LEICESTER>CAN I PLEASE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION

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A CONCERTED EFFORT

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"Can I have another one?"

"Can I have another one?" Elly is eating Mentos.

"Yeah, of course you can. Elly, they're your Mentos. You can have whatever you want, but just try to be sensible, don't be like me and go out of control and get all fat..."

"Yeah, like don't eat like 50 at a time," she says.

I walk into the kitchen and wonder if she really thinks I eat 50 mentos at a time.

Very very funny

This is brilliant.

(that is a hyperlink)

"Do you know Dad?"

I am dysoning.

Mick appears at the door, he is really excited. His eyes are wide and he has an enormous grin on his face and his toungue is hanging out.

"Do you know Dad?" he shouts.

I switch off the dyson.

"Do you know Dad?" he shouts again.

"What Mick?" I say.



"The paddling pool is actually a toilet."

"Did you wee in the paddling pool?" I say, but he has legged it off.

I consider the possibility that he has legged it off in order to take a shit in the paddling pool.

I switch on the dyson.

I continue to dyson.

I don't want to have to buy a flipping music cd.

It is Elly's birthday next Tuesday. She will be seven.

"Have you thought about any presents?" I say.

"Hee Hee. Yes." she says.

"What do you want?"

"Ummm, a CD please."

"A music CD?"

"Yes please."

I am really pissed off. I don't want to have to buy a flipping music cd.

"Alright then, by who?"



"Pavement please."

I run to the computer and order every Pavement album on CD.

Lazy, lowest common denominator blogging.

Someone else thought this was funny. 1.16 is my favourite bit.

Polly is watching David Cameron escorting Boris down a red carpet.

"Is that Piers Morgan? No, hang on, Alistair Campbell? No, no, not him, it's the Tory guy, what's the Tory guy's name? David, David are you listening to me, God, you're worse than Mick you are, hang on, are you blogging this?"



My wife is an observational genius.

Amaretti

"Daddy, Mick has thrown sunflower seeds at my head and everywhere else."

I am cooking dinner.

They are watching telly.

I walk through to the living room. 

Mick has thrown sunflower seeds all over the room, coating everything in Sunflower seeds. 

I get the hoover, switch it on, hand him the extendable hose, and say "Clean it up."

He cleans it up.

End of story.

Happy Christmas

"Dad, the polar bears are going, look," says Elly.

On the telly there are two polar bears. They swim off a block of ice that's about as big as them.

"It's sad isn't it?" I say.

"Yeah." says Elly.

"They're beautiful aren't they?"

"Yeah." says Elly.

The telly is saying "Adopt a polar bear, for only £2.00..."

I think "Elly likes polar bears."

I turn back to my laptop. I am surfing a kitchen website, trying to find edible glitter and chocolate stars and chocolate covered coffee beans in order to prevent my Christmas day from being RUINED.

I see "50 disposable icing bags," and think to myself "Eggy the polar bears, I could get some icing bags that I don't need to wash up, yes, much better than polar bears," and reflect how brilliant my impenetrable wall of resistance is.

I look up and there are three bears all sitting around together, like we are on the sofa. The telly says "Help to save these bears, before it's too late."

I suddenly feel overwhelmed with helplessness and have to really concentrate on not crying.

Happy Christmas.

How many more minutes until you're coming home?

I really hate fish pie.

I think it is anticlimactic, like the emperors new clothes, but everyone goes "mmm, fish pie, deLICIOUS," as if it is the most brilliant thing ever. It is not. It is not a computer. It is some fish in a milky sauce with some mashed potato on the top. Big deal. 

If you said "Hey, come round for some fish in a milky sauce with mashed potato on top," people would say "Really? No thanks I think I'll just eat some noodles or a baked potato" but say "Fish pie?" and people are all supposed to swoon and go into paroxyms of ecstacy "Oh, Fish Pie," they say "Mmmm, fish pie, yummy, delicious, uh uh uh, fish pie, oh, I've just...have you got a tissue?"

Once my friend Jon made a fish pie for us when we went round to his house for dinner. I was so dissapointed that I wanted to cry. Part of me wanted to say "Right, joke's over, where's the real food now Jon? Where's the meat?" but throughout the meal it dawned on me with a horrible realism that I was experiencing the punchline of the evening instead of the setup. 

I was a bit embarrassed and frustrated, I wanted him to have made some meat and roast potatoes. Instead I went "mmm, fish pie, deLICIOUS, yummy, fish pie, so much nicer than meat and roast potatoes, such a nice change, god, I'd NEVER cook this myself, it's so lovely..." and pretended to be interested in how easy it was to make and even rang him up a bit later to ask him for the recipe. (I certainly didn't take the piss out of him every time I went to his house to eat, ringing him up and saying "Hey, Jon, I fancy coming over to have some FISH PIE." like he does every time he comes round to my house to eat because I once made some salads - really well thought out, meticulously sourced and put together salads. Obviously he doesn't say the bit about fish pie, but he always says how much he'd like to come over for a salad.)

Today I made a fish pie.

To make the fish pie, I first had to go out to get a newspaper and some milk.

I got back from that trip, read the newspaper, had my breakfast and realised I'd forgotten the milk.

I went out and got some milk and some onions to make the milk infusion for the sauce.

Then I went to the fridge to get the eggs but there weren't any so I had to go back out to get some eggs.

Then I came home and made the fish pie. I used 5 saucepans. I used a sieve. I used 2 bowls. I used 3 measuring jugs. I used a whisk and an electric whisk. I used the colander. I used some scissors and 2 sharp knives. I used the chopper. I used the lemon juicer. I used an icing bag and a nozzle.

I skinned 2 pieces of white fish and 4 pieces of salmon and put all the skin in a pan with milk over it and onions and carrots and parsley stems, then I strained the infusion and made a white sauce, chopping the parsley heads into it, then I mixed in the fish and some lemon juice.

I pricked three of the eggs and boiled them and then peeled them and added them to the pie.

I also boiled the potatoes and drained them and returned them to the pan and added heated milk and butter and then whipped them until they were pureed. Then I tried to put them in the icing bag to pipe them but the bag was split so instead I spooned them onto the top of the pie with a spatula. Then I made a forky pattern all over the fish pie.

Then I put the pie in the oven, then I took it out of the oven because I hadn't placed it on a baking tray and then I put it back into the oven.

Then I realised that we hadn't put the dishwasher on last night so I had to do all the washing up by hand. 

Then I went to the freezer to get some frozen peas out and discovered that there weren't any frozen peas.

Then the doorbell went and I shouted to Polly (who had gone out with Topsy the kids) "Hey Polly, I tried to ring you, we need some frozen peas," and Topsy said to me "You get them then, we're exhausted."

And I thought to myself

"I really hate fish pie."

Look at me everybody, I have a phd.

Today we went to return an external hard drive that wouldn't format properly.

On the way out of the shop Mick became indignant that we'd gone to John Lewis' house, but John Lewis hadn't come to say hello.

He expressed this by grumbling "But I didn't get to see John Lewis" all the way to the car.

Also, something cool happened in the lift.

Level 2 and a total Cambridge head said "Which level is this?"

"It's level 2," said his daughter.

"Well how can we tell?" said the man, in an exasperated voice.

"Well Dad, it says "Level 2" right next to your head, and also if you look on the wall in front of us, see those words that say "Level 2"? They mean that we're on Level 2."

The man looks at the Level 2 on the wall then looks around the lift.

He takes in the fact that we are all smirking at his daughter's withering explanation and says "You see? Having a phd is useless."

I thought "Not if you have a phd in lifts," but not quickly enough to make it seem as if I hadn't been thinking it up so I had to stand in torturous silence for the remainder of the lift journey, thinking "Damn, it's too late, no hang on, I could probably get away with it, no, I couldn't. I could. I couldn't. I really couldn't now anyway, it's far too late. Say it. Say it. NO."

Also, in his case, I should have said "Don't say that, Your phd is very useful for making you look like a smug twit."

Only in Cambridge could a man think that saying "Look at me everybody, I have a phd" makes you sound like less of a cock.

I went out to the garage and pushed her bike as hard as I could at the freezer / garage door.

I had a brilliant row with Polly today. My favourite bit was when I went out to the garage and pushed her bike as hard as I could at the freezer / garage door.

For those of you wondering "How hard would that be?" the answer is quite hard. As soon as I let go of the bike I thought "Oh shit, that was really dumb, now I will have to add breaking the freezer to the list of things we are having a brilliant row about."

Luckily though the freezer didn't break. 

To add to the futility of the gesture I did it alone, whilst she was in the hall getting Mick's coat on.

I went over and picked the bike up and got even more angry that her stupid basket had fallen off the front of her bike and her stupid lock had fallen out of her stupid basket and her stupid bike things that you strap around your trousers to stop the trousers going in the chain were on the floor.

My anger was inspired by being asked to do "jobs" today, as I hadn't got any work.

This is SO UNFAIR. I have to do ALL THE SHIT JOBS. Doesn't she realise that when I don't get work I need to spend my day watching heroes, then playing grand theft auto and then having a sleep? Doesn't she realise that when people hear that I work as a supply so I can spend more time at home they say "cool" and that cutting the hedge and putting the tent in the loft and booking the hyundai in for a service are REALLY NOT COOL?

Well she will do now, because I threw her bike at the freezer without her knowing about it. That'll definitely teach her.

Is it serious glue?

"Let's get some glue Mick,"

"Yes Dad, let's get some glue."

(Brilliant exposition of character there - so subtle you may not have noticed it if I hadn't pointed it out really crassly here)

"Shall we get that glue Mick?"

"Is it serious glue?"

"Yes Mick, It's serious glue."

"Ohhhh, I don't want serious glue. Is it serious glue?"

"Well Mick, it's fairly serious but it does have a playful side. If you tell it a joke per se it won't laugh but it does appreciate sarcasm and irony."

"Irony? And do we have irony at home?"

The girl next to us who is touching different types of A4 refill pad smirks. My job is done.

"Yes Mick, we have an infinite supply of irony at home."

He's a cheater, he cheats, he cheated.

It's a close call. Both number threes whizz into their positions on the floor. Blue three is slightly ahead of Red three.

"Cheater, cheater, cheater, you're cheating, you're a cheater, he's cheating, he's a cheater" says the boy with the glasses. He is in red team.

"Excuse me?" I say.

The boy with the glasses says nothing.

"Were you calling him a cheat?" 

"Yes." says the boy with the glasses.

"Can you remember what I warned you about at the beginning of the game?"

"Yes." says the boy with the glasses.

"Can you remind me what I said please?" 

"You said that calling people cheat or accusing people of cheating was against your rules."

"That's right. I don't want to hear any more of it. It's only a game."

"Ok."

The boy with the glasses turns to his friend. "He's a cheater, he cheats, he cheated."

"O.K. I asked you not to say that. If you can't play without conjugating the word "to cheat" you'll have to sit out and nobody wants that."

"O.K, sorry."

He stops calling the kid a cheat. I mentally congratulate myself for keeping everything in perspective and shout "SIX"

I knew instinctively that this would be my rake

This morning I got Mick dressed and we drove to B and Q to buy a new rake.

Hanging up in the garden section were many Leaf Rakes and Garden Rakes.

Leaf rakes are mainly for gathering leaves and garden rakes are for levelling soil. I intended to mainly gather leaves and branches and apples, not to level soil.

None of the rakes were cheap so buying one of each was not an option. Well, not an option I could afford.

I didn't know what to do so I rang Polly up and she said "Just get one rake, a leaf rake." (This is paraphrasing. She said other things too like "Hello, hello, hello" because the answering machine kicked in before she picked up)

I looked at all the leaf rakes on their hangers. There was an excellent choice of rakes.

First I considered B and Q's own make of rake. It was retailing at £11.98. It had quite a narrow head, but other than this I was happy with it.

Then I looked at the other rakess. They were all retailing at £19.98. This suddenly threw new light upon the price of B and Q's own make of rake. Why were all the other rakes retailing at £19.98? What was wrong with B and Q's own make of rake that it only cost £11.98?

I went to B and Q's own rake and touched it with my hand. I lifted it out of it's hanging hooks but was suddenly overwhelmed with the possibility that a rake for only £11.98 would be a false economy when compared to a rake for £19.98.

I did a couple of rake tests. First of all I kind of jiggled it up and down in my hand, probably three times. Then I touched the end of the handle on the floor. I touched it once, then twice. Then I touched the end of the tines with my finger. I then put it back.

My tests had been pretty thorough and confirmed exactly what I had suspected - an £11.98 rake simply would not do.

I decided to investigate the rakes that cost £19.98. I took the widest one available off of the shelf and looked at it. The tines were made of plastic. This put me off. I thought it looked as if it would break very quickly. I put it straight back on the shelf. No further tests.

Then I looked at the rake that I was to purchase.

I knew instinctively that this would be my rake for three important reasons:

1) The rake was made by Wilkinson Sword, a company who are famous for making products that are brilliant at scraping. I didn't know that they made rakes too, but I was pleased to see a rake with a brand that I recognized.

2) The rake had a handle made of FSC certified wood and a sticker on it which said "10 year guarantee."

3) The rake was a rake that I liked.

I then looked at another Wilkinson Sword rake which had a carbon steel handle. I decided that I preferred wood because it was more natural and looked better - qualities that I was discovering were essential for me in a rake.

I then saw a rake for £4.98. It was an adjustable rake. It had a very short handle and one of the rakes was lying on the floor as if a customer had taken it off the shelf and thrown it down in disgust.

I reached for the Wilkinson Sword rake with a wooden handle, turned around to Mick, said "We'll get this rake," and picked the Wilkinson Sword rake with a wooden handle off the hanger.

As I picked it off the shelf I pitched it slightly up in the air whilst twisting my wrist to make the rake do a one hundred and eighty degree turn before catching it.

Cool moves, cool rake, cool guy.

As I walked off I spotted an enormous garden rake that I'd not noticed before. It was very wide - maybe 50cm wide - but in the shape of a garden rake. It was so gigantic that it stopped me in my tracks. I walked back to it and stood in front of it, staring. It was called a "landscaping rake". There was only one on the shelf. I looked at it in enchantment, thinking "that is a very very wide rake, probably the widest rake I've ever seen, maybe I should buy that rake then I will own the widest rake I've ever seen, and I will feel total rake happiness and fulfillment in a way I've never felt before." Unfortunately one of the tines was bent. As there were no other landscaping rakes available I decided to settle for my Wilkinson Sword rake with a wooden handle.

It now strkes me that I spent a very long time standing on a floor staring up at rakes this morning in a way that was reminiscent of Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters. Except with rakes.

It was raining when I arrived at home so instead of cutting the hedges I raked up all the windfall apples on our lawn. I made them into two piles on the garden.

As I raked I noticed that I liked everything about the rake apart from the way it felt as I raked and the way it raked things up.

I was suprised by this. Then I remembered that I don't really like raking.

After gathering up the apples in piles I put the rake back in the shed. It seemed very new and smooth against the darker, more weary woods of the older spades and hoes.

Different types of flavours of crisps

If it wasn't for people wanting to know about different types of flavours of crisps, this blog would be dead.

However, loads of people want to know about the different types of flavours of crisps.

Here, for those people, they are. If you don't want to know about the different types of flavours of crisps, for your own sake, go somewhere else.

The different types of flavours of crisps are:

Salt and vinegar
Prawn Cock
Disgusting