It is lunchtime.

I am sitting in an impossibly comfortable chair in the conservatory, having enjoyed a rather nice espresso, scribbling this blog post. The rain is lashing down outside to such an extent that I am fully expecting a chap with a beard, a robe and a number of animals following him two by two to wander past on his way to Leicester Ark Supplies Ltd at any moment.

But I am warm and dry and in the company of the woman I love. Shortly I will get up and make bacon sandwiches and whatever the beautifully vegetarian FMA would like for lunch.

We will eat said lunch and then I may even read a book for a while.

Days like to today make me realise that I truly am a lucky, lucky son-of-a-gun and that happiness takes no effort at all.

If you’re a religious person please feel free to pass on my thanks to whichever deity you follow. If they have a hand in this then they’re all right by me.


Size Matters

This morning I was up pretty early. My alarm went of and I was out of bed faster than Ben Johnson coming out of the chemist*, which is quite unusual for me. Suffice to say I am not usually a morning person. A crowbar/flamethrower/rabid dog is usually required to encourage me out of a warm bed on a winter’s morning.

Maybe it was the fact that the sun was shining and mother nature was trying on her first spring outfit of the year, maybe it was because I’m starting to feel a little more human again after several days of a cold I just couldn’t shift, maybe it was that I knew I had to get The Boy Wonder back to his mum before going to work. Whatevever it was I love these days. I love the feeling of being ahead of the curve at the start of the day, I just wish I could do it more often.
The other benefit of my non-horizontal aspect this morning was that the lovely FMA got coffee and toast made for her and delivered to her in bed. This is one of her most favourite things in the whole world so she was a happy bunny indeed. We have quite different requirements from our coffee – see below:
Mine’s the one on the right. It’s probably a good thing that I’m not an insecure kinda guy. The Boy Wonder thinks it’s hilarious.
* – Yes, I know this speaks volume about my age, but it’s a turn of phrase I have loved for years. Just like “I have more chance of humping Madonna”.

This Week I Are Been Mostly Listenin’ To………

I like new music. I like things I haven’t heard before.

The beautiful FMA and I often have conversations about the subject, she thinks I listen to the most horrendous rubbish, I like to think I have eclectic tastes.
Anyway, I heard a song on the radio when I was out in the car the other day – “Ray Charles” by Chiddy Bang. It was playing, the sun was shining and it put me in a great mood. What more could a chap ask for?
I listened to it on my iphone today – clearly this version is not the radio edit. It’s a weird thing, I know what the swearwords are on the version that’s broadcast friendly (the editing really does a laughably crap job of disguising the effing and jeffing), but at least they made the effort. Every time he swears on this version I wince.
Oh dear god. Seeing the benefits of a bit of censorship. 
Pass the Basildon Bond Marjory, I feel a stiffly-worded letter to his management team coming on.
Yours disgruntledly
Colonel Stanley Thrumpton-Smythe (retired).

Tales From the Riverbank

This morning I awoke with a bit of a start. As conciousness finally burned its way through the murk of the dream that gripped me, I found myself laying safe and warm in bed in the arms of the beautiful FMA. She was making soothing noises and looking concerned. Once I’d got my bearings she told me that I’d been thrashing about* and asked what I’d been dreaming about.

I explained;

In my dream I had been sitting on a sofa in a marquee with several other people. There was a paddling pool in front of the sofa with an otter in it and we were being instructed by Johnny Kingdom on the best way to get the otter’s attention**. All was going well but the marquee was hot, so I decided to cool myself down by taking off my shoes and socks and putting my feet in the paddling pool. With the otter.

As I sat chatting, my feet nicely cool, to the chap sitting next to me on the sofa somebody on the other side of the paddling pool caught my attention and started gesticulating enthusiastically towards the water. Alarmingly I now had a very angry otter attached to my big toe. I calmy began to shake my foot about to dislodge the bugger. It held on for a few moments, I was still calm. The otter then let go, arced gracefully though the air and ended up getting stuck in the pocket of my hoody.

This was the point at which I freaked out and woke up.

The lovely FMA looked bewildered with the explanation. She voiced her concerns about my grip on sanity. She asked ‘why the feck’ I thought it was a good idea to put my feet in a pond with an otter in it.

“It wasn’t a pond, it was a paddling pool.” I offered, by way of explanation.

“I don’t care if it’s a pond, a paddling pool or whatever. If it’s got animals in it dinnae*** be putting yer feet in it, you muppet”.

Hmmm, maybe the gift voucher for the Garra Rufa fish pedicure I’ve bought her for Christmas needs a rethink then….


* – No, not in a smutty way.

** – According to the Johnny Kingdom in my dream, they have movement based vision and therefore respond best to light and shade. I have no idea if this is true.

*** – FMA is a Scot. Apart from when she’s cross and then she’s a Glaswegian.