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Hay

The farmer has been busy…..

But one question. Why is this one all alone…..

No one likes to be the odd one out. Or is it in the ‘roll down the hill competition’ one clever hay bale has picked the better racing line. I certainly would need a mighty fine racing line to win any race. The pinnacle of my athletics career was at school. For some reason in the inter schools tournament I had been picked for three events.

Cross Country – that was purely on the basis that in the school trials most of the other boys absconded just after the start and headed for the sea front amusements. I didn’t abscond but I did manage to get lost. However that feat still got me a place on the team as unbelievably getting lost still got me third place. Yes it was a rough school…..

Shot Put – I was the sole representative from the school as I was the only boy apparently trusted to not use the heavy ball as a weapon…..

And then there was the 100 yard sprint (not metres as the caretaker didn’t have a metric measuring tape). Can’t remember what possessed the teacher to pick me as I have the acceleration of a sleeping snail who has been superglued to the floor. We practiced starts and I remember the teacher screaming at us to remember to ‘GO on the B of the Bang from the starter gun’. I never found out how the school got hold of a gun – I assume it was confiscated from a pupil…… The three boy sprint team became a finely drilled starting unit. Unfortunately on the day of the school tournament, the sprint was started with a whistle and us three boys just stood there like lemons as the competitors from other schools raced across the finishing line.

At least I was not stood alone ….

AND I’m not alone as a single parent. Currently there is something like 2.8 million other single parents in the UK. I’m also not alone in being a widow. 6.4% of the UK population are widowed.

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It’s Yorkshire time again

It was only a matter of time. Somethings are set in stone. They just must happen.

So the Olympics is on. It just needs a major international sporting event to take place and the inevitable happens. Anyone with Yorkshire DNA immediately can only utter the following words for at least to weeks…

“See what would happen if Yorkshire was a country. We would show them….”

So here is the current Olympic Medals Table !!!!! The ‘reet properrr’ one.

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Delivery

Don’t you just love Amazon. I bought a repair kit for our paddling pool and a replacement electric pump. It’s one of those pools that would take at least a decade to partially inflate if I tried old school. So with a mini heatwave hitting this weekend, I ordered in plenty of time. The items arriving from the same supplier on Wednesday. Wednesday arrived and the repair kit arrived but no pump. The order now showing delivery on Thursday. Thursday came and went…..

The order now showing that the pump was at an incorrect carrier facility. It had been at our local facility with the repair kit but had somehow found it’s way to one 150 miles away. On Friday the pump had moved, further away. Now 200 miles away but delivery was still expected on Thursday……. But hope was there. It was now in transit again…

So where are we now. Its Sunday and the pump is NOT HERE. It did make its way back to our local facility. Briefly. It is now not even in England…. It’s mystery bus ride has taken it to Scotland. But again there is hope 😂😂😂😂

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DEFCON

Guess who has been baking again. Yes NORAD have raised the threat level to DEFCON THREE.

Years ago I worked in a Police Force as a civilian. I was based at an old country mansion which acted at the Police Headquarters. At the front desk there was a sign on the wall saying THREAT LEVEL. It had a slide in colour board. Usually it was Green (it’s all cool dude), sometimes yellow (it’s not so cool but no need to panic dude) and rarely Red (it’s time to assume the crash position dude). We also had white which meant ‘everything was cool, but the government audit team is in so put on a tie, dude’. One day the threat level went brown. No one had a clue what that meant. Even granite chiselled veterans had never seen that colour in decades of work here. Much confusion and speculation ensued. The receptionist was not there so we couldn’t ask her. She was like Thor’s Heimdall. The Gatekeeper. No one got in or out without her approval during the day. She also maintained the threat level board.

Finally she was located. Apparently Threat Level BROWN was ‘she had put the board in back to front’. If just one of us muppets had bothered to look on the other side of the board we would have found that it was in fact GREEN…..

And yes DEFCON THREE was wrong. Apart from the earthquake cracked crust it was a rather fine gluten and dairy free loaf. Time to lower the threat level.

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Don’t do this

Kids don’t try this…..

Lack of sleep does strange things to the mind and body. It took me 30 minutes into a yoga session before that the odd sensation I was experiencing was attributed to me putting on my compression shorts back to front. If only it stopped there.

I decided I needed a milky and sweet coffee to get me going. The sugar is next to the kettle. So what sleep induced madness sent me to the cupboard. Made me reach out and grab a large bag. Open that bag. Carefully add two spoonfuls of the white powder into my drink. Then stir and stir. Rather puzzled at the enfolding congealed mess. Then taste what was clearly something approaching wallpaper paste.

Only a lack of sleep ends with self raising flour being added to coffee.

Well at least it cut down on the calories…..

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Pokemon

Parenting is usually long spells of embarrassment interspersed with the occasional chance for the parent to shine. In my case very very occasional shines. But when they come, it’s such a sweet smell of awesomeness.

Now in an ideal world the awesomeness is when mum or dad breaks a sporting record, climbs Everest or manages to discover a new chemical element or wins The Great British Bake Off.

But in my case I will gratefully take any win.

Hawklad was doing a Pokemon Quiz on TV and getting every answer correct. Doing better than the contestants on TV. I sat there quietly. Then it was my moment.

A question the contestants were struggling with. A question Hawklad had clearly got wrong. Muppet Dad stepped in….

“I think you will find that is in fact a Poliwhirl as you will notice the direction of the swirl on its tummy. It is reversed in it’s pretty evolution state…..”

Staggeringly Dad was right. Where did that come from. Clearly too many Pokemon shows playing in the background have secretly seeped into my brain through subconscious learning. But for a few glorious moments I basked in the rays of success. All too short lived as in the next minute I had managed to miss my mouth while drinking tomato soup. Basking in manga success doesn’t work so well in a soup covered white T-shirt.

But I will take that….

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Bread making

A few weeks back I was in the loft trying to find some old papers. In a corner I found the old bread maker neatly packed away in its old box. No papers but I did decide to bake some bread.

So a few days later I bought the gluten free bread ingredients and went back into the loft for the machine. Wow it was heavy. So I opened the box. Pants…..

Ok, no it wasn’t full with pairs of my big pink pants. But no bread making machine. A box full of papers. The papers I was trying to find. My plans had gone a RYE. Homemade bread was now TOAST. What was I thinking about, I’m BUTTER than this. But at YEAST I found those papers.

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Candles

And the storms and power cuts continue. At times it’s felt like going old school. No tech, even limited mobile signal, no TV. It’s been a time for things like Lego, Board Games and Books. Even candles. Why do rooms look so good when all you have to illuminate them are a few small tea candles. I’m amazed that I found them and some matches as well.

It all brought out the inner Bear Grylls in me. Time to light a fire in the garden. Might give the hunting a miss. Maybe just hunt to find a few tins of soup and beans. Maybe brew some tea. Obviously I could have just used matches but no, the Bear was out. Almost felt like I should be putting face camouflage paint on.

Two hours later I was still trying to light the fire. Failed with the friction stick method. No sunlight so magnifying lens not possible -that method is never working in deepest Yorkshire. The flint and steel method was now proving as effective as my diet, useless. But here’s the thing. Madness had truly set in. Outside in the rain desperately trying to produce just one spark to survive. Madness because the power had come back on just under two hours ago….. Hawklad was inside playing on his Xbox and looking out, shaking his head at the nutter outside.

The nutter outside who had let self pride take over …..

And no I didn’t ever get that fire going.

PANTS.

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Beyond me

There are some problems that are beyond the human mind and there are many questions beyond the muppet dad mind. I’m not talking the deep metaphysical stuff. Not talking cosmology. I’m talking about those run of the mill problems.

How to set the timer on the microwave,

Why don’t I put a long sleeve shirt on when pulling up nettles,

Why did I pick Newcastle United to support,

Why do I keep putting clothes into the dishwasher,

Having bought at least 20 tablet pens, why can I never find just one when I need it,

Why do you only get holes in the socks that are still matching pairs,

Why does my mobile phone never hit the ground when it has its protective case on,

Where do all those batteries I buy end up hiding,

Why do I always miss my mouth while drinking hot chocolate and when I’ve got a white shirt on…..

But most perplexing of all to me is what is the best way to get into a beanbag. Remember I have a ‘not what it was’ type of body. Do I lower myself in using the adjacent furniture. Do I roll into it as if I’m a giant sausage roll. Or do I fall into it like a skydiver with a defective parachute. It’s all beyond me. Especially when I’m trying to get into the beanbag while carrying a cup of decaf coffee and an iPad. So far that has priced beyond me. I’ve even tried putting the coffee cup down next to the beanbag before trying to sit down. All that achieved was me kicking it all over the floor in the maelstrom that was my beanbag entry.

It’s all beyond me….

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Brought down to Earth.

How do you tell when you son has been watching too much The Simpsons. Maybe it was too much of the American version of The Office….

I thought I was at one with nature. Just completing a 50 minute yoga session out. I thought it going well. I felt a definite natural flow to my movements. Maybe just maybe I have finally found my inner Rhythm and goddess mode. Then I heard the icy tones of a teenage son and the moment was blown out of the water.

“Dad there has never been a finer more awesome Dad squeezed into a pair of 56 inch pants…….”

Wow…..

Harsh but fair.