More frolics in the Wye Valley, but a lot further down this weekend. Boy 2 was off to a birthday party on Saturday, so I suggested to Boy 1 that we load up the bikes and head out. I'd found a recently opened trail called The Peregrine Way, which is the old railway track between Ross on Wye and Monmouth. The cycle trail has been done so that you can ride next to the river from Monmouth to Symonds Yat and back.
Picnic made, we set off. It was glorious , we were passed by a few other serious cyclists (all dayglo lycra and go faster helmets) and passed the occasional jogger, but most of the time it felt as though everyone had vanished and we were the only people on the planet. It was wonderfully quiet. The river was deeper than at Builth, and faster flowing. We stopped to watch canoeists larking about in the rapids, looked like great fun.
We reached Symonds Yat and the sense of being alone vanished, it was very busy with tourists, but then it is very pretty. Last year, we put an offer in on a cottage overlooking the Wye at Symonds Yat. At the time it seemed to make sense. The village we live in has become crazily expensive for property, and although we love our house, the garden is quite small, and with two growing hooligans we felt the need for more space, so we looked further afield, where we get get get a lot more for our money, and settled on Symonds Yat. In hindsight, I'm glad we didn't get the house. Yes it was in a beautiful spot, but being there on a sunny spring day, made me realise just how busy it would have been. Also, we are very happy where we are, we have lots of good friends, as do the boys, and they go to a great school in the village.
We turned back and found this spot for lunch. (at top, cocked up positioning)
We cycled back stopping at the Biblins foot bridge. I'm not good with heights, and also the bloody thing wobbles like an excited jelly, but over we went. (cocked up again !)
It was a great day out, and I really enjoy spending one to one time with either of the boys.
Earlier in the week, we'd had parents evening. It went as expected, Boy 1 , a joy to teach, well mannered, doing well. Boy 2, hmmm. J is a problem, he has always been exceptionally bright. His elder brother is no fool, but he works very hard as well. J has set himself a mission, and that mission is to be the class clown, and he's succeeding, but succeeding at make himself a royal pain in the arse, disrupting the class and not going forwards himself. It was coming, his behaviour at home is fairly dire. The difficulty is, there's never any malice in what he does, he's a hugely affectionate and tactile little chap, but also a nutter. The thing is, we are strict. I cannot abide badly behaved kids, but J is turning that way. We have defined boundaries, and punishments for overstepping those boundaries, but it seems not to bother him. It causes problems with A and I, as we argue as to the best way forward, so the atmosphere in Gumpher Towers is generally rather frosty at the moment. The whole parent thing is a constant learning curve, and nothing I had done prior to being a father had prepared me for it.

I like Fridays. The boys primary school has an open assembly on a Friday which parents can attend which sets me up for the day, as it usually has the odd moment of utter hilarity, invariably around the hymn, which today was 'I wish I was a wiggly worm'. The words were rib crackingly funny and the school 'orchestra' were so out of time with the whole thing I was pissing myself all the way through. They've made the mistake of giving one of C's hyperactive chums the cymbals which he bashes together with gay abandon at wholly innappropriate moments.

The kids are allowed to talk about their out of school activities, and today one girl got up to show her grade 4 ballet certificate. Cue major dumbass moment from the head teacher. 'Thats very good M, now what grades did you do before grade four ? ' The look on the little girls face was priceless, a nine year old doing an excellent 'go figure you pillock' face.

Talking of pillocks, Ruth Kelly on Question Time last night. Aaaaaaaaargh, I can't bear the woman, she speaks like she's permanently got a gobful of man batter, and she is so badly informed it defies belief. She wasn't exactly up against strong opposition (that irritating little twunt Alan Duncan being one), but she got totally caned. Very worrying that one of such limited abilities holds such a powerful postition.

We've badly screwed up this weekends' social planning. We've invited friends around for dinner on Saturday. There's rugby on all day, which means muggins will be banned from watching in the pub as I'll be a gibbering mess by the time the guests arrive. Doh ! And the France/England game is an evening kick off so I guess I'll be told off every time I slope off to check the score.

To further compound my problems my wife is currently on a train heading for Selfridges in Brum on a day out with her mum and sister, so I anticipate being considerably poorer come this afternoon.

Still, just listened to Colin Hay doing an acoustic 'Overkill' which is spankingly fine.

More woe

I could really do without being at work today, but I have a site meeting for a major project this afternoon, and as I run my own business, needs must.

I had a fucking awful cluster attack last night. 1.30 am, and finally went back to bed at 3. I feel totally shattered, and for some reason I'd reacted by scratching at my chest and stomach, and have big red weals over both, but have no recollection of doing it. This episode has been ongoing since mid January, and it's starting to get me down. I missed a meeting in Southampton on Monday, as I had an attack at 6 in the morning, but luckily I was able to get down there yesterday.

There is light at the end of the tunnel. I've managed to get an appointment at the London Migraine Clinic to see the country's leading authority on Cluster Headaches. The first thing they'll do is to make sure that my GP prescribes me oxygen for home use, so I can finally get some pain relief. my GP has been pretty good in fairness, and recognises oxygen as a solution, but wants me to go to the surgery to use it. Not much good in the middle of the night. The clinic explained that the average GP will probably only see one or two cluster cases in their whole career, so I suppose it's reasonable to cut them some slack.

We had a huge walk along the mid section of the Wye Valley near Builth Wells at the weekend.
It's rather pretty, don't you think ? I never mind what the temperature is as long as there's a clear blue sky, it was glorious, but bloody cold, the diesel froze in my car on Saturday night, we had to push it into the sunshine to thaw out ! Parts of the shallows had frozen, which our friends' dogs found very odd, but all the kids had great fun breaking up the ice. We also found a near perfect spot for skimming stones, with a rocky beach chock full of wonderfully flat, round skimmers.
Needless to say, part of the weekend involved the usual session of liver abuse, which made the crisp cold air all the more welcoming.

We had planned a couple of quiet days at the start of the week, as the boys had gone to my Mums for a few days as it was half term. (Praise be for the gift of grandmothers).

It didn't quite end up as that. We'd just had the dining room decorated, and A wanted 'finishing touches'. Thats woman speak for curtains and cushions. It took all sodding day, Worcester, Malvern, and finally Cheltenham. Still, it was great to have the day to ourselves, we had lunch in Worcester, when we finally acquired the curtains, we had a few beers and then caught the early evening showing of 'No Country for Old Men', which was good in the first half, but faded away somewhat after that, finally followed by a quick bite at Nandos. Went home, got the fire going, a few glasses of wine and then A spanked me at scrabble. Zebra did the damage, triple letter on the Z, and a double word score. How thoroughly middle aged.

As the boys were away, it seemed like a good idea to sort out the playroom. They've got loads of stuff that they never use, and without them being there to bitch about what was going, it was a golden opportunity to do a charity shop run. At the same time I was faffing about with various curtain poles. We finally sat down to eat at 8.30, after working flat out all day. They are messy little buggers, and the sorting out was a nightmare. They arrived home to be greeted by the news of a new regime. A maximum of half an hour computer time each day, which has to be 'earned' in five minute chunks, and can also be taken away in five minute chunks, and a maximum of half an hour of tv per day. You should have seen their faces, you'd have thought we were sending them up chimneys.

As always, it was great to have some time to ourselves, it always goes too quickly. The house is very quiet without the hooligans around, but it's always great when they get back. You can't beat the gentle sound of a five year old and an eight year old battering each other. Soothing.

Betterer and betterer

The trip to the match just got better.

Had a phone call late last night and got offered an extra ticket. So I took boy 1. What a great day, he was all togged up in his Welsh shirt and scarf, face dragon painted. His first 6 nations game, and we won.

Look at that view, virtually smack on the halfway line.

Happy days.

Mentalist

What the flying fuck has Rowan Williams been smoking ? I thought he was meant to be first in line on the batphone to the Big G, but it would appear that he spends most of his day sat in a squat chowing down on a crack pipe.

So, certain aspects of Sharia law should be adopted in this country then. Oh do fuck off. Muslims make up around 2% of the population of this country, so why the hell is the political and religious agenda constantly occupied with Muslim appeasment ? Fuck 'em, and while your at it fuck Jews, Anglicans, Catholics, Hindus, Sikhs, in fact every single one of the backward insane divoids who think that 'their' higher being is the 'right' higher being come what may. Religion gets on my fucking tits and it seems to be making a bit of a comeback. Look at that fucktard Huckabee, he wants to be the leader of the worlds largest superpower, and he's a full on religious nutjob, and, people are actually voting for him. I don't know whether to laugh or shit my pants. And our own previous glorious leader kept his own faith somewhat under wraps just in case the great British public thought him a bit odd. No shit hombre.

That bearded arsewipe Williams should keep his moronic opinions to himself, and whilst he's at it, he should get a fucking eyebrow trim, it's not a good look on a man who's trying to come across all serious and if he leaves it much longer he'll need a sodding weedwhacker.

Anyway, the sun is shining, tonight I shall be rustling up a rather juicy bit of cow with a red wine sauce and some pureed parsnip, and tomorrow I shall be hot footing it down the M50 to watch us batter the Jocks. Not all bad then.

It just gets better

Just found out that I have a ticket for Wales v Italy. Off to check the train timetables.

One happy Welshman.

That's all really.

Bread of Heaven

I shall mostly be watching rugby for the next few weekends as the 6 nations is once again upon us.

If the weeks past indiscretions can be overlooked I plan to be in the pub for most of the afternoon.

I've got 20 quid on Wales to win by 11-15 at 25/1.

Show me the money !

A fool and his money, etc, etc.

Ahem.......

I'm in the dog house.

It was a friend's 40th yesterday. We both took the day off work and played golf. And then went to the pub. All day.

We fell through the door at his house at around 6 ish, all idiot grins and apologies. His wife took one look at us, went to the fridge, took out the lobster she was going to prepare for the romantic dinner a deux, opened the back door and lobbed it into next door's back garden.

After a few glasses of wine she was fine. My beloved was livid, slight over reaction in my opinion. I ended up in boy 1's lower bunk for the night, no great suprise.

Woke up this morning totally free of any hangover! Result.

I've been a busy little chap.

I've had a shocking run of cluster headaches, look 'em up, they're no fun. Over my years of inglorious activities on the rugby pitch I have fractured; sternum ( bloody painful), ankle, collar bone, four ribs and three fingers, along with various stiches and two punched out teeth and I would happily swap the lot added together for the pain of one hour of the cluster beast. I'm rattling with an interesting concotion of narcotics and generally feel quite shitty.

But, when you employ yourself, needs must, and through controlled pain relief, I've managed a busy and productive week.

Boy one's birthday. Four for a sleepover. Never again. 7 year olds cannot piss directly into a toilet, they need a trough. They gossip like fishwives until 11, and then get up and five. Mental note to self. No.

Diss. Installation and site survey for future project. Flat. Arse end of nowhere. Despite potential financial rewards, hope never to go again. The A14 sucks the clingons off a fat bird's arse hair.

Upside, I'm hyper, must be the drugs. Have rediscovered cooking once more. I like to cook. It relaxes me. I get home from work, read to the boys, A bathes, I whack on 5 live and cook. Last night, duck breasts on a bed of sugar snaps, mange tout and asparagus with chilli and ginger. Tonight, steak with a mash of butter beans, sweated leeks with white wine and creme fraiche.

If I was a woman I'd shag me senseless. Really.

Enough of my self glorification, All Blacks v Scotland is on ESPN, there's only enough femine side......

This is boy 2 at the top of the lane leading to the river during the last flood. It's back up as far as this at the moment. The boat's not there. Last time the lock keeper used it to get to and from his house, but the builders haven't finished, and they'll be starting over again and they've yet to move back in. You can see where the river should be by the line of boats in the distance.
Madness

One lazy blogger

Not been around in blogland for a while. I've only been checking out a few of my regular reads every now and then, but commenting very little. Must get back in the saddle.

The Christmas break was all a bit rushed, but all in we had a great time. The boys enjoyed it, and received some great gifts. A and I over indulged to the extend that we are both off the booze in the week ! I'm off completely owing to being off my tits on steroids and beta blockers, which also means I can't play squash which is a bummer. I'd only just got my leg back to normal after shagging the top front quad a few months ago, so I'm not best pleased.

Our little corner of Worcestershire is a bit of a nightmare at the moment, the floods have returned, and access in and out of the village is a bit hit and miss at the moment. Although we're slap next to the river, the village itself is elevated so we're not having the problems that the poor folk of Tewkesbury and Upton are bracing themselves for. This is the first day this week that I've made it to the office, it's simply been to much hassle, and as I type its started pissing down again, so its probably time to plan a route home.

Work has kicked in with a vengeance and this month sees me on a delightful tour of Blighty including Diss, Southampton and Northampton. This month I shall mostly be spending my cash on fuel.

To make me feel even peachier, my bloody sister is getting on a plane tomorrow to go and visit Dad in Oz. Jammy cow.

'Tis the season and all that jazz

Couple more days and work gets put to one side for a bit.


A bit of running around this weekend doing the family thing, got to see Dad as he's clearing off back to oz for a few months on boxing day, then Christmas day at home with both of our mum's, which will be groovy for us and the boys. Boxing day, clear off with friends halfway up a mountain in the arse end of nowhere in Wales. Really looking forward to it. We're going to take the bikes and cycle around the Elan Valley, and generally have an outdoorsy few days. We've decided that nothing but champagne will be drunk for those days, life on the edge eh ?

This week at school has mainly been Christmas entertainment and we have a star in the family ! After years of shepherds, boy number 2 made it to the dizzy heights of Joseph in the carol service, I'm beating off Hollywood agents with a shitty stick. They also had a school play which ran for two nights, loosely based around the nativity. I say loosely as boy number one was an Arabian dancer and despite my limited religious knowledge, I can't quite place an troop of Iraqi dancers doing the mashed potato around the crib. Boy number one was a star, and I must confess a rather large lump in the throat as he and the rest of the reception class got up to murder 'twinkle twinkle'.

So, close to the end of another year, they go bloody quickly these days. It wasn't too bad, no-one close to us croaked, I made a few quid, we had a wonderful holiday together on Samui, and I have started to go rather elegantly and subtley grey at the temples, rather than balding on top. Only major downside, Wales' performance in the world cup, but hey, it's only a game . Grrrrrrr.

A long time between posts, but I've been busy, and also, not arsed.

Just how much data can the civil service lose ? We blame the government, and I truly loath this bunch of not even pseudo socialists, but it is the vastly inert, overweight civil service that is responsible for these crass ineptitudes. Government may make policy, but if the civil service that administers those policies is totally fucking useless, then at some point, we are all destined to be shafted.

The heads of these departments are making private sector salaries, because 'this is what it costs for the right people'. If operating within the private sector they would get canned for the recent calamitous errors. We simply cannot trust these imbeciles with data, and we must start to withold said data.

Really fun post, but sometimes you find yourself in a shitty place, and life generally becomes less fun.

Tomorrow will be full of slapstick and casual innuendo

Boy No1 was tucking into his cornflakes this morning as the news was on the radio. He normally wolfs everything in front of him like a hungry labrador, but this morning was a little slower as I could see he was listening to the bulletin.

'Dad'

'Yep'

'What are lashes ?'

'Eh?'

'What are lashes ? They just said something about a lady and a teddy and she might have got lashes'

Just how you go about explaining the weirdness of Sharia law to a seven year old over breakfast at 7.45 I don't really know, but I think I made a reasonable fist of things.

I am not remotely religious and have no 'faith' whatsoever, my wife is a Roman Catholic, and both of the boys have been baptised as such. It was important to her, and they can make up their own minds when they're old enough. I had to go to chapel three times a week for seven years and that just about did it for me, but it's important to A, so I ran with it.

I think the boy and I decided that if your God is a loving thing, then that can't be all bad, but if your god and worship of that god is based on fear and retribution, then perhaps that is not so good. I'm not sure if that's right or not, but some times being a father throws you a bit of a curve ball, which you can't duck, you just have to play it the best way you can, and whilst I didn't hit it out of the field, I at least connected.

Bogged down in the mindless boredom that is doing your vat return I decided to bugger off home for a few hours. A, being a lady of leisure walks a friends dog whilst they're at work, so we grabbed the pooch and set off on a yomp down to the river. It's the first bit of exercise that I've managed since buggering my leg and very pleasant it was too. No kids, and as it was a vile blustery grey day, we didn't come across another soul. We just strolled and chatted, alone, something that don't have that much time to do.
I see that bunch of loons the Muslims are doing their best to endear themselves to the planet as a whole, and listening to various radio shows you have the usual 'moderates' saying that of course it's not right, but that we have to see why. Sorry, I don't see a problem naming a teddy bear, its not as though it was called 'spank arse hanging out of the back of the prophet whilst munching on a bacon sandwich'. And she didn't name the sodding thing, the kids did. Is there such a thing as a moderate muslim ? They are so fucking precious about their religion it makes me shit jaffa cakes, get out more for fucks sake.
Aaaanyway, vats done and in on time, lets just hope the government can fuck up my vat as well as they fuck up everything alse at the moment.

Fool prices

Over in blah, Vi has had a dig a fuel prices.

With all that dominates the media at the moment, fuel seems to have taken a back seat. Back in 2000, when protesters blockaded terminals, diesel was around the mid eighties per litre. Today, my nearest garage is selling diesel at £1.08 per litre, and that ultimate diesel shite at £1.16. This is becoming lunacy. Yes, our roads are a clogged up mess, but until public transport can deliver, for most, the car is the only option. I think that as a family we are fairly sensible with the use of our cars. We've got two, one big diesel estate, and a zippy little hatchback. Could we make do with one? Probably not. Mine is mainly a work tool, and A's is the family runaround. We walk the boys to school every day, and although A doesn't work, she needs her car for her independence. We live right on the edge of the Glos/Worcs border, and public transport only runs towards Worcester, which means A couldn't get to her mother's which is the other way.

There is no way I could use public transport for work, not unless they invent a bus or train that picks me up at my house and drops me off at my clients' premises. Plus, I can make allowances for the shiteness of the roads, if stuck I can find an alternative route, but if public transport fucks up, I too am fucked. Plus, I am none to keen on sharing buses or carriages with the constant background sound of MP3 players and mobile phone conversations. A minor point perhaps, but it would irritate the tits off me.

But, driving is now a chore. My last three cars have been autos, I just don't see the point of a manual car any more. The current one, whilst hugely practical is sooooo dull to drive. I got it because my previous car, which was great fun to drive only did 23-27 to the gallon. So now I've got a diesel tank doing 45ish to the gallon, but diesel continues to go through the roof, and I an bored rigid driving the sodding thing.

The government is in such a constant spiral of gargantuan fuck ups that I guess that stupid fuel prices are less important than having millions of items of personal data falling into the wrong hands, or of the steady stream of body bags arriving at Brize Norton.

Christ, I've depressed myself with this.

Boy 1 did indeed do the business on Sunday whilst I froze my nads off on the touchline with the other Dads. It was pissing down and bloody freezing, and at the same time A was sat in a nice warm theatre with boy 2.

I see our useless leaders have committed a further act of total embuggerance by losing data containing 15 million individuals bank details. Fucking clowns. And as they're happily dishing out squillions of quids to bail out ailing banks I wonder if I could trouble them for twenty grand or so as my cashflow is a bit tight this month. I've got my mortgage with Northern Cock, if they go tits up will I become mortgage free I wonder ?

I can't be arsed to carp on about Gordon and his bunch of tools for much longer. It's all too easy and really doesn't present much of a challenge. Part of Ruth Kelly's portfolio encompasses Equality, you couldn't make it up.