Gloves Off
Winter snow
came in one heavy fall in Southend on Sea this year. Sufficient for the youngsters
to play and Dad to get his bad back again towing sledges with mum onboard. Revisiting
of course a time long ago when both had embarrassed themselves in much the same
way as their children do now. The kids of course have long turned away in total
denial of any family connection. Further away on the six foot high bank (well
it is Essex), the ‘hill’ supported the youth of the neighbourhood, upping the
scale of available testosterone, stupidity and fitness. Oblivious to any Health
and Safety Requirements and Risk Assessments, ski ramps for the more adventurous
were built. The basics of flight, weight and balance seemed to be of little
concern as each consecutive launch seemed to culminate with a cranial
thump or a heavy winding as they landed from a quite respectable height! Respect,
and blue lights! Best of all was the fact that the snow had fallen on a Saturday
night. No school next day..excellent!
So why am I
talking about winter when the sun is shining and it is presently a glorious day
in Essex? FISH...yes I said FISH! Pond fish which don’t eat when the water
temperature goes below 10 degrees.
The snow was
soon cleared from the roads to provide access for ‘Mum’ in her 4x4 to practice
her driving skills to school at 10 mph with Dad still desperately finding out
from the manual how to engage the most manly of driving aids... four wheel
drive. And all whilst the kids are bemoaning the injustice of missing out on a
further day of fun. I too had to venture out with the youngest son in the car, protesting
as we went that he needed to go on a sicky (by the way, there was a 99% turn
out at his school that day). He would have so landed me in it. Anyhow, back to the Fish. I parked up that morning on an errand for
some friends. For sure the side roads around Southend were a little more
demanding with the snow than the main routes and it was fun to park on the
invisible double yellow lines hiding some 6 inches below in the snow. With the errand
completed I returned to the car and the usual hunt commenced. With extra winter coat
pockets to contend with, looking for keys, wallet, phone and gloves became a major operation. All was accounted
for minus one glove. Well, I don’t know about you guys but I had to find
it. After what must have been hours and a MacDonald’s coffee later I reluctantly
gave up the search, mourning the loss of half of my favourite pair of gloves.
One glove is so useless unless you are Michael Jackson. Over the next two days,
with the thaw well underway, I returned to the likely scene of loss rather
sadly, in the hope of finding a soggy mess lurking in the gutter. Finally I
gave up the search and, ever the optimist lay the other glove in a
drawer...just in case.
FISH...for
Gods sake get to the bloomin fish!
My garden
pond has been taken over this summer by lily pads and I felt it was time to
attend to a little aqua pruning. When we first inherited the pond with the
house, some friends bought me a spectacular pair of waterproof gauntlets which pull
right up to your armpits. Now, I’ve mentioned before that fish don’t eat when
it’s cold, they lay in the warmest place, being the bottom of the pond looking soulful
and passive. So you can pretty much be lazy and ignore them for the winter as
feeding can upset their metabolisms. Fish then become three season ‘pets’ and I
would certainly have no use for my gauntlets to swirl around the pond,
disturbing my fishy charges in their freezing slovenliness and apparent boredom.
I still haven’t got to the point have I? Armed with a knife and large bucket this
sunny summer’s day, I prepared for my duty of care and husbandry and took my
gauntlets out of the garage. Left hand/arm...right hand? Something soft and hopefully
inanimate was forming an obstruction by the gauntlet fingers. Perhaps it was a
hapless mouse having sheltered from the winter months, dying as he lay confused
in his new bed? A piece of cloth perhaps from the garage? No...my blooming
glove!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHY?...WHY?...WHY?
I just can’t even go with the whole rationale of it all. Nothing, just nothing
could lead to this.
AND...
I had thrown
the other glove away last month!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*^$*””:> !!!...so to speak.
Told you
there was a fish connection somewhere. My most tenuous connection yet?
Do you want
part of the ‘Original’Blog now?
There is a
standing joke between Michelle and I that when Enya is playing her depressing
music, to keep all sharp objects away from me for fear of self harm. At this
time however I have another song that I
have irrationally come to find beyond irritating. Forget Enya, this is far
worse. The commonly known term for my condition is to have an ‘ear worm’. This
mental occurrence has been extensively studied and reams of information are on
the internet which includes references to Sponge Bob Square Pants. Therefore it
must be correct. In brief (no pun intended, but worth keeping in) “ear worms”
don’t physically exist. They are the result, or cause of THAT song you hear
which bugs the hell out of you without reason. It goes on and on throughout the
day and night in your head driving you to distraction and irritation. Evidently
we mentally try to fill in the ‘gaps’ that we perceive are missing from this
audio nightmare... This particular song has burrowed itself into my
subconscious, banging on... “All I think
about is you’ ......Arghhhhh! It’s been haunting me all night, unforgiving
in its torture. Try it yourself on YouTube : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZK0l3MYsyF0 and share my discomfort.
Ok, so that
wasn’t my original blog opening of course, when is it ever? “...all I think about is you”.
The standard
excuses apply for being late with this blog but this time I have a valid, sort
of, excuse. I have recently been in hospital for a week. The usual trick that
Copley plays is to overstress himself in the belief that time waits for no man.
If it’s difficult to do, do it again. The only event to ignore when time is
considered (eat your heart out Stephen Hawking) is when the decorating of the
hall landing and stairs comes up in conversation. This then is the ultimate and
definitive waste of time. Talking of stairs, I can get tired like most people
climbing stairs which seem to be my particular downfall (get it?). I’ve known
athletes that can’t do them. I seem to
get to the top of my house ’Everest’, with the equivalent results of an equal
mountaineering task. Ah, that’s a lack of fitness me cries...so I do more and
eventually feel the combined effects of drugs and of course age. Whilst unable
to reason away my fatigue I had a surprise visit from my GP, armed with advice
from the Royal Marsden Hospital that I was to have a holiday provided by my
local NHS Hospital for rebuilding. I guess chronic fatigue was the reason for admission and bags of potasium and glucose the answer. Six days later I was out, having also been given
loads of Brad Pitt’s blood. Well, that is what I ordered from the disappointingly
small catalogue. Never an option, it was sweet. Daniel and Chris (sons) both wih my blood group, wanted to donate an
armful each and then no doubt make some obscure claim of ownership of their fathers soul and wallet. So forward thinking...makes me proud to be anemic.
I’m
obviously out now, feeling fine, not exactly bursting with energy...but that's acceptable.We're going on holiday in a couple of weeks and
I am apparently succeeding in topping up Daniel’s driving lessons whilst in his own car without
any father/son ‘discussion’ ...so far! ...'clutch'!
Right, that’s
your limit no doubt for my wordy stuff.“...all I think about is you”.
Look out
for:
- Electronic ageism.
- When is diabetes not diabetes?
- The coolest student transport yet!
- The end of the 23kg Samsonite ‘bag drag’ when
going on holiday (or work)...now that we’re flying ten minutes down the
road from Southend Airport...joy.
Take care all.
Richard
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