Friday 25th August, 2011

It has not all been bad news this week. GCSE results came out and I was delighted that my 16 year old daughter got an A for the Citizenship Project on “Why the Fox-hunting Ban should be Repealed” to which I think it is fair to say I had made a substantial contribution. Basically I wrote the whole damn thing. Also Hen has tapped into an attractive new revenue opportunity taking photographs at a succession of 21st birthday parties that have been going on around us for which she gets paid a tidy sum and walks away with some pretty dodgy photographs. The last party was a Tarts & Vicars fancy dress theme. Perhaps I have led a particularly sheltered life, but I had never heard of N*pple Lashes before which were apparently what some rather attractive girl in one photo I was shown, was sporting. What’s more Bob and Lottie managed the journey down from Leuchars to Peterborough by train on their own with little drama. They had to change trains in Newcastle which I thought might present a challenge. I sent Bob a text asking him if he had been able to understand a word that anyone up there was saying. This was his response...“No i was like whats the time? And they were like girlys so I said do u know Cheryl Cole???”

And what am I talking about? I almost forgot the main event. You will be dying to know how I got on in the annual family golf competition up at St Andrews last Friday. I only went and walked it. Sorry to boast but it was a breeze. A slight dampener was bogeying the last three holes of the Old Course as I had only been 5 over standing on the 16th, but I finished with an 80 for 39 Stableford points and the Big Stick was mine for another year. Go me.

Friday 18th August, 2011

It’s amazing how quickly the benefits of a holiday wears off. In my case nothing to do with the office. It was like this. Sophie was up in Derbyshire on Tuesday with Lottie who was representing the Thurlow Pony Club, dressed up as a pirate, leading a team of eight other riders and their ponies through a complicated series of movements accompanied by the theme tune of Pirates of the Caribbean. Weeks and weeks of preparation. She c*cked it up on the very first corner and chaos ensued, but whatever. The point was Bob was left home alone which is a perilous enough state of affairs in itself, but he was also required in the afternoon to make his way on foot to the local train station ( some couple of miles from our house ) in order to get to Cambridge where he had a 7pm dental appointment to repair his teeth brace which I had snipped off with metal clippers during a drama on holiday in Mallorca. I had to resort to metal clippers after the only thing I managed to cut when trying to extract a protruding length of metal with a pair of scissors was his lower lip. I digress. Before a visit by your 13 year old son to the dentist you might suggest he brushes his teeth. How many of you would have felt the need to remind him of the need to wear shoes? It may not surprise you to know that I did. Yet despite that who should be waiting for me outside Marks & Spencers in the ticket hall of Cambridge Railway, but a shoeless Bob, mud and blood everywhere, grinning apparently with satisfaction at having made contact with me so effortlessly. He had run the two miles to the station barefoot he explained having left home somewhat later than intended as he had been distracted whilst taking Twiggie, his lurcher, for a walk. She had given chase to a 10 pointer roe deer stag though a wood and across a ploughed field with Bob hot on her heels oblivious to brambles and flint stones and clumps of earth flying about. What an absolute mess. I had no choice but to take him in this state into the dental surgery where I must say Dr Bister performed his work with casual aplomb, although his assistant did suggest booking an appointment for Bob with the hygienist.

My name is also mud. I will be up in Scotland tomorrow competing for an important trophy in our family competition on the Old Course. This is such an intense affair I had completely forgotten that the date we had fixed coincided with Hen’s birthday. To be honest I didn’t think she would mind that much, but how wrong I was. Two months ago a wish list of present requests appeared on the fridge door: a signet ring, turntable, Polaroid camera, subscription to ID Magazine and Dazed & Confused, some Vinyls ( but bear in mind this is 6th on the list so only get it if no turntable ) and COMPULSORY – Jo Malone Bath Oil and Candle. Apparently the last items are by way of me making reparation for my absence. She is in quite a humph about it.

There is another birthday on the horizon. Some of you may have the dubious pleasure of being broked to by Chris Barr at Citigroup. I have been asked to make the speech at his 50th birthday party next weekend. If you happen to have a good incriminating story do let me know!

Meantime I’m off to Scotland and to bring The Big Stick south

Friday 5th August, 2011

If you held me in little regard before then this will finish you off. I am away next week for the second leg of my summer hols continuing my odyssey of visits to places I never been to before like Corfu and Mallorca. It’s nothing to do with me. I was quite happy with the East Neuk of Fife each August as we have done for the last five years but I may have told you the girls have revolted and insisted on some sunshine this year so Mallorca it is. Every cloud has a silver lining though and I have to tell you I’m quite pleased not to be spending too much time in Fife this year. By somewhat circuitous means involving Humphrey, Hen’s miniature daschund, who has his own Facebook page, I have discovered some worrying truths about Bob and his lobster hunting tactics last summer in the waters off Lower Largo which might suggest we wouldn’t be made to feel especially welcome by the local fishermen. “Nuff said other than Groan. That boy.

Talking of unruly children Sophie made the big mistake of asking Hen to get Lottie to come in for supper the other day. Picture the scene. A pleasant warm and still evening in the little Suffolk village of Gazeley. Tranquility indeed, which no doubt our various neighbours were soaking in. That was until Hen goes outside and yells at the top of her voice......

“Lottie you ghastly little wretch come here right now or I’ll beat you senseless.”

Then strolls casually back into the kitchen and says to a slightly shocked looking Sophie.... “There. How long do you give it before we get a knock on the door from the RSPCC? You really shouldn’t talk to your children like that Soph.”

Brian McGure continues in droll fashion in the Alex cartoons this week...it’s lucky I have such a fine sense of humour and so little self esteem....

http://www.alexcartoon.com/index.cfm?cartoons_id=4015

Friday 29th July, 2011

This is always one of my most difficult weeks of the year. I think I have told you before that the one reason I would be quite interested in starting life all over again would be if it meant I could get to go to Pony Club Camp. Bob is there this week and whooping it up, one of only four 13 year old boys amongst 30 or so girls, one of whom, I discovered last night, has been bribed into plaiting his horse for today’s tack and turnout competition. What form the bribe took has not been related. In fact I don’t really want to know.

The week was going swimmingly for Hen. She has spent it, blissfully happily, hand-stitching the message “You are invited to my 21st Birthday Party” onto a card, embellishing it further with a little collage of photos cut out from fashion magazines. 45 such cards have to be prepared for which she is being paid a total of £20 by the friend who has commissioned this task. Each card, it would appear takes about a day to do. Simple command of maths will tell you she has completed 5 and so she should have finished them all by the middle of September which happens to be a couple of weeks after the party is taking place. However, today has brought disappointment for Hen although the population of Suffolk should be breathing easier. I’m not sure she approached her driving test this morning in quite the right spirit. She was pondering last night if the test examiner might allow her to put a lucky mascot on the back seat of the car as she quite wanted to take Humphrey ( ridiculous miniature daschund ) along for the ride. Sense prevailed, but sad to say, she failed her test, although she insists it was a close run thing as she only committed 13 minor errors. Apparently this would normally be sufficient to allow the examiner to have passed her, however he was unable to ignore the fact she ran a red light and nearly crashed into the back of another car.

Now. I have a bone to pick with you lot. I sneaked a message out mid week about my Jungfrau Marathon and fund raising exercise for The Rainbow Trust. This is a most worthy cause and I have set myself targets to raise £10,000 and to complete the marathon in under 5 hours. Both of these goals may be a bit of a stretch but to date only two people on this email list have stepped up to the plate. Come on folks. You are mocking me. I know times are tough, but really...... Hit the link..... Davids Jungfrau Marathon

PS Taking a couple of my most important, generous and entertaining clients to St Andrews on Monday for lunch at the R&A and a round on the Old Course. Who knows...it could be you next year!