Here with the kids

Well, I have been in the UK a week with the boys now, and I am having a great time.  The amazing British weather has lived up to its world wide reputation and been absolute garbage one day and perfect the next…with a smattering of crap interspersed…you know…just to keep you on your toes.

I am driving the worlds smallest car that my brother was good enough to loan me and it has taken us to Swimming Lessons, Football matches and Sundown Adventure Land.  Sundown is a great place, a theme park for the under 10′s, which means you aren’t worrying about bigger kids upsetting or hurting your little ‘uns.  That said, I think it is some form of Chav Mecca…everywhere you turn, you are confronted with shellsuit wearing, 1 year old kid with earing having, obese parents that swear enough to offend a fleet of sailors (and trust me, I swear…a lot, so I know of what I speak).  All of them bowing down to the god of Burberry, ice cream and sweat.  It seriously makes me miss Frankfurt when I am surrounded by this.  Anyway, I wasn’t there to pray with the Chavs..I was there to have fun with my boys.

We took in attractions from Santas Sleigh Ride (in August….seriously) to The Robin Hood Ride and even ended up in Storybook village, where they have created little houses to represent some of the more popular kids bedtime stories…Jack and The Beanstalk was there, Goldilocks and the 3 bears and of course Rumpelstiltskin ( Razz CW)

The kids ate themselves silly with sweets, burgers, ice cream and drinks…made sure their Dad got soaked on the barrel ride and generally tore the place up.  They got to hug the Sundown Bears and went on everything that they wanted to…we even bought Grandad some clotted cream fudge…which was nice.  In an unusual manner, the weather held off until precisely the time that the boys were done and wanted to go home…meaning that we got absolutely drenched during the run to the car.

There was a birthday party for my nephew Josh the other day and, in true LaughingWolf Family tradition, we had a rain soaked barbecue…it was superb…all of the family were there and it was a great night to reconnect with my brothers and chat to everyone.  I don’t really do enough of that, so I should really make more of an effort in this department.

I took Zak to his swimming lesson and was incredibly proud of the boy-fish that was before me…he is even able to do the correct breathing methods and everything…if I am ever in need of a brick to be saved, from the bottom of the pool…I will definitely be asking Zak to stick his PJs on t0 go and fetch it.  On top of that, on Thursday I had the pleasure of watching Zak play football in his team for the first time.  He was fantastic, his team won 5-1 and he scored.  He also survived a tackle that would have gotten most professional footballers red-carded and probably banned.  I was cheering him on like a good ‘un and filming him of course.  I can’t wait to take him next week before I head back to Frankfurt.

Brandon was joining in with a training session for his age group too and he looks to be a proper, tough tackling midfielder in the making…I am really looking forward to seeing his first game in the future too.

Today the weather was, somewhat unsurprisingly, shite…so we decided to bankrupt me further at an indoor play area.  At least I was able to have a sit down and a coffee while the kids knackered themselves out. Saying that, it took me 2 hours to get 17 miles….17 MILES!!  You would think that a large indoor kids play area would be signposted right?  I mean, especially one that is hidden away in the back streets of Lincoln.  Nope, not a sign in sight.  To make matters worse, the road that the directions insisted I followed….no road sign that I could see.  I went past it and instantly realised that it would be the road I needed…especially as I then had to drive around 2 miles at 5 miles an hour just to be able to turn around…and then back (past the road I needed…roadworks you see) 3 miles at 5 miles an hour, just to turn around again and have another go.  Still, the kids loved it and spent most of their time on what can only be described as a vertical drop slide.

So now I am turning into the rain gambler, trying to duck and dive to avoid those pesky droplets of impending bankruptcy and find things that we can do that won’t require me to actually sell one of the kids.

Anyone going to Stansted next week?  Giz a lift!  I’ll be the broken man with a small carry on suitcase, a thumb out and a head full of hopes.  Don’t ask me for fuel money though, Play Zone will have taken the last of mine for a sachet of tomato sauce…bastards.

Sentimental…who me?

TattooSo my new tattoo is finished and I am more than pleased with it.  TD did the work and it is absolutely superb, message me if you are in Frankfurt and want a tattoo..I will give you TDs details, you can’t go wrong.

The thing about tattoos, at least for me, is that they need to mean something.  You have to be prepared to wear whatever design you choose…well…for the rest of your life (laser removal not withstanding).

I must confess that my first tattoo wasn’t particularly sentimental, but was something I was willing to wear for the rest of my days as it encompasses two things that are fairly synonymous with me these days, Liverpool Football Club and a wolf.  My new tattoo, however, is full of sentiment (and wolves)

The Wolf thing has really geeky overtones, I wasn’t raised by wolves…nor do I consider myself to be a re-incarnated wolf or try to live like one etc…none of that.  Many years ago, I was a more traditional geek…involved in online chatrooms and communities, gaming as much as dial-up would allow.  Even back then, it was almost impossible to conjur up a unique and recognisable nickname..so I came up with PureStress.  I wasn’t particularly stressed at the time, but it worked for me.  The only problem it had was that I would constantly get messaged to ask why I was stressed out.

People didn’t appreciate the paradox when I blamed being constantly asked what my name means, which left me with one option.  A public renaming.  I dropped into my fave chatroom of the time and announced my decision.  Once all the abusive ones were filtered out, there were some good ones.  I liked LoneWolf for an equally geeky reason (Those “Do you want to run? (turn to page 11) or fight? (turn to page 55) or look up her skirt? (put the book down you perv!)” books), so I went with it.  Then I discovered that I would be LoneWolf8856834 on everything I signed up to and glued Pure to the front of it.

PureLoneWolf was born…and lo, I was the only one around.  I renamed my old jokes site to the LaughingWolf, created WolfLAN LAN Parties and everything else online relating to me became wolf’esque.  It sort of clicked with me in a number of ways…I am incredibly protective of my family and friends, but can go it alone for long periods (and occasionally prefer that).  Fast forward to my first tattoo and, having been referred to as a wolf for so long, it seemed only right to get a wolf stuck to my arm.  Over the years the wolf thing has become more and more significant and recognisable to those around me, gifts would be wolf related (Native American dreamcatchers, fleece blankets etc).

As all of my children live in the UK and I am here in Frankfurt, I wanted to get something done that would be representative of the kids and would let them know that I am always thinking of them.  I had been talking to TD for almost a year about the idea, and I finally got off my arse a month or so ago and went to see him.  The following day he started it.

Oh..I must tell you…when I was in for the first session a couple of giggly ladies walked in to the piercing section of the tattoo parlour.  They were confident and excited and were speaking in quite animated tones to the piercing guy.  I was lying on my stomach at this point and trying to ignore the discomfort happening to my back, so I didn’t really get what they were talking about.  A few seconds later, I notice that the screen has been pulled around the piercing station…”Aye aye”, thinks I..breasts or clit.  2 minutes later there is what can only be described as a yelp from behind the screen and the laughs fade.  Unfortunately I didn’t see them walk away, but CW assures me that one of the two ladies was walking rather gingerly away…. I hope it was worth it love, I really do.

Anyway, the tattoo is basically a male wolf surrounded by his four cubs.  They are sat in front of a tree (not representative of anyone) and the tree goes over my shoulder where the branches lead into a tribal wolf on my left arm.

Yes the tree looks sore in this picture…it had been finished about 10 minutes prior to the picture being taken.  It will fade slightly over the next week or so and look more natural with the wolves.  Also, no, despite the freckles on my back..I am not a ginger.  Oh, and the browny/red on the wolves is supposed to be there…like the eyes, I think it makes the tattoo stand out.  TD really does do amazing work.

Tattoo for the kids

From top left:  Me, Brandon-Lee and Zak
From bottom left:  Ellen, Ethan
Top:  A tree

I love it.  CW loves it and I know the kids will too – That’s all that counts

Valentines Day

Saint ValentineSo this Saturday is the official made up day of lurve.  I say made up as it does seem to be a little too commercialised..looking into the whole “St Valentine” thing just results in admittance that there was nothing romantic in it at all.

As Barry White once said “I’m gonna love you, love you; Love you just a little bit more baby”

Obviously Barry can’t have been married, otherwise his lyrics would have referred to his “Non-Birthday blowjob, providing you don’t have a headache…baby” or something.

Over here in Germany, it is nowhere near as big as the UK…but, as with Halloween, they are catching up…fast.  Expectations will soon be raised and guys all over the country will be waking up on that fateful 14th February and heading down to the nearest petrol station to pick up a bunch of wilted flowers and a box of Ferrero Rocher, or be faced with the wrath of their nearest and dearest.  Restaurants will be double booked and charging double the price.  At least here they don’t appear to have reached the level of the UK, which translates into parents sending their kids Valentines cards, just in case.  I know that Mums and Nans are just trying to help and ensure that their special little boy/girl isn’t left cardless and leperlike at school…but when you get older, and start to recognise the writing…the only card you will need then is the card for the therapist appointment hotline.  Tantamount to child abuse that is…in the long term obviously.

I think Jimmy Carr said it best:

“Valentines day is the only day of the year where you can recieve an unsigned card from a complete stranger saying they want to fuck you, and you go…Aaawww”

Why do valentines cards have to be unsigned?  Surely that defeats the purpose of expressing your underlying stalker nature love to someone.  The idea of spending money (in a recession no less) on a card, possibly flowers and maybe chocolates..then sending them to someone signed “your secret admirer”, seems more than a little dim to me.

Also, if the person happens to be with someone (which is the only logical reason to not announce yourself), and you believe this person isn’t worthy of their love, because they are an arsehole or something….the chances are that they have forgotten to send anything…and you sending an unsigned gift allows them to instantly get credit (and the blowjob) for your purchase.

Far from show this person what life could be like without this arsehole, you just made him look good… Not the brightest idea you could ever have.  Sure, signing your name on a card/flowers/chocolate combo to Sue in accounting, knowing that she is seeing Psycho the Bouncer (and former kick boxing champion)..who happens to know exactly where you live…might be a little scary.  I understand that but, think of the adrenalin rush…and the possible interesting sexy times that might ensue after you get out of hospital and physio..

For my part I am doing the modern thing this year, I will be cooking for CW…we will probably settle in to watch a chick flick, drink wine and talk about our feelings..wait, hang on.  Let me try again… I will be cooking for CW..there may be a movie comedy to watch, some alcohol and who knows what else.  There will be a Do Not Disturb sign on my front door, and the paramedics just outside in case of gastronomical disaster.  I am nothing if not thoughtful.

Right, I am off down to the shops to stock up on Rennie, Gaviscon and Peptobismal.

Enjoy your very own night of luuuurve.

The First Kiss

LipsThe first kiss is quite important, we all know this.  It can determine if the chemistry is right, it can determine an element of compatibility of the physical kind.

If you are a hopeless romantic, you will want that first kiss to be memorable, and preferably perfect.  It may or may not involve fireworks (literal or imagined), flowers, a wonderful setting and a feeling that it is the right thing to do.

You will probably want it to begin softly, if the chemistry is right for both of you, your heart rates will increase…you may feel a little breathless and the passion and intensity may increase, leading to a stronger kiss.  Tongues will almost certainly be used, but they will be in the tender exploration of the other person and reactionary to each and every movement between you.  You will hold each other tighter and the shared body heat will move to another level.  Eventually, you will stop by returning to the gentle kiss, slower and slower until you break contact, at which point you will be looking directly at each other intensely.  Moments later, the world will begin to move again and you will become aware of sound, the sound of people passing you by and complaining about the world and wending their merry way through life.  In that moment, you will know…you will know that the cat food section of the local supermarket was not the wisest location choice Razz

You do not, however, try to eat the back of the other persons head through their mouth.  If you notice that this person has issues with their nasal cavity…trying to clear the blockage with your tongue is seldom considered sexy….and let’s face it, could lead to a discussion that nobody really wants to have.

See exhibit A:

Now, I have to concede that this is not their first kiss, although my understanding from MK and KH is that they had only known each other a few days according to the show.  Maybe this is enjoyable for the both of them, although it looks like she is under attack and just trying to survive.  Thinking about it, he is clearly forcing her to be compliant with some sort of Vulcan Nerve Grip thing on the back of her neck.  Alternatively, maybe what we can’t tell is that they are really underwater and lost their breathing apparatus…survival instincts kick in and that is the result.

All I know with any certainty, if someone ever films me kissing someone and it looks like that….kill me, you have my permission….you would be doing me (the victim woman) and quite possibly the world, a HUGE favour.  Noone needs to see that.

I am now going to arrange for a frontal lobotomy, to try and rid my mind of the video above.

Eek!

The dating game…

DesireOk, so getting back in “the game” is a little more difficult than you realise.  Especially when you haven’t been in said game for quite some time and you are not quite the same person as you were when you were having moderate success.

So I have taken to trying to get inside the minds of women...not just inside them*.  How have I done this?  Easy, by making lots of female friends and quizzing them.  Also, by stealthily reading blogs..written by women who are in the dating scene.  Unfortunately, neither of them live anywhere near me, nor have they written expansively on why Uncle Fester is a much overlooked superstud…so I will continue to use their thoughts read with interest their take on the whole dating malarky….and learn some things along the way.

So far I have learned that Online dating seems to be considered as an ok option, providing you pay attention to some ground rules.  You have to make your first contact interesting, avoid using txt spk, don’t IM unless invited to, make your profile relatively interesting.  If given a phone number, call it…if they wanted to read something from you they would stick to IM or email.

See, us blokes can learn things occasionally.  Only occasionally mind…

The biggest lesson, that was delivered most recently, try and pay attention….especially if you have an unwavering desire to talk about your feelings incessantly, and the person you’re with does not.  Oh, and if ignored….TAKE THE HINT.  Do not, under any circumstances, write an email explaining how patient you were and try and lay the blame for you own failure to listen to them.

How am I doing so far?

I like it.  Admittedly, I can no longer count on stealth in my pursuit of knowledge regarding the female mind (damnable mind and it’s lack of blog imagination)…at least that part of the female mind that deals with dating.  It’s a start though right?  Plus, I get the feeling that they might find it akin to guys trying to read Vogue or Cosmo in the 80s Wink

See though, here’s the thing.  I am perfectly comfortable talking to someone on IM.  I am even perfectly comfortable walking smack into the “Friend Zone”.  So I am waiting for the information to start flowing from these lovely ladies on the “signs”.  I am great at body language at work, in meetings and presentations etc.  I can tell you if a member of my team is paying attention to whatever I am saying.  I can even see if people need more comfort, agression, compassion…whatever.  However, put me next to women in a social situation and I see them as foreigners…making no movements I can understand…it’s a bit like being an English bloke living in, say, Germany…and not speaking the language.  You know that what they are “saying” means something, you just don’t know what that something is.

So I make a lot of friends…and the encounters I do get into are not the ones I want….either they have a weird stalker thing going on, or they are friendships that I don’t want to risk for the sake of being “in the moment”.

What is a character from an old black and white gothic TV show to do?  Other than electrocute myself for kicks or have a shower set to scalding.

Maybe this post will drag out some helpful hints in the comments….subtle eh?

So…are you fluent in body language?

EDIT:  Since posting this I have been thinking and let’s face it, it doesn’t happen often enough.  I am no longer a child… I should be mature enough to deal with things in such a way that I won’t allow a friendship to be ruined by an attempt to alter the relationship towards the romantic.  Short edit, but an important revelation nevertheless.

* Sorry…no, really

What a weekend :)

Me and the broodWell, I am back from blighty (Britain to you non-natives out there) and I had a wonderful time.  I still managed to put almost 1000 miles on the hire car…seems to be my lot in life I guess.  What I did have though was an amazing weekend with my 4 (count ‘em) amazing kids.

Not a single harsh word was needed, they were all amazing well behaved and I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.  All of the stresses of recent times just evaporated when I got to hold them and spend time with them.  The best of it though, was just spending quality time with all of them.  I had planned to go bowling, to parks, do this and that and the other….it was going to be a full and packed weekend.  When I saw them though, I realised that I didn’t need any of those distractions.

We were out and about, visiting my brothers and sister in law with my amazing nephew Josh.  I have since been told that he is like it with most blokes, but I made an instant connection to Josh and he would cry whenever I left.  Quite nice really as I am inherently bad with other peoples kids, if they are related to me or not, but Josh was different..such a placid and nicely mannered boy for his age.  I got to see him walk, which he has only just started doing…which was cool Smile

I resolutely refused to allow Ellen to be “Little Mum” like she always used to end up being whenever she has visited me in the past.  I looked after all of the kids, properly, and enjoyed every minute of it.  I think they enjoyed it too.  Don’t get me wrong, I know Ellen loves to mother people and be involved, but she is a kid too and deserves to be spoilt like the others.  I treated them all to some useful sports stuff for school/after school activities, rather than trinkets that they won’t use in a week.  We played, we laughed, we cuddled up and watched a movie, went to the park, went for a walk, played rugby in the garden.  We just generally had fun together and for my part I got to reconnect with my children and loved every moment.

It is a strange life as an estranged father, but I intend to make the most of it whenever I can.  I absolutely refused to fall into my past routine of spending time on the computer and leaving the kids to their own devices.  I think I was on Facebook for a total of about 20 minutes, and I checked my email about 3 times…and I didn’t get the shakes – go me Smile .  I made sure that we only visited my family a few minutes away from where we were, as I didn’t want to waste time travelling and then be distracted by spending time with friends and not the kids.  We were all up at the crack of sparrows and went to bed quite late each day (not too late though Wink )

None of the kids wanted to go home, and I agreed as it was far too short of a visit…something I will rectify for next time definitely.  Obviously I have to work around their holidays now to make sure I can have a week or two with them next time, but do that I will.  Tears were shed by everyone, but I know with complete certainty that they all genuinely love me and miss me, and I hope they know that I miss them all so much it is heartbreaking for me.

I did have to put up with some shocking music in the car, some eurodancetrashpopdrumbasehouse nonsense that they seem to like.  However, they are my kids afterall….which meant by the end of the weekend, they were all asking for The Wombats, Maximo Park and Dragonforce to be played so that they could all air guitar and air drum their way to wherever we were going.  Hey!  Kids need decent music too you know….and at least mine have taste….even if it is ruined by technogarageshed garbage from time to time.

Normal posting will resume shortly, I just wanted to share the best weekend I have had in a bloody long time Smile

My family and other animals

Wolf PackBeing the eldest of three boys is not always fun….it can be, but not always.  Especially when your brothers get to the age where your Mum starts asking you to take them with you wherever you go.

I have to say that the age gap helped, so I wasn’t forced into that too often.  That said, I love my brothers…although back then it was mainly for their usefulness.

We were living in Leicester many moons ago – I will never forget it..the Eyres Monsell area of Saffron Lane.  It wasn’t that bad really, but the local borstal was just up the road…anyhoo I digress.

I learned real quick that my brother Kev was a tough nut, always throwing himself everywhere and just getting up and laughing when most kids would be crying…actually, now I come to think of it, Zak is just like that now.  I was babysitting once, and decided to play football in the house…of course the ball ended up bouncing up onto the wall unit and breaking something (I forget what – sorry Mum), but Kevs exploits meant that it was plausible.  I escaped with a telling off for not keeping an eye on him, instead of being grounded until…well…now I suppose.

He was pretty fearless though, but this got him into trouble from time to time.  My Mum had her friend over and they were chatting and drinking wine.  After a little while, they notice that the bottle of wine has gone from the kitchen…it was open but untouched.  Kev was found drunk and a panicked Mum had to figure out ways to sober up a small child…it was made slightly worse, if I recall, by the fact that he had used a straw…

Younger siblings always tend to copy their elder siblings though, and I caught him stealing a cigarette from me once, so I forced him to chain smoke until he was physically sick.  I am actually quite proud of that as (to my knowledge) he has never smoked since.

My brothers have both always had their heads screwed on though, certainly more so than me.  They both excelled at whatever sport they turned their hand to and Paul in particular puts us all to shame with his dedication to academia.   Through it all, they have managed to be leaders, not followers and noone ever has a bad word to say about them.

Kev is married now and my nephew is 1 and Paul is engaged and about to enter into that most heinous of crimes….living in sin.

It’s strange to say, but we are a very close family…we just don’t feel the need to be in constant contact that most people seem to think being close requires.

My Mum and Dad have always been very supportive of me and my foibles….I was the one that got into all the trouble…smoking, drinking, wreaking havoc with my friends.  My Mum is incredibly forthright and will let you know if she isn’t happy with something…my Dad is a little more subtle, and he has always been the calming influence on my life I suppose.  I definitely needed it from time to time.

I remember my Dad and I walking across the base, on the way to the bowling alley.  The base was an RAF Officer training camp, so there were a lot of young kids that had rank.  We were in street clothes (civvies) as Dad wasn’t at work, and we walked past this snot nosed Officer Cadet.  My Dad casually said hello to him as we walked past (you never salute unless you are wearing the uniform yourself).  The cadet stopped and started having a go at my Dad.. “You will salute an officer and show some respect”…or something similar.  My Dad, simply leaned in and then really quietly, but with no small amount of contempt said “When in uniform, I salute your uniform and respect it and the rank it gives you, I do not however, have to respect the fucking idiot wearing it”.  Then he turned, put his arm around me and we went bowling for the night….legend.

My Mum and Dad are also responsible for my knowledge of drinking games, my sense of fun, sense of humour and my morality.

Thanks Mum and Dad

Fantabulous

A short while ago, I visited Zurich, and was very surprised to realise that (at the time of writing) the smoking ban hasn’t been adopted. Not only that, they positively embrace it.

See, smokers aren’t 2nd class citizens after all, just ask the people at Zurich Airport.smoking lounge

It’s quite rare that we are welcome anywhere really, but it’s true.  What’s better though is that the rooms are air conditioned, designer furniture strewn comfort zones.  The non-smokers are stuck on plastic school chairs in a corridor with no air-con.  This place is genius.

Smoking Lounge at the Zurich Airport

Sure, we have to ignore the same warnings that we get on all the packs…when the call came to board the flight, I was that comfortable, I didn’t want to leave.

I had strolled across the uncomfortably hot non-smoking area to purchase an ice cold beverage and a piece of literature to peruse.  Sauntered jauntily back to the comfort zone that is the smokers lounge to relax and await my boarding call.  Trouble was, I was that relaxed and comfortable, not only did I smoke half a pack in just over an hour…I almost missed my freakin’ flight.

Totally worth it though.

Then…a week or two back…the German government cave to pressure from small bar owners and go partway to revoking the smoking ban.  Basically, any bar that is less than 75 meters squared and doesn’t serve any food that doesn’t get served in a packet, can smoke again….which includes my living room!!

Thankyou German government, I can now calm myself properly during those stressful Liverpool matches and not have to walk out for a calming smoke..just as a goal is scored.

I love Germany…..and Zurich airport.

Fun with the Sons..

So I am still recovering from all the travel that I have done recently, but wanted to post about what a great time I had with Sarah and the kids last weekend.

I left home at 02:00 on Friday morning to catch the 02:30 bus to Hahn Airport (yep, I am a cheapskate when it comes to travel).  For some reason I can’t sleep on the bus, neither can I sleep in the airport or on the plane.  Sarah meets me at Stanstead Airport at around 7am and we wend our merry way to Notts.  I fail to sleep in the car too.  Damnit mind, give me a break.

I manage to get around 3 hours or so kip when we get to Sarahs, the kids were at school so the rest was nice.  Around 15:30 we head off to pick the kids up from school.  They have no idea at all that I am visiting, so I am expecting shock and surprise…I wasn’t expecting Zak to spot me out of his classroom window.  The first thing I saw was a vigourously waving hand and realising it is Zak, I turn away and try to pretend that it isn’t me…no joy however, as when he comes out of his class, he is smiling his head off and waving to me.  Brandon, however, hasn’t noticed me and Sarah quickly instructs Zak not to say anything.  Brandon is totally distracted and doesn’t spot me at all.  To the point where Sarah tells him to look up, which causes him to look directly up into the sky….

Still he eventually sees me and I am mobbed by both kids Grin

We go on a run to Tesco…can I just add decent supermarkets to the list of the few things I miss about the UK?  I can?….thanks Smile  I get the kids a magazine, the choice of which is based entirely on the free toy on the front.  You gotta love that about kids, up to a certain age, brand and quality has nothing to do with the entertainment that can be garnered by a toy.  I also don’t recall the magazines being read at all…but *meh*.

That night, Kenny comes over to fit Sarahs living room carpet, but looks more knackered than I do and decides to leave it until Monday.  I thank Jesus and all his Apostles, as I would have had to help move stuff around and frankly I had less energy than a sloth with MS.

Saturday morning we get up and head over to see my folks, I discover that my mum is now officially old….she tells Sarah that she will get in some “Special Ham” for the visit.  I mean, when sandwich meat becomes special for visits, you are only 1 step away from the special tea china and then it is game over…..  I discover that I own at lawn darts…though only when I am using a broken dart for some reason.  Oh, and whatever team Zak is on…wins.  “Special Ham” sandwiches are consumed and we head back to Sarahs where I try and eat an entire chocolate cheescake unsuccessfully after taking a trip to Big W to buy the kids a toy each.

Sunday morning, Sarah is late for a rounders tournament because I didn’t wake her up.  So we head over, she plays 1 game and we leave.  The kids are spending loads of time on the trampoline that Sarahs mum bought for them and I eventually get roped into getting on there.

After being impressed that it didn’t collapse under my weight, me and the kids were messing around play fighting and knocking each other over….it is at this point that Sarah decides to get Brandons toy (a giant water pistol) and start soaking us whilst we are all trapped on the trampoline.  The camera didn’t want to work, so I have no photographic evidence of my tomfoolery, but I haven’t laughed that much in a loong time.

I do some homework with the kids, and I can honestly say that the British schooling system for their age group is superb.  They have come on in leaps and bounds and are spelling, reading and counting to a really good level now.  I am very very proud of them, and the way that Sarah encourages them is fantastic.  It is an absolute joy to see how much they both love their homework and want to progress more and more.

Later on that day, Sarah drives me back to the airport.  Bren turns up to look after the kids, and I am glad he did as he was able to distract them (and to some extent me aswell) and we didn’t have the horrible crying and sobbing that typifies this kind of goodbye.

To finish off, my cheapness comes back to bite me when Ryanair are announcing delays to practically every flight from Stanstead…they don’t announce them though, until I am at the gate waiting to board….damnit

I eventually arrive home at 02:30 on Monday morning and have to be up 4 hours later for work.

I am still knackered now…but you know what?

Totally worth it

Grin

Nan & Grandad

I’ve been thinking about my Nan and Grandad a lot just recently. I miss them, they had such a huge impact on my life. So much in fact, that I turned down jobs abroad to make sure I stayed in the area so I could be there if they needed me.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t miss them in a sad, feeling sorry for myself kind of a way.

They were both amazing and generous people who would never turn their back on family or even friends.  And, they had a great sense of humour.

We were living in Newark and I was just about old enough to go to the park on my own….I say just about, which kind of translates to: I legged it to the park at any given opportunity.  After the panic of my disappearance, Nan started looking around for me and eventually found me at the park.  It was raining and I refused to go home with her, to the point where I sprinted to a climbing frame that was essentially a huge stepladder curved into an arch, and climbed to the highest point and proceeded to taunt her.   It was like the top left one in the pic below.

Climbing Frames

What I didn’t expect, was the turn of speed my nan was capable of displaying, and she shot up the climbing frame at a rapid rate of knots and grabbed me.  I demonstrated the kind of caring child I was by yelling “I hate you nanna” repeatedly.  This was interspersed by my nan responding with “I hate you too”, followed by a slap of my arse.  This continued all the way home, until I was grounded Frown

My Grandad was known to perform amazing tricks like, stopping in the middle of a crossroads because the lights on the other side turned red as he was going.  He would laugh hysterically as we would look for a change of underwear.

I blame my nan for my current size (unlike most people who blame bone structure or water retention).  My nan was like Mrs Doyle on speed, but instead of cups of tea it was food.  I will blame her, I always have…she loved it really.  This was really down to her generosity though more than a need to feed people to bursting.  She would also order stuff that was too big, or that they wouldn’t want, just to be able to give it to members of the family.  They took this to the extreme once when I needed a washing machine.  My nan convinced grandad that they needed a new washer as it didn’t “fit” with the look of the kitchen.  A week later I had their perfect condition, 1 year old washing machine.

They had their little foibles too though, both of them would go nuts if anyone touched my grandads grandfather clock or stereo equipment.  It had to be me and only me.  Someone else tried to change the time on the clock once, got it wrong and was almost exiled from the family.  I was called immediately after they left to sort it out.  Same thing with the stereo equipment, my grandad had 2 stereos and swapped them from time to time so as to keep them from wearing out.  Quite why he couldn’t have bought one and used it until he needed to buy another one was something that always escaped me.

There are hundreds of stories of how they affected my life in a positive way, how they never stopped believing in me, eventually I even started to believe in myself, and for that I am eternally grateful.  I have still never managed to forgive myself for not being strong enough with my boss to leave work when my grandad was dying, I blamed my boss, but in reality my lack of strength resulted in my grandad passing literally as I pulled up in my car.  Something I have most definately addressed since that day, so thankyou Grandad.  I have to say though, Sarah was there when he passed and said something which I now see as a nice thing.  She said that they all heard my car and that either Sarah or my mum said “Davids here”, and my Grandad smiled and passed away right then and there.  She says that he did this because I was there to take care of everyone and be strong for him.  To start with, that just hurt me more, but over the years I have come to take some solace in that whenever I look back.

My nan passed a couple of years ago and I made sure that I was there, I called the family together when people were unsure if it was the right thing to do…basically the strength I got following my Grandads passing helped me through it.  Nan was fading in and out, but I recall a very lucid moment about a day before she finally (and peacefully) passed.  She called all the family together, like the veritable matriarch and gave every single one of us some information that she felt important, something a lot of people don’t get the time to either give or recieve so we were all grateful to that.

The information she gave me?

“Get to Germany David, don’t let anything stop you, there is nothing holding you here”

Thanks Nan and Grandad…. I love you both

xx