Saturday is caption day - 31/03/12

My first go at Mammasaurus' SatCap linky:

You can find other photos awaiting your witty annotations by visiting Mammasaurus, click on the button below:

Memeology - The Ten Things I Tell Myself Every Day

This meme's not been around for very long, it comes from @angoewright78's lovely blog mumofthreeboys and I was tagged by @mummyglitzer who you can find over at Mummyglitzer.  

I suppose I'm coming at this from a bit of a different angle to the other examples I've read, firstly because I'm a man, and secondly because I don't have my baby yet!  Hopefully that will make it interesting in a different way to others I've seen, I'm sure some of you will remember feeling some of these before your littl'uns made their debut.

Here we go then:

1.  That no matter how early 6:45am feels now, I must cherish it; soon it will be a lie-in.

2.  That one day I will find the job that I want to keep doing, and doing well.

3.  That I can and will cope with whatever fatherhood throws at me.

4.  That my continuing addiction to RIDICULOUS and TIME CONSUMING games on Facebook must come to an end.

5.  That, although I'm about to gain a massive amount of responsibility, I'll still going to find a way to do some of the things I like doing.

6.  That I will do everything I can to help Mrs L do the same.

7.  That the risk of the Terminator films coming true really is rather minimal (but we SHOULD still be wary...)

8.  That I could lose loads of weight if I really had to, but that cheese isn't going to eat itself.

9.  That I will be a good dad.

10.  That I WILL be a good dad.

I probably could have put that last point for every one of these, but that wouldn't have been very good would it?

Now, with the usual disclaimer (no obligation, I know it's a hassle, etc etc.) I now tag a few other dads whose own tellings I would like to read:

@theJdaddy

@slightlysubdad

@SAHDandproud

@_firsttimedaddy

@TomBriggs79 (though I appreciate this may be far from his list of priorities just now, congrats on the new arrival!)

If anyone else has done it already, and wants to point me in the direction of their answers, I'll pop along and read them!

Petrol

I’m feeling a bit smug today.  It’s rare I get to feel that way, I’m far from spectacular in general.  But today… today is different.

Because today, while (seemingly) everyone else in the whole of Britain is sitting, sweltering, swearing, suffering in a looooooong queue of traffic waiting to put £5 worth of petrol in their cars, I have a full tank.

It’s pure fluke; I run my car to empty every time, and then squeeze every last dribble in when I fill it up.  I had none left on Saturday, so off I popped to a quiet forecourt.  I find it easier to drive economically if I have a firm hold on how many miles I’m getting from each gallon of car juice.  Yes, I’m that exciting.

I won’t be “topping up” on a daily basis from now either; as long as I’ve got enough to drive to and from the hospital for the birth I’m happy. 

I’ll admit I hadn’t been considering that.  It wasn’t until driving somewhere with Mrs L, her looking over at the fuel gauge nervously, me getting ready for a round of petrol pump chicken, that I realised (she told me) I should probably not let it run down to fumes.

So, where in the world is everyone else going that demands they have a full tank on a permanent basis?  Nowhere, I assume; but we do love a good panic buy, don’t we?  Especially when we’re advised to do it by our government.  Makes it all seem a bit more real.  Helps the economy too, which the cynic in me suspects is no coincidence.

The downside of the smugness is that I feel left out of the furore.  The camaraderie of the queue is missing from my life.  So I’ve been thinking about some other things that I can panic buy instead, to be part of the crowd.  These are the things I couldn’t live without, things which I’d be a gibbering mess if I couldn’t get hold of:

1. Bread (and bread based products) – I’m a complete carb fiend.  Bagels, Brioche, Crumpets, Muffins, Pitta, Naan, Granary, White, Wholemeal.  I need it.  I need sandwiches, I need toast, I need toasted sandwiches.  I got all snappy and angry when I made a sandwich last weekend without checking that the bread was fresh.  As it fell apart in my hands it took all my strength not to collapse to the floor, Platoon style, and cry “Noooooooooo!”  So, yeah, bread.
2. An internet connection – not entirely clear on how I’ll panic buy this one.  I could, I suppose, phone each of the many ISPs and open an account with them all, sounding fraught as I did so.  This one might not work out.  But really, HOW did we manage before the internet?
3. Shoes – Mrs L is always telling me off for having my shoes on in the house.  It makes the carpet grubby.  I know this, but I can’t change the habit of a lifetime.  Rare are the moments that I don’t have shoes on.  I’ve sort of been panic buying these already, or at least it must look that way to any visitor to my house.  I have sixteen pairs at the last count, that’s probably unnecessary.
4. Dr Pepper – addiction is an ugly word, but an addiction to this filthy fizzy beverage is what I have.

Soon, I imagine, I’ll be adding nappies and earplugs to that list.

Sometimes I wonder what will happen when the inevitable happens and the oil actually runs out.  I find myself thinking it’s unfair to bring a child into a world which could go all Mad Max on us at a moment’s notice (imagine the scenes if it wasn’t a strike we were worrying about, but actually not being able to get petrol because there wasn’t any.  Carnage.  Immediately.  It actually worries me, and not because the concept leads to terrible films.)  It could happen in my lifetime, let alone that of my child.  Somewhere, I hope, there are some people thinking about an alternative, instead of sitting in a queue waiting for what we’ve got at the moment.

In the meantime, seeing as you’re probably reading this on your phone, as you wait for a vacant pump, why not tell me what you couldn’t live without?  Except petrol, obviously, I know that.

Memeology - Versatile Liebster

One of the rather fun things about this blogging game is all the nice meme-y things that are floating around.  I'm always dead pleased when I get tagged in one, because it means at least one person has noticed I'm writing stuff.  When there's a whole internet of stuff to read, I'm regularly astounded that there are people reading my bit of it.

Massive thanks are therefore in order, to the lovely and photographically talented @HPMcQ - If you like pretty photographs and nicely crafted words I suggest you pay her blog a visit, it's ace - she has tagged me with not one, but TWO of the aforementioned memes.  Generosity, thy name is @HPMcQ!

First up; the Versatile Blogger Award.

Versatile blogger rules:

1. Thank the blogger who has awarded you and link back to them – done!

2. Share seven things about yourself – should be easy, thankfully it doesn't stipulate that they should be interesting.

3. Pass the award along to 15 other newly discovered blogs - erm, yeah, I'm grateful and everything, but FIFTEEN?  Come on now.  I'll think of some and add them at the bottom. 

SEVEN THINGS ABOUT ME:

1.  I have seven bikes in my garage.  Five of them are mine.  I love them all.

2.  I am a basketball player, despite not being freakishly tall, particularly fit, or being American.

3. I am a ridiculous perfectionist when it comes to making sandwiches.  Almost everything else I do is slapdash.

4.  I once beat someone at Streetfighter 2 using my feet to control the game.  Also I was very drunk.

5.  I still live in the town I was born in, and in which my family can be traced back over three hundred years.

6.  I am finding this harder than it ought to be, because it's late and I should be in bed.

7.  I have an uncle who is a catwalk make-up artist.  That's not really about me is it?  Well, it'll have to do.

Next!

The Liebster Award, which looks like this: 

The liebster award rules:

1. Thank your liebster blog award presenter on your blog – Yep. 

2. Link back to the blogger who awarded you - Yep.

3. Copy & paste the award onto your blog - Yep.

4. Nominate 5 blogs to receive the award – That's more reasonable.  Five I can do.

5. Inform them of their nomination – never fear, I shall.

Okay then, just the nice bit now, wherein I big up some other bloggers:

@mummyglitzer - she's applying for jobs, which is boring, so now she can have a break.

@alwaysamummy - she's not even twenty-one yet.  Makes me sick.  Youth, honestly.

@_firsttimedaddy - because he is always telling me I'm funny, and the ASW in me laps that shit up.

@bishopstonmum - she's a new blogger, like me.  New bloggers need love.

@mcmurphycuckoo - she's even newer, a couple of days of blogging under her belt.

Labour

I was just watching an episode of Pramface on TV.  I quite like it, it's reasonably entertaining, and has the definite advantage of NOT being Hollyoaks or another repeat of Top Gear.

In this episode the boy who has got a (slightly older) girl pregnant is with her at an antenatal class and is doing a roleplay with the woman running it.  She's pretending to be in labour, he's actually shitting himself.

I laughed when the woman screamed at him: "I never want you to fucking touch me again", among other things.  Then I felt stupid for laughing.  It's probably actually going to be like that, isn't it?  

I've seen plenty of One Born Every Minute too, and most of the women featured clearly aren't in the mood to moderate their vocal output during labour.  I don't blame them.  There's no male equivalent of course, but I don't much fancy the idea of trying to pass a golf ball via my penis.  No.  The thought has made me feel a bit sick.

My wife's a gentle sort though; doesn't get angry with me often, lets me get away with my many indiscretions and is generally understanding of the fact that I'm a bit crap at a lot of stuff.  

So I wonder what my labouring wife want to tell me that has been kept inside through all the time we've been together, will the floodgates open and cover me in a tsunami of criticism, justified or otherwise?  Probably.  

But perhaps not.  I'm sure I'll let you all know once it's happened.

Unwanted Attention

The weather's been a bit on the lovely side this weekend in my neck of the woods.  So nice in fact that it spurred me into doing something I've been putting off for over a year.

Sorting out our back garden.  Ugh.  I know there are plenty of people out there who consider a day pottering about the garden as a lovely way to unwind.  I am not one of those people, and ours is not one of those gardens.

It's hard to describe it; such is the unique and dazzling combination of surfaces, textures, materials and plant life that I'm at a loss of suitable descriptors.  I could summarise, I suppose, by saying it looks like an industrial wasteland.  But with much more cat poo.

I don't like cats anyway, I don't trust them, but now they've started using my garden as an impromptu litter tray I like them even less.  They even look me in the eyes as they're doing it sometimes, mocking my inability to get from the kitchen to the garden in time to chase them off.  But I digress, this isn't a post about cats.

It's not really a post about gardening either, despite the fact I spent a lot of my weekend dripping with sweat and wielding a spade, turning over the "soil" in preparation to seed a new lawn.

This is a post about my neighbour.  I can not be in my garden for more than a few minutes without her coming out for a chat.  This is NOT GOOD.  My neighbour is unfailing friendly, maddeningly friendly.  But worst of all, disarmingly friendly.  She asks questions, and though I don't like her, don't want to tell her the answers, I do.  Because she asked so nicely.  She should consider a role with MI6, she'd be brilliant interrogating people.

So, when she asked how my wife was, instead of saying "yeah, good ta, now will you please leave me alone?" is said "yeah, good ta, we're expecting our first baby in a couple of weeks so she's pretty tired a lot of the time but..."

She cut me off with a sort of squeal.  I thought she was broken.  Actually, it was excitement.

"OhmyGodIlovebabies!!"

Shit.

And then, from a person who I could happily end my days without ever allowing to cross the threshold of my home: "Would it be okay if I came over to see the baby when it's born?"

Remember, DISARMINGLY nice: "Oh, erm, yeah, I'm sure that'd be fine" (Balls!  Balls!  Why did I say that??)

"It's alright, I only like them when they're really little, up to about fourteen weeks, so I won't bother you for too long"  Well.  That's fine then, obviously.

With that, plus a quick lesson on how I was digging my garden incorrectly, she was gone.

I was left wondering how I'm supposed to say no to people like that.  Not just her, but the colleagues, and vague acquaintances who will probably all want to come and visit the baby when he arrives.  I'm not talking about family and good friends here, and of course I'll want people to come and see the little guy.  But I won't be wanting a house chock full of people from the moment the baby is in it.

So what's the etiquette?  How many times can I put off the neighbour from visiting before it's obvious I'm stalling?  Could I make it to fourteen weeks, so she loses interest?

At least I got the garden dug over okay:

Silent Sunday