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