drinking and hissing at Belle still, so I reckon she's going to be ok but the kids are worried. Last time I took a cat to the vet she didn't come home. :-(


Underwear

Henry is walking round with a pair of boxer shorts on his head. They seem to be his, they definitely aren't the ones we found hanging from a tree the other day anyway, and they appear clean, so on balance it's probably best not to ask him why.

"Dad" he whispers, conspiratorially as he sidles up to me in the kitchen "I need to ask you something"
"Ok" I whisper back, imagining this is going to have something to do with his boxer shorts on his head.
"Can we go to the park?"

So I was still none the wiser on the boxers, and by the time we leave for the park they have gone from his head so we may never know.

Halfway down the street I begin to wonder if he's wearing any boxer shorts at all. Again, I opt for the blissful ignorance route and decide not to ask.


The Park

We didn't see many people out at the park, and those we did see gave us a very wide berth. I'm going to be generous and say this is because people are getting the hang of this social distancing malarkey, rather than because they wanted to stay as far away as possible from my foghorn daughter telling the whole of Sunderland she'd bumped her ankle on her scooter. Again. Or maybe they saw Henry checking out his boxer shorts situation? Who's to know. Whatever the reason, we managed to achieve social distancing with minimal effort.


Trackie Bottoms

How long is it ok to wear a pair of trackie bottoms for, if there are no visible dirty marks, stains or food encrustments? Just, er, asking for a friend.


Cats Again

Jessie's been to the vet. Not by herself, I took her. I'm kind like that. She's been bitten by "another person" according to the vet. The vet noticed my alarm at this, and clarified that by 'person' she meant 'cat', as opposed to "a dog, or anything else". Of course. Vets are weird.

She'll be fine (Jessie that is, not the vet - I don't think there's any hope for her). I thought she would be, I noticed she was weight bearing on her injured leg when she thought nobody was watching. Cats are sneaky.


Double Standards

I'm sensing some double standards emerging with regards to work in the Victory household.

Hannah minces around eating ice creams and making cups of tea while she's supposed to be working, and yesterday watched MasterChef with the kids while they should have been doing maths.

I know every day is a learning day, and the domestic sciences are an important life skill, but I'm struggling with the educational value of anything while your teacher is snoozing.

She's also somehow snuck 'bike riding' onto the kids list of project ideas, so this morning she sat in the sun with her feet up 'supervising' the kids riding up and down the back garden while I was upstairs dialling into a telekit 45 minutes too early cos I got the days mixed up.

Sorry, got to go, she needs another cup of tea.


Playdough Disco
The wife and kids are having a playdough disco. This is basically playing with playdough watching some weird woman play with playdough on YouTube while listening to music. I'm not sure who is having more fun.

Actually, that's a lie. The wife is an early years teacher and is clearly loving it far more than a 41-year old woman should love playing with playdough.

She tells me that's why I love her. I mumble something I think sounds vaguely convincing and head back up to my man cave.

#flattenthecurve Episode 7

WFH Day 5 of x

Lockdown Breach

Well, lockdown did not get off to a good start in the Victory household: Eva had a visit from the tooth fairy during the night.

I'm surprised that she (I'm assuming the fairy is a she, though I have no evidence for this) has been designated as a key worker which has allowed her to continue home visits. I wonder if she falls under the 'Benefits Delivery' categorisation? Breaking News: The Tooth Fairy works for DWP! Maybe.

Whether she is, or is not, a civil servant, I hope she is taking the correct health precautions. Handwashing goes without saying of course, we've all had that drummed into us for ages now (if your hands aren't sore and chapped, you ain't doing it right people) but I do worry how effective her Personal Protective Equipment will be with a pair of wings poking out the back of her little white haz-mat suit.

--

Eva's tooth coming out was a bit of a palaver. She was proudly showing me how loose it was (it was very loose) so I asked her if she wanted me to pull it out. I always say this when she has a wobbly tooth, and she always runs away screaming 'nooooo'!

Surprisingly, this time she said yes. So I pulled it, and it came out, and we looked at each other surprised that it had come out, then her mouth bled and she cried a bit. Oops.

She now has only one front tooth and looks a bit like a pirate, just with fewer wooden legs and eye patches.


Morning

As I was getting my breakfast this morning there were two children sitting drawing quietly at our dining table.

They looked like my kids, but the whole 'sitting quietly' thing really threw me so I wasn't 100% sure.

I checked who they are by calling out their names. They both responded politely, so my money is on them being fakes, but I'm not one to rock the boat over something as minor as fake children so I let it lie and enjoyed the peace and quiet.


Geography

We had a geography lesson today. Not that crappy geography you do at secondary school about rocks and the environment and people, but proper geography about maps and places.

Conscious self: I don't know any geography teachers, do I? 

Subconscious self: just your sister

Conscious self: nah, you're alright on this one Andrew 

Subconscious self: YOUR SISTER, YOUR SISTER! 

Conscious self: oi, quieten down back there 

The wife: who you talking to? 

Me: just my subconscious 

Hannah: your .... Ok pet (**backs away slowly) kids, come with me, Daddy needs some time alone ...

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the geography lesson. We live very close to an old quarry that's now a nature reserve. The term 'nature reserve' probably paints a picture of an idyllic scene filled with a captivating array of flora and fauna. It's not like this at all. Much of it is a rubbish strewn scrubland, but there are some nice bits too. Yesterday, amongst the usual broken glass bottles and beer cans, we found some underlay, a burnt out fridge and a pair of boxer shorts hanging from a tree. For clarity, these weren't the nice bits. And they weren't my size.

There's also a myriad of intertwining paths and tracks across the whole area, the kids get well confused where they are and constantly think we are lost. I suggested they carried breadcrumbs or white stones just in case we got seperated, but the joke passed them by.

We've also been coming up with names for the parts of the 'nature reserve' we have been to so we can describe where we've been/where we are going, and decided to draw a map to help them understand the area better.

I drew the outline of the map and then left the kids to fill in the detail, along with the place names we made up:

• Sibling Hill - a the hill they like to run up, that leads to

• Boogie Ridge - a narrow footpath that Eva likes to flounce along, then there's

• Puddle Path - a boggier area, leading to

• Rocky Road- a track that is quite rocky, that runs alongside

• Horseshoe Field - this is not a horseshoe shaped field, but a field with horses and therefore also horses shoes. It was Eva's idea, we pick our battles carefully with that one. And finally

• Trainer Gate - so called because it is a gate with an abandoned trainer next to it. This leads to another field and more paths which we haven't named yet.

The map is ... interesting. The scale is undefined and inaccurate, there's lots of bits missing, and the colouring-in leaves a lot to be desired, but we like it and it now takes pride of place on the wall of the kids room.


Work

It's probably important to point out that I have been doing work whilst at home, but a series of "I did some emails" and "I had some telekits" and "I made some numbers up" would get boring quite quickly.

I also don't make numbers up.

Much.

#flattenthecurve Episode 6

WFH Day 4 of x


Time Keeping

I seriously misjudged our morning walk today. I've only ever done part of it on a bike and it didn't seem so far that time. But when I'm on my bike I don't have a 7 year old who stops to look at, and talk about, absolutely everything she sees (and thinks she sees) as you're walking.

Or an 11 year old who decides to re-enact his favourite Fortnite battle scenes using his sister as a target.

Or a 7 year old who does not want to be involved in Fortnite role play and so screams and shouts a lot. (This is the same 7 year old as the one above, I don't have two 7 year olds.)

So by the time we dragged ourselves home the kids were hungry, thirsty, tired-out and grouchy instead of being the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and eager-to-learn home schoolers that I'd planned.

I mumbled my apologies to the wife as I handed over the childcare baton, and slunk off to sit in my spare box room/man cave, where I realised I was late for my first call of the day.

I'll get the hang of these homeworking/childcare shenanigans one day.


Why I am Not a Teacher

Instead of sitting doing repetitive maths questions today, I thought I'd treat the kids to a practical maths lesson.

I devised a scenario whereby we needed to buy new carpets for the kids rooms. They had to work out how much carpet they each needed, how much various carpets would cost and how much more one room would cost than the other. It included 2d shapes and area, addition, multiplication, measuring, and understanding of hundreds, tens and units (the lesson, not the carpet: that'd be weird) and it kicked ass. In my head.

The kids quite enjoyed it, once I had explained at great length why they didn't really need new carpets, why we didn't have to get carpets in the whole house, and a million and one other time-wasting questions.

The working in pairs extension exercise failed miserably though. No actual physical assaults took place, unless you count the burst ear drums caused by Eva telling Henry exactly what he was doing wrong. Again. But there were tears (both kids) and storming off in a huff (me).

Who am I kidding, the kids didn't really enjoy it. They enjoyed not being made to sit and do sums for an hour.


Lockdown

And so we enter lockdown. The number of people that have been out and about has been surprising to say the least, so hopefully the next 3 weeks will help to at least slow down the spread of the virus.

Everything still seems a little surreal though, hopefully it won't go on for too long.


And Finally

Happy Birthday to Chaka Khan, who turned 67 today. Chaka is of course best known for her 1982 song 'I Feel for You' which opened with the lyrics:

Chaka, Chaka, Chaka, Chaka Khan
Chaka Khan, Chaka Khan, Chaka Khan
Chaka Khan, let me rock you
Let me rock you, Chaka Khan

And reportedly was the inspiration for every 🎼Craig David🎶🎵 song ever. Maybe.

If you're ever struggling for musical inspiration, just wander round singing your own name and you're guaranteed a number one hit.

Or a spell of solitary confinement.

As they say, a change is as good as a rest.

#flattenthecurve Episode 5. The First Weekend.

Saturday

Well, I have news*

As the daily readership of my blog has surged into double figures, my contribution to maintaining the spirits of the public has been recognised by the great and good of this fair nation: I have been classified as a key worker and must return to the office with immediate effect.

This of course prevents me from completing a WFH blog, rendering me immediately a non-keyworker. Which means I can recommence my blog, which has a readership of more than 10 and so designates me a key worker and I must return to the office.

As this news is being relayed to me in real time, I am currently stuck going backwards and forwards between Pelaw and South Gosforth metro stations. It could be a long day. I reckon I'll get home when the work network goes down though and the live emails stop coming through, so maybe not too long after all.

In future this episode will, I am sure, be known as the Covid-19 Keyworker Paradox. Lessons will be learned, people will be fired, and a Hollywood film will be produced. Maybe. Wonder who would play me ....

(*if newspapers and politicians can make 'news' up, then why can't I? At least I put a warning on my made up stuff!)


Panic Buying part 1
I'm starting to get worried that we haven't been panic buying. While we're usually so up with the latest trends we do feel like we're behind the curve on this one.

The positive here is that the only thing we have run out of so far after last weekend's normal shop is dried apricots. And I'm the only one who eats them.

The negative is that, if left unrectified, this will cause a considerable downward pressure on the household toilet roll situation. I'll spare you the details on that one, though I'm sure you can all joint the dots.


Hairdryer
I turned the hairdryer on earlier and cat number 2 nearly shat herself (If any of you thought "What do you need a hairdryer for, baldy?!" rather than "oh, poor cat" then shame on you!)

She's still eyeing me suspiciously, I reckon I've lost a friend there. Ah well, if push comes to shove and the apocalypse does arrive we know which cat is getting eaten first.


Hold Me Closer Tiny Dancer
Eva loves her dancing, and she's on a bit of a high as she did really well in her dance exams. When asked what her favourite style of dance is, she tells me she "loves the noise of tap and the movement of ballet".

I do not love dance. I never consider expressing myself in the medium of dance and I have two left feet. Eva's dance lessons do however give me an hour long break on a Saturday where I can sit in peace and quiet waiting for her lesson to finish, so in that respect I am a big supporter of dance.

I definitely, however, dislike immensely the noise that comes with tap. So I'm 'delighted' when Eva decides to give an impromptu ballet-tap performance that generates more noise than (*insert something horrendously noisy here) so I excuse myself and go to count our toilet roll stash.


Panic Buying part 2
I popped out to Tesco's for a few bits and pieces earlier. It was amusing (well, I found it amusing anyway) to see the things that were left behind on otherwise empty shelves.

What do people have against spinach pasta, for example?

The handwash aisle was barren, except for the bottles in the fancy section. People will risk life and limb to get their hands on the reasonably priced run-of-the-mill products, but £4 a bottle for some florally decorated, elaborately named rose and bergamot scented stuff and it's like 'nah, I'll take the risk'.

It's the pancakes I feel the most sorry for though. A couple of weeks ago and they were all the rage. People sharing social media images of carefully prepared stacks of imaginatively constructed flavour combinations. But now? Now they are the only item available from the bread and 'tea time' products section. Where did it all go so wrong?

I've no sympathy however for Mr Brains and his pork faggots. Why has nobody told him just to call them meatballs and get over himself?

There was some supermarket related good news though: I managed to get hold of some dried apricots. Just hope they are fast acting.

I left with most of the things I came in for, and only in the quantities we actually need; I clearly don't have the stamina for panic buying. And besides, cat number 2 still wasn't speaking to me after the hairdryer incident, so she remains our back up option if things do get desperate.


Monopoly
The kids insisted I played monopoly with them this afternoon. Apparently it's 'not fair' that I owned hotels on Mayfair and Park Lane. Welcome to the real world kids, now hand over your 2,000M or I'll mortgage your asses outta here.

--

Sunday

Mother's Day
I hope each and every Mother, Mam, Mum, Ma, Mammy, Mummy, Mama, Step Mother (not the evil fairy story ones) and Mother in Law out there had a wonderfully relaxing Mother's Day.

I've deliberately left 'Mom' off that list, it comes across a bit too American for my liking. Sorry. Please let me know if I've missed anybody else off that list though, I do aim to be inclusive.


Breakfast in Bed
Henry made everybody breakfast in bed this morning. Sweet waffles with salty butter and golden syrup. While this was a lovely thought, we did have to pop downstairs to make sure he hadn't set fire to the kitchen. He hadn't.

I'm not a fan of sweet breakfast things, so I was all set for a good grumble (I enjoy a good grumble) when the little sod brought me my usual breakfast (complete with dried apricots).

I hate not having anything to grumble about.


Hey Macaroni, Aye
The boy is working towards his Scouts cooking badge. He is also ham fisted, forgetful, not to be trusted around sharp objects and can't use the induction hob because of his pacemaker. And as his 'special occasion meal was a mother's day lunch, I have also working towards to Scouts cooking badge this weekend.

The wife is an excellent cook and, for the most part, enjoys cooking. The difficulty with reluctantly stepping into somebody else's shoes on an interim basis is finding that happy balance between doing a good enough job but without excelling, thereby not disappointing but not being asked back for a repeat performance. I'm happy to say the boy and I nailed it.

Our Macaroni Cheese with a breadcrumb and bacon topping, followed by homemade sticky toffee pudding was a qualified success: a passable effort, edible and tasty, but with sufficient errors not to be asked back any time soon. The cheese sauce was delicious, but a little too thick, while the use of muscovado sugar was a schoolboy error (apparently) and meant the sticky toffee pudding was a little too dark and molasses-like.

If we had been on MasterChef I reckon Greg would have gone back for a second spoonful but John would have done that annoyingly smug little smile he does when Greg is just being a greedy guts.


Social Distancing
We popped round to my parents with some flowers for my Mam today. They are taking the social distancing thing in their stride, which is very laudable, but felt a bit weird leaving them (the flowers, not the parents) on the doorstep and talking to them across their front garden.

It reminded me a bit of knicky-knocky nine doors as a kid where you'd knock on somebody's door, leg it to hide then giggle at the irate homeowners as they scowled and glared and shouted those words that you usually only heard your Dad say if he stubbed his toe, or his horse fell at the last.

Not that I ever played that game of course. Ahem.

We did a Skype call with them later on too, we've not left them entirely on their own.

And I'm pleased to report here was no horse-falling or toe-stubbing either.

#flattenthecurve Episode 4

Day 3 of x cont.

Well there's good news, and there's bad news.

The bad news: we have electrical problems. These have either caused, or have been caused by, the washing machine and/or tumble dryer which are malfunctioning.

The good news: Hannah has taken the half done laundry to the launderette, and taken the kids with her.

And a bonus bit of good news: she's bringing fish and chips back with her!

As George Ezra (might have) sang in Shotgun (if he was working from home with a broken washing machine and a hunger for chips)

The washer's knackered, need a lauderette,
Gotta hit the road, gotta hit the road
The chippies open, warm the plates, four fish lots and mushy peas
I could get used to this.

Routines
When things are changing on a daily basis, it's good for the kids to have some sense of order in their lives. This is especially so when your eldest has autism and craves continuity and certainty. So we've devised a routine, giving the days some structure. And it seems to be working.

6am to 8am - the usual wake up/get ready/breakfast routine, where the kids argue amongst themselves about everything and anything: my banana is yellower than hers, my cup has more water in than his, why can't I put my fingers in the toaster ... you get the idea.

8.00 - 8.30am - the kids grumble about having to go out and exercise, as they'd rather be at home doing their own thing

8.30 - 8.35 - the kids tell me how much they love being outside exercising

8.35 - 9.00 - the kids grumble that we will have to go home, as they want to stay out all day

9.00 - 9.30 - the kids grumble while doing some school work as they'd much rather entertain themselves

9.30 - 10.30 - the kids grumble that they can't be at school, but would much prefer to play instead of working at home

10.30 - 12.00 - free time, during which the kids complain they have nothing to do

Repeat until bed time, when the kids whinge about it being time to go to bed.

That, of course, isn't entirely accurate. For reasons of family unity and marital bliss I have missed out the bits where the wife has been grumbling about stuff too. Whoops.

In all seriousness, I reckon we're doing ok. The kids are settling into things with not too much fuss, employers and colleagues are being understanding about childcare requirements. And we had fish and chips. And we found the giant handwash refill pouch we bought weeks ago. What more could a man hope for?

#flattenthecurve Episode 3

Day 2 of x cont.

The scene: a contented adult male (me) puts his feet up in front of a roaring log burner. He's tired, but happy.

"Well" I think to myself, as I crack open my second beer (a Porter with a ridiculous 7.3% ABV) "given the circumstances, that's been a reasonably successful end to the week"

Internal voice: er, Andrew

"The kids have been educated, entertained, exercised to the point of exhaustion and have eaten healthy, well-balanced meals"

Internal voice: yeah, but ....

"IT systems are back up and running, I've been of some use in a professional capacity"

Internal voice: Andrew, listen!

"We've made some revisions to the timetable we've set that'll make next week even more successful"

Internal voice: ANDREW!

"None of us have fallen ill ... but .... it feels like I've forgotten something ....."

Internal voice: It's Thursday, you bloody idiot, still one day left to go!

Despite the serious miscalculation in days, today has been a reasonable success. But it has been sunny, and the kids have been able to play out. Let's see what tomorrow brings.

--

Day 3 of x

I am cursed with being a light sleeper. If the kids wake up, it's usually me that hears them. When the wife snores, I can be awake for ages. When sleep is disrupted by drunk people squabbling or random brass band players trumpeting in the street (true story, honest!), it's me that gets up and tells them to shut up (from behind the safety of a closed curtain, of course).

And when a gang of seagulls decide to steal a car in the street, it wakes me up.

That last bit probably needs a bit of explaining.

As I am a light sleeper, I often hear things/think things in the night that my brain tries to make sense of as I drift between wakefulness and sleep. Often my brain is unsuccessful.

So this morning, there was a gang of seagulls being noisy in the street. And there were other birds chirping, singing, tweeting (Instagramming?) and generally being noisy. But instead of putting 2 and 2 together and coming up with a sensible 'ah, small birds unhappy that big birds are being mean' narrative, it came up with a far more elaborate version of events where the seagulls were attempting to break into the neighbours car, set off the car alarm (the little birds being noisy) and then argued amongst themselves as they fled the scene.

To be honest, as I didn't get out of bed to check what had happened, either version of events could theoretically have been true.

I then had a dream about a post-apocalyptic central Newcastle being landscaped and turned into a giant pig farm. The elderly guide I had employed (I have no idea why I needed a guide or where she came from) then discovered an illegal detention centre and we had to break out the inmates using an old telegraph pole as a battering ram.

So yeah, it's been a busy morning so far, and it's only just 7am.

#flattenthecurve Episode 2

Day 2 of x

** The following should be read in a Geordie accent, like the fella off Big Brother all those years ago. For the ladies, think like Cheryl Tweedie/Cole/Whatever she is now.

It's Work From Home Day 2 in the Victory house and tempers are starting to fray. IT issues continue to cause productivity concerns, the flow of coffee from downstairs has long since dried up and the presence of two small people in the house is adding to the tension.

The small people call me 'Dad' and seem to think they own the place, but take no responsibility for any bill payments or household tasks. Neither of them, however, have asked me how a particular formula works, changed their minds about where to make efficiencies over the next 5 years or apologised for 'being on mute' after not paying proper attention on a telekit therefore needing to buy themselves more time to think up an answer, so there's pros and cons I guess.

(Oh, if you're still reading this in a Geordie accent, you can stop now. If you want. The accent was only meant for the first paragraph.)

"Hold up, why are your kids at home, schools don't finish until Friday?" I hear you ask. Good question. My eldest, Henry, is a bit of a complicated little fella. He was born with congenital heart disease, and it seems that this puts him at greater risk of Respiratory Tract Infections. We know he's been susceptible to chest infections in the past, so there's a bit of history here to back this up.

Following Boris's announcement that schools are to close from Friday, we've decided there's not much point in risking him being at school the next couple of days, so he's now at home. And my youngest, Eva, is staying off too. There's no sense in keeping one off just to be safe while letting the other one go off, contract whatever disease she fancies, and bring it home to share. Which she would do, she's very generous like that.

So here we are, the four of us plus two cats, and one giant African land snail, all set to weather out the Covid-19 storm. We're going to get ourselves into a bit of a new routine: some exercise, some work, some free time, some food, and repeat. It's bound to take a bit of time to settle into, I'll let you know how it goes.

The kids reactions to being told they weren't going to school was interesting.

Henry: yes! yes! yes! Get in! Yes!!

Eva: but what about (*wobbly bottom lip) all my homework my teacher is going to give me? (sob)

Earworms
For days now I've had a song on repeat in my head:

You give me fever, when you kiss me
Fever when you hold me tight
Fever in the mornin'
Fever all through the night 

(Fever, Peggy Lee)

It's highly inappropriate, I know, but if you can't be honest in what is turning out to be the most popular working from home blog ever written*, then when can you be honest?

(* To be clear, the most popular working from home blog ever written by me. And it's the only one I've ever written, so the competition is limited. The concept of 'popular' is debatable too, if readership ever reaches double figures I'd be surprised!)

Change
It's been mentioned in the past that I can, at times, be a little flippant. This is me stepping away from being flippant for a short while.

Lots of people, for a variety of reasons, struggle with having changes in their lives, and there's lots of change happening at the moment. Some people are well practised at suppressing their anxieties, but that doesn't mean they aren't feeling stressed.

Some people are stressed about not having changes in their lives too. While WFH is stressful, I can imagine for people still having to go into work is at least as stressful.

If you notice anybody behaving a little differently, a bit of tolerance and a kind word or two can make all the difference.

Neighbours
We have an elderly neighbour, George. Hannah popped round to check he was ok. Turns out he's actually called Eric. You learn something new every day.

I have to say like, George suits him much better. I might suggest he changes it. I suspect he's not a big fan of change though, he's in his 80s and has lived in the same house all his life.

Toilet Roll
Has anybody actually run out of toilet roll yet?

#flattenthecurve Episode 1

#flattenthecurve Episode 1

Well, I am now a home worker. Hopefully not for long, but it looks like it could be for a while so I'm going to have to get used to it.

Although the thought of being stuck at home for an as yet undetermined period of time does not fill me with joy, a post I saw on Facebook yesterday said it all really:

Our grandfathers were sent away to war, 

we're being asked to sit at home for a bit.

I know what I'd rather be asked to do, I think I've got this.

To help pass the time (when I'm not working of course) I've decided to write a blog. I wrote a diary last summer when I was on holiday with no phone signal and I quite enjoyed it, so I'm going to go for it again. Sit back, relax and prop your eyes open with matchsticks.

"But why the shift from 'diary' to 'blog'?" I hear you ask. Firstly, well done for getting this far! Secondly, 'diary' is so 20th century, and who am I stand in the way of progress?

So, where to begin? Well, as Mary Poppins said:

Let's start at the very beginning, 

It's a very good place to start

Ok, so as I was typing that I realised I had the right actress but the wrong character, it was Maria from the Sound of Music wasn't it.

But it does give me an idea ....

Dough, doughnut a deep fried treat

Rain, falling from the sky

ME, fatigue, extreme tiredness

Far, just one sound short of pump

So, ideas are running short

Lah, de dah de day de doo

Ti .... me to draw this to a close.

Phew, glad that's over. This song writing malarkey is harder than it looks!Worryingly it seems I am easily distracted, I hope this isn't a sign of things to come.
So, where did it really all begin? Not coronavirus, but the home working. Well ...

** imagine wavy dreamlike sequence **

Day -2 of x
It all started with a message late on Monday evening from the boss, passing on a message from the bigger boss, telling me I could now work from home.

Which left me with a quandary, as not everybody I work with has the option to work from home.

I did some soul searching, some fact checking, some seeing what other people thought.

After checking my toilet roll cache was at a sufficient level, I decided on balance I probably should help to #flattenthecurve

Day -1 of x
I've packed up, said my goodbyes and left the office. Feels weird not knowing when I'll be back

I'll miss not seeing people, especially Cathy and Sue (not their real names, I've cunningly disguised their real names to protect their anonymity) they're both a bit odd, but I quite like them.

** And come back out of the wavy dreamlike sequence **

Day 1 of x
When working from home, especially when living with small people (aka children, though the wife is very short too) it's important to maintain routines, and standards of hygiene and cleanliness. So I'm up early, showered and dressed before 7.50. That is good for me, I am not a morning person.

Some standards are starting to slip already however, I'm wearing odd socks. It's something I have flirted with in the past out of necessity (everybody has those stages in their lives when you desperately need to do some washing and you're left with those random odd socks at the bottom of the drawer, haven't they?) but this time its more of a conscious decision. When your life is governed my more rules, people are more likely to rebel. And what can I say, I'm a rebel at heart!

Pre-Breakfast Cat Update
Cat number 2 has just bitten me. Gently, but there was definitely a little nibble there. She's going to struggle with this whole people-being-at-home-more new reality: cats struggle with change.

9am
The wife is also working from home. She likes to have music on. I do not. Deep breaths.

9.10am.
The wife has seen sense, the radio is off. Though the atmosphere has chilled a little.

-

Lunchtime.
She's listening to Jeremy Vine. Or 'oh my god, turn Jeremy effing Vine off' as I like to call him.

-

Later
Well, today has been a success. I use the term success loosely here. Very loosely.

• I got my SurfacePro hooked up to the spare TV so I don't need to squint at a small screen all the time. The connection seems a little temperamental, but as long as I don't touch any of the cables or bump the desk it works fine.

• I found some 'innovative' ways of working in order to meet a deadline for the boss - using an iPhone to take photographs of an email stuck in my outbox counts as innovative, right?

• I have been in frequent contact with 'Cathy' and 'Sue' who seem in good spirits, despite ongoing system access issues.

• I remembered to put the recycling bin out.

• I also haven't raided the biscuit tin at all (though mainly because the wife is standing guard. "They aren't for eating" apparently. I've told her stockpiling is socially unacceptable, she glared. I thought I detected a hobnob crumb on her laptop, but I decided against challenging her for now)

• I managed to get some steps in walking the kids to and from the childminders.

Like I say, a successful day. Ish.

Man Cave
I have a man cave. Oh yeah. It's actually the spare box room with a desk and a chair, and odd bits of stuff that need sorting through. If I called it the spare box room the wife would want to sort it, but as it has 'man' included in its name its left to me to sort and I like it as it is.

Anyway, my man cave is where I work when I'm working from home and it's been cold in here all day. I've eventually worked out why it's been cold, somebody left the bathroom window open this morning. I am the only person in the house who can reach the bathroom window, so I suspect I know who the culprit was. This makes grumbling about being cold more difficult, and I quite enjoy a good grumble. Sad times.

Homeiform
The wife has coined a new word: homeiform. Clothes to wear while you're working from home. Could it be a contender for 2020 word of the year? Remember where you read it first!

Later later.
Jaffa cakes aren't biscuits, are they? It's the wife's fault, she went out. While the cat's away ...