No son of the soil me. But I am embracing the shire lifestyle with a verve unbounded. Maybe the trip to Sainsburys helped me get in touch with my urban side.
Or perhaps it was the ride along to the aerodrome with the girls. There is a playground at Old Warden air field which is simply brilliant. Usually our school holidays don't coincide with the English ones so when we go there the place is deserted. Sadly this half-term is at the same time with England.
So the place was heaving. I managed to get a few minutes on the swings before giving way to some children. But I couldn't do my normal commando course stuff. Helas. The girls weren't that happy that there were others around.
I tried to explain that this was the nature of this playground. But I know what they were going through.
Me and the missus are just about to go off to a country pub for supper. I phoned to reserve for 7.30pm. The pub phoned back to tell us they only had 6pm start or 8pm.
Gosh pile em in and send em out. It sounds as if the Hare and Hounds is wunderbar.
But this is what they do back in the city. Metro manners with fresher air.
But will they be metro prices?
Friday, 20 February 2009
Thursday, 19 February 2009
The Recuperation
Off for an tri generation swim this morning at Biggleswade pool. The father-in-law me and the missus and the brood.
The eldest decided to race her granddad. I gave the left leg a workout and then did shallow pool duties while the missus did a few lengths.
The middle child was somewhere in the middle.
The effect of the swim was to knock me out completely. But I'd like to think that was more due to the walk round the village green with the three children.
After lunch the best I could do was race the boy to the siesta. I just about managed to read the story. About three pages from the end, he'd had enough. He turned, sighed and shuddered. I read to the end and next thing I know it's almost tea time.
This is what holdiays are for.
The good news is that as I plot my way back to fitness, the team won last Saturday against the team in fourth and it looks pretty good. The next match - 28th - is against the league's worst team.
But no complacency here. They might have a one day hurrah. Anyway that's the target. But then you don't want to overdo it.
Getting injured playing against the bottom team - almost as duff as getting injured during a practice session.
The eldest decided to race her granddad. I gave the left leg a workout and then did shallow pool duties while the missus did a few lengths.
The middle child was somewhere in the middle.
The effect of the swim was to knock me out completely. But I'd like to think that was more due to the walk round the village green with the three children.
After lunch the best I could do was race the boy to the siesta. I just about managed to read the story. About three pages from the end, he'd had enough. He turned, sighed and shuddered. I read to the end and next thing I know it's almost tea time.
This is what holdiays are for.
The good news is that as I plot my way back to fitness, the team won last Saturday against the team in fourth and it looks pretty good. The next match - 28th - is against the league's worst team.
But no complacency here. They might have a one day hurrah. Anyway that's the target. But then you don't want to overdo it.
Getting injured playing against the bottom team - almost as duff as getting injured during a practice session.
The Transition
Amid the general chaos of taking the children to see my dad on Tuesday morning there was a sobering moment when he showed me "where everything is".
During periods of illness he's been keen to show me the spot. And refusing to go along with it, I've jokingly always ignored his requests.
But given the state of his flat, this really hasn't been a good idea. Given the state of my flat, it's probably even more important for me to do some pruning myself because I don't even know where everything is.
He has problems with his leg and it is causing him a great deal of pain. I don't think it is life threatening but coupled with treatment for prostate cancer, there's only so much the body can take.
My worry is that he'll have to go into hospital and though I love the National Health Service, even I know enough about the bugs flying round hospitals to cede to the realities of 21st century care.
So while he awaits the tests my hope is that he won't have to go in again.
The important thing was that he had a good time with his loud and vulgar grandchildren and they had their usual fill of his food and remember him for that rather than a huge pot of money and lavish presents.
Legacies are a funny thing. Especially if you never grow up with both parents in the same house.
I guess you just get a different experience. Now is really the time to ask what the effect was but I don't have the time to sit and ponder as I am in the thick of bringing up his grandchildren.
What do I look back on and remember clearly? An afternoon in the park? Going to watch a film? Walking along a train platform?
How to describe a non resident parent? I have no idea. It was always just like that. How to describe my dad? I have no idea. I've never tried.
And it's not yet time for retrospectives.
During periods of illness he's been keen to show me the spot. And refusing to go along with it, I've jokingly always ignored his requests.
But given the state of his flat, this really hasn't been a good idea. Given the state of my flat, it's probably even more important for me to do some pruning myself because I don't even know where everything is.
He has problems with his leg and it is causing him a great deal of pain. I don't think it is life threatening but coupled with treatment for prostate cancer, there's only so much the body can take.
My worry is that he'll have to go into hospital and though I love the National Health Service, even I know enough about the bugs flying round hospitals to cede to the realities of 21st century care.
So while he awaits the tests my hope is that he won't have to go in again.
The important thing was that he had a good time with his loud and vulgar grandchildren and they had their usual fill of his food and remember him for that rather than a huge pot of money and lavish presents.
Legacies are a funny thing. Especially if you never grow up with both parents in the same house.
I guess you just get a different experience. Now is really the time to ask what the effect was but I don't have the time to sit and ponder as I am in the thick of bringing up his grandchildren.
What do I look back on and remember clearly? An afternoon in the park? Going to watch a film? Walking along a train platform?
How to describe a non resident parent? I have no idea. It was always just like that. How to describe my dad? I have no idea. I've never tried.
And it's not yet time for retrospectives.
Monday, 16 February 2009
The Londoner
Altogether now...'Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner, that I love London town.....'
In fact that's the only bit of the song I know which is well poor for a boy from Streatham.
But during my time Streatham has become St Reatham and wildly unafffordable unless you happen to have been a boy from Streatham who done well.
Well over the years I have been done.
None more so than Sunday night as I waited for the 390 bus to take me from the glittering building that is the Guardian's new home at Kings Place up towards Highgate where I am in half-term residence with the brood.
The new shiny HQ is in the middle of an urban wasteland that would just love to be a hinterland.
It will be transformed. But change is a coming via somewhere else. And we may have to wait a long time before we see the dazzling array of gastro-pubs and glitzy bistrots.
The 390 bus stop is a lonely post. It is on a narrow strip of pavement bordered by a big fence. The traffic whizzes past. And I saw a lot of whizzing last night as I waited and waited. And waited.
Eventually the bus came. I thought the cold had affected my eyesight as it looked like a very long bus.
But nay, my senses were still operational it was just that two 390s came at the same time.
As I was getting off the bus at Archway I asked the driver about the delay and he told me there were problems on the Bayswater Road over which had snarled up progress.
I was neither shocked nor narked. I knew the score.
Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner.....
In fact that's the only bit of the song I know which is well poor for a boy from Streatham.
But during my time Streatham has become St Reatham and wildly unafffordable unless you happen to have been a boy from Streatham who done well.
Well over the years I have been done.
None more so than Sunday night as I waited for the 390 bus to take me from the glittering building that is the Guardian's new home at Kings Place up towards Highgate where I am in half-term residence with the brood.
The new shiny HQ is in the middle of an urban wasteland that would just love to be a hinterland.
It will be transformed. But change is a coming via somewhere else. And we may have to wait a long time before we see the dazzling array of gastro-pubs and glitzy bistrots.
The 390 bus stop is a lonely post. It is on a narrow strip of pavement bordered by a big fence. The traffic whizzes past. And I saw a lot of whizzing last night as I waited and waited. And waited.
Eventually the bus came. I thought the cold had affected my eyesight as it looked like a very long bus.
But nay, my senses were still operational it was just that two 390s came at the same time.
As I was getting off the bus at Archway I asked the driver about the delay and he told me there were problems on the Bayswater Road over which had snarled up progress.
I was neither shocked nor narked. I knew the score.
Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner.....
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
The Vaudeville
I've been reminded of a chance meeting of late. About three years ago in Holborn I bumped into someone I hadn't seen for years and years. He was the husband of a friend of a woman I used to live with in the late 80s.
When that relationship detonated I lost touch with the whole crowd.
But as the bloke was an avid Chelsea supporter we had a chat about the football and were both pleased that Chelsea had won the title.
"It's all going to go Vaudeville," he said as the traffic rushed past. Well three years later. Chelsea have got rid of José Mourinho, the title winning boss and Avram Grant and now Luiz Felipe Scolari.
I have lost interest in the Chelsea project since José went. But the prediction is grimly true.
When that relationship detonated I lost touch with the whole crowd.
But as the bloke was an avid Chelsea supporter we had a chat about the football and were both pleased that Chelsea had won the title.
"It's all going to go Vaudeville," he said as the traffic rushed past. Well three years later. Chelsea have got rid of José Mourinho, the title winning boss and Avram Grant and now Luiz Felipe Scolari.
I have lost interest in the Chelsea project since José went. But the prediction is grimly true.
Matchday IX Post Mortem
The other side didn't turn up. We had a kick about amongst ourselves and I was having a laugh. Then went and did something odd to my left leg. I can't see me being part of Matchday X this Saturday.
I find this deeply depressing as the injury was sustained during an intra muros affair. But that's what happens to top flight athletes.
And that's what happens to the likes of me. Back to the swimming pool I guess.
I find this deeply depressing as the injury was sustained during an intra muros affair. But that's what happens to top flight athletes.
And that's what happens to the likes of me. Back to the swimming pool I guess.
Friday, 6 February 2009
Matchday IX Preview Cup Day
It's a cup tie so I feel all cool about the game. Cool? Could that have something to do with the weather? Probably. Paris is chilly. It is still snowy in London and that means I had better take a decent pair of shoes with me this weekend rather than the Desert Boots of last week. What a sap I was.
Saturday's game is against an outfit who were in the second division last season while we were getting panned in the first division. They were promoted as we imploded.
So we've never played them. They are doing pretty well in the top flight. Oh grief a footballing lesson is a-coming. And we don't have our star striker.
Best thing is not to get injured and save it all up for the championship. I sound like the manager of an ailing English Premier League club.
Not up for the cup? Oh the romance has gone.
Saturday's game is against an outfit who were in the second division last season while we were getting panned in the first division. They were promoted as we imploded.
So we've never played them. They are doing pretty well in the top flight. Oh grief a footballing lesson is a-coming. And we don't have our star striker.
Best thing is not to get injured and save it all up for the championship. I sound like the manager of an ailing English Premier League club.
Not up for the cup? Oh the romance has gone.
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