Master Of The Water
Yesterday I was lucky enough to get out on the river and go canoeing with my stepdad.
For this 50th birthday my mother had purchased the canoe and he had already been out a couple of times, once to fish and once to show my mother how it all worked.
Yesterday afternoon I embarked on the journey down to the river, my stepdad and carrying a 30kg canoe down the road. Once there, we jumped in and paddled up-river, against the tide.
Half an hour in we decided to stop, look at some of the bigger boats moored up and then start our journey back to the slip on the side of the river. Obviously it was much easier on the way home, the tide helping our strokes as we powered back in half the time it took to get out there.
As we returned we managed to slip straight by the local sailing club Regatta, getting a few waves from people on their boats and the Coastguard.
We walked back towards home, a little achy but energised after our paddle, luckily there was a hearty dinner waiting for us when we got in.
The Wrong House
“You can tell you’re old when you get asked to feed someone’s cats instead of being invited round their house for a house party,” I remarked to Katie after a brief phone call.
Long story short, good friends of ours (who literally live two minutes down the road) are going to be up in Watford tonight and wouldn’t be able to feed their two cats. Katie and I being very close and owning two cats of our own were natural choices to provide them with their evening meal.
I arranged for my friend to come over last night and drop the keys off so we could let ourselves in. Around 6pm, I received a text:
Hello mate, I have dropped the keys through the letterbox, it didn’t look like anyone was in.
Weird, I thought, especially as Katie and I were in the lounge at that time. I searched the surrounding area around the door for the keys but nothing was to be found. Worried, I rang my friend to ask just how he had posted them.
I asked what number house he had posted the keys, he said he looked as he came up the drive and the curtains were drawn so he assumed we were asleep. That’s when we realised he had posted them into the wrong house, the main reason being we haven’t put up any curtains in our lounge yet.
All I could hear was his wife saying in the background was:
“Did you knock and give them to him?”
“Ohhhhh, you idiot!”
“You are running over there RIGHT NOW to get the keys back!”
Sure enough, he was round in a matter of seconds, waking up some weird looking guy who was in shredded jeans and a wifebeater vest. This time I was able to take the keys off of him, mocking him ever-so-slightly in the process.
We chuckled for a good few minutes before sitting down to Domino’s pizza and a good film (I would have watched the France vs Uruguay match if it was actually any good).
Barclays, you have redeemed yourselves.
Thank you for adding a Basic Login option, I can now check my balance without having to have that god-awful PinSentry device with me when I want to log in.
It’s just a shame my bank account doesn’t display the balance I wish it did.
“He’s passed one the size of a walnut”
Noah’s plight took a turn down a more uncomfortable route after he was unable to evacuate his bowels for a second night.
When I dropped him at the Mother-in-Law’s it look as if he had more confidence in himself to push past the magic barrier, alas he could not. He managed to pass a small solid that was “the size of a walnut” but nothing substantial enough to ring the victory parade.
A trip to the doctors was on the cards and boy did Mr Doctor Man deliver. Packed off with a packet of suppositories, Katie popped a little capsule into his bottom and within seconds we had lift-off, all three of us breathing a sigh of a relief (especially the little trooper).
He can now be found in his favourite haunt – his crib – cooing at everything that enters the room.
Restless Baby
As predicted earlier, the day included a trip to the supermarket then a meal at the In-Laws.
Noah is suffering, he’s been less than regular which I am sure leaves him in agony. As he tries to clench, he yelps and shouts like somebody stole his dummy, it’s actually quite funny. On top of all that he is starting to teethe, so when he isn’t doubled-up trying to fill his pants, he is pining for some gummy relief.
Luckily he has deep affection for his bed, much like his mother. Pop him down and the boy is well away:
