#flattenthecurve Episode 34

Super Hero Tuesday

Eva's Tuesday was mostly spent wearing a large hand drawn picture of a beef burger pinned to the front of her t-shirt and a white cape marked with the letters 'BB' pinned to her shoulders. Well, the shoulder area of her t-shirt not her actual shoulders, pinning it to her actual shoulders would be a little cruel.

And why shouldn't she dress like a beef burger superhero if she wants to? We're only young once after all. It's the kind of thing that 7-year olds can get away with, whilst us adults would draw unwanted attention from unusual passers by.

So where did the BB inspiration come from? Well, the story began early on our morning walk when the kids ran past me bickering, as they so often do. This time it was about the correct way for superheroes to fly. Of course. Eva was preferring a two arms pointing forward simultaneously technique, while Henry was insisting it was one arm forward only.

I kept my head down as I really didn't want to get involved with this one, but they ignored me ignoring them and demanded an answer: Henry trying out his new stern look, Eva her pleading puppy dog eyes.

I whipped out my trusty 'How to be a Dad' book hoping for an answer, but it was no use; its superhero section neglected to offer a solution to the correct flying technique conundrum with which I was now faced. And of course no such book actually exists.

So, though it pains me to say it, I panicked. Instead of repling with one of my stock answers such as 'I don't know, ask your Mam' or distracting them with an 'are you sure you've brushed your teeth' type question or just ignoring them, I replied "it depends which super hero you are talking about."

Schoolboy error.

The remainder of the walk was then a discussion about which Super Hero each of the kids would be. All I wanted was some peace and quiet, but I then had to referee ridiculous arguements about whether a 'Gherkin Launcher' (Eva's idea) was a better weapon than a 'Gherkin Gun' (my suggestion).

We finally decided upon the following:

Eva would become Super Beef.

Super Beef's weapons would be a gherkin gun, red sauce rocket launcher, laser seeds, burger grappler and cheese goo.

We do regularly call Eva 'Beef'. The etymology is quite simple: Eva became Eva Beaver (because it rhymed) which became Beav' (because Eva Beaver is quite a mouthful) which then became Beef, so the name worked quite well really.

Quite why her Cape had a large BB written on it when her initials would be SB was never properly explained. I suspect it was a mistake, but she'd never admit that.

Henry would become Super Hen.

Super Hen would be more stealthy than the weapons-heavy Super Beef and would only carry his Hen Dispenser, a weapon designed to fire (yep, you guessed it) hens. Not just any hens though, miniature explosive hens and miniature mad pecking hens.

We didn't get much of a chance to discuss Super Dad, other than Eva thought he could maybe 'try to make people laugh'. Ah well.

On the plus side, there wasn't a single complaint about how far we had walked.


Visitor?

Later, when I ventured downstairs for some lunch, there was a strange woman in the kitchen. I did vaguely recognise her, but couldn't quite put a name to the face so I kept my distance just to be on the safe side.

After a while it dawned on me, it was the wife! Her hair being done and her having make up on really threw me. I thought she must be after something and it turned out I wasn't far wrong.

After a few minutes she flitted off upstairs with a little wave. After warning the kids to stay downstairs I followed her to the bedroom where she sat on the bed smiling demurely and waiting patiently for proceedings to commence.

"Shhh" she warned me "everybody is on line and I don't know how to mute the call".

She saw my confusion, so added "My work video call? You forgot, didn't you?"

"We, no ... cup of tea?" I mumbled, before traisping back downstairs.

#flattenthecurve Episode 33

Walk on the Mild Side

There's nothing like a peaceful walk in the April sunshine to start off your week, and when Monday arrived full of beautiful clear skies and birdsong I stepped out with a smile on my face and a spring in my step.

Sadly, I was chastised everywhere by a pair of noisy, bickering kids. I tried my best to lose them, taking unannounced turns down quiet streets, making random diversions through wooded sections of parkland, but they tracked me all the way home and then had the audacity to sit in my kitchen demanding snacks and drinks.

The wife seems quite taken by them and has decided we should keep them. She'll regret it, I'm sure.


Lost Weekend

"But Andrew" I hear you cry, "Andrew! What about the weekend? What exciting adventures did you and your family get up to?"

And my reply? Nothing. Nowt. Zilch. Well, nought out of the ordinary.

Sometimes it's nice be be outdoorsy and active and up to stuff. Sometimes you need nothing more than a good sit on your backside all weekend, and this weekend was a sit on your backside weekend.

I did manage to watch a little niche arthouse film starring a Northern Irishman, a Scotsman, an Israeli woman, and a small boy who they allowed to race dangerous looking flying contraptions in order to get a spare part for their space ship. They took him away from his Mam because the farce was strong with him. Or something like that. Maybe they were producers for a new Carry On film, I don't know. The story went off on a tangent after that so maybe we will never find out.

The wife said this was the 1st film in a series of 9 but also the 4th, which clearly makes no sense, and apparently they have a little bit of a cult following. If this one is anything to go by I can't imagine the rest will be very good so I'd avoid if I was you.


Scary Stuff

After the weekend's ritual shaving of the beard I am still not accustomed to my lack of facial hair, which has caused a couple of problems.

1. I scared the hell out of myself when I walked past a mirror and didn't recognise myself. In my defence it was quite dark, and I was getting up to see what the noise coming from downstairs was. Turned out it was the kids, they'd resurrected Camp Victory and thought stupid o'clock in the morning was an ok time to start farting around banging doors.

2. My face was cold when I went out walking early on Monday morning.

I feel I was a little rash in removing so much hair in one go, let the beard regrowing commence!


6-0*

While I was sitting round doing nothing this weekend, the wife found time to make bagels. Homemade bagels. They were amazing! You have to boil them in sugar water before baking them, who knew?!

She even got inventive and made a couple that were crescent shaped instead of doughnut shaped, which provided a bit of variety. Oh no, wait ... news just coming in ... ah, they were mistakes. Oops. Very tasty mistakes though. They were so popular in fact that she was pressurised into making a second batch on Sunday.

In other bagel related news, according to a Monday morning weigh-in I ate too many bagels this weekend. Nothing to do with lockdown chocolate and beer consumption of course (medicinal only, you understand).

* a completely random tennis reference there, if you were wondering.

#flattenthecurve Episode 32

Five Long Weeks

My favourite lockdown activity so far has been beard growing, but the time has come to say goodbye ... or has it?

https://youtu.be/VJvz1zv2I7A

#flattenthecurve Episode 31

Dictionary, Diction is Scary

I learned a new word this week: ultracrepidarian. Somebody who gives advice on matters outside of their knowledge.

At the risk of appearing ultracrepidarian myself, please do NOT ingest or inject yourself, or anybody else, with any disinfectant. Or any other household cleaning products for that matter.

Unless of course you use fresh lemon juice or vinegar for household cleaning, in which case these can continue to be ingested. They're especially tasty on fish and chips. As is tomato ketchup, but I'm not clear on the household cleaning efficacy of ketchup.

Can anybody remember who the village idiot was before Trump came along?


Saturday Morn

Does everyone remember Saturday Night, by Whigfield? Well after extensive research, I have uncovered the lyrics to a previously unreleased tired parent weekend edit.

I present to you, Saturday Morn:

Dee dee na na na

Saturday morn, I feel the air is getting hot
Slept in baby
Heating came on, and I just wanna make it stop
It drives me crazy

Saturday morn, shush, I just don't wanna move
Lie in baby
It's quiet time and not one minute I can lose
Quiet baby

Da ba da dan dee dee dee da nee na na na
Lie in baby?
Da ba da dan dee dee dee da nee na na na
Heat off baby?

Saturday morn, I feel the air's still getting hot
Heat off baby!
If I get up you know that I will make it stop
I'll drive you crazy

Saturday morn, shush? The kids are being good
Lie in baby?
Leave them alone. Breakfast? We can let them chose?
Lie in baby

Saturday morn, arse, I'm gonna have to move
Toilet, baby
My bladder is full, and not one minute I can lose
Prostate baby?

Saturday
Saturday
Saturday morn
Saturday morn
Saturday
Saturday
Saturday morn
Saturday morn
Saturday (Da ba da dan dee dee dee)
Saturday (da nee na na na)
Saturday morn
Saturday morn
Saturday (Da ba da dan dee dee dee)
Saturday (da nee na na na)
Saturday morn
Saturday morn
Saturday
Saturday (Oh yeah hey)
Saturday morn
Saturday morn
Saturday (it's lie in time, yeah)
Saturday (it's lie in time, oh)
Saturday morn
Saturday morn
Saturday
Saturday
Saturday morn
Saturday morn
Saturday (it's lie in time, yeah)
Saturday (it's lie in time, oh)
Saturday morn
Saturday morn

#flattenthecurve Episode 30

High Hopes and Aspirations

Some days Eva astounds us with her intelligence and insight. Only some days though, other days she comes across like some kind of babbling ape child with brains of mush. This morning was one of the 'brains of mush' days.

She burst into our bedroom at stupid o'clock bellowing "Dad, dad, there's something wrong in the kitchen"

"Nghhh" I replied, still asleep "kitherchin?"

"No, Dad, the kitchen"

There was not a sound coming from the wife at this point, not a snort nor a snore nor a grouch, so I reckoned she was either dead or pretending to not hear. Either way I was on my own here, so I did what any right minded Dad would do: I ignored the situation and hoped it would go away.

It didn't go away.

"Dad, dad" Eva persisted "I think it's the fridge"

"Ok" I said calmly "Go downstairs ... "

"Yes" said Eva, leaving the room.

"Come back!" I shouted "I haven't told you what to do downstairs!"

"Oh, right ..."

"Go downstairs and check if the fridge door is shut properly"

"But how do I do that?" she asked, her bottom lip quivering like she'd been set some gargantuan, impossible task.

"It's really tricky" I replied (Oh yeah, it's never too early for sarcasm) but I think you can manage. You need to ...."

"Yeah?

"Push the fridge door." Then, after careful consideration, I added "and push the freezer door too."

I'm not sure if it was the addition of the freezer door to the equation, but my suggestion was clearly unreasonable and prompted a wailing noise from Eva that eventually formed itself into "Nooooo, can you do it Daddy?!"

I remembered Roxette's 'Dressed for Success' again, but dismissed it out of hand. The curtains were shut after all.

Anyway, I got downstairs, I cautiously entered the kitchen and the fridge was standing there upright and proud making very normal fridge type noises, with both of it's doors firmly shut. I glared at the child before slouching back to bed.

Brains of mush that one like.


Favourite Days

We've had a lot of days recently that have been beautifully sunny but not very warm. These are my favourite kind of days, but only because you get to see a few people who have been hoodwinked by the sun and think it's really warm, head out in shorts and t-shirts and then end up looking like bloody idiots cos everybody else is still wrapped up warm while they are freezing cold.

Always makes me laugh.

Does that make me a bad person?

That was a rhetorical question!


Walk on the Wild Side

We all went for a nature walk for Eva yesterday afternoon, she's trying to earn some Beavers badges in her spare time. She's very competitive, so she'll probably be finished all the Beavers badges and be half way through the cubs badges before they get back to regular meetings.

Anyway, the nature walk. It was hell. A living, torturous, children being competitive over nothing hell. And grasshoppers the size of rabbits.

That last bit might need some explaining.

We were about halfway through our walk, shortly after Eva had nearly danced her way over a cliff edge and then got upset with me for telling her off about it.

A diversion from giant grasshoppers ...

The cliff edge dancing context
Me: "Let's turn around and go the other way, there's a big sheer drop here that is far too dangerous to try to climb down"

Eva's rection
(* dancing, on tip toes beyond where I said we needed to turn back) shouting "ooh, where?!"

Her arguement
"But Dad, I didn't know what the word 'sheer' meant!"

My rebuttal
"So you chose to ignore all the other words that included 'turn around' and 'go the other way' and 'too dangerous', focused on the one word you didn't know and thought you'd prance over to have a look anyway?"

Her defence
"Yessssss!"

It's hard to argue against logic like that.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, giant grasshoppers. So we'd just had another arguement about whether she'd seen a squirrel or a rabbit ("I think it was grey and had a funny tail!" was the the best discription she could come up, my bet was she'd made it up - the amount of noise she generates prevents the sighting of any animals on a nature walk) when we found a pile of rabbit poo.

We weren't looking for poo particularly, I hasten to add, it was just there in the middle of the path.

"What animal do you think this is from Eva?" I asked.

Henry: (*giggling) "It's poo! It's poo! Eva, Eva, it's poo! ... Mam, look! It's poo!"

Eva: (* being very serious, trying to ignore her brother) "I know this, I know this, it's ... Grasshopper poo!"

Apparently laughing at you daughters stupid comments is unfair, not the done thing, and doesn't help anybody. Sorry wife.

Eva started to storm off, then realised she didn't know where she was, so stormed halfway back again before maintaing a short distance from the rest of us that she must have thought conveyed her displeasure with us but was close enough so that she wouldn't lose us.

A moment later she spotted a dog (on a lead, a long way away) and decided that was scary enough to allow her to join us again.

#flattenthecurve Episode 29

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah
I was supposed to be in Wales this week, well Tuesday/Wednesday anyway, zip wiring my way through some caves. Covid-19 put paid to that, but will get booked in again. Sometime soon, hopefully.

I decided to keep one of the leave days I'd booked to spend some 'quality time' with the kids, aka do more of their homeschooling with them. I don't know how teachers keep a straight face, or keep their cool.

Henry's work today for example was a comprehension exercise based on a animated story they had to watch first in YouTube.

One of the last few questions was: Why has laughter been included in the closing credits?

Henry's answer: She has been dragged into the closing credits to give her something to do, I think.

Me: (* after I'd stopped laughing at him) So, who is 'she', Henry?

H: She's the daughter

M: (* re-reading the question) Where does it mention "daughter' in the question, Henry?

H: (*confidently) There (*points to the word laughter) ... oh ... I didn't read it right

M: Is there actually a daughter in the final credits Henry?

H: Errrrr, yes. Maybe. I'm not sure

M: Ok. Did you make up an answer just so you could say you had done it?

H: Yes (* pet lip comes out)

M: Shall we do that question again Henry?

H: Hurrumph.

M: (* rolls eyes)

After we were done I went for a lie down. I deserved it.


Rekindling Old Passions

Social media has been full of stories of people revisiting past hobbies during lockdown: art, music, writing, cookery, health and fitness, and so on.

My own personal trip back in time has been culinary in nature and I've been recreating classic dishes of my childhood.

So far I have had a corned beef sandwich and a corned beef toasted sandwich.

I did mix things up later in the week when I had a corned beef wrap. It's important to get the balance between evolution and staying true to your roots just right, I think I nailed it this time.


Dressed For Success

Remember late 80s/early 90s soft rock band Roxette? Turns out they were way ahead of their time. The lyrics for their 1988 single Dressed For Success were originally a discussion on suitable attire for home working.

You gonna get dressed for your work?
I'm sitting around in my boxers, baby.
Get dressed for your work!
Sit in my 'pants for my 'kit!
Underpants?
Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Perhaps.


Life Long Learning

Every day, as somebody once said, is a learning day. And this is especially so for children, where learning opportunities crop up at the most unexpected moments.

For example, Henry recently asked what a wedgie was. Who am I to deny a child essential education?

#flattenthecurve Episode 28

Interplanetary, Quite Extraordinary

As somebody once said, Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.

I'm more of a confectioner than an astronomer though, so I prefer to think of this in terms of Mars and Snickers. Of course Snickers are nutty so I'll let you decide whether or not that is appropriate, by which I of course mean I wouldn't want to cause any anaphylaxis for any nut allergy sufferers.

Whatever your preferred analogy, it is undeniable that men and women are different. Although I've been married a good long while now so I've come to terms with these differences, this did initially came as a bit of a surprise - I led a very sheltered childhood.

Some of the more obvious differences I have spotted between myself and the wife include:

Late night/early mornings
I'm an owl, the wife's a lark. This means it's ok for her to fall asleep on the sofa while watching TV on an evening, but I'm still expected to share the getting up early rota. I'm still not 100% clear on how this works but the wife assures me that's just how it is, and who am I to disagree?

Chocolate
The wife's favourite chocolate is Whole Nut. I think this says a lot. I suspect she'd agree, just perhaps not in the same way. I like whatever the kids have lying around. Yes, this means I'm a chocolate thief.

Coffee
The wife likes hers the same way she likes her men; tall, sweet and smooth. I like mine short, hot and bitter. (I was very careful how I wrote, rewrote and wrote again that sentence!)

Tea
The wife likes Earl Grey with plenty of milk and sweetener, I like proper tea.

We manage these differences as I guess all married couples manage their differences: with honesty, respect, tolerance, understanding, and plenty of swearing under the breath and smiling through gritted teeth.

There is one difference that I think we are going to struggle to get past though: doodling. I am a doodler, the wife is not. We've been sharing an office space during lock down and this discovery seems to have really shocked her. She hasn't looked at me the same way since, I think it may be too much for her to take.


Thought for the Day

Are locksmiths considered key workers?

#flattenthecurve Episode 27

Back to (Home) School

With the Easter holidays drawing to a close, home school restarted today and we are back to our previous 'not normal but not holiday' routine.

Henry was up bright and early and decided to get dressed in his school uniform. He's not the biggest fan of school work, but is clearly missing seeing his friends despite being able to Facetime with them. Poor lad.

Eva on the other hand loves school, so it was a bit surprising to find she now loves home school more. Of course this could have just been because she likes to be contrary. If Henry had said he was glad to be off school still then Eva would, I'm sure, have told us how much she was missing school.


Sum-Times I feel Like Throwing My Hands Up in the Air, I Know I Can Count On You

I was back on maths duty today, Eva only cried once (it's my fault, apparently, that she hasn't learned her 4 times table) but otherwise did well with her multiplication questions.

Henry was learning about angles. He really wasn't keen and was being very obtuse, I got quite grumpy with him and told him it has become a reflex whenever he has to learn something new. That seemed to set him straight and he settled down. After that he pulled his chair in to the table at just the right angle to be comfortable and got on quietly. Thankfully he is developing quite an acute sense of when to stop pushing his luck.

Five angle based puns in one paragraph, I am on fire today, even if I do say so myself.


Kick Start Redux

The kids loved Kick Start; I'm so pleased I don't have to disown them. By all accounts the paperwork is a minefield, and the Grandparents would not be happy. Though it would save them money on birthday and Christmas presents so there would have been positives as well as negatives.

That's by the by now anyway, we've sat through a couple of episodes on YouTube, the early fervour hasn't yet diminished and I'm sure I heard Eva humming the theme tune as she came downstairs too.

Henry was a bit surprised to find out one of the contestants was younger than he is now. Luckily, said contestant was rubbish, had a couple of nasty looking falls and failed to finish the course, so that cheered us all up no end.


Fresh Country Air

We went for a walk today instead of a bike ride as I was aching from overdoing the bike ride the day before. We headed over the fields and quarry near our house, it gave the kids a chance to explore a bit, spot where they could build dens and bicker about, well anything and everything really. As they frequently seem to do.

Bickering kids never seem so bad when they are a hundred yards behind you and you can't hear what they are saying to each other, so I kept walking when they'd stopped. I knew they were bickering though as I could see Eva had her hands on her hips and was stamping her foot while Henry was doing the usual frantic gesticulating he does when Eva doesn't believe him and he can't think of a better way of explaining whatever it is he is trying to explain.

By the time they realised I hadn't stopped walking and they'd run to catch me up they were full of questions: "Why were you hiding up that tree, Dad?" "I didn't know you had a camouflage coat, Dad?" and "Are you sure if we walk in the opposite direction to you we won't get lost, Dad?"

On the way home we stood watching a horse for a while. The horse lay just yards from us and I thought it was staring us out until I realised it was actually asleep. It had a very floppy fringe that covered its eyes, imagine an Emo hairstyle on a horse and you'll get the picture.

I was weighing up which of my horse stories to tell the kids, either the one about the horse that bit my shoe (while I was wearing it) or the one about the angry horse that chased the wife and I across a field, but before I had a chance a jogger came past and disturbed the horse.

Whether it was just by chance, or whether the horse was disturbed to find us looking at it when it opened its eyes we will never know, but it then let rip with a truly magnificent series of farts. We scarpered before the smell hit us. Do horse farts actually smell bad? I have neigh idea, but I wasn't hanging around to find out.

#flattenthecurve Episode 26

The Phantom of the Semi Autobiographical Blog

The wife and the kids watched The Phantom of the Opera on TV on Saturday. I am not an Opera fan, but was sat in the same room as them and couldn't be bothered moving, so I just grumbled all the way through and complained how loud it was.

It turned out to be a pre-recorded special 25th birthday edition (do not call Southwick Community Police Station to report that the Albert Hall is full of posh chaps and chapesses and really should be closed down without checking your facts first, I learned the hard way) and as a special treat they unmasked the Phantom at the end. Seems it's a fella called Andrew Lloyd Webber. Hideous looking creature, scared the hell out of the kids.

Anyway, in tribute to Musical Theatre (pronounced, as all us thespians know, as thee-eight-er) I have decided to sing today's blog in an operatic soprano voice. Just a shame it's only available in text form really.


The Great Cake Debacle

I feel sufficiently recovered from the cake ordeal touched on briefly in Episode 25 to retell the sorry tale in full, with perhaps just a dash of dramatisation for entertainment purposes.

It began Friday morning, in the kitchen ...

"Ooh, Bournville!" I squeaked, excitedly, spying a giant bar on the kitchen bench.

"Leave it, it's for a cake I'm baking" snarled the wife.

Perfect, I thought, I love chocolate cake, and off I skulked back upstairs to work.

Later
"Is there any coffee left?" I tentatively enquired.

"Leave it" barked the wife "it's for a cake I'm baking."

Chocolate and coffee cake. Is that a chocolate cake and a coffee cake, or one coffee and chocolate cake, I wondered? I don't care, either or both would be amazing. Could my wife, indeed could my life, get any better? I smiled to myself as I headed back to the Surface Pro grindstone.

Later Still
"Andrew" crooned the wife "which loaf tin do you think I should use?" And of course I was only too glad to put my work on hold briefly to assist in such a crucial matter.

Later Later Still
Aromas of baking drift through the house. I'm notice I have started to drool.

Later Later Later Still
I tentatively set foot in the kitchen, and espy the cake. The cake. The cake to end all cakes.

It isn't ready for eating, so I shuffle out the kitchen and volunteer to have lumps kicked out of me, aka play football, in the garden with Henry. The wife has made cake after all, she deserves a break.

And then I fix up Henry's old bike for Eva to use as her's really ain't so great. The wife, I reason, deserves a longer break after her cake baking exploits.

She's sad as Santa brought her the old bike (Eva was sad, not the wife) but excited at the prospect of a new bike too, and in a burst of genuine DIY skill I managed to properly fix the front brake.

Ok, in the spirit of honesty and openness it would have remained unfixed if Eva hadn't spotted I'd overtightened one of the screws. What she has in natural bike maintenance awareness she sadly lacks in modesty however and took great delight in mentioning this repeatedly for the rest of the day.

Anyway, I digress. Back to the cake. Occasionally, whilst in the garden, I looked up and I could see the cake through the dining room window. It was calling to me, beckoning me, enticing me with its chocolatey coffee cakeyness.

Cake!

At Last
And finally, the cake was presented as being ready for eating.

"Is there (* sniff) ... is there a funny smell?" I venture, a little perturbed. "A cat maybe, or a child perhaps?" I suggest, as I look around the room.

"Nah" says the wife, sniffing, it'll be the bananas."

"Oh" I exclaim relieved, "they smell awful. Shall I chuck them out?"

Bananas and me, you see, have history. I hate them. I hate the smell, I hate the taste, I hate them I hate them I hate them. In a former workplace a colleague used to dispose of her banana based waste in a different room, such was my intolerance of the curvy yellow demons of the fruit bowl. I've been known to gag when the kids eat them too near me.

I once bit into a banoffee pie under the misapprehension it was just an 'offee' pie. This was at a wedding do at Tall Trees in Yarm more than 15 years ago. The fact I remember the event to this day should illustrate my feelings about bananas if people were still uncertain.

I hate them so much I'd gladly put off cake tasting for a couple of minutes to dispose of some yellowy-browning stinking curves of death.

"No need," replies the wife "they're gone. I used the last two in the cake."

There was a moment of silence as the enormity of the admission struck home. A brief pause before my heart was audibly crushed. Nay, cleft in twain, then crushed.

Twice nay, for it was cleft in twain, splintered, then crushed. Then painstakingly stuck back together before being ceremoniously, publicly and humiliatingly cleft in twain, splintered, crushed and ground into the earth.

The wife is fully aware of my banana history, having known (and loved?) me for 20 plus years. But still she chose to put the tropical crescents of poison in the cake. The wonderful, beautiful, delicious chocolatey coffee-ey cake of my day dreams has been sullied. In my eyes it is now a non-cake. Percakea non grata.

This feels like something that will be mentioned for years to come. Forever, in fact. Alongside the espresso jelly that bounced when dropped, and the pearl barley and belly pork risotto that caused slimey-sloppy queasiness and resulted in a dash to the chippy before it shut for the night.

And then, then she had the temerity to ask me to slice some up for her and the kids. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this.

Cake (* sob)

It was too soon, sorry. (* Sob) I thought I could brave this out. I tried, at least.

(* Sob)


Cats Again

The cats don't eat cake, or bananas, so I thought I'd be safe going to make friends with Jessie, only to discover she had a stinking great turd hanging from the long fur around her ... around her ... around her let's just leave that thought there.

I held her hissing twisty body and snappy head while the wife brandished a fist full of toilet roll to clean her up.

I reckon she's done it on purpose just to wind us up, so making friends will have to wait.


Brownies

In an act of honourable contrition, on Saturday the wife made me brownies. The soft sticky cakes, not the Brown Owl doting, toadstool jumping, mini Girl Guides.

They smell full of hazelnutty chocolatey goodness and she's well on her way to being forgiven for the cake debacle based on just the appearance and smell alone.

They've got to cool first, so I'll let you know how the tasting goes after I've been out with the kids.

Later
We returned from our bike ride with two new records set by Eva, the distance record and the number of tears per mile. Both were somewhat stress inducing, so I wa ready to taste the brownie.

And the verdict? It was good. So good! Cake? What cake?

It's more of a desserty type thing than a sliced cake type product for having with a cup of tea, which means I was compelled to have a scoop of ice cream with it too. What a shame, hey.


Shopping

The wife seems very keen for me to go and do the shopping today. We don't desperately need anything, I think she's just keen to get me out the house.

I can't wait to see her face when I remind her the 'one trolley, one person' rule is still in force so I can't take the kids.

Unless it really is just me she wants shot of?


Kick Start

Whenever I'm out on my bike trying a really dangerous manoeuvre like bouncing up a kerb, swerving between 2 well spaced sticks on the ground, or going down a slight bank (I'm really not a brave bike rider) I can't help but hum the theme tune to Kick Start.

There's a prize for anybody who knows the name of the the song used as the theme tune?*

Kick Start was the pinnacle of 1980s televisual entertainment. If you don't remember it, or have never heard of it then:

(i) what have you been doing with your life? and

(ii) it was a programme presented by Peter Purves (of Blue Peter fame) featuring people (usually young men with dodgy 'taches, it was the 80s after all) riding trial bikes through skips of water, over oil drums and under bamboo poles stood on sticks, all racing against the clock to get back to where they started and win the adulation of the handful of other trial bike enthusiasts gathered in a damp field in the middle of nowhere. And then they did it all again in reverse.

Sometimes the action was broken up my over eager St. John's Ambulance people taking overly enthusiastic tumbles down slippery embankments.

It really was compelling viewing. There was a kids version too, along the same lines as the adult version but with easier obstacles and fewer 'taches.

I'm going to introduce the kids to it on YouTube. I may have to disown them if they don't like it as much as me.

* Theme tune prize? Not really, it's just for fun. The Kick Start theme tune was called Be My Boogie Woogie Baby by Mr Walkie-Talkie. If you don't remember it, Google it. If you do remember it, Google it anyway, it really is as brilliant as you remember it. The first half anyway, it does get a bit repetitive and has some strange vocals in the second half.


Kitchen

The boy and I returned from our Sunday cycling Tour de Sunderland to find the wife had reorganised the kitchen cupboards. Again. I've only just got used to the previous reorganisation, how many times can one woman reorganise the kitchen cupboards!

There are of course some questions that cannot be answered by one man and his trusted friend Google alone, so I need your help on this one. Answers on a postcard please, addressed to:

For F***s Sake Where's The Chocolate Hobnobs Now?
PO Box I've Already Told You Once!
Sunderland
SR5 If I Remembered I Wouldn't Be Asking Again, Would I!

Deep breaths .... deep breaths.

#flattenthecurve Episode 25

Trackie Bottoms

I know I have mentioned trackie bottoms before, but history shows I am not afraid to approach a subject again so I make no apolgies. This time they were the cause of a little disagreement with the wife as I politely inferred (ahem) that some underhand washing tactics had caused me to run out of clean pairs.

I can no longer recall the last time I wore anything other than trackie bottoms, so they are becoming a vital facet of daily life. Even more so since NEXT cancelled all orders, so my strategically planned, competitively tendered and wife vetted additional WFH pair (could I have claimed them as home working expenses?) are still sat in a warehouse somewhere in Leicestershire, no doubt pining for me.

I know PPE shortages are probably more pressing than trackie bottom shortages right now, so I don't want to overstate the problem here, but suffice to say the next step is shorts and we really don't want to go there this early in the year. #milkbottlelegs

The wife temporarily extracted herself from her online flour sourcing activities (flour seems to be the new toilet rolls - not literally, I don't think anybody is advocating dusting yourself down with a handful of self raising in place of Andrex's finest, I mean it is now in short supply) to vehemently deny having any washing tactics, let alone any that could be considered underhand. She also mumbled something about me knowing where the washing machine was myself. I've left out the expletive she used for emphasis to prevent offending delicate ears.

She further went on to cite the fact that I unearthed a pair in the deepest depths of the wardrobe as evidence against me.

My defence was that the pair I found were very old (they have a somewhat bobbly appearance) I don't wear them very often (they have a strange green tinge to them, which clashes with my classic peachy skin tones and ginger beard) and I had actually forgotten about them, but it was water off a ducks back as she crowed about being right.

I did get a little bit of retribution when she later wielded an item of clothing above her head triumphantly declaring "ha, and what are these!" before uncharacteristically acknowledging defeat when said item of clothing revealed itself to in fact be a jumper.

Less considerate husband's would have laughed at this point. I am pleased to confirm I am a less considerate husband, I know you'd expect nothing less of me.


Cats

I'm conscious that I haven't mentioned the cats for a little while. They're both ok, so no need to worry. They have both taken to cowering in quiet corners until the kids go to bed while Belle has even started venturing outside, though I suspect that's only to annoy Jessie in the traditional child/parent way.

I'm seriously considering the same tactics as the cats. The cowering in quiet corners to avoid the kids tactic, that is, rather than the going outside to annoy Jessie, which frankly would just be weird.

Your last bit of cat news for today - I have been nominated to administer their flea and worming tablets later, so that's something to look forward too.

A later, and previously unanticipated, cat update.
Jessie went for me. Not when I was administering the tablet, no that went fine. But later on, for no obvious reason, she hissed and made like she was going to bite me.

As I escorted her off the premises (she's got to learn) I'm sure I caught her grinning sarcastically at me. I reckon she'd waited all day to get me back.


Distracted Conversations

Conversations with a child can be hard work. Kids are weird, illogical, imaginitive (overly imaginitive?) forgetful, inconsiderate, and prone to get upset and fly off the handle at the drop of a hat, whilst admittedly, on occasion, being fun, kind and loving. Sometimes they can be all of these things (and more besides) at the same time.

For those of us foolish enough to think that one child was an insufficient test of human endurance, we regularly have to contend with with two such conversations running simultaneously.

(Anybody who has more than two kids, just stop reading and seek help now.)

The pain of parenthood is even more accutely felt when you're dotted along the road on bikes, needing to field random questions whilst also being mindful of the safety both of overly ambitious but still wobbly kids and the general public, and finding the correct carrot/stick combination to maintain sufficient progress.

I give you now a little snippet of yesterday by way of an example:

Henry: Dad, what does ups mean?

Me: (* wondering why Eva is quiet) You mean oops, Henry?

Henry: No, ups like those vans say.

Me: Eva, watch out for the woman with the buggy. Henry, when do vans say oops?

Eva: whatttt?

Me: the woman with the buggy!

Eva: which woman?

Me: (*grimacing) the one that just jumped out your way!

Henry: Ups! Dad, ups!

Eva: why didn't you say! (* wobbles towards road cos she's too busy shouting at me and not busy enough watching where she's going. She gets scared and stops, so we all have to stop. Again.)

Me: What have you done Henry?

Henry: Who? Me? Nothing!

Me: you said 'oops?'

Henry: Ups! Brown vans, why do they say ups?

Eva: I am ti-erred! (Translation "I'm tired")

Me: We'll stop for a snack in the park very soon Eva, don't worry.

Eva: Where's the park, I don't know where the park is, my legs are ti-erred!

Me: (* quietly) Shame your mouth isn't as tired as your ...

Henry: Eva! Dad says he wishes your ...

Me: Shush Henry! (* And on seeing a UPS van drive past) oh, ups on brown vans is an abbreviation, you say it as U.P.S.

Eva: Dad says what?

Me: Dad says that we're stopping for a snack soon swertheart (*glares at Henry)

Henry: Right (*rolls eyes) So what does U.P.S. mean?

Me: I don't know.

Henry: *Tuts

Eva: You already said that! Where's the park? (*stops again, presumably cos her legs are really ti-erred)

Me: you see that big green area right next to us?

Eva: Yes.

Me: With the trees? And the plants?

Eva: Yes

Me: And the pond and the seats?

Eva: (* realising it was a stupid question) yeah ...

Me: That's the park, I can chuck you over this spikey metal fence or we can use the gate down the road. Your choice.

Henry: Dad ... (* Still grumbling that I don't know what U.P.S. stands for)

Me: (*Make something up, make something up) Oh, er, yeah, just remembered Henry, U.P.S means Universal Parcel Service.

Henry: Ok (* smiles)

Eva: I'm hung-gry!

Me: and ti-erred?

Henry: (* laughs)

Eva: (* scowls)

Well, you can't win them all, but the snack did the trick and all was well again.

UPS update
I was close with 'Universal', though I realised it didn't sound quite right at the time. The U is actually 'United'. I haven't told Henry, he's probably still imagining strange brown vans with slidey driver side doors pootling all over the universe right now delivering important parcels to all known alien life forms. And who am I to destroy a child's imagination?

Alternatively, there's a very good chance he hasn't given it a second thought and doesn't even remember asking me, in which case mentioning it to him will just cause massive confusion. So yeah, better to keep quiet either way.


A Token WFH Related Section - Technological Advances

After days of struggling to manage with a smaller computer screen and balance screen content (to minimise scrolling) with text size (to avoid eye strain) I have made a startling discovery. I can just move the screen closer to me. Works a treat. Genius.


Music

Henry has decided to start playing Eva's mostly unused, I-told-you-it-would-be-a-waste-of-money Christmas present, keyboard. His style would currently be described as loud and random.

Think 'plinky plinky plink plonk' and you wouldn't be too far off being right.

Good news: I've found his headphones, and they're plugged into the keyboard.

Bad news: he's started singing along too. And because he can't hear himself properly because of the headphones, he's singing really loudly.

He'll stop soon ... surely.

-

Later
Throughout the day his preferred genre evolved and moved on to what can probably best be described as a mash up of Thrash Metal and Popular Musicals, with a Brian Blessed-esque booming vocal.

And just as I thought I was going to have to take myself off for a calm down walk, he randomly segued into a really rather good rendition of Happy Together by The Turtles. No idea where he got that one from.


Cake

The wife has baked a cake. She is a superb baker, but I can't eat it. She and the kids have tucked into generous portions each, but I cannot.

It's still too sore a subject to discuss in detail, hopefully I'll find the strength to confront the issue tomorrow.

#flattenthecurve Episode 24

WFH week 5 cont.

Forgetfulness

Well, the neighbours have been round. Yes, those neighbours with the hot tub from yesterday's episode. I forgot we were part of the same Facebook group.

After a brief discussion, it seems me and the wife have accepted an invitation to pop round for cocktails and snacks in their Hawaiian garden tiki bar on Saturday. Which is nice. I think.

They've said we won't need swimming costumes, which is a relief.

I protested on the grounds of social distancing etiquette, but apparently 'legal avenues' would be persued and they have 'retained hard copies of my blog for their own records'. I'll have to check the precise definition of 'self-incriminating'.

They're 'sure we can sort this out amicably' though. Which is nice. I think.

I also think Mrs. Neighbour must have an ocular problem, she does a lot of winking.

Disclaimer

At this point, it's probably worth reminding people that while this blog portrays real events, some of these real events are imagined.

Thankfully all of this section was just the result of a vivid imagination. But I will be careful about which neighbours I talk about in future. Or at least disguise their identities better.


Accident Prone

Today I have mostly spent injuring myself. So far I have achieved:

- one dead leg, from walking into the corner of the table

- one blood blister from jamming my finger in a window

- one bruised shin from being a clumsy arse on my bike and the pedal swinging round and hitting me.

At the time of writing I have about 6 hours to go before bed time and I have nothing more dangerous to do than walk down a flight of stairs. 111 are on standby just in case.

-

Injury update - no further injuries to report, I did get a little dizzy standing up quickly after lying on the sofa for too long, but a subsequent prolonged period of inactivity minimised any further bodily risk.


Coming of Age?

Henry was in a funny mood today, eventually he confessed that he thought the two spots on his chin meant he had, quote "caught puberty".

And before you ask, apparently laughing at him is not character building. I know, I was surprised too .

#flattenthecurve Episode 23

WFH week 5 cont.

Classy Bird

It's interesting to see how the kids have changed and grown over the last few weeks. While Eva has always been quite bolshy, she's always been quite shy too, though she does seem to be losing her inhibitions a little.

On our bike ride today, for example, in between the usual grumbles about hills going up as well as down, she announced loudly:

"Dad, stop! Me knickers are up me bum!"

She then stood in the middle of the street groping around and hoiking them out before screaching:

"Urgh, they're all wet!"

An elaborate finger sniffing session commenced (Henry and I stayed well clear at this point, pretending we didn't know her) before she confirmed:

"It's ok, it's just sweat!"

Hmmm, maybe a few more inhibitions wouldn't hurt.


We Are Sailing

Somebody in the street is playing very loudly what I can only guess is Rod Stewarts Greatest Hits. I am not a Rod Stewart fan.

It's difficult to tell where it's coming from, but I bet its the couple over the road with the hot tub.

I forget their names, but we have seen more of them than any of our other neighbours. I don't mean 'seen' in the socialising sense, I mean we have quite literally seen a lot of them. They use the hot tub all year round and though their fence is well over six feet high, there are lots of gaps which are more revealing than they seem to realise, hence I'm reluctant to look out the window to see if I can tell where the music is coming from.

I'm hoping they wear flesh coloured swimming costumes, but I'm not convinced.

I get my own back though, I never shut our bedroom curtains when I'm getting changed.

-

The music later switched to the BeeGees, first up was 'How Deep is Your Love' which contains the lyric "Cause we're living in a world of fools". How apt.


Wasps

I've just seen my first wasp of the year.

I'm scared of wasps.

I spent many years denying I was scared of wasps and instead just pretending I didn't like them, but I really am scared of them. Like eyes wide, palms sweaty, chest tight type of scared.

Unfortunately the wife is the 'run around waving her arms in the air screaming' scared tyoe, so 1. She's passed the fear on to the kids, 2. Wasps must have learned that screaming and arm waving means people are scared, so it entices them even more, and 3. As she's running around it leaves me having to deal with them.

Strangely I'm not scared of bees. I think it's because bees are chubby little bundles of fluffy honey-making loveliness, while wasps are angry stripey bastards.

I need to go lie down and stop thinking about wasps.


Norse Mythology Extra Marital Schenanigans

I googled 'Wednesday' today. Yep, it was one of those days.

Wednesday, Wikipedia insightfully tells me, is the day of the week between Tuesday and Thursday. Factual, if not exactly ground breaking.

According to international standard ISO 8601 it is the third day of the week (who knew there was an international standard for days of the week?) and is named after the Norse God Odin.

Odin was married to Frigg (chortle) who we get the name Friday from. And presumably another word too, but I won't go there, this is a family friendly blog after all.

We get the name Thursday from Thor, which left me wondering why Thor pops up between Odin and his missus.

And that, people, is how rumours start.

#flattenthecurve Episode 22

WFH Day ... I've lost count

Should I include Annual Leave days? I'm really not sure. Time is becoming more of an abstract concept anyway, the children are beginning to forget what school was, while bed times and meal times are now based on a vague series of gut instincts and the movement of the big yellow ball in the sky.

WFH Week 5 of x


Easter Holidays
Well I hope everybody had a a good Easter, and is keeping fit and well and healthy?

My heartfelt sympathy goes out to any fellow chocoholics, it's a tricky time for us. I manage my affliction most of the year through abstinence and a strict avoidance of the treats and snacks aisle at the supermarket, but at Easter and Christmas things become more difficult.

This hadn't been helped this year by the wife discovering (and accidentally buying in bulk) the most delicious chocolate in the world ever: Lindt Cherry and Almond. Life may never be the same again.


P-p-p-pick up a Penguin

The wife has discovered Edinburgh Zoo's live penguin cam. The wife loves penguins, which is apparent as she shrieks "look, look at their flappity little arms!" every now and again. I don't have the heart to tell her they are wings, not arms.

On a day trip to Edinburgh zoo a couple of years back I had to physically remove her from the penguin area after the zookeepers threatened to file for an injunction on behalf of an admittedly rather cute Gentoo penguin chick.

Sadly the chick was abandoned to fend for itself. I'd had enough of its persistent car sickness by the time we were passing Berwick on the way home.

Penguin cam has given me an idea though and I've started work on a Joe Exotic inspired drama 'Penguin Emperor' (see what I did there?) Netflix are already showing interest, I just need to develop a convincing Carole Baskin-esque arch nemesis to my anti-hero lead character, Anne Tarctic.

Penguin cam update - the wife is concerned that the Rockhopper penguins, quote, "look a bit chilly."


Facetime

We've had to have words with Henry, he seemed genuinely surprised that wandering into the bathroom to ask a question whilst Facetiming his friends is not acceptable.

If it happens again I'm going to have to confiscate his phone for a while. I know he's only young, but he needs to understand that thoughtless actions can have serious repercussions. I've spent a lot of time and effort building up my online clientele, I can't afford to just give away freebies to whoever's he's blathering on to.


Odd Conversations

Do you ever have strange, disjointed conversations with your significant others? Yeah, me too. Quite often, and with increasing frequency it seems. This morning for example ...

The Wife: Andrew, do you get stabbing pains across your chest?
Me: Er, no. Do you? Are you feeling ok?
The wife: (Fiddling with something hidden by her side) how about now?
Me: What? How could I ... you're weird.

In other news, the wife has taken up sewing. She hasn't mentioned it as such, but I found her pincushion earlier. What's really nice is that it's in the shape of a baldy headed bearded fella, it must remind her of me.


Silly Cyclist

Disappointing news on the cycling front, my left hand gear shifter (and apologies if the terminology isn't quite right here) is knackered. Or buggered. One of the two. Perhaps both.

Whatever the correct wording, it was definitely not working properly when I went for a longer ride the other days, so the next morning all bright eyed and bushy tailed and full of enthusiasm I decided to fix it.

I cautiously unscrewed the shifter from my bike frame, opened it up and spent the next few minutes picking up all the cogs, springs, metal bits and lumps of plastic that had bounced all round the back garden.

I did eventually get it put back together, after cleaning it out, and only had one spare bit left. The spare bit looked fairly inconsequential, but as it's now not working at all it seems the left over bit was far from inconsequential. It was therefore both consequential, and indeed sequential.

A bit of a gear related joke for any mechanically minded people out there. It (the joke, not the hear shifter) may well not work very well, I'm just vaguely aware that sequential gears are something mechanical.


Stick and Fire Pit

I invented a game for the family today. Sports aficionados may consider it a poor mash up of rounders, baseball and cricket, but they'd just be sour because they didn't think it up first.

One player, the thrower, stands near a flat football in the middle of the garden and throws the tennis ball at the fire pit. The stickist stands near the fire pit with their cheap knock-off baseball bat and has to attempt to prevent the ball hitting the firepit.

This went quite well until the wife joined us, at which point she proceeded to smash the ball into Henry's ribs, thigh, arm and so on. Henry soon lost interest (unsurprisingly, seen as his mam seemed to have it in for him) and started to play keepy-uppy with the flat football, which prevented the stickist (still the wife) scoring a run. Her own fault really.

Eva was surprisingly good for a short arse with poor hand eye coordination.

If you want to play at home you need:
- one flat football
- one fire pit (unlit, preferably)
- one blue and red tennis ball
- one plastic, orange foam covered mini baseball bat
- one barbecue (to lose the ball under and gift the wife an extra run)
- one trampoline (to keep the other child busy, who has seen their mam smash the ball off their brother and is worried she'll be next in line).

I won our game, I'd look pretty stupid if I invented a game and then failed to win the first one, wouldn't I? Especially as I was, er, 'refining' the rules as we went along.


And Finally

Big news from the Victory household, after a burst of household chore energy on Tuesday afternoon we've caught up with dishwashing. Or rather, the dishwasher has caught up with us.

It's always nice when that happens.

#flattenthecurve Episode 21 Bohemian Shop For Me

Bohemian Shop For Me

[A couple are at home, the wife is humming to herself as she clears up after a meal, while the husband is writing at the kitchen table. Blue italics should be sung not read]

Wife
Alexa, play Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen ...

Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?

Husband [rolls his eyes]

Wife
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.

Husband [sarcastically]
Lovely singing pet

Wife [ignores husband and continues]
Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and see,

Husband
I'm just a poor boy, I need some sympathy,

Wife
But you’re easy come, easy go,
Kick you out, off you go

Husband
Any way the wind blows. Doesn't really matter to me, to me.


Wife
You aren’t nice, you know

Husband
You started it!

Wife
Just get on with, with whatever it is you’re doing and leave me to my singing, git [clears throat]

Mama, just killed a ...

Husband
Flan

Wife [Pauses, glances at Husband]
Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger ....

Husband
Loaf of bread

Wife
[Gives Husband the evil eye]
Mama, ...

Husband
Do we have bread buns?
Or did you have to throw them all away?

Wife [Glares at Husband, who pretends not to notice and keeps writing]

Where was I? Oh yea,

Mama, ooh, didn't mean to make you ...

Husband
Pie

Wife
Are you doing this on purpose?

Husband
What's that pet?

Wife
Dropping food references into ...

Husband [Looking pleased with himself]
What? I'm just doing the shopping list pet, now let me carry on, carry on

[Husband and Wife carry on with their jobs for a while]

Husband
So you want anything getting in for your girls night? Bottle of prosec ...

Wife
Sends shivers down my wine

Husband [Glares at Wife]

Wife [Smiles smugly]
Did you see what I did there? Annoying, isn’t it, pet! [laughs]

Husband
Right, I’ve got to go [gets up from table]

Wife
You’ve got to leave me all alone and face the truth? [laughs to self]
Goodbye! Oooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Be quick, please fly!

Husband
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all
[Shakes head, but smiles. Collects bags for life from the kitchen drawer while wife plays air guitar to musical interlude. Opens kitchen door, walks along hall towards glass plated front door with sun light streaming through.]

Wife
I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?
Thunderbolt and lightning,
Very, very ...

Husband
Enough already!

Wife [follows husband along the corridor]
(Go to Tesco) Go to Tesco,
(Go to Tesco) Go to Tesco,
Go to Tesco, Off you!

Husband [opens the front door and steps outside]
I’m gonna go-o-o-o [shuts door behind himself]

Wife [turns back into the kitchen, spots husbands wallet on table]

Husband [opens door again]
I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me.

Wife [Throws his wallet at him]
He's just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life from this monstrosity.

Husband [waves wallet triumphantly above his head]
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?

Wife
Bismillah! No, I will not let you go. [Clings dramatically to husband]

Husband
Let me go!

Wife
Bismillah! I will not let you go. [Wipes mock tear from her cheek]

Husband
Let me go!

Wife [Increasingly dramatic]
Bismillah! I will not let you go.

Husband
Let me go!

Wife
Will not let you go.

Husband
Let me go!

Wife [looking resolute]
Never let you go

Husband
Never, never, never, never let me go?

Husband and Wife together
Oh oh oh oh
No, no, no, no, no, no, no

Husband
Oh, wifey dear, wifey dear (wifey dear, let me go!)

Wife [menacingly]
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me.

[Husband and Wife rock out dramatically in hall]

Husband and Wife together
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?
So you think you can love me and leave me to die?
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.

[Husband and Wife calm down, before Husband prepares to leave the house again]

Ooooh, ooh yeah, ooh yeah

Wife
Nothing really matters

Husband
Anyone can see,

Wife
Nothing really matters,

Wife and Husband together
Nothing really matters to meeeee.

Husband [closes the front door, pushes open the letter box]
Any way the wind blows.

[Split screen: Wife wanders back to kitchen, Husband walks towards car, both in unison ... stamp stamp, clap ... stamp stamp clap ...]

#flattenthecurve Episode 20

WFH Day 16 of y

Cafe Wife

The wife has just been in to drop off a coffee. Service with a smile? Hmmm, let's not push it.

I'm nothing if not courteous and cautious though, so I barely even allude to the fact that it's about half an hour late.

I like coffee, and this one has undertones of dark chocolate and cherries. Or so the packet says. As long as it tastes nice and has a caffeine kick then I'm good with it.

As she leaves, the wife mumbles about putting something in the next coffee, but she knows I don't like milk or sugar or any of those syrups so I just put it down to a momentary lapse of concentration and take it as a positive that she'll be bringing another one later.


Tour de Sunderland

If you're out and about in Sunderland over the coming days and weeks:

(i) Why? Is it for an essential journey or your one allocated session of daily exercise? If so, please continue. If not, go home; I want to play no part in your lack of social distancing etiquette.

(ii) If you have passed part (i) then keep an eye out for the family of 3 lycra clad, slipstreaming, toned athletes atop matching high end bikes, gliding along the highways and the byways, effortlessly eating up the miles. It won't be me and the kids, but they are a sight to behold.

If however you see a gaggle of unkempt individuals on a random assortment of bikes, spread out over a hundred yards or so, with the fella at the front wobbling dangerously as he turns to check why the little one at the back has gone quiet, only to realise she has stopped and is having a right paddy about being expected to go up a gentle incline, then that will be us!

Stop and say hi, maybe offer us some encouragement, or sympathy, or a lift home.

Please.


Dream

I had a dream last night. It was the end of a works night out in Chester le Street (the reasons why it was in Chester le Street elude me) and I was walking home with an old school friend and Sunderland AFC player Duncan Watmore, who was in full SAFC home kit. Weirdly. We've never met before, he was very polite but not very chatty.

So, yes, we found a jacket that had been left lying and took it with us thinking we could try to work out whose it was from the contents of the pockets.

If you are missing one men's medium sized light grey hooded jacket containing:

- A bundle of Match Attax football cards
- An unused 2019/20 SAFC season card
- A 1988/89 SAFC 'season in review' pamphlet; and
- A return bus ticket from Low Fell to Durham

then I'm sorry to say I put it down somewhere between Chester le Street and Low Fell to fasten my shoe lace and forgot to pick it back up again. Sorry.

We lost Duncan at this point too. I hope he's ok, he was very quiet.


Easter

So this is Easter, as John Lennon sang in his (in my opinion) far superior but commercially unsuccessful follow up to So this is Christmas. Maybe.

I have a couple of extra days off work booked in, and the wife has already started 'hinting' at some little jobs that I 'might' like to turn my hand to. She's kind like that.

Anyway, I'm going to take a break from blog writing for a few days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.

I hope you all have very peaceful, and chocolatey Easters people. Stay safe, take care and eat chocolate.

#flattenthecurve Episode 19

WFH Day 15 of y

Plan Foiled

It's illegal to cull seagulls. I googled it. Turns out they are protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918.

I once reported a sick seagull to the RSPB. I'm regretting that now.

The seagulls don't wake the wife, which she is quite smug about. She is not protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 though, so she needs to tread carefully.

Nothing wakes the wife. Belle is currently sitting on the wife miaowing loudly (the cat, not the wife) and she still hasn't woken up.


Voices Singing Let's Be Jolly

Episode 18 ended on a Christmas theme and today started in a similarly unseasonally festive manner: first thing this morning Eva was singing and dancing to Mel & Kim's Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree.

My kids are weird.

At least she was dressed this time, usually if she's singing and dancing she is in a state of at least partial undress. She was in a good mood though, so we let her get on with it.

Okay, okay, I confess - I joined in too. It is a very catchy tune!


Chocolate Hobnob Watch

I've had 3 today, as of late afternoon. 270 calories. My fitness app tells me I'm good for one and a bit more after our 'lets give your Mam a break before she goes mad' bike ride used up 377 calories before lunch. Not that I'm counting.


Boris

Poor Boris still ain't doing so well. My admittedly ill informed, based on nothing but a hunch, view? I reckon he'll pull through. Boris may not be everybody's cup of tea, but Dominic Raab as stand in PM (** shudders)


My New Favourite Joke

What do you call a hen that can solve complicated sums?

A mathemachicken.

Now that, people, is funny!

#flattenthecurve Episode 18

WFH Day 14 of y

Daily Commute

The commute to the office was a difficult one today, primarily due to an abject lack of enthusiasm for getting out of bed. I think the camping and the bike rides have been taking more out of me than I realised.

There was also severe localised congestion around breakfast time, especially in the kettle area of the kitchen. Somebody mentioned there'd been an announcement about the wrong kind of tea leaves, but that just sounds like an excuse to me.

The journey home was really quick though, despite having to return to the office twice as I'd left my phone on my desk and forgot to wash my mug out.


Boring

Apparently other dad's don't burst into their son's bedroom while they are playing Fortnite and Facetiming their friends, lob hand grenades (rolled up socks) and pretend to shoot them.

Well, other dad's clearly aren't fun. Or aren't embarassing, take your pick.

I'm an embarrassing dad, aren't I? Mission accomplished!


Chocolate Hobnobs

The wife broke with tradition and bought chocolate hobnobs this weekend. I feel chocolate hobnobs have not been as big a part of my life to date as they clearly deserve to be. I also feel they may become a bigger part of my life going forward than they probably should.

Sorry chocolate digestives, but you're outta here.


Biscuit Heaven

I've spent many a year living under
The sad misapprehension
That all was good in the land of the snack
But why did no-one mention?

That the king of the biscuit was hidden from me
There was a nobler biscuit by miles
You're oaty and you're chocolatey
You bring me out in smiles

Where have you been all my life
You tasty little treat?
What twists of fate have caused us to
Never previously meet?

You're delicate, but resolute
You snap just once when bitten
You leave very little crumbage
And I think that I am smitten.

You bring comfort, you bring joy
During times that are so tricky
I've fallen for you totally,
You're my chocolate hobnob biccy


Be Prepared

You're an eleven year old boy, it's the week before Easter, what's upper most in your mind?

Yep, with 8 months, 2 weeks and 5 days to spare, Henry has written his Christmas list. To be fair it is a joint birthday and Christmas list, and with his birthday being only a little more than 6 months away in some respects he's cutting it a little bit fine.

#flattenthecurve Episode 17 The Third Weekend

When Seagulls Follow the Trawler

The seagulls were out complaining again early this morning. Something about a hungry brown bear in our back garden trying to catch them to feed to his fish. I couldn't quite hear them properly though as they were all talking at once, so I might be wrong on that one.

They didn't stay to chat for long, just long enough to wake me up.


Shopping

The wife decided enough was enough on Saturday, and that it was time she took to the outside world again and do her first 'big shop' of lockdown.

I tried to dissuade her, she's a delicate soul, but she put on a brave face and after a pep talk of do's and don'ts, hints and tips, what's and whyfor's, what to do in an emergency, and a reminder not to talk to strangers, she set foot into the wild. Well, into Tesco, but it can get quite tasty in there.

I paced the house anxious for an update (well, lay in bed - she was out very early) and it duly arrived: a photo of those handheld self-serve scanners they have. I hoped it was a checkout shot rather than a work in progress as the amount she'd spent made my knees go wobbly, but I continued to pace (lie in) and the dizziness soon subsided.

After what seemed like an eternity, she returned. Slightly shaken by the new one-way system that had gone awry when the arrows to follow on the floor weren't set up correctly and caused gridlock at the end of the tinned produce aisle, and a little snappy, but otherwise in one piece.

I'm pleased to say she did well, with only two panicky buys: we are now the proud owners of around 804 Babybels and some Danone Beetroot and Carrot yoghurts.

I didn't mention she'd bought the wrong beer, the lessons learned can wait until the nerves have settled. I'm kind like that.


Camp Victory

"Daddy, Daddy, we're going to camp!"

"Ooh behave, darlings" I replied affecting a feminine voice, hanging my hand limply from my wrist and mincing around the front room.

"What?" replied the kids.

"D***head" mouthed the wife.

"No, we're going to do a Beaver and Scout camp in the front room!"

And so was born Camp Victory.

Trip Advisory
Andrew Victory wrote a review 5 Apr
📍Sunderland, England - 1 Contribution
🔴🔴🔴🔴⭕

Clean, Comfortable Accomodation, Excellent On-site Café

Well, a superb opening night for Camp Victory: I'm sure we'll be back soon.

The family friendly evening entertainment was perfect. The in-house outwards bounds expert (Andrew) led the 'camp essentials' training session including tent pitching and fire lighting (to tick the Beaver Camping badge boxes) then the spaghetti and marshmallow model building went down a storm too.

The café pulled out a tasty, nutritious snacky supper, and the free movie and audio books kept the kids entertained until lights out.

While some campers woke very early the next day, the pitches are well spaced so noise disruption was at a minimum, though the smell of sausages cooking dragged even the most sleepy-headed from their beds.

The only slight complaint, the camp owner insists on a very high standard of tidyness before deposits are returned. With the price of one night at Camp Victory being at the more expensive end of the in-home camping scale I'd have hoped that she'd have picked up some of the cleaning jobs herself instead of sitting on her backside watching In For a Penny with the kids. But that's nitpicking really.


Songstress

Eva is a very, er, 'enthusiastic' singer. This afternoon she gave us a great (well, very loud) rendition of PJ and Duncan's less well known B side "Let's get ready to amble".

We aren't clear if this was Ant and Dec, as they later became (reverted to?) getting ready for a stroll or whether they were visiting the Northumberland town of the same name. Possibly a fact that has been lost to the ravages of time.


Skin Head

The wife hasn't been the only one in desperate need of a hair cut, the boy did too. On the promise of 1,000 v-bucks for Fortnite, and after finally being convinced that it wouldn't make him "all baldy like me dad" he agreed to his first buzz cut.

There was a moment of alarm halfway through when he twisted his head and I nicked his ear, but the outcome was quite successful. Ears bleed a lot, don't they?

I think he suits it (the hair, not the nicked ear) but he thinks he looks like The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. He does like how quick it is to dry his hair though. Hair drying is usually sensory overload for him, so this is a bigger positive than you could ever imagine.

#flattenthecurve Episode 16

WFH Day 13 of y


And The Beat Goes On

Home working/home schooling is very repetitive. Home working/home schooling is very repetitive. Home working/home schooling is very repetitive. Home working/home schooling is very repetitive.

If home working/home schooling had a sound track, it would be the All Seeing I's version of 'Beat Goes On' on repeat.

Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La de da de de, la de da de da
(x4) 

And the beat goes on (x 8)

Repeat as nauseum, then start again.

https://youtu.be/ar8D8BZeNUY


Wee-ly Noisy

Have I mentioned how dramatic and how much of a gobshiiii ... sorry, how chatty, Eva is?

This morning was no different. I was still in bed, trying my best not to wake up, when:

Eva: (** making banging noises, that sound like there's an elephant dancing on the landing) Daddy, Daddd-ddddy, I need the toiletttttt!
Me: Where are you Eva?
Eva: Outside the bath-roooooom!
Me: And is anybody in there?
Eva: No!
The wife: **snore

** Long pause where nobody speaks, but the elephant switches to trampolining. Without a trampoline.

Me: Well go to the flamin' toilet then!
Eva: O-KAY! (**Hurrumph)

But then she gave me a big smile and a cuddle and asked if we were going out on our bikes again, so that's ok.


Pareto Parenting

The Pareto Principle states that, for many events, roughly 80% of the effects come from 20% of the causes. This is also known as the 80/20 rule.

This is/can be applied to a surprising array of events: 80% of wealth is controlled by 20% of people, 80% of health care resources are used by 20% of people, and so on and so on.

One less reported occurance of this phenomena is that 80% of the whinges heard on a bike ride with children are clustered around 20% of the bike ride distance, split roughly evenly between the uphill bits and the last mile.

I mentioned this to the wife when I got home, she mumbled something about 100% of the grumbles in our house coming from 25% of the people. I really don't think she's understood this properly.

Also, why do 1000 metres equal 1 kilometer. What is it about getting to 1000 that makes a metre get all giddy and forget how it is spelled?

Oh, I've googled it and it is kilometre not kilometer, my spell check had just gone off. Sad times. Well I've written it now, so I'm not taking it out.


Loser

It's great when kids have a drive to succeed, it helps to bring the best out in them and so helps them to achieve more than they thought they were capable of.

Eva, for example, would never have managed to cycle up the last hill today if she didn't have that inner drive to force herself onwards.

Henry wouldn't have completed that maths question at the 5th time of asking if he lacked the drive to do well. It's a shame he hasn't got the patience to read the question properly in the first place mind, but I digress.

Yes, a determination to succeed and a drive to be successful are very laudable qualities.

Except ... except when it spills over into excessive competitiveness, and then it's a right pain in the arse.

Today they bickered relentlessly about how to make, and who could make, the best ... pompom. Pompoms I ask you! It is clever how they don't fall apart mind (pompoms I mean, not kids) but again I digress.

Pompoms! Aargh!

And then they sit there watching TV together being lovely to each other like nothing has happened! (The kids, I mean, not the pompoms - pompoms aren't known for watching TV.)


Hair

The wife needs a haircut. She actually needed a haircut about a month ago. Now I'm hardly in a position to criticise people's hair, but ... no hedge/dragging backwards combo has ever produced hair like the wife has at the moment.

She's taken to wearing one of Eva's clips in the corner of her fringe to stop it looking like it's trying to escape her head, and while it achieves that particular task with aplomb, it makes her look somewhat special.

I'm not going to say any more on the matter, other than I have a pair of clippers and should matters not improve I won't be afraid to use them.

#flattenthecurve Episode 15

WFH Day 12 of y

Today I had writers block.

writer's block
/ˌrʌɪtəz ˈblɒk/
the condition of being unable to think of what to write or how to proceed with writing.

I decided to try to snap out of it by doing something different. 'What about a poem?' I thought.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present:

An Ode to Writers Block

[This section is left deliberately blank]

So yeah, not my best idea ever.

Or possibly the best idea I've ever had?

#flattenthecurve Episode 14

WFH Day 11 of y

I've stuck with the 'y' instead of the 'x'. For now.


A Time to Cherish

I'd like to retell to you all a special moment that I was fortunate to share today with my daughter. Eva comes in for quite a lot of stick from me (and quite rightly, to be fair, she is a gobby madam) but today we had a shared daddy-daughter experience that will live with us both forever.

It was one of those landmark moments you look forward to in life. That you dream about sharing, that you plan carefully, that you hope they'll understand the significance of, that will teach them a little more about yourself and that they will remember forever.

Time spent together in future will reminisce of the moment, and how it shaped their minds, their careers, their lives.

Yes, today Eva and I constructed our first joint spreadsheet.

I was a little apprehensive beforehand, what if she mocked my raison d'etre? What if she didn't recognise the beauty of the rows and the columns, or the majesty of a pastel shaded centre aligned tabular presentation of key data? My heart was pounding as I opened the laptop, but I needed have worried.

"Daddy" she gasped, "look at all those boxes."
"They, my pet" I replied "are called cells."
"Cells" she repeated, whispering reverentially, her eyes wide with awe.

But, ladies and gentlemen, things got better from there. Ctrl-C and Ctrl-V to copy and paste data was like music to her ears. Inserting a row into our table to correct a mistake Daddy made (silly Daddy) was a genuine delight to her.

And I saved the best for last. With a flourish of mouse clicks, I magicked up a line chart. She was rendered speechless. Momentarily.

"Urgh" grumbled Henry, wandering past "are you'd still on with that boring computer stuff. Urff."

I paused to consider an appropriately caustic response, but Eva stepped into the breach "it is not boring Henry!" she proudly declared.

"No" I smiled "it is Excel-ent". The joke fell on deaf ears, but I enjoyed it.

I'm thinking of showing her a pivot table tomorrow. Too much too soon, perhaps?

#flattenthecurve Episode 13

WFH Day 10 of y

I've decided to give the date counter a bit of a shake up and changed the 'x' to a 'y'. Not sure how I feel about that yet, I'll have a little think on it.


Number Facts

We were going to do a bit of revision in the maths lesson today, focusing on the recall of number facts. Numbers with a real world application though, not just from an academic/theoretical perspective: I was going to test the kids on TV channels.

We were going to do it in a gameshow stylee to liven things up a bit and in my ficticious lesson the kids would have nailed it. It would have gone a little along the lines of:

Me: Henry, on Sky TV what channel is BBC1 ...
Henry: easy, one zero ...
Me: wait for the full question Henry, what channel is BBC1 HD?
Henry: HD, that's sneaky! But it's one, one, five!
Me: correct!

Me: And Eva, same TV platform, CBBC?
Eva: is it six, one, three?
Me: are you asking me or telling me?
Eva: erm ... telling you ...
Me: correct!

Me: ok, next round
Henry: can I have a P please dad?
Me: wrong gameshow Henry, now sit down
Henry: but dad, I really need to go!

I bet Bob Holness, Jeremy Paxman and Magnus Magnusson never had to put up with contestants interrupting recording of their made-up gameshows for unscheduled toilet breaks. If they had made-up gameshows, of course.

My plan was foiled however when the wife stepped in and took the maths lesson this morning while I was working. What a waste of another completely impractical lesson plan. I say 'plan', I of course mean vague idea.


Storytelling

As maths had been taken for the day, I was thrust into the world of literature and language and had to conduct my first English lesson during the tricky post lunch/early afternoon slot.

I also wanted a bit of peace and quiet, and the kids are at their quietest while watching TV, so how could I combine TV watching with some education?

The task was arrived at during lunch, we'd watch one episode of a TV programme, of the kids choice, and then write a story based on the same characters they had just watched.

The programme they chose was Malory Towers, based on the Enid Blyton books of the same name, about a boarding school for girls. It's like a really poor man's version of Harry Potter, but with lots of posh girls and no magic.

Eva wrote about a ghost who tricked some girls into thinking that everybody had disappeared, when really they were outside enjoying sports day.

Henry wrote about a girl confused that all her friends and teachers were speaking different languages. The confusion woke her up, it was just a dream. But then the twist ... the first person who spoke to her after waking up really was speaking a foreign language.

Apparently my learning outcomes weren't strong and the stories written weren't long enough, but I think the stories they wrote showed great imagination. We didn't talk about verbs, adjectives, nouns or fronted adverbials, which is good because grammar really isn't my strong point, and the kids both had a sense of achievement.

And I only had to bollock Henry for being an arse once.


BigFuss

Eva is so dramatic. She gets it from her Grandma.

If Eva was reading this she would jump up, stamp her feet, swing her arms about and loudly declare "I am not dramatic" before flouncing off slamming doors wailing and shouting. She's only 7, I can't wait for the teenage years.

One of her nicknames (from me, I love a good nickname) is BigFuss. Because, if you haven't already guessed, she likes to make a big fuss. About everything.

When I told her this nickname for the first time she loudly declared "I do not make a big fuss" before storming off slamming doors wailing and shouting.

So when she came downstairs at about 9pm this evening, and complained about having no night light we initially assumed she was making a big fuss. She wasn't, she was really sad.

"I've been thinking about Ishi" she said (Ishi was our previous cat) "and how she died, and I don't want that to happen to you two." And then she burst into tears. Proper tears, not those fake dramatic tears she usually specialises in.

She had lots of cuddles with her mam, lots of cuddles with her dad, and lots of chats with both of us, and eventually went off to bed again with a spare night light we nicked from the boys room.


WFH Day 11 of y, Early Morning Update

Eva came to see me at early o'clock. Well, she came to see both of us, but the wife was still snoring. I feared the worst, but she was full of smiles. "The light worked, Dad - I fell asleep thinking about unicorns not .... not ... not, you know ... " and tapped me on the chest.

Bless her, she's a cutie. Annoying at times, loud and bolshy most of the time, but definitely a cutie.