And so the law of Sod strikes again. It is year end for me in my job and the busiest most manic time in the calendar - hence my tardy recent posting.

The Good Lady Wife has a job that is flexible most times but at others totally and utterly immoveable. It happens to be one of those now. She has a job that has some security implications so I cannot blog the reasons why. It is not calendar dependent or seasonal like my job so cannot be predicted.

And so, the afore mentioned law of Sod strikes as 23 month old Dixie decides now is the best time to contract chicken pox. She has to be quarrantined at home for a week which means that due to the GLW's work situation, I have to take time off work.

The poor love is covered in red spots from neck to belly with hardly any white to be seen. The odd spot on her head and legs but it is primarily concentrated in her midrift.

As even those of you without children will understand, she is not pleasant to be around, getting frustrated at the constant itching and is very grumpy.

Now add to this equation that as JuliaHames has previously pointed out, Children are in fact, vermin. A harsh choice of word perhaps, but true in the correct sense in that they are disease carriers and spreaders. So therefore the whole family now has a virus of some sort. Sore throats, bad sinus, headaches type flu-y thing all round.

So here I was today, moaning my poor luck and generally pissed off with life as work goes nuts without me, and I am stuck at home feeling unwell and looking after a spot ridden grumpy, demanding and ungrateful 2 year old.

Woe is me.

But then after sitting through most of Milkshake on channel 5 I switch to BBC2 and come across "Something Special" - and my reality check starts.

It is a pre school kids programme with a massive difference. It is about mentally and physically disabled children. I assume it has the aim of "normalising" them to young children, IE to show that it is normal and not be freaked out when they see them in the street. It also teaches kids sign language.

But to see those kids unable to hold their heads up, and have eyes darting in all directions, unable to speak or communicate in any shape made me feel guilty as hell for moaning about having to use up leave at an important time of year to look after an otherwise 100% healthy child.

Bad luck? Woe? get a grip Dan....you have no idea what struggle is!

And clearly I don't. To say my perspective has been changed, would be an understatement.

Right, goota go. Have to dab poor Dixie in Calamine.

Dan

Tea made with a tea bag in mug - MILK IN LAST
Tea Made in a pot, regardless of bags or leaves - MILK IN FIRST

That is all.

(Bloody busy at work with it 5 weeks to year end, so blogs exceptionally short and I will expand on this sometime soon)

Dan

As I work from home when not visiting, I see a lot of passing life out of my office window. 99/100 times this is mundane stuff...postman, gas man reading the meters, delivery men etc. Occasionally I see more interesting stuff like a new kitchen being installed and the tradesmen going in and out.

Today, my neighbour directly opposite has just taken delivery of a brand new Vauxhall Zafira.

They have 4 kids so it makes total sense to buy such a machine. And, the car is the best in it's class without a doubt.

But what has prompted me to blog this is my reaction. I found myself really pleased for them. I am actually watching them now playing with the new toy. Doors are open, kids are diving in and out of it, the boot/hatch keeps opening and closing and the dad is clearly as pleased as punch with is new purchase as he is standing just peering in.

The kids in particular have big beaming smiles. They had an old - but excpetionally reliable - Toyota Previa that no doubt had been to the moon and back. Now they can turn up at school and feel a little better tomorrow. Good luck to them.

I have just noticed that the dad had closed the doors and is going in. He bleeped the alarm, but had a telltale glance back over his shoulder before he shut the front door.

I have no idea why this has been so uplifing to watch them. It just has.

Sometimes you just have a bad day and have to accept it. Friday was that day.

It started actually on the stroke of midnight when Dixie decided that now was the right time to cut a new tooth. Much wall shaking screaming and a gallon of Calpol later and she was a little happier. But as I trudged back to bed, I snuggled down under the still warm duvet only for Pixie to regret eating the cheese before bed and start crying about having bad pictures in her head.

I honestly do not feed them LSD with their milk and biscuit, but her description of “bad pictures in her head” did rather take me back a few years to listening to rubbish music in a far away field in the middle of some Surrey or Sussex farm somewhere. Or maybe it was a disused warehouse on the Old Kent Road. I really can’t remember and that’s probably for the best.

But suffice to say she no longer trusted her own wardrobe not to come alive so into the marital bed she came with the deeply snoring GLW and me. At this point the traditionalists among you may well be asking why on earth the MAN of the house is doing these things? To cut an annoyingly long story short – Shift Work.

Now Pixie, like all 4 year olds have what can only be described in bed as a “spin cycle”. Honestly, it wriggles and kicks and moves like a demented dervish. Every time I dozed off, BOOT, I copped for one in the back. This carried on for much of the night.

(At this point I would like to nod to Ladee-Bird who has had a very similar experience blogged lately)

So bleary eyed at 6.30 I get up with Dixie leaving Pixie spread eagled in the bed. How can a small 4 year old take up so much room?

The mobile rings.

Very odd for my phone to ring THAT early. I recognise the number as my boss’s so I answer.

“Oh great, Dan you are awake”
“Err, yes, where's the fire?”
“Need a massive favour, can you get to Birmingham for 10?”

Mind awash with logistics, I say yes, but it will be tight and I will have to upset the Good Lady Wife.

“Good man”

I gulp. What have I agreed to? I was given no details of agenda, just casually told to check the blackberry and it will all be clear. Oh, that’s all right then.

So a hasty shower, tea made for the GLW, apologies for dumping her in it and I left. Pixie, by the way had now nudged the GLW so far across that her leg was on the ground.

I leave and almost immediatley hit traffic.

And lots of it.

M25 was a shambles. I am an everyday user of this road and know the hotspots every well. You know you are in trouble when you queue where you don't usually.

But the upside of the delay was that I was able to read the agenda. I had a look of horror – I had been set up. The meeting was to dump a long and loyal business partner. Great, thanks.

By 10 I was still only approaching the NEC when I should have been in Broad Street...

I finally arrive at 10.30 but can’t park at the building. So I park in the NCP and have to walk and it’s pissing down.

I turn up in reception, soaking wet, sign in, pop the pen in my pocket and meet the smiling man who is so happy to see me and I am about to blow a hole in his bottom line.

He does not take it well. I don’t blog work, but I have to share part of his tirade against me as it does rather hit a nerve that regular readers of my blog will understand.

“You come in here, drink my tea, steal my stationery chat up my staff and then you tell me I am no longer ‘part if your plans for the future’”

I had to admit, he had me spot on.

I did not finish my tea and left in a bit of a hurry. I get back to the car only to get a ticket on the windscreen. The pay and display ticket had obviously fallen on the floor of the car when I closed the door. Bastards. I argue the case only for a man with what can only be described as a best endeavours effort at the English language pointed me to a sign to write an address to complain to.

The phone rings. Boss again.

“Can you get to Oxford on your way home”

No “how did it go”, no “are you OK?”…just get to Oxford on your way back.

So we meet in one of our buildings and he casually tells me that all my accounts have “grown too large for our part of the company” and they are to be moved on.

Great. So all the work I have done building these up is swept away for someone to pick up and I have to start over. To be honest, this is the procedure, it’s just when it happens, it’s a pisser. Unless it’s a dog of an account then it is a boon.

So on seeing my short-term bonus take a walk, I decide not to head home and log on and clear mails.
I get a message from the GLW – “don’t forget the meal tonight”.

I rarely go out at the moment so a meal out is a big thing for both of us. It is a friend’s birthday and babysitters are sorted and the GLW has been excited about getting dressed up for ages.

I look at the watch and decide to leave with plenty if time in hand.

But yet again the traffic gets the better of me and this time the M40 has a lorry on it’s side and the traffic wombles decide to shut the whole road forever.

Finally I get going and actually, shockingly am moving at a real pace in the outside of the M25. I move from the middle lane to the outside crossing over what I thought was a cat’s eye. Only this cat’s eye did not pop down. BANG.

That did not sound too good.

I carry on for about another 100 yards and “BANG” my tyre bursts and I slide and wobble at 75MPH on the outside lane of the M25.

I manage to cruise into the hard shoulder and I come to a rather sad stop on the chevrons of the entry slip of junction 30/31…ladies that’s the Lakeside exit!

So with roaring traffic on both sides of me I call the fleet company and with the only bit of good luck I have all day the signal is strong and battery in tact.

He arrives in less than an hour and fits my embarrassingly small and ugly spare wheel and on I go with a maximum of 50MPH. (A quick note here: I am capable but I am not allowed to change the wheel.) I plod home with the most enormous "Norbert Dentressangle" and "Eddie Stobarts" flashing their lights and overtaking me. The shame of it.

I arrive home late and with the GLW looking a million dollars but foot tapping away, I then dive in the shower and get changed as quickly as only men can.

We take her car as I was too embarrassed to drive on my mongrel wheel and arrive only 20 minutes late. Fashionably late, I would say.

One good thing was that I was able to impart my day story, rather than talk kids all the time as someone with my current lack of social interaction has little of interest happen.

Thankfully as the clock struck midnight just as we returned home and Pixie and Dixe were fast asleep. Good old Grandma.

Not a peep until 6.30 Saturday Morning.

Bliss.

Dan

“No, I am sorry but I do not want to stay a Saturday night”
“But, sir, it makes the trip £150 cheaper if you do”
“I realise you are doing your job, but please don’t ask me again, I do not want to stay a Saturday night”

You get the idea.

I *have* to go to a wedding in New York at the end of June. Yep, on the face of it this is all very glam and exciting. However, when you scrape the surface you realise that with two pre school children and plans to move house, spending £1500 on going to a wedding that does not need to be 4000 miles away is not the fun idea it should be.

I shall refrain from blogging about the wedding as it could easily get me in to trouble should someone stumble upon it. But suffice to say the idea of getting married in New York was a great one when it was just an idea but poorly thought out now it has turned into reality.

It is my best and oldest friend. Known since primary school and we have been through the lot together. He is marrying a great girl, mother of his fantastic one year old – to whom I am proud god parent. I will be his best man and had he got married n the moon, I would still have gone. And probably with less issues than I have with NY.

The problems started the moment he asked me last summer. The first decision was how many of us were going to go? 1, 2 or all 4? A quick decision was that Pixie and Dixie would not appreciate the delights of that great city so they are going to stay at home. But what about the GLW?

First it was – “Yes, we can spend some time together”
Then it was – “don’t want to leave the kids”
Followed by “I really want to go”
Then “can we afford both?”
Etc etc etc, and so this continued.

All the while we were waiting on the happy couple to get their finger out and actually book something. They did book the actual wedding and some other bits and bobs, like a restaurant and cars, but the small matter of flights and accommodation were a bit behind. They did promise that they would try for a package that we could buy into that never materialised and finally after much procrastination and decisions on Hotels, they announced “This is where we are going, sort yourselves out” Ok, maybe not as harsh as that, but in effect that’s how it was.

Originally this was because the airlines do not release flight until 300 days or so prior to departure. Fair enough. But then it dragged on to the end of Jan and only this week did we finally get a confirmed flight and hotel for them.

I was not going to book anything before they did. That would leave me open to all manner of possibilities.

So last night, the GLW and I had a long conversation about whether she would go or not. The old indecision came back again before finally getting the courage to leave the kids behind.

So on to the web to book.

Now, they get married on a Friday. So my plan was, so as not to take the proverbial out of the in laws looking after my children – to go on the Wednesday and fly back Saturday night for Sunday morning.

And then the trouble started.

If I flew Wed to Sun it was approx £400 with the big carriers. To move to a Sat night was £950!! And the cheekiest bit of all was the outbound changed as well as the inbound price!!

I “webbed” all the usual suspects and they all have the same thing: Premium for NOT staying on a Saturday. Dial a flight could do same hotel and flights £150 cheaper if I came back a day later…..how does that work????

Airmiles point blank refused.

To cut a very long story short, we settled on a decent deal with Expedia for BA and the Novotel for about £610 each. Which was £550 if I stayed another night.

I want to get back to see Pixie and Dixie. Pixie is 4 now and such great fun. Dixie is almost 2 and she is the one I am most worried about. Pixie we can talk to and she will understand. Plus, Grandma is great fun! Dixie will be a bit lost and wonder where we are I think.

Maybe I am being silly. I am sure she will be fine but the guilt won’t go – and it certainly would not allow me to save money and have a longer holiday to boot.

Dan

As part of the GLW's Christmas present i bought tickets last summer for Dirty Dancing at the Aldwych Theatre (How about that for planning ahead?) I wrapped them up in a huge box with bricks in it so she would not have a scooby doo what was inside.

It is her most favourite film of all time ever, so it was an easy pressie to buy....plus I got to go to!

I love the theatre, we usually go once a year or so and I must admit we do pick out the more popular and commercial ones. Previous trips have been to see Joseph & Chitty Chitty bang Bang amongst others. You get the idea. Theatre snob I am not...or am i? As last night, I think perhaps I was - I noticed different things and many of them annoyed the beejeepers out of me.

It all actually started last summer when I bought the tickets. £60 each is a bit steep really, and when the theatres compain that they are half empty, it is hardly surprising. However, DD is full up until the summer now, so people are shelling out. But it does rather leave a sour taste when the credit card bill comes in. Yet people are paying £75 for the Spice Girls so I suppose in that context £60 is a bargain!

Anyhoos, we get there just before 7 and we are forced to queue in the rain. When eventually we are herded in there are no bars open and not even the doors to the bars are open so we have everyone packed in to the foyer like sardines and people from the back pushing through thinking we are just standing there for the hell of it.

The merchandise stall is there and plenty of people looking but not buying. On closer inspection I am not surprised. The price of the tee shirts, vests and assorted tat was outrageous. But again, I would not mind but the quality was appalling. I would not fancy the vest lasting more than 3 washes.

Finally the doors open to huge relief and I go and get a beer. £3.60 for a very small bottle (275ml, not even standard 330ml)of Carlsberg is hardly value. I don't mind a premium, but again it rather annoys me that you have this rampant profiteering.

So on to the theatre itself and how these things have not been knocked down and rebuilt is beyond me. Savagely cramped (and I am only 5'7) and not steep enough so you have to bob in opposite direction to the person in front, who is having to do exactly the same thing. The air conditioning was hardly sophisticated. Melting at one point and freezing the next. The decor is run down and the accoustics not that great. I am all for tradition, but really they all need massive investement to bring them into this century.

I noticed - naturally - that we had more of a cinema audience than a theatre one. Plenty of crisp bags and sweet wrapper rustling and a few shouts from the 80% female audience when Johnny took of his top (yes, I was a bit jealous I suppose) but the problem was someone always tried to be funny and that caused some ripples of laughter and it did seem to put off the actors...maybe that snobbish streak is coming through eh?

At half time, the queue for the womens toilets was immense. Stretching virtually the whole way around. I just find it baffling that in this day and age, these theatres have not sorted this perennial problem out. Made worse by the demographic last night of course. Some women not brave enough to go in the mens, missed the re start.

Anyway, what about the show itself?  Two words:

ABSOLUTELY MAGNIFICENT

Dan

I have been away a while. I went canoeing….Ha! not really, a mixture of work going nuts and Dixie deciding that now is the time to get new teeth, have a cold, growing pains and be a general pain. Sleep is for wimps at the moment. I have eyes like droopy.

Anyhoos, I wrote a blog in early September about how Christmas was in full swing in my local Tesco’s where two isles were then dedicated to Advent calendars, Xmas puddings and other assorted festive goodies. I thundered against it then and for good reason….I, with still 5 days to go am all Christmassed out.

I was a bit of a nerd this year and sorted the shopping out in November. I hid it all and forgot about it until today when I wrapped it all up. I then had to pop in to town for some work related things and finally it hit me – I am bored by Christmas.

Don’t get me wrong, with a 4 year old I am really loving the Santa bribes and the excitement she is generating. But I just got fed up with the rampant commercialism of Christmas – and this is from someone who errs on the right in his politics. Market forces and all that.

But I have been bombarded by email everyday for 6 weeks now with “latest ipods” and “Nintendo DS” emails amongst other crap. Every TV advert is about SPEND MONEY HERE and every TV programme has been about presents.

You just know that if you had the gall to delay Christmas by a month, it would save you 50% as the stuff you have bought will all be in the sale on Boxing Day. As an aside, is anyone brave enough to ask for their gift receipts and take the new shirt back, get the full refund, then re buy it at sale price and pocket the difference?

I’m not, but I wish I was.

I am not religious at all, but I do believe strongly in the family. Christmas should be about the family day. I find it really sad when families war over Christmas. Usually as someone is trying to please everyone and in doing so, end up pleasing no-one.

Parents have a really tough time, especially if both sets of in-laws are alive. Who do you spend the 25th with? Both sets want to see their grand children and I understand that, but the accusations of favouritism are inevitable despite the almost certain alternate years rule that most use. One of my friends has three sets as the step dad that brought him up with his biological mum for 15 years, then split up and remarried, also expects a visit. I feel for him as he cannot win.

So here in my humble opinion is how Christmas should be.

Rule number 1 –

No decorations, no big signs, no snowy adverts with Santa, and DEFINATLEY no Christmas music until 12 days prior – (with an extension for Slade that bans them until the 24th) So the “season” starts on the 13th.

Do your shopping as you wish, shops can show their gift sets, but no decs or tree or music until 12 days. You do not need the assorted extras to shop.

Rule 2 –

Xmas morning is a private affair for the immediate family only. So mum, dad and kids. Everyone else can swing. Presents should be material for the kids – whatever they wanted and personal for the wife/Husband/significant other. Something that is thoughtful, took time to think about and get. Price should be unimportant. Oh, and that thing she has been dropping hints for in the past 6 months would help too.

Rule 3 –

Make it clear in the run up who is being seen on which day. No arguments, no debate and do not fall for the emotional blackmail.

Rule 4 –

Dinner should be with who you want to be there. Extended family is great, as many as you can cook for and physically fit in. Bigger the better.

Rule 5 –

NO TELLY. Sky plus what you need to, but switch the box OFF.

Rule 6 –

Leave the kids to play with their new toys. Don’t drag them here and there when all they want to do is play.

Rule 7 –

Boxing Day is for football (or Horse racing/rugby if that is your bag). Don’t try and buck that. Ever.

Rule 8 –

Go back to work on 27th. If you don’t Xmas will seem too long and you will argue with the family. It will be quiet anyway, so don’t use up your leave (unless you are in one of those offices that force you to).

Rule 9 –

Enjoy it. Don’t see it as a chore.

Happy Christmas all.

Dan

I am working from home today so I have to make my own tea for once. Just now, I had a scolding hot cuppa and so biscuits primed for dunking. Two digestives and three rich tea - which a friend of mine referrs to as "Prison Biscuits" as he tells me that is all you get inside - shame.

Anyway, as always I digress...

So I dunk my first rich tea and I hang on for a few seconds more than you should as I must admit I do favour a bit of brinkmanship when it comes to the dunk. I enjoy the soggy tea soaked state it comes out in and find the delicate flapping of the biscuit onto my tongue quite delicious. Peter Kay famously does a routine where he calls rich tea "one dips" ("get the spooooooooooooooooon") as he prefers to go for the brick like Hobnob and sees the rich tea as the scardey cat of buscuits. But me, no. I enjoy the gamble that is the rich tea.

Plonk.

In in drops to my tea. I desperatly try and save it with my first grab, burn my fingers and the biscuit breaks up. I lose.

So I choose a digestive and do the same, but this time through no fault of my own but a design fault in said biscuit, after just two dunks...

Plonk

Clearly a crack in the biscuit has caused this as digestives are good for at a bare minumum three, maybe as many as six dunks. Now faced with soggy tea, I decide to make a new one.

It is at this point I start thinking about the cost as I pour it away down the sink with various beige dregs gloopilly faling over the edge of the cup.

So a cup of tea at home I worked out to cost a fraction above 1p. My mind then flicked back to yesterday where I was charged 40P in the canteen of one of our offices and £1.80 at Watford gap services.

I am of course prepared to accept that they have overheads and I have no issue with making a profit. But bugger me, the profit on a tea is quite something isn't it?! Especially as at the services it came in a poxy pot that I did not want and had the wonky lid that they all come with so half of it misses the cup and goes over the table. Then you have crappy UHT mini cartons of milk and a wooden twig that is supposed to be a stirrer......all for £1.80????

Don't get me started on hotel tea either. That comes in a tiny thimble and charge the price of a three bed Semi in Dulwich.

Even 40P at the office in a supposed "subsidised" canteen is a bit rich, but you do get a sensible poly cup and proper milk plus if you are stationed there they have no issue with you bringing your own mug - however big - and filling it for same 40p.

So my point is, what is "fair" for a cup of tea? Bearing in mind the 1p I worked out was for me buying Tetley on BOGOF plus my share of the milk and hot water, and the big companies can buy in mahooosive quantity at a fraction of retail - I reckon their gross cost of a tea is no more than a third of a penny. Including the cup, pot, milk, hot water, heating, lighting, cleaning and wages spread over the business.

I have made a decision and I am no longer going to pay more than 50P for a tea. I don't mind a mark up, but when you consider it, there is a mark up and a rip off.

Tea falls firmly in to the latter category.

so, as the headline says...and I right, or just tight?

I had to visit for a blood test today. Nothing dramatic just an alergy thing.

But the nurse was running late and I ended up sitting there for 45 minutes and quickly got bored of the out of date home and garden magazines. So I ended up analysing the people in the surgery who had come to see the doctor and were going in and out at regular intervals while I waited for nurse Debbie to arrive.

So first up a very large lady who struggled to her feet when called. She looked around and said "oh, it's my knees...I hope Dr West can help me"

Now, I am no doctor. But I think I could quite eaisly diagnose this problem and present a solution.

"look love, you are overweight by a considerable margin. Now that is your business, but your knees hurt because you are carrying too much weight"

"if you want to be overweight, fine. I have no issue with that, but do not come to me asking for help with your knees as that is one of the prices you pay for your over indulgence Now stop being a drain on NHS resources and eat a bit less and walk to the shops"

Second up was clearly an unwell child who was coughing horribly. Bless him.

Third we had the block who sat next to me. He STANK of smoke...absolutley reeked of it. And whn he spoke he had one of those gruffly, phlegmy unable to finish my words propery voices that make you heave to listen to it. He gave me no clue as to his visit to Dr West, but my assumption was "i have this really bad chest Doc"

"really? you surprise me...you look like you look after yourself so well too"

Fourth was an old lady who looked like she was heading for the departure lounge...if you know what I mean.

Fifth was another child, baby this time and I am pretty sure she was suffering what can only be described as "PPS"...Panicky Parent Syndrome.

I am an expert in this as with Pixie, I think I invented it. Every sniffle it was Pneoumonia..., every time she coughed it was Whooping Cough...no really...every time she cried for more than an hour it was death just around the corner.

Yet the diagnosis was easy. Have another child and get over it. Dixie has been to see the doc once in 20 months. Pixie went weekly until Dixie was born.

And so to my turn. I strode in to the Nurses room confidently and then turned into a gibbering wreck as, coward that I am was faced with the needle.

But, such a brave boy I was I managed not to faint.

maybe I am just allergic to needles.

Dan

It has been a bad few weeks in the R household. Yet again the dreaded virus has spread across the 4 of of us. House full of coughing and sneezing people is not a pleasant place. I am currently under the doctor on a very expensive set of perscriptions for somethig additional(I have no been to the Doc in over 5 years and was shocked at the price of it all) but nothing to blog there.

However, Dixie has taken on a new role. Apart from being entertainment manager of the house (impressive at 19 months) she can now actually crap money.

Yes, you did read that rather vulgar phrase correctly.

I will spare you details, but suffice to say after three days of only wet nappies, she was becomimg rather grumpy. Then after another bout of butt clenching and screaming the GLW then forced her on to a potty and low and behold the potty was filled with what can only be described as "muddied coins". The fell out like one of the "shove 2p" machines at the seaside.

The shock of seeing cash in a potty was quite something. I did think for a moment that we cut her open and take the gold like the fable says, but they ended up killing the goose and that was a price too high.

I joke, but the seriousness of it was quite real really. The fact that she had ingested these coins safely was a stroke of luck. Only took on going the wrong way down and - well - does not bear thinking to be honest.

So Pixie's piggy banks are now on high. My coinage is safely put in a bottle to save up for my Aston Martin (should only take 20,000 years) and the GLW only steals my money and anything left gets spent on a variery of tat we do not need. So no issue of her ever having money left over.

I am not sure it is over yet either as we had a pretty bad night with her last night and as a consequence I have no energy for work and have diverted to blog.

Maybe she can start producing notes. It wont hurt anywhere near as much and I would not have to worry about doing my forecast and last weeks report that I am currently procrastinating over.

Actually my forecast is easy - Fk All. Reason: Plan to be lazy and cancel visits, blaming customer for cancelling me.

On second thoughts - bad idea.

Better get to work.

Laters all.

D