#flattenthecurve Episode 46

Friday Morning

There was panic in the Victory household Friday morning as a medical emergency unfolded: I was blinded by flashing white lights in the back garden. It was horrendous, and the accompanying dizziness made the spectre of the sky falling in seem distinctly possible.

The wife was worried it would be permanent or life threatening so she checked the life assurance was up to date then asked if she should call a Doctor. "No" I replied firmly, confident the problem would pass.

And pass it did. As I said to the wife, with work to do and a full programme of odd jobs to look forward to for the weekend ahead, there really was no time to die and thankfully the loss of vision was short lived.

As my eyesight began to recover, the images that had been temporarily burnt onto my retinas began to resolve themselves and the cause of the flashing light phenomenon became apparent. It turned out that the wife was wearing shorts and her first lower limb outing of the year was working in tandem with the beautiful May sunshine to dazzle onlookers. And she has the cheek to say I have milk bottle legs.


Later

Though the eyesight problems earlier in the day substantially resolved themselves quite quickly, I was left with a strange yellowy hue to my vision for the rest of the day. Ophthalmologists refer to this, apparently, as Golden Eye: an annoying but otherwise harmless ocular imbalance.

I was also left emotionally and mentally fatigued, so come the evening I was in need of some liquid refreshment to quell the nerves and steady the soul.

The wife fancied a casino royale so I turned bar tender, and although we were all out of the key ingredients for that classic, I did successfully mix up an espresso martini. Succesful only if you count covering the kitchen and the wife in a sticky combination of XO cafe tequila, black coffee, vodka and sugar when the lid came off the shaker as I was shaking it as successful that is. Ah well, live and let die. Or words to that effect.

I was left both shaken and stirred by the cocktail misadventures so stuck with a couple of cans instead, leaving the wife to quaff the remains of my poorly executed late 80s era Tom Cruise impression. She said it was delicious though, which offered me a quantum of solace.


Saturday

Saturday thankfully saw an end to the ridiculous and pointless charade of trying to squeeze as many Bond references into as few words as possible. Will it return? Who knows, nothing surprises me these days: you can never say never again.

Oops.

For the sake of taste and decency I have opted not to publish the section referencing the late Honor Blackman's character.


Monday Morning

And so the weekend was over in a flash. A blink of an eye. A blur of dismantling, moving and rebuilding old kids bedroom furniture, building new bedroom furniture and utility room cabinets.

The highlights of the weekend?

Eva couldn't for the life of her understand why being helpful didn't include talking incessantly while her Dad tried to work out how support bar 4 on Henry's new bed attached to pole B using weird looking bolt 104435 and tool 104001, although bar 3 and pole A used screw 103345 and a cross head screwdriver despite the instructional pictures looking identical.

The cats slunk around scowling at everybody, because that's just what cats do, and when things are noisy they like to do it even more. I'm sure it's just for dramatic effect.

I was told off for not being enthusiastic enough about the new gate and fence we had installed. The gate opens and shuts, the fence doesn't look like it will fall down, we paid what we felt was a reasonable price: I'm really not sure my "yeah, that looks fine, thank you" reaction warranted such abuse.

And finally. We seem to have a Magpie nesting near us, it spends quite a lot of its time squawking and cawing on in the back garden using those horrendous squawky cawy voices Magpies have. I think it could be my new pet hate. I've just realised, it's supposed to be bad luck to see just one Magpie. Great: squawky, cawy and bad luck, just what I need.

#flattenthecurve Episode 45

Blurred Vision

On the Parklife album track 'Bank Holiday', Blur told us that:

Bank holiday comes with six-pack of beer
Then it's back to work A-G-A-I-N

Well, wrong on both counts this time round Mr. Albarn and friends. The Wife did the shopping and bought no beer (so I had to settle for a pineapple spiced rum and coke - how very metrosexual of me) AND I had the Tuesday after the bank holiday off work too.

Another example of Britpop Cool Britannia 90s culture not translating well to 2020, or just a very random start to my blog? I'll let you decide.


Ideas

Since the days of "Dad, I've wet the bed", "Dad! I've done a poo!" or "Dad, I'm going to be sick" the words I dread the most when I'm woken up are "Andrew, I've had an idea" or even worse "Andrew, I've been doing some research".

I'm not pointing fingers here, but the only person who calls me Andrew in our house is The Wife.

When it's just an idea, it isn't so bad. Although I may be in for a bumpy ride, I can usually talk her out of whatever crackpot suggestion she is about to make. But when she's progressed an idea to doing research, there's usually no way out. And it usually means work for me.

Being most definitely a 'not a morning' type person, my cognitive reasoning takes quite a long time to get up to full speed, so waking up can be quite stressful just in case there has been new ideas or researching to contend with.

Some of the more expensive early morning idea or research conversations I've been dragged into include:

- Wouldn't it be nice to get married?

- Wouldn't it be nice for Henry to have a little brother or sister (before you ask, this was a very matter of fact conversation, not a pretext to any ... 'schenanigans')

- I've been looking for architects

As you can tell, I'm usually on the losing side of these early morning chats. Though in fairness they don't always turn out bad.

Bank Holidays are always a worry, as they seem to be used as an opportunity for 'ideas' to be shared and new jobs to be done around the house, so on Saturday when I made it to mid-morning and was keeping myself busy with a spot of DIY I had chosen to do in the back garden, I thought I was safe. How wrong I was.

The wife emerged from indoors with a smile on her face, brandishing a mobile phone in one hand and a tape measure in the other. "While the kids are playing out the front Andrew .... "

"It's quite cold out here" I protested, glancing at the tape measure with some concern and getting my excuses in first "and the neighbours are out and ..."

"What? Oh, don't be filthy" she scowled "no, I've been thinking."

She lied, she hadn't been thinking. Or rather, she hadn't just been thinking. It had progressed way beyond thinking. Rooms had been measured, children had been consulted, hopes had been raised, and the IKEA order was ready to send.

Next weekend I will be dismantling Eva's bed, moving her furniture around, taking apart Henry's bed and rebuilding it for Eva. I will be constructing a new bed/desk combo for Henry, replacing hinges and doors on existing damaged furniture and (and!) building and installing three units plus a work top in the utility room.

And I know the wife thinks this can all be done in a morning, and come Sunday evening she'll be 'surprised' it all took so much longer to do than she thought it would, and I'll just get scowled at for pointing out that I said it would take a lot longer than she thought.

And it's not like it's going to be outside in the garden where I can potter about and drag the jobs out either.

Pfft.


B&Q Take 2

Oh no, its happening again. Somebody is making a fool of themselves in B&Q car park, right in front of me.

This time a couple with three kids are trying to fit a bedroom worth of flatpack furniture into their medium sized hatchback.

They also seem to have forgotten to dress the toddler, who only has a t-shirt on. Yes, only a t-shirt.

"Mam!" shrieks one of the kids. "He's doing a wee!" I'm guessing the 'he' in question was the t-shirt wearing toddler, rather than the Dad, but as I was focusing really hard on looking at my phone at this point I couldn't be too sure.

And now they are driving off with half the back seat folded down, 3 kids squashed into the remaining back seat space with 2 child seats unconventionally sitting on top of them.

The B&Q manager fella did point out that what they were doing was illegal and they were on camera, but to no avail.

On a positive note, they didn't notice me noticing them. Thankfully. The wifee looked as hard as nails.


Lockdown Confessions

Taking my lead from our unelected head of state (no, not the Queen, the other one - the Cummings fella) I've decided to come clean on some lockdown transgressions of my own. Hopefully this will stave off press interest.

- On a couple of occasions my daily exercise exceeded one hour. I know this will shock people, but in my defence the noise that the kids make is far more manageable when you're outdoors.

- Also (yes, there is more) I may have stretched the definition of 'essentials' while out shopping, and strayed into the luxury branded items once or twice. Especially in the ice cream section, I do like ice cream.

- And finally, handwashing can seem such a chore at times. Though on the occasions I decided life was too short to always be handwashing, I was extra specially careful to rub my hands together vigorously to make sure any germs were superheated by friction and so killed off anyway. That works, right?

#flattenthecurve Episode 44

In an attempt to broaden my horizons, step out of my comfort zone and appeal to a wider readership, I've decided to do a nude edition.

Not really. You're safe, it's just a slow news day.

#flattenthecurve Episode 43

The Rules of Parenting

The kids made the most of the beautiful weather on Wednesday morning by sitting in their bedrooms. They were being quiet though, so we didn't disturb them - first rule of parenting, pick your battles.

This made me think of all the other rules of parenting we probably all follow without realising, so I wrote a few down as they came to me.

1. Pick your battles. If you picked up on everything your kids did or said that was wrong and tried to correct it you would combust. I tried, it wasn't pretty.

2. Learn when to turn a blind eye to screen time. Weekend mornings, for example, sleep is important for parents too.

3. Develop a noise that can be used to respond to inane questions that doesn't confer any approval of whatever it is they are whittering on about but gives the impression you are paying attention (my favourite is erhummm).

4. Check what The Wife has said before agreeing to anything, The Wife is always right even if (in fact, especially when) she is wrong.

5. Always have snacks available. See point 6.

6. If in doubt, Haribo. But never Tangfastic, they are mine.

7. Keep your behaviour expectations low. Really low. Lower. Yep, that low. Unless you are shopping, then anything goes.

8. Kids cannot clean behind their finger nails. Just accept this and move on.

9. You can never ask a child to brush their teeth just once. Instead, you have to ask them to brush their teeth, then ask them again, then tell them you're sick of them wasting their time and yours and tell them to brush them properly. They won't brush them properly, but it buys you a few more minutes to finish your brew.

10. Some people forget how much hard work babies are. Remind these people, repeatedly. You're only allowed one slip up here. People with 3 or more kids: I'm sorry, I should have shared this earlier.

11. Always have fresh fruit available, the kids won't touch it but it makes any visitors think you are really health conscious parents.

12. Never ask a child what they have done at school that day. They will deny having done anything, having ever been to school or even knowing what a school is.

Any other parenting rules I have missed? Be sure to let me know!

I, of course, was a perfect child, so have had to learn these things the hard way.

#flattenthecurve Episode 42

Bat-Pangolin Germ, by Ladonna

(Any similarity to Material Girl by Madonna is entirely coincidental.)

Some girls kiss me
Some girls hug me
I just say "no way"
If they don't give me social distance
I just walk away

They can beg and they can plead
But they will cause a fight (that's right)
Because the girls that have got no symptoms
Can still carry, ri-ight?

'Cause the infection's from a Bat-Pangolin germ
And I'm not a Bat-Pangolin bloke
You know that we are living with our Bat-Pangolin woes
Our health is no Bat-Pangolin joke

Girls want romance
Try to slow dance
That's not right by me
If they can't prove they're antiviral I
Have to let them be

Some girls try and some girls lie but
I don't let them play (no way)
Face masks and six feet of distance
Make me safe today.

Are they infected with a Bat-Pangolin germ
'Cause I'm not a Bat-Pangolin bloke
You know that we are living with our Bat-Pangolin woes
Our health is no Bat-Pangolin joke

Living with a Bat-Pangolin germ
But I'm not a Bat-Pangolin bloke
You know that we are living with our Bat-Pangolin woes
Our health is no Bat-Pangolin joke

Living with a Bat-Pangolin germ (Bat-Pangolin)
Living in a Bat-Pangolin whirl
Living with a Bat-Pangolin germ (Bat-Pangolin)
Living in a Bat-Pangolin whirl

Girls will come and girls will go
And that's all right you see
Experience has made me twitch
But it keeps me virus free

'cause everybody's living with the Bat-Pangolin germ
And I'm not a Bat-Pangolin bloke
You know that we are living with our Bat-Pangolin woes
Our health is no Bat-Pangolin joke

Living with a Bat-Pangolin germ
But I'm not a Bat-Pangolin bloke
You know that we are living with our Bat-Pangolin woes
Our health is no Bat-Pangolin joke

A Bat-Pangolin, a Bat-Pangolin, a Bat-Pangolin, a Bat-Pangolin germ

Living with a Bat-Pangolin germ (Bat-Pangolin)
Living in a Bat-Pangolin whirl
Living with a Bat-Pangolin germ (Bat-Pangolin)
Living in a Bat-Pangolin whirl

Living with a Bat-Pangolin germ (Bat-Pangolin)
Living in a Bat-Pangolin whirl
Living with a Bat-Pangolin germ (Bat-Pangolin)
Living in a Bat-Pangolin whirl

#flattenthecurve Episode 41

My bike still isn't fixed. In fact, it still isn't even in a shop where it can be fixed. In fact, it's not even booked to go to a shop where it can be fixed. It's quite ironic that this has happened when exercise restrictions have been lifted and so my unrestricted exercise is now less than my previously restricted exercise, which was in turn greater than my pre Covid-19 exercise levels.

I have been keeping my activity levels up in a variety of innovative ways though, including:


Walking

Or specifically, going for a walk while the kids are on their bikes. There are a whole host of fun activities to pass the time whilst out walking/biking. 'Fun'. My favourites include:

a. dodging wayward kids on bikes as they attempt to crash into the back of me

b. standing in the middle of nowhere wondering where the hell they've disappeared off to,

c. pushing Eva's bike up hills for her, and

d. rescuing Eva from dogs. Dogs love barking at Eva, and Eva seems quite taken with screaming at dogs, so the combination is a cacophonous match made in hell.

On Monday we added a new walking/biking activity to the list: snail counting. Eva has a thing for snails, being the proud owner of a Giant African Land Snail. Between them they counted about one bazillion snails in one morning walk/bike. I didn't have the heart to tell them that as Henry was riding ahead of Eva there was a good chance that the snails Eva spotted were the same ones Henry spotted just moments before, so their actual snail count was only about half a bazillion.

Also, I should watch where I'm walking, the count of live snails ended up being a couple less then half a bazillion. Again, I didn't have the heart to tell the kids.


Digging

Eva has been helping me dig out the garden in an attempt to clear the compacted earth and rubble that was left behind after the extension was built.

I say 'help' in the loosest possible sense of the word. Google has two definitions of help:

help (/hɛlp/) verb

1. make it easier or possible for someone to do something by offering them one's services or resources.

2. endlessly distract your dad from doing what he needs to do, making him take twice as long as necessary and causing extra grumpiness, then expect excessive praise and an extra snack

I'll let you decide which one I made up to describe the kind of help Eva was providing.

We're up to 90 bags of rubble so far, at the last count Eva contributed four medium size rocks and a small twig. And even then she flounced round the garden waving the twig about asking what she should do with it. She did not like my first suggestion.

If Eva was a fan of The Mock Turtles she'd probably have been singing "Can you di-i-i-ig it?" To which I'd have replied "Oh no, cos you've got your face in the mud looking for worms just where I'm wanting to land my shovel. Again." Catchy? I think so.


Tidying Up

I took a break from the kids to go up into the loft to do a spot of tidying up. I spotted our suitcases lying in the corner, so I took the opportunity to let them know that we won't be going on holiday this year, and they burst into floods of tears. Just what I needed, more emotional baggage.

This isn't true, of course. I would never voluntarily do any tidying up, I was there hiding from the kids.

#flattenthecurve Episode 40

'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play

"Daddy" asked Eva in that wheedly little voice she uses when she's either after something or about to be cheeky "is your t-shirt a medium?"

I did my "ermmmm" sound that I do when I'm distracted and want to sound non-commital, but she swiftly followed up with a "because you can see the shape of your tummy!" She then proceeded to laugh hysterically while prodding said tummy.

Eva is 7, and has that dangerous combination of having her father's sense of humour, her father's good looks and her father's lack of filter. She's basically a little me, there's no hope for her. Mind, she doesn't get her stroppy nature from me, wonder where that comes from?

A game!

Rearrange these letters into the name of a person, with no link to the previous comment about being stroppy. Honest. 'Honest':

T E H W I E F

To be fair, Henry has a good sense of humour too. Him and Eva had been arsing around doing something stupid (I forget what, life seems like a never-ending spell of kids arsing around doing something stupid these days) when a clash of heads provoked tears of outrage from Eva. It was generally accepted that Henry was to blame, so we gently prompted him with a "now what do you say to Eva?" suggestion.

"Eva" announced Henry, looking (with hindsight suspiciously) calm, serious and sensible, and taking us all momentarily off guard. "That really hurt my chin." And off he wandered with a huge grin on his face.


We're S.H.O.P.P.I.N.G

Going to B&Q is now like lining up at a theme park for a big rollercoaster, they have a wooden framework queueing area that you have to wind your way around, it's just the warning signs that are different. And the rollercoaster at the end isn't as exciting, though as you've got to push it yourself it can still be quite good fun, especially the corners. Anyway, I've paid for the damage, the security guard wasn't anywhere near as scary as he looked, the CCTV footage has been erased and we agreed that no more will be said on the matter.

The whole escapade was quite exciting actually, the fella in front of me in the queue must have been a headline writer for the Daily Mail. He was on the phone describing the scenes of 'absolute chaos' as he waited in line calmly alongside about 10 other people, who were all standing quietly and correctly observing their 2m of social distance.

I think he was just upset that'd he'd judged the weather badly as he was shivering in his shorts and t-shirt. I always worry somebody will read my mind in situations like this and take offence at me internally mocking them, so I have to pretend I'm busy doing something on my phone and concentrate on not making eye contact.

The headline writer must have been related to the woman on the door at Home Bargains too, who described their short, well beheaved queue as being 'mental'. Mind, Home Bargains is always a bit mental so maybe she had a point.

While most other shops rely on signage to prompt good customer behaviour, Home Bargains rely on middle aged women hollering at you across the shop. God help you if you don't comply with an instruction with a nanosecond.

Or if you ask for help for that matter. "Aisle 3. Or 4. Maybe. If we have any, but I don't think we do." was amongst the most useful responses I got.

I'm not entirely sure Home Bargains is safe at the moment. All the sensible customers self-conforming to social distancing outside the store go to pot in the cheap chocolate section. And the checkout scrum must be a breeding ground for plague, small pox and a multitude of STDs, let alone Coronavirus. I'm going to self isolate for a month just to be on the safe side. Although, the chocolate is very cheap, so I may be tempted to change my mind.


Light in your head and dead on your feet

I have a confession. It is probably going to alienate a good deal of my readership, but honesty is the best policy and I hope that is something that is appreciated by you all.

It's Mary Berry. I can't watch her on the TV without ... I just can't watch her. I'm sure she's lovely really, but ... nope, Brisitish Institution or otherwise, I just can't.

*Shudders

It's got to the point where I can't eat any cake without imagining her Montgomery Burns-esque skeletal and paper thin skinned fingers sinisterly creeping menacingly through a batch of softening butter and sugar. In my nightmares she's drooling too, into the cake mix. Does she do that in real life, I've never watched long enough?


And the Lyrics

"'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play"
Shake it Off, Taylor Swift

"We're S.H.O.P.P.I.N.G"
Shopping, The Pet Shop Boys

"Light in your head and dead on your feet"
Baker Street, Gerry Rafferty

#flattenthecurve Episode 39

Some of us may have been left a little confused by our Prime Minister's new Covid-19 slogan last night, so I've taken the liberty of doing some research into how we can all Stay Alert. And it's surprisingly simple:

1. Become alert
2. Do not become unalert.

Step 1 you will have to work out for yourselves I'm afraid, I'm not doing everything for you.

Step 2 you will also have to work out for yourselves. Sorry, I'm really not being very helpful here am I?

Quite what we are remaining alert for will no doubt be explained fully in further prime-ministerial pronouncements.

Stay safe people.

Oops, stay alert. I meant stay alert!


In other news, Eva and I flew a kite yesterday. It dodged and ducked and weaved and danced all over the place, and was really quite entertaining for a few minutes until the wind dropped suddenly and it got stuck in a thorny bush. No analogy with politicians is intended.


In other other news, Henry's SATS were due to start today. I can't begin to imagine the detrimental impact that not undertaking these tests will have on him and his friends. I wonder why that is?

Ooh, isn't Andrew being cynical today! Normal service will resume tomorrow.

#flattenthecurve Episode 38

Special Double Entendre Episode

As my blog is vaguely family orientated (although I'm aware a couple of swear words do slip out from time to time) I've been trying to avoid double entendres.

However it's been getting harder and harder to do so, so I've decided to get it all out in one go with a special double entendre episode.

If this rubs you up the wrong way I can only apologise in advance, but it was inevitable that standards would go down over time.

Note to my Mother:
Mam, I can only apologise. You didn't bring me up this way, where did it all go so wrong?


Sweets For My Sweet, Sugar For My Honey

We're a big fan of Haribo in our house, with Tangfastic considered the king of the ket (* see note for non-Northerners below).

I was lucky enough to grab the last fun size bag in the cupboard earlier, 8 little sweet nuggets of fizzy delight all to myself.

The wife was visibly distraught and begged me to give her one. I was reluctant as the kids were hanging around somewhere, but I'm nothing if not generous so I shared my packet with her discreetly.

* ket (/kɛt/)
noun NORTHERN ENGLISH
a sweet, especially an inexpensive one of a type intended mainly for children.


I Drove My Tractor Through Your Haystack Last Night (Ooh Ar Ooh Ar)

After work it was a nice sunny evening so I thought I'd try a spot of gardening.

We're lucky as we have two gardens, though as neither of us are exactly horticulturists we've split maintenance and upkeep between us. We've become quite territorial about them actually, so the deal is that the back garden is mine while the wife takes pride in looking after her front garden.

Trouble is, she can't manage the lawn mower so I need to take care of trimming both our lawns. The wife's had become a bit overgrown recently and I was finding it hard going. She noticed I wasn't making much progress so she suggested that I should have a go round the back first then finish off at the front later. She's thoughtful like that.


I'm Bored, I'm the Chairman of the Board

Tuesday evening and the wife told me she was sick of TV and wanted to try some board games. Scrabble was the game of choice, but we had to be careful as the board is a bit wobbly.

We tried it on the sofa, then on the coffee table, we even tried it in the floor but my back got sore so we ended up having to finish off on the dining room table.

I finally managed to win. With no tiles left in the bag I concludied the game firing off an impressive double word score that contained no blanks.

The wife complained that I always finish first, maybe she just needs more practice.


Disclaimer
The wife and I have been married for many many years, there is of course no way we could share sweets, take care of the garden and complete a game of Scrabble all on the same day.

Please let us never, ever, speak of this episode again.


And the lyrics?

"Sweets for my sweet, Sugar for my honey"
Sweets for My Sweet, C.J.Lewis.

"I'm bored, I'm the chairman of the bored"
I'm Bored, Iggy Pop

'I drove my tractor through your haystack last night (Ooh ar ooh ar)"
The Combine Harvester, The Wurzels

#flattenthecurve Episode 37

You've Got Style, That's What all the Girls Say

As parents, we walk a fine line between telling our kids the right approach to take in life to make sure they avoid the pitfalls on the pathway to adulthood, and allowing them to make, and hopefully learn from, their own mistakes in life.

I try to err on the side of the latter approach rather than the former (where it is safe to do so, of course) and as a result I was accompanied on my morning walk today by a miniature astronaut (Eva) and Willy Wonka (Henry).

As I reasoned with the wife, I need content for my blog, and while fancy dress may be considered by some to be inappropriate walking attire, a walk with an astronaut and Willy Wonka has far more entertainment potential than a walk with two grouchy rat bags who woke everybody up far too early again and aren't allowed to wear what they want.

It looked like the walk was going to be sadly uneventful, the astronaut/Willy Wonka race across the field was notable only for its lack of notable events. Aside from Willy's top hat blowing off mid race and an attempted.tripping incident with the walking cane. There was mild amusement on my behalf when Henry started repeatedly singing "Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka" mispronouncing "Wonka" by replacing the O with an A, but as he wasn't being ridiculously giggly at the same time he clearly wasn't doing it on purpose.

But then came the dog and the horse.

The dog was first. Eva is terrified of dogs, we have no idea why. She's never been bitten or even barked at, but the sight of a Cockerpoodle, Labradoodle, French Bullpug, Rottweilahuahua, Dalma-Russell or literally any other dog you can possibly imagine causes her hysterics and she wails and waves her arms in the air. But dogs do seem to ignore her, thankfully. Until today.

On this occasion, the approaching greyhound seemed overcome with delight at finding a miniature astronaut in his path and raced over to investigate. Eva shrieked and scooted behind me, the dog dodged, ducked, weaved, and finally licked Eva full in the face.

Ellie (the dog) bounded back to her owner delighted to tell her all about licking an astronaut for the first time, while my little astronaut stood rooted to the spot aghast. Apparently it was my fault because I'd told her not to run away.

And the horse. The horse was ... how do I put this delicately? ... the horse was a male horse. Very clearly a male horse. And Mr. Horse liked the look of Mrs. Horse. I thus had the task of guiding miniature astronaut and Willy Wonka past the amorous horse without either child noticing it's amorousness. And without intervention they of course would have noticed, they can be very observant when we don't want them to be. Ok, so this has nothing to do with astronauts or Willy Wonka, but it amused me no end.


Who Lives In a House Like This?

The neighbour was out creasoting his fence this morning. Again. I think he creasotes his fence more than I cut the lawn. He always says hello when you see him, but he strikes me as a bit odd. Can't quite put my finger on why though, maybe it's his ponchant for creosote.

It did make me realise that actually we have a quite a few odd neighbours. You've already met the people over the road with the hot tub (least said, soonest mended there) but there's a few others worth mentioning too:

In number 69 there lives a transvestite. He's a man by day, but he's a woman at night.

There's a man in number 4 who swears he's Saddam Hussein. Say's he's on a chore to start the Third World War

In 110 they haven't paid the rent, so there goes the TV with the repo men.

In 999 they make a living from crime. The house is always empty 'cause they're all doing time

In number 18 there lives a big butch queen, he's bigger than Tyson and he's twice as mean

And finally, in 666 there lives a Mr Miller. He's our local vicar, and a serial killer

So if you find the time please come and stay a while, in my beautiful neighbourhood. My neighbourhood, my my, my beautiful neighbourhood.

Any similarity between my neighbourhood and that of 90's Scouse band Space is entirely coincidental.


You Pretend You're High, Pretend You're Bored

It's garden waste collection day today. That this is noteworthy perhaps demonstrates more than anything how dull lockdown life is becoming. If it wasn't for Gangs of London and After Life I think I'd have slipped into a boredom coma by now.

Gangs of London is epic, although we missed the first episode so not really sure how they managed to shoehorn Caitlyn Stark into becoming John Shelby's mother. There must have been some glaring continuity errors though, as both died ages ago. Oops, spoiler alert for latecomers to Game of Thrones and Peaky Blinders.

That aside, well worth a watch.


And The Lyrics

"You've got style, That's what all the girls say"
Dress You Up, Madonna

"Who lives in a house like this?"
Neighbourhood, Space

"You pretend you're high, pretend you're bored"
Stupid Girl, Garbage

#flattenthecurve Episode 36

The Chills That You Spill Up My Back

I was reminded this weekend of an event that occured whilst the wife was pregnant with Henry, or 'it' as we referred to him then as we didn't know whether it was going to be a boy or a girl and so hadn't chosen a name for it.

As the episode paints me in a bad light you can probably guess who reminded me of it, but if not I'll give you a hangman style clue: Th_ Wif_

The event centred around the fairly inauspicious dessert, Angel Delight. Specifically, the wife's Angel Delight. The wife craved Angel Delight, probably would have killed for Angel Delight if she'd had to, and came very close to killing somebody for depriving her of Angel Delight. That somebody she nearly killed was me.

To this day I'm not entirely sure how it happened, I was probably trying to be funny. Perhaps wind her up. But somehow, for some long forgotten reason, I took the Angel Delight out of the supermarket trolley, it didnt end up going back in the trolley and the missing Angel Delight wasn't spotted until we got home.

In her version of events, the episode ended with her standing in the kitchen sobbing, quite literally bawling her eyes out, due to the lack of Angel Delight in the house. A pregnant woman deprived of the one thing in life she craved at that moment.

In my mind the episode came to an amicable end when I nipped to the Spar for a packet, but the wife refutes this version of event.

This may seem a very minor event, and I'd agree, but it's clearly something that has scarred the wife as she reminds me of this event nearly as often as she reminds me of the unfortunate tin of peaches bouncing off her head in Asda incident, but that's another story for another day.


Something of a Phenomenon, Telling Your Body to Come Along

Eva has developed her own guide to the measurement of bike riding ascents and descents, dispensing with the more common percentage gradients you see on road signs, or the older but still in use '1 in x' approach. She has a five step method that is as beautifully simple as it is illogical:

1 Too scary (any down hill section steeper than a 10% drop, but with the notable exception of a section 5 descent)

2 Flat (any down hill section less than 10%)

3 Up hill (any surface that is flat, or any down hill section that is less steep than the immediately preceding down hill section)

4 Too hard (any incline at all)

5 Why not Dad! (any section that is so steep it could feature on an episode of 'World's most dangerous bike rides'. Typically, a section 5 slope is identified by Eva pausing briefly at the top of a ridiculously steep drop before I point out she'll probably kill herself if she plunges down the near cliff in front of her, sparking fury that I have the temerity to prevent her from causing herself serious bodily harm.)


Oh, No, No You Can't Disguise

The wife thinks I am using too much artistic licence in my semi-autobiographical blog.

She said this whilst bungee jumping naked off the Burj Khalifa tower, shortly after completing her Ironman triathlon in world record time.

I disagree.


And The Lyrics?

"The chills that you spill up my back"
Groove is in the Heart, Deee-lite

"Something of a phenomenon, telling your body to come along"
White Lines (Don't Do It), The Sugarhill Gang feat. Grandmaster Flash

"Oh, no, no you can't disguise"
Little Lies, Fleetwood Mac

#flattenthecurve Episode 35

In an attempt to make my blog mildly interesting I've decided to start using song lyrics as titles for each section, with the lyrics having a vague link to the subject in that section. How exciting is that?!

No prizes I'm afraid, it's just for fun. Answers at the end.


Come Up To Meet You, Tell You I'm Sorry

Things have been a little quiet on the blog front this week, but for that I can make no apologies. I have, you see, been undertaking an important scientific experiment, one that with hindsight should have been conducted in isolation but we live and learn don't we?

"What, pray tell" I hear you clamour "have you been experimentating on?"

Patience, I say, for the story shall unfold presently. But first be warned: if you are of a squeamish or nervous disposition then you may wish to stop reading now.

You may wish to stop reading regardless of whether or not you are of a squeamish or nervous disposition, but that's entirely besides the point. And a little rude, might I add!

Here we go.

My current anti-perspirant of choice is L'Oreal Men Expert Invincible Sport Absorbing Anti-Perspirant. Yes, it was on special offer in Tesco, and it was in a bright yellow container so caught the eye. Besides having a name that hardly rolls off the tongue (insert your own roll-on anti-perspirant joke here) L'Oreal make a couple of bold claims about their Men Expert Invincible Sport Absorbing Anti-Perspirant

Claim the first. It is an 'XXL' Roll-On. L'Oreal does not make clear the bases on which it describes it's Men Expert Invincible Sport Absorbing Anti-Perspirant as being 'XXL' but in the two obvious measures, roll-on head size (perhaps slightly on the large side, but in no way even XL let alone XXL) and container volume (a measly 50ml), I can with some certainty refute their claims.

This first claim was not the subject of my scientific endeavours however, oh no, it was merely an aperitif, an amuse bouche if you will, to whet the appetite.

Claim the second. L'Oreal Men Expert Invincible Sport Absorbing Anti-Perspirant boldly states that it provides a 96 hour non-stop dry feel. 96 hours!

(Remember the vidiprinter in the Grandstand days of Final Score where they used to write out in words any big scores? If they were reporting on Anti-Perspirant claims (perhaps on a slow, weather affected winter day) this would have read: L'Oreal 96 hours (ninety-six) Applications 1)

So yes, if you haven't already put two and two together, I decided to test this 96 hour non-stop dry feel claim. Ah the opportunities lockdown presents us, who'd have thought such an endeavour possible in the days of public transportation and face to face a working?

And why did this prevent me writing blog updates? Well if you're going to do something, you need to do it properly. And I'm sure you all agree, 4 days worth of half hourly sniff tests (in three anatomically strategic locations) is mentally and emotionally draining for both myself and the wife. Yep, I had to rope the wife in too, as not all the anatomical locations were in easy reach of my nose and I didn't want to resort to scratching and sniffing.

Spoiler alert: I could have, if I had been less committed to the scientific cause, stopped well before the 96 hours but no, I had started so I intended to finish.

And finish I did. In a fug filled stupor of malodoured exhaustion.

L'Oreal: you lied.


Post-Experiment Findings

On closer inspection following my first post experiment cleansing, and with no little disappointment, I realised that my L'Oreal Men Expert Invincible Sport Absorbing Anti-Perspirant actually makes no claims about being malodour free for 96 hours, just that you would be dry. This feels a little bit of a cop out for an anti-perspirant really, I'm imagining the meeting where they decided to proceed to full scale production:

R&D Technician One: But boss, you smell bad after just 24 hours!
R&D Boss: But are you dry?
R&D Technician Two: well, yes but ..
R&D Boss: Job done, roll on production
R&D Technician One: yes, great pun boss again (*rolls eyes) but we're developing anti-perspirant, people expect not to smell
R&D Technician Two: He's right boss, and then there is the stickiness and ...
R&D Boss: Sticky isn't wet, not wet equals dry, don't mention smell on the label and go to production. Or you're fired!
R&D Technicians one and two: yes boss

I'll have to chalk this episode down as experience, and remember to read the packaging properly in future.

As to the 96 hour non-stop dry feel? The jury is out. Sticky, I think, comes some way between dry and moist, but I'm not certain there is an actual scale I can refer to. Sorry.

Disclaimer. This of course isn't entirely true. I had to utilise both my spouse and the scratch and sniff methodologies, she's less committed to the pursuit of science than I am as I found out at 2.30 one morning when she woke to find me dangling my .... no, let's leave that there.


One Dream, One Soul, One Prize, One Goal

Eva has discovered a trick with the TV. It could, nay it will, be a life saver.

In a burst of mid afternoon excitement she discovered that if you press and hold the power button on the Sky remote for a couple of seconds it turns off the sky box and the TV all in one go. We've been using two remotes for over a year, and are constantly losing one of them.

Although we initially thanked her for her discovery, she smugly banged on about it for ages so I ended up telling her off for not working it out earlier, no good comes from over praising children after all.


Oh Aye and Up She Rises

The wife did the shopping today and out of the blue has changed her alcohol tipple of choice from white wine to spiced rum. I can only assume therefore that she is either having it away with a pirate or she is planning on running off to sea and is getting in some rum drinking practice before she departs.

As we don't get many pirates around here, and the wife has only left the Victory estate a couple of times a week for the last few weeks (and then only for shopping expeditions) my guess is that it's the running away to sea option she's following. She does pick up accents and dialects very quickly though, so I'll pay attention to see if any pirate chatter creeps in over the next few days.


I Swear It's Everywhere, It's Everything

I've worked out what's wrong. It's so simple, so obvious, I don't know how I've never worked it out before. It's the only logical conclusion really.

Every time one of the kids wants to speak to me and I'm somewhere else in the house they will start talking to me before they get into the room I am in. So often I will hear something like " .... isn't that right, Dad?" or " ... said I had to ask you" and I have no idea what on earth they are talking about.

Sometimes I just go with the flow and say yes, or no, or make some other random stuff up, but this can backfire so is reserved only for times when I really can't be bothered.

Conversely, the wife often waits until I am leaving a room until she starts to speak to me. It is always dangerous to guess an answer to a wife question as, frankly, she comes up with as many wacky ideas as the kids but has far more clout in the forcing through changes/making decisions, so I have to stop what I'm doing, smile and listen attentively. Ish.

The conclusion? I must live in a parallel universe that closely resembles, but is slightly out of line with, the universes the wife and the kids inhabit. How they then communicate with each other when they must be even further apart in time is still a mystery though, I'll ponder some more and get back to you.


We Move Like Cagey Tigers

You have to be very careful what you feed long haired cats because everything (literally, everything) gets stuck in their fur. And if they eat something that doesn't agree with them ... urff.

And cats don't like being pinned down and cleaned.

And I really hope that it was a smear of mud on my knee afterwards, but I suspect not.


And the lyrics?

"Come Up To Meet You, Tell You I'm Sorry" The Scientist, Coldplay

"One Dream, One Soul, One Prize, One Goal" It's a Kind of Magic, Queen

"Oh Aye and Up She Rises", Traditional Sea Shanty

"I Swear It's Everywhere, It's Everything" Parallel Universe, Red Hot Chilli Peppers

"We Move Like Cagey Tigers" The Lovecats, The Cure

How many did you get right?

0 - Must try harder

1-4 - Good effort

5 - You googled, didn't you!