Saturdays Here

First things first, thanks to Rob (take yet another bow) for popping over last night. He gave me the Evanescence album on mp3 - yes thats naughty from the copyright perspective, but the fact is I will go and buy the album. First listen suggests this is right up my street. Oddly enough Teenager likes them as well, so does Baby, but I'm confident that when they cotton on to the fact they are a serious and good rock band then their flirtatious nature means they'll move onto something else. They have restored some of my faith in todays bands, check them out at

www.evanescence.com

It's Saturday. I didn't tell DC about this blogging lark, I did try but she was socially relaxed last night after I got in from work, and "tired and emotional" when I got in from the pub. Using my GOGB Mood Calibration Gauge I decided that the risk of disapproval, misunderstanding and outrage whilst she was in this mood was too great. I might just forget the idea. Plus she had a disagreement with Teenager last night and seemingly Teenager gave her a close match in the battle of wills. Teenager wanted to go shopping with "friends" yesterday - thats friends as in "boys - yes Teenager is a girl, I had tried to keep gender anonymity, but it's not possible, and anyway most of you would have guessed that. It's a damning indictement of society that we let her real girl friends parents make the call as to whether we would allow this excursion. In fact DC and I were happy to sanction this, Teenager would be with her friends, and just meeting up with these boys, but the other parents were not happy. Are we cossetting them too much? I guess the Soham thing cut us all a little deeper, and now we err on the side of caution a little too much. Teenager is not happy though, and is showing the signs of being a top sulker. In fact I think we gained little or no respect by allowing ourselves to fall in with the concensus. The other parents are friends and I suppose the best method is to work on them from our own more liberated angle. Teenager is in bed, sleeping for England....I'm proud she is holding that tradition!

The pub was a laugh as normal. It's a typical country pub, and all you can hear is the clink of glasses and the sound of people talking - no music or loud fruit machines. The Governor is a decent bloke, albeit a bit crusty from time to time, but undoubtedly he has built a clientele that generates a friendly and SAFE atmosphere, and that is the appeal. Remember Cheers? "You wanna go where everybody knows your name" - well thats my local and my Friday excursion is my release valve. Now that my working life is that much less stressful I see no reason to cap this valve, better safe than sorry.

So, I am playing golf today, in a knockout match arranged by The Governor. I play off 24, my opponent plays off 3. To those who don't know what this means, well I might as well be playing Tiger fucking Woods. I will lose, thats a given, but I normally wouldn't mind, because it's a game of golf. However today, once again, for what seems an interminably long run, it is windy and rainy again. I can't remember the last time I played without being wet and cold. This is another UK "hate" - the fucking weather - it's miserable and unreliable. You can't plan anything long term because of it. Last year we had the respite of that glorious hot summer, and what did we do.....we moaned. Well, all you moaners, look at it today and ask yourself, what would you prefer? I would love the climate of Northern Spain, where they get enough rain to keep it green, but enough warm sun to be able to plan outdoor activities - which usually means fun. Thats why the Med people live longer - they're not stuck inside on as many cold, windy, grey, rainy miserable days as we are.

Thats it for today - I may post tomorrow, but it's mothers day so I may not get the chance to write. One last thought..

You're a man
You're in an office
You're alone
You fart
It's a good 'un
Within 30 seconds an attractive woman enters the office and wants to talk to you
She then pretends she can't smell it
You pretend you didn't deal it
Why does that always fucking happen?

Later all, The Grocer