Christmas Blogging

I have now gone on my hols for a couple of weeks and as I type I am sat on the sofa at my parents 'watching' the Strictly Come Dancing Final and guesstimating how much weight I am going to put on over the next few days as my mother feeds us to death. A conservative estimate is probably about five stone.

Tinselworm

Despite my encounter with the bunch of no-hoper Facebook types on the train on Friday (see below), this is just to add by the way that Bill Bailey made me laugh so much that my jaw ached, to the point where I couldn't actually laugh any more for several minutes. If you can't go, I suggest you get the DVD, or die trying. By the way, there's a petition running to get him cast as the next Doctor Who. Details available from his website..

All readers called Mungo, stop reading now..

As most readers know, I am a quiet and retiring type who lets the slightly odd ways of the world wash over him with ne'er a complaint or bad word to say about anything or anybody. As an exception to this rule however, and pursuant to a trip up into town on Friday night to see Saint Bill of Bailey, I feel compelled to point out the following to anyone having a conversation on the train within earshot of veteran commuters:

a) for anyone with a decent education who is contemplating getting a decent job, but has the unfortunate social disadvantage of a plummy accent and an incredibly silly nickname such as Dagger or Mungo, please do NOT get into the habit of using expressions such as the following:

(i) "yeah, Mungo was LIKE, SOO drunk" (caps depict wholly inappropriate emphasis);
(ii) "Oh yeah, LIKE DJ Spong is SO awesome?" (rising at the end to depict some sort of question EVERY BLOODY TIME); and
(iii) "Oh yeah, I was like, SO drunk, I walked all the way to Aberdeen with LIKE, NO shoes ON."

b) quit it with the crappy air kissy kissy nonsense (muah ... muah). It might play well with your Facebook-crowd of fake mates, but the real world gave it up as a bad bet about 4 seconds after the first episode of 'Absolutely Fabulous' aired 10 years ago.

c) loudly proclaiming how boring your work experience is on a train full of commuters shows about as much tactical foresight as turkeys voting for Xmas. The expression 'it's a small world' ring any bells?

d) all commuters HATE listening to other people's conversations (unless they fall into the category of car-crash conversations with tell-tale hissy fits and swearing). We just like to switch off and reflect on the day or things to do in a bit of PEACE AND QUIET.

So just, LIKE, SHUT UP, would you, Mungo!!!!!

A weekend with your parents

Now I know some bloggers (particularly in America) make a point of writing a soul-searingly honest account of relations with their parents and family, which gets them into all sorts of trouble and causes all sorts of aggro. Fortunately, I have neither cause nor inclination to blog on this basis, particularly since (a) my Dad reads this and (b) if he ever starts his own blog I'm finished, so all I can report is that it (c) was very nice to see my parents this weekend and (d) thanks very much for dinner on Saturday night. If those over 60 and reading this could just refrain from wandering off in the garden centre in future however, that would be appreciated.

It has also been *£$%%$£%$*** cold this weekend, which was a pain as it was the first night in November we have been able to get some fireworks away (Nov 5 was a weekday, rained the first weekend after that, yada yada yada). All I can say is next year I shall simply light a huge bonfire in the garden to keep myself warm at the same time as I propel used rocket husks into next doors garden, lack of firewood and kindling notwithstanding. Neighbours cars...fence at the bottom of the garden...all replaceable in the name of keeping my mits toasty warm.

what else..oh yes..Little Big Planet. Anyone got this yet? Looks like quite good fun, and will probably acquire over Xmas. Whilst we're on the subject, Tot1 has now discovered that the PS3 exists and, what's more, she has also discovered you don't need to be a genius to work the acceleromoter contained in a sixaxis controller (as far as I know, only one person reading this will know what the hell I am on about here). Consequently, she can navigate around TOY HOME rather better than you'd expect. Hopefully, that means someone in this house will one day be able to give Mr Peel a run for his money..

I'm back

When I started this blogging business, I had expected to put a blog or two up every week or so, but as you can see, it didn't quite turn out like that. This is due to a number of reasons, some publishable, some not, but fundamentally, it arises from the fact that I can't believe much of what I write is of interest to many people.

I was touched however this week to discover an old friend (yes you) had been reading the blog and got in touch to check I was still breathing and to moan about his crappy i-phone contact syncing abilities (see I told you it was you). So I have redoubled my efforts to blog a bit more often and keep the world up to date on the dynamic and exciting adventures of a thirtysomething lawyer with a penchant for trashy television and things with plugs on.

So what's been going on then? Well, the extension is still going well, and may be finished ahead of schedule. I am also busy at work on a project which (touch wood) will hopefully see me through the credit crunch and beyond. The tots continue to grow and learn (in an 'Outnumbered' sort of fashion, if you happen to watch that), and I am about to embark on a seven series 'West Wing' spectacular when I can prise Simon Cowell off the Panasonic.

About the most interesting thing I have done lately is to run the PC through the 37" telly. The effects are quite startling for someine who grew up peering at 14" colour SVGA monitors playing Civ and using something called 'Compuserve' to access the internet (Pentium-75s with 64MB of RAM anyone?). I can now watch i-player(broadband's killer application apart from real-time home-office functionality), the kids can play on the cbeebies website and downloads from the i-tunes movie rental website become a realistic possibility (watched 'The Transporter' last night. What tosh!). So check the port on the back of your screen and get one of those funky tiny lounge base units hooked up.

Oh, and if you get the chance, go and see Bill Bailey at the Gielgud. He is now so far ahead of the rest of the field for stand-up at the moment it is just astonishing. Saw him at the Albert Hall the other night for his guide to the orchestra. Awesome. The DVD of that show is coming soon if you're abroad by the way. Highly recommended. Unless you have no interest in the Belgian Jazz version of the Doctor Who theme, the Universal Studio sig tune speeded up as never before and the Panorama theme tune played backwards. In which case you have no soul...!

Giving up the internet

OK, what with the extension having started and all, we have recently had to go without the internet for a few weeks. Finally got a connection back up last night, and let me tell you there was an audible sigh of relief from eldest kid and parents alike when the little router light came on.

Now, you could say that what with the internet becoming part of our everyday life more and more, it is inevitable that it plays a crucial part in keeping up with people and sorting out utility bills, food shopping, etc., but I'm not sure I buy this. We made do before the internet didn't we? Mobile phones were a bit more expensive then, but we coped? And, let's face it, we're only talking about using the internet for rather straightforward things here, nothing like MMPPORGs or Facebook nonsense. So do we just get addicted to things by force of human nature, whatever they are, if we use them for long enough? Smoking, drugs, bonking (saw David Duchovney's out of the clinic today for his 'addiction'), phoning, emailing, borrowing, spending, going on the net, are they all the same? On some level, I think they are, you just have to be alive to not starting doing bad stuff and hoping they don't outlaw the good stuff.

Anyway, as a result I do now have some sympathy for smokers who can't light up in pubs anymore...and I never thought I'd say that!

Law Society Sevens

Now, I am not a fan of rugby as many of you know, but MeWife needed a rest this weekend and the LawSoc Sevens promised much, with a bouncy castle and face painting, plus lots of nosh and soft drinks. What could go wrong with a father taking his two tots to such an event? Even the sun was shining for once.

Well, as it turns out, quite a lot. Firstly, the demographic breakdown of those attending seemed to include a very large number of ladies in what might be termed 'provocative' outfits. Now that fact on its own might not have been too much of a give away as to their intentions on a warm day were it not for the six pounds of make-up that most had got stuck to their faces. Am I being cynical to think that a number of them may have been on the pull? Not exactly much of a family day out when your eldest has to queue for the loo surrounded by several sauced up rejects from Cinderella Rockerfellers yakking about how lush Troy Spong was. And the bouncy castle deflated mid-bounce. A metaphor for the day if ever there was one.

Anyway, my day continued to go from strength to strength when the sat-nav went on strike for 2 hours on the way home. Was giving some people a lift home, got in, and the dvd carrying the map data had managed to pop itself out of the cradle just enough not to work but not enough to eject itself properly. Bumpy car parks and sat nav dvds clearly don't get on. However, I now know how Han Solo felt in The Empire Strikes Back:

"Oh yeah, watch THIS.." (switches on sat nav/ attempts to jump to hyperspace [delete as applicable])

(clunk, clunk clunk)

"Watch WHAT?"

Could I find the key code to eject it? Could I buffalo. Did it HAVE an eject button for the dvd? Did it buffalo. Every other instruction book was in the glove box of course, but, security-conscious as ever, I had left the instructions for the sat nav at home. So, the solution? jamming another disc into the slot to push the dvd back into place. Note to car manufacurers: why do you give us so many bits of paper to lose in the name of 'security'?

And then came the sound every parent dreads in a traffic jam:

"I need a wee...."




I am sticking to the park next time.

Blu-Ray Bob

Obviously it was only a matter of time before I decided to test out the Blu-ray player within my PS3 and I can now safely say that the era of fuzzy home recording is quite dead (unless I'm putting stuff onto my Archos for the commute). Results so far are pretty cool. I have acquired the five Harry Potter films for test purposes (see what I did there?), and the results so far are a bit odd. I find myself not watching the films for the story or acting (although I have seen each one about 8 million times now for no obviously good reason), but more for sizing up the production values and Uncle Vernon's tie selections. I am not sure the idea of Blu-ray was to draw patterns on people's coffee jars to my attention but as hobbies go, I'll take it.

The first days of school

Yes, the fateful day has been and gone already. On September 8th 2008, my eldest daughter started school. I would like to say that there were tears of joy in my eyes as we (yes, I was there as well) left her sat with her new school chums, and that we were genuinely touched by her lack of tears and stalwart attitude. Sadly however, this moving moment never came to pass as a rugby scrum of about 15 parents jammed the door to the classroom taking 4000 digital camera shots through the wire-glass window. Oh well.

Truth to tell, any sentimental value in the moment is also diminished by the fact that these days you have to buy your kids the entire 1979 Action Man outfit catalogue before they start. Scuba diving gear is a real swine to locate, but the jungle warfare kit was quite easy to find.

I may exaggerate, but not by much.

Bobster goes mobile

As i write this I am using a mobile broadband modem to access the internet whilst stood waiting for my train at London Bridge and listening to "I'm not scared" by Ladytron. It is 8.15pm and quite mild, though a little breezy and I am tired.

It's been a busy few weeks so not much posting I'm afraid. We're having an extension put on the house and trying to get that sorted out is no mean feat when you also have a holiday in the middle of the process, your eldest is starting school and your builder drops out 10 days before arriving on site. Not exactly how I saw spending my summer but there you go.

By the way, some people reading this might cast their mind back to what they were doing 10 years ago tomorrow as well..! Strange how time flies.

Anyway, more mobile blogging anon. See ya.

And now the weather (an accidentally political post)

From today's BBC weather site for our area:

Sunrise 05:16 (BST)
Sunset 20:56 (BST)
77°F high
61°F low

A typical pleasant summer's day. Just thought I'd record that for posterity before the next ice-age/ hurricane global mega ecological disaster arrives (for which we are no doubt supposed to feel responsible and consequentially miserable and GUILTY). Anyone noticed how damage to the environment is the new SIN!! We are all SINNERS for using tescos carrier bags and we will BURN (well, once the ozone layer has gone anyway). Really bugs me this. I didn't break the planet, it was broken when I got here and it'll still be broken when I depart. Yes I'll do my bit to ease the damage caused by my passage through life but I'm not going to let some no-hoper politicians distract me from the crappy job they're doing by making me worry about this all the time. Ditto for the credit crunch, pension black holes and the general state of the world economy.

Hmm. Actually, this is not an original thought: I appear to have just espoused Michael Crichton's theory from "State of Fear" (but not the plot, since that was bobbins), which I read in the Maldives a few years ago whilst watching some blokes heave chunks of tsunami debris off the island's reef. In it, Crichton basically says that politicians use these issues as a form of control - subjugate the popoulation by getting us to worry about things all the time. Same way religion was used to control the uneducated masses in the middle ages. Since we're more educated now though, something else is needed for the western world's populations to worry about (poorer areas of the world still get religion as the default option though). Etc. and so forth. Ooh, and London gets youth on youth knife crime to worry about as a special bonus.

Deluded or cynical? Well, since no-one seems to have actually gone on record saying he was talking nonsense, I guess that at least goes to show most of the western world leaders don't read Michael Crichton anymore when they're on the beach. What does Gordon Brown read on his sun lounger? I wonder..?

When I Grow Up I Want To Be Nathan Muir

This week, I thought I would reveal a well-kept personal secret, namely that when I grow up (or at least when I hit retirement age), I want to be Robert Redford. Not Robert Redford in any old film mind, or even Robert Redford as in Butch and Sundance. No, I want to be Robert Redford as Nathan Muir in Spy Game.

Now, you may not have seen Spy Game, and it's fair to say it doesn't stick in the memory for many as a great film. It is however one of my all time favorite films for the following reasons, even before I get onto the character of Nathan Muir:

a) it's got David Hemmings in it, who just steals every scene he's in as Harry Duncan;

b) it's directed by Tony Scott, who did Top Gun; and

c) Brad Pitt (co-superstarring with Redford) comes off very much second best to said Redford's character, which I suspect was not entirely the idea when he signed on.

These things do not however make the film for me. No, the reason it is my favorite film is because Nathan Muir, who spends all of the non-flashback parts of the film stuck in the CIA Headquarters, just owns the entire organisation. He's not in charge, and he's on the verge of retirement, and he is seen as a throwback by his peers to a bygone age. He is however sharp-witted, always two steps ahead of his colleagues and in the end, sacrifices everything he has to save Pitt's character when, on his last day at work, he is supposed to be signing out and retiring to the Bahamas. Perhaps Tony Scott was making a point when he signed Redford and Pitt..

OK, so why does it appeal to me so much? Firstly, I think it's because if you work in a large organisation - as I do - there really are people like this out there, who know everything but who are seen as old warhorses with little to contribute. Yet when the real problems crop up, they just get it sorted without breaking a sweat. I'd like to be like that please.

The other thing I love is the fact the way Robert Redford rescues Brad Pitt and the personal cost he incurs in doing so. This redeems a number of morally-dubious decisions you see him make during the film, and I'm a sucker for any film involving big-time redemption. Yet at the end of the film he just drives off into the sunset in a beat-up antique black porsche, oozing coolness and untouchability.

I know everyone raves about Michael Caine as Harry Palmer, or Daniel Craig as the new Bond, or even (...) Matt Damon as Jason Bourne, but seriously, Redford has the retired superspy thing all sown up. Shame this is a genre that's never going to make any money.

So if you haven't seen it, watch this film, and I'll see you in 24 years at my retirement do in Berlin. Or maybe stroking Mendehlson with long numbers in Hong Kong.

Places to go and things to see

Yes, it has been a while, hasn't it? Anyway, as I sit here on a Sunday night watching "50 celebrity meltdowns", what can I bore the world about tonight? Obviously the Doctor Who finale is fast approaching, which means I will be inundated with endless emails complaining about plot holes and Russell T Davies' use of deus ex machina fixes whilst simultaneously asking me to explain the backstory that people haven't been playing attention to. Not however going into that tonight though.

Tonight I thought I would post this picture I took in Regent's Park last week. I never really knew where Regents Park was until I stumbled upon it at the end of...Regent Street. Mmm. I must start paying attention to the City I've been working in for 14 years, but let's face it, no-one sells the Park as part of the West End experience.

They should. Too many people bail out of London I think because it's a soul-destroying, life-sucking financial centre which spits out people when it's done with them. While there's no doubt London is not a cuddly teddy bear of a city, I think this shows it's not without its charms either. So why don't they plug the parks more? If people were encouraged to get into the parks more often and spend some serious time in there, either by their employers or Boris, things might just be a little less stressful. So go there.

My New Hobby

Recently, I decided that I need a new hobby. There's only so many TV shows that I can swot up on to Jedi Master level you know. Anyway, after all of about 10 minutes of careful consideration I settled upon (drum roll)....designing MeWife's online retail site. OK, so it's not forming a rock band, but it's not riding round on a Harley either. And hair transplants are very expensive.

Last time I tried this sort of thing, it was Impossibly Hard. That was about 10 years ago, when I sorted out the prototype website for the am-dram group we used to go to. These days, it's a bit easier. Well, there's less swearing involved anyway. There's a package you can buy which provides the bare bones of a retail website framework which you can then modify without killing the site or yourself stone dead. Anyway, it's something to tinker with whilst Gok Wan witters away in the corner of my lounge and tries to convince another lumpy lady with self-esteem issues that she can be sure she looks reasonable because (amazingly) when she takes her kit off in public people don't start throwing things at her (sorry, I digress).

Once you start down this path though, there are dangers. Firstly, you become obsessed with button sets available from topstockphoto.com and Adobe Photoshop Elements is in fact the modern day equivalent of the Cretan Labyrinth at Knossos (yes I did just have to look that up on Wikipedia). Never EVER open that program hoping to alight on the relevant menu shortcut for the task you have in mind.

Anyway, it is quite a fun hobby and since it involves input from MeWife as to what she wants this thing to look like, it makes for a more sociable hobby than, er, something else. Plus she might make a few quid off it. Rest assured you'll know when it's up and running..

Right, I'm off. It's the finale of Lost tonight and for the first time EVER I have no idea what is going to happen. And it's two hours long. Sorted!

£$@*!!!

Having spent a good couple of weeks not having a quite good enough reason to write about anything in particular, this week fate decided to intervene and provide sufficient material for a 14 week sell-out run at the Hammersmith Apollo with accompanying book and DVD. Perhaps I exaggerate, but only slightly.

Monday last week may have started for most of you about 7am. Not me. 1.30am, I receive a call from my stomach, informing me that I had ingested Something Unpleasant and would I mind reporting to the bathroom for the next 4 hours. During this time I pondered many things, including (a) the fact that I am through with a well-known brand of salsa dip and (b) evolution sucks. Specifically, WHY do I have a fifth toe (value zilch) when a somewhat better mutation might be, say, the ability for your body to decide (and perhaps, WARN) that it shouldn't assimilate something BEFORE you've munched your way through a generous portion of the substance in question. But oh no, instead we're equipped with the evoluntionary equivalent of closing the barn door after the horse has bolted: sit on the loo, head down the loo, sit on the loo, head down the loo. And so on.

Of course, this had to coincide with the best office party we've ever had (top of a well-known London landmark no less). The sympathetic email from my boss indicated that it would be a shame if I missed the party, but that it would be an even greater shame if I threw up on the attending high ranking member of the judiciary. At 6.50pm that evening, it became apparent that the relevant member of the judiciary had had a lucky escape. So no party (apart from the few minutes I managed to stagger in to see everyone else enjoying themselves before retreating due to the effect of the alcohol fumes).

And there was no Doctor Who this week.

And Lost finishes next week.

And yes I am sulking.

5 lemonade & vodkas later....

Whatever subject I might otherwise have written about this week has been overshadowed by the consumption yesterday evening by yours truly of enough alcohol to render me officially drunk. This has been confirmed by MeWife who is an expert in these matters and assures me that by the 5th shot I would indeed have been drunk. In light of this monumental event while being only just into my late-thirties, I am now finally able to tell the world what I get like when completely whammed.

It all started innocently enough with a trip after work to the pub on the eve of a bank holiday weekend. However, having been provided with an evening pass by MeWife, I decided to make a night of it with my assembled comrades. Mmm. Having gotten into the pub/tapas bar at 5.50pm we were sat down and waited on by a nice lady who was very keen to keep us all topped up. This more than anything else, I think, led to my liver getting its first major unintended workout. Anything else? yes please....on the tab....oooooh dear.

Fortunately, I can, it seems, hold my drink. No action paintings, no incomprehensible gibberish, no surly grumpiness, just a rather pleasant sensation which lasted until exactly 11.11pm when I realised I had to navigate my way home, which was in fact much harder than is usually the case. Concentrating hard, I managed to ensure I caught the last train, didn't fall asleep, didn't throw up in the cab. The trickiest part in fact was working out that my geographic relationship with the nearest gents becomes much more important when a bit intoxicated.

As for a hangover, my only symptoms so far have been a rather washed out sensation, and the discovery that being drunk keeps me awake, which is a bind when all you really want is a nice snooze to sleep the damn thing off. This does however give me no excuse for not getting the kids up in the morning, which I duly managed to do at an astonishing 7am. Well I was impressed anyway.

So there we have it. I am now just about back to 'normal' except for the fact that my short term memory seems to have been affected. I know this because I am getting exasperated looks from MeWife with whom I apparently keep trying to have the same conversation. This I attribute to the fact that my short term memory seems to have been affected and the effect that the vodka has had on my short term memory...

Aberdeen 1, Leeds Bradford Airport 0

In my capacity as a high-flying City slicker, I am sometimes called upon to travel the globe and dispense justice in my own inimitable fashion. It was in this capacity I spent three days last week holed up in various travel lodges in Newcastle, Aberdeen, topped off by a meaty 12 hours or so kicking my heels round Leeds-Bradford Airport. Never go to Leeds-Bradford Airport. That's all I'll say on that one. Aberdeen is quite nice though. I can see why Donald Trump is sinking a billion into a golf complex up there. As some of you may know, I am not a big fan of flying though, so four flights in three days (in planes with propellers in three cases) was not the most fun I have had. Still, by the fourth flight I was starting to get used to it again.

So what else is new this week? Had my bad day at work, which was followed by the discovery that I had contracted a pox virus whilst I was away in Warsaw (no spots but tingly fingers and a throat ulcer..mmmm...). Was advised to rest but justice doesn't wait for pox viruses you know. Anyway, pretty much back to normal now. Well, you know what I mean.

Still, one ray of light in my otherwise crappy week: the taxman has condescended not to enforce the penalty he imposed on me for not filing a tax return. The fact that this arose from a letter sent to me by the taxman which told me I didn't need to file a tax return is of course irrelevant..

Anyway, time for my bath. My enthusiasm for diatribes on DVD boxsets and snow in April has now left me, and frankly if oyu logged on for that you need to get out more. Might be a Monday post next week due to my hectic social diary, but I am sure you can stand the suspense.

Going to have a bad day at work tomorrow

For the first time in a while I am not looking forward to going to work tomorrow. Something has gone wrong and needs fixing. Not the best way to start your week. I know Monday is only one day, but at the moment it feels like a mountain that needs climbing whilst wearing a giant furry banana outfit. Grrr.

Annoying really because this put a crimp on my trip to Warsaw for a couple of days last week (photo attached). Warsaw is a strange place. It is one half soviet architecture and one half traditional Polish refurb/rebuild. There is also a liberal sprinkling of rather sad memorials and statues of various historical figures. I didn't know for example Copernicus and Chopin were so closely connected with Poland.

Was also T2's second birthday this weekend, which was fun. She's not quite old enough to get the idea yet, but she and T1 very much get the "sand and water table". The back garden now looks like a demilitarised zone in Iraq. Also, as is the drill with two kids, if it is one's birthday, the other should get a little something at the same time. T1 has therefore acquired a sonic screwdriver. Ahem. It's good though..:)

State primary education

So, having started the week hoping it went slightly better than the one before, what a delight to discover that your local education bureaucrats have decided that our child lives 0.0something km too far from the local decent primary school to get a place there. Instead, they have decided that T1 should go to the WORST school in the entire world which is about as far away but which makes Play School look like MIT.

The situation then descends into a bizarre cross between the last 15 minutes of "Aliens" and "633 Squadron" (myself as Wing Cmdr. Roy Grant, MeWife as Ellen Ripley). One late night battle plan, a number of telephone calls and a complete rewrite of the household budget later, and T1 is now going to a private school. Never planned it this way, but it's true what they say in that Sunscreen Song: don't worry, because the real troubles in your life are those that blindside you some idle Tuesday. We have been lucky though. I suspect there are other people out there who have not been so lucky. What a dumb system.

Deferred until next week: the new series of Doctor Who, heavy snow in April and the annoying size of DVD boxsets. Never let it be said that this blog doesn't address the important issues of the day..

Life sucks....get a helmet

Funny old week, and not in the ha-ha fashion. Basically, started the week feeling quite happy and jovial about things and then it all went wrong for a number of people I know. These things do come in threes by the way..

Seems a bit odd in the circs if I blog about the fun me and T1 have had washing the car today, or the end of Ashes to Ashes, or the Sky HD box that nearly got lobbed out of the window last week. Resuming the normal nonsense delivery service next week therefore seems more appropriate in the circs.

Easter Chez Bobster

Woken up at 3.30am this morning to discover that the cats had decided to re-enact one of the arena sequences from Gladiator. 3 of ours had obviously taken on some Christian cat that came off second best, judging by the large pools of cat urine in the lounge. Super.

Snowed this morning, as it does at Easter, allowing for a brief spot of elementary snowball tutorage (aim for the coats, no throwing at people's eyes), followed by warm milk, damp trousers and a biscuit. Kids had a drink as well. AHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

The afternoon was no less homely, with MeWife making some vegetable soup (not for me, obviously) followed by an easter egg being shared between us all whilst sat on the sofa watching Harry Potter which, unusually, seemed to have a coherent plot. Shocking. Well, I say sat on the sofa, obviously T1 and T2 got up to stretch their legs every now and again, but then Harry Potter isn't exactly the Mr Men is it?

Funny, but with all the shops shut and rubbish weather, we still had a really nice day with the kids. Probably something to do with the simple things in life being the most rewarding. Alternatively, it's something to do with lots of chocolate, not having to interact with the general public and lounging around on comfy sofas.

And it's Lost tonight as well.

The Bus of Doom

Good evening from the sofa. Tonight, whilst munching my tuna steak, I shall be musing on the trail of misery and destruction wrought by this bus. It may look like an ordinary bendy-bus to you, but to people who rely on this thing, it may as well be the 666 to the tenth circle of hell.

Take going to work in the morning. If you get on this bus, you have to be prepared to spend 20 minutes staring into the faces of 3 dozen miserable grumpy commuters who clearly equate going to work with the sacrifice made by trench-bound soldiers in WWI. Judging by the looks on their faces, they clearly expect to be shot or maimed in the course of the day. I have therefore given up travelling on this bus, and walk to work instead (unless it's raining, natch). This is because I prefer to arrive at work without having had any joy sucked from my bones before the day has even started.

Going home however is a whole different world of pain. Firstly, each bus should be no more than 12 minutes apart. Occasionally, this can be true, but what the sign doesn't make clear is the fact that in the space of those 12 minutes around 4000 number 25 bendy-buses will go sailing by, only one of which may be full. Now, maybe Ken knows something I don't but it strikes me that people leaving the City at 9pm in the evening do not all want to go to Ilford. It strikes me that one or two of these surplus 25s might be diverted to 521 duty but, hey, what do I know. I'll tell you what I know: it is that by the time the fourth number 25 bus has gone by, you're not feeling warm and fuzzy.

This assumes of course that you actually managed to catch the bus and that the bus driver didn't see you running to catch the bus and didn't pretend he had already decided to close the doors and leave...

Stormy Monday

T2 has clearly got to grips with the bunk beds concept. Unfortunately, one unintended side effect is the fact that she can get herself up in the morning half an hour earlier. Joy.

Also took a day off today to get one of the cars serviced and take some old bits and bobs to charity shops ahead of starting the extension. Of course, I would pick the day a monster storm hits the UK to do this. I have also picked the day MeWife is ill with food poisoning. Fortunately the 6 speed monster machine and I zipped around in the morning sorting out the charity shops before the rain set in. Me Wife and T2 are now asleep and I am sat on the sofa supervising T1 this afternoon. T1 is currently sat watching Elizabeth Sladen and Tom Baker deal with some 1970s BBC mummies in "Doctor Who and the Pyramids of Mars". She likes the girl best apparently.

Didn't we all.

The End of the Cot

Today has seen the end of the cot which T2 has been bumping around in for the last few months. It can't be recycled either since T2 spent the past year rocking and warping the drop-down side section so it doesn't work anymore. As of this afternoon, the bunk beds should be in. How many days until one of them falls out? Join us on ThudWatch and find out..

New and shiny

This is a new building near where i work. Looks like the icing has started to melt in one corner to me.

Where was i tonight then?

Out listening to temple church choir thats where. Am now sat waiting for the 845 pm train to take me home.

View from the sofa

Guys and Dolls

Evening All

Evening All

Comfy Sofa Productions are proud to bring you the first Sunday night post from Bobster-Blogster. As I sit here waiting for Lost to come on (episode 5 of series 4, "The Constant", starring Desmond this week), I am feeling especially proud because I have managed to avoid spoiling this episode for myself by looking it up on the internet. That makes a colossal 2 out of about 50 episodes I have managed to avoid spoiling for myself, so no small achievement there I think.

The point of this blog is quite simple. Firstly, I have sod all free time in the week to write lovely thoughtful handwritten letters and to phone people for hours on end. I am a City lawyer and we don't do weekday free time. A good many of us don't do weekend free time either, but thankfully I'm not in that department. At the same time, it would be nice to let my relatives know something of what goes on down here at Bobster HQ. The rather curt responses people get when they phone me in the middle of about 8 different things can't be good for my image. As I write, I am already in trouble because I forgot to send a card to MeMum (today is Mother's Day). I bought the card, but it is sat in my desk drawer at work because I was busy on Thursday/Friday. I just about sorted out Mother's Day for MeWife let alone MeMum, so you get the idea about how busy I am at work.

The second point of this blog is to leave something for MeKids to look back on when I am either gone or senile and they wondered what Dad was like. It also doubles a short chronicle of their growing up before they stop posing for cutesy photos and start demanding more pocket money.

Finally, this is for MeWife, who also suffers from the "Fine/OK/Yes/No/Maybe" shorthand which doubles for much of my conversation during the week. As I sit here typing away, she is sat at the other end of the sofa watching Guys and Dolls which is her favorite musical. I recorded it on our Sky Plus box you see. Kids - look - Dad's considerate!

Naturally, being a public blog, no-one gets named on here, and I'd be grateful if anyone posting respects that policy.

Anyway, time to sign off. With luck, I'll post most Sundays with a run-down of the previous week's activities and a few exciting photos from my whizz-bang white-hot lifestyle. Examples of just some of the excitement which will unfold over the next few weeks include:

- the penalty notice from HMRC which followed a written invitation not to file a return (PHEW);
- the dismantling of a small child's wooden bed (WOW); and
- the extension of doom (COR).

Google better put some extra bandwith on for that lot.

See you soon

Bobster-Blogster.