Pavement Pasodoble

 You know when the pedestrian telepathy fails, when you’re walking along the path and you have that moment when you both end up doing the ‘sidewalk shuffle’, and for some reason it seems to take an age to get out of the, ‘I’ll go left and so will they.

Sorry.

I’ll go right, and again, so do they.

Sorry (slightly embarrassed now).

Well what’s the worse that can happen, an embarrassed smile, a chuckle, an annoyed glance, the merest brush of shoulders.

Well when it’s a pedestrian and a bicycle, that’s a whole different ballgame.

That happened today, yes, to me obviously.

Walking home from the school run and a young lady (girl) (is it even PC to assume a gender now? Oh who cares) cycles towards me, not overly fast but maybe a bit quick for the path, when yes, the telepathy fails us both.

She wobbles to the left, then the right, I’m really trying to keep out of her way as she looks hardly in control of her bike, I stop, it’s all I can think of doing as we were closing in on each other at a rate of knots.

Sorry, I mumble, as she glances desperately at me, it’s a funny look really, probably made worse by the angle she’s at, I would guess 45 degrees. 

And down she goes, still, at least she’d slowed down somewhat, thus reducing the scuffidge from forward momentum, this was just sideways. She’s probably had worse grazes, a bit of TCP and you’ll be as right as rain.

Anyway, enough silliness, have a fabulous day

Dr Who?

Sitting in the dinning room (it’s really not as posh as it sounds, honest) scrolling inanely through Facebook as I do most mornings. Hitting the odd like, doing a screen grab of a post that is so messed up or having to open Google to try and translate a post from someone, who, to all intents and purposes seems quite normal when you meet them but what in gods name does that say. 

Well anyway this morning was no different apart from one thing, the washing machine. Now I will say, the washing machine being there is also quite normal, I mean I didn’t just get up and was taken by surprise at a 50-60kg chunk of metal in the kitchen, that would be ridiculous, having said that though, judging by some of the posts mentioned above, I probably have ‘friends’ that would be, anyway I digress.

I’m sitting quietly alone, eating my breakfast, I’d tell you what I was eating but you’d just take the micky, with the washing machine doing it’s thing in the background, how come after a few months of having them they go from whisper quiet to the sound of a small explosion going off, and after a few minutes sitting there I’m suddenly struck by the volume this machine is making. I look up, spoon mid journey, to see the washing machine bouncing out from its gap and starting to make its way across the floor towards me. 

Christ alive, I honestly thought I was in an episode of Dr Who, I nearly ran out of the building.

This thing was pulling all sorts of moves, the load had obviously shifted inside, I had to pretty much sit on the bloody thing to halt it’s march, pushing and walking it back into the gap it strolled from moments before hand.

Well that’s enough excitement for one day, you never know, maybe another update tomorrow, or maybe I’ll just wait years again who know.

And you are?

 Wow it’s been a while.

We have been decorating over the past year, new carpets, paint, wallpapering and suchlike, we also invested in new bedroom furniture. A nice new wardrobe, four doors and two full length mirrors, very posh.

Now at my age when nature calls you have very little choice but to say “yes sir, right away sir” and March off to the toilet like a good boy, even if it’s in the middle of the night. Last night was no exception to this rule, 3am and I’m suddenly, ahem, breaking my neck for a wee. 

Having laid there for a minute just to make absolutely sure I needed to go I fling my legs out of bed and stand, I still find it remarkable that the most comfortable you can be in bed is with a full bladder. Bleary eyed I start the dark walk towards the bedroom door. 

Now this wardrobe I mentioned earlier is in a different spot to the old ones, this one is just to the side of the bedroom door. For some reason I turned a bit wide at the end of our bed and headed for what I thought was the door. Ambient lighting from clocks and plugs illuminated the room just enough to see dark shapes a few feet in front. All of a sudden, not 6 inches in front of me I was confronted by another person, in our bedroom, at 3 o’clock in the morning, looking right at me. I nearly did my ablution there and then. Out of impulse, and because I was naked, I put my arms up and shoved this interloper in the chest, except it wasn’t their chest, no, it was the bloody mirror on the wardrobe, if I hadn’t secured it to the wall when we got it it probably would have rocked and fallen on me I pushed it that hard. The intruder, trespasser, would be assassin was merely my reflection. My heart still racing I did make it to the loo in time, just, chuckling but rather embarrassed. 

I find it truly amazing how many thoughts can race through your mind in a split second. Who are you? What are you doing in here? I’m naked you don’t need to see this, get out, god your a handsome bugger. (I may have made the last one up……maybe).

Anyway, as usual, thanks for taking the time to read this and if you enjoyed it you might like to look back at some of my other offerings from the past few years.

Puppy class

My daily exercise normally involves walking the dogs around the estate with Nicki. It is, most of the time, a loop of about a mile or so. Not long, but certainly long enough with our three dogs.

Tinker, the biggest of the three is a twat, no, really, she is a complete arse of a dog.
It would be quicker to list things she likes as opposed to what she doesn't like.
The things she doesn't like consist of, Lorries, busses, dogs, cats, some (most) people, and the one that always winds her up, motorbikes. (This list is not exhaustive)
Well, anyway, while out walking just Tink yesterday we saw a friend of mine riding his motorcycle, cue the dog going mental.
Sorry, I shouted at my friend, she doesn't like motorbikes.
It's not a motorbike, it's a scooter he informs me, with a smile on his face.
We stand and have a chat for a few minutes about stuff, and nonsense, which we are both very good at discussing, he does the stuff part, I do the nonsense.
Well, anyway, after this revelation about it being a scooter and not a motorbike I have a very difficult hour and half at home with Tinker, trying to explain to her the difference between the two different types of transport. I think she did actually find my powerpoint presentation rather informative.
She sits, content, in front of me wagging her tail, tongue hanging out of her face, listening to me drone on about how she was wrong to assume it was a motorbike.
After being chastised and ridiculed for her absolute stupidity she goes back outside to bark at fresh air.
She is, without doubt, beyond help.

COVID-19.........n n n n Nineteen

Kids off school, their not in class
At home there's nowt to wipe your arse
The bog role drought of 2020
couldn't get a roll of Plenty.

This home schoolings beyond a joke
Its nearly driven me back to smoke
The way they learn, the things they do
I haven't got an f'ing clue

Will lockdown ever be relaxed
bikini lines to be re waxed
Cant strut about with too much flare
when your over run with pubic hair

Once more we trot off to the fridge
One piece of cheese, oh just a smidge
and pickle just the smallest smear
all washed down with lots of beer.

Im a Lockdown isolation drunk
Im a flabby unfit anti-hunk
An all alone sad alcoholic
I used that just to rhyme with bollock

Cant have it end though, not to soon
Look again, the end of June
We understand it might take time
Slowly slowly, it will be fine.

In the sh*t

With new experiences being a little, well, thin on the ground at the moment I thought, to keep my interest in blogging high I'd regale you all with some tales from years gone by.

Hopefully, if I wrack my brain hard enough I may even be able to find the odd amusing one.

One that springs to mind would have been mid 70s. I would have probably been about 13.
We always played football 'down the front', an area of grass in the middle of the estate where we would congregate, pick teams and play for hours, I mean, all day sometimes.
I was a goalkeeper, and I was pretty good too, even if I do say so.
Always a slightly risky position back then, when people didn't pick up their dog shit.
Anyway, this particular day we was halfway through a game and there was a dispute over a goal, did it go in or did it go over the post, a jumper?
Always a contentious decision, did it go in or not.
Well this particular day I must have taken umbrage with an attacking player over said problem, as I told him to f**k right off, not how it usually went, but I must have been sure this shot didn't go in, as I wasn't letting this go. It may have been more that a telling, it may have been more a shout.
After an exchange of profanity's the game continued, I can't remember if the goal stood or not, it matters not.
A minute or two later and one of the my mates informed me that my mum was at the corner calling me.
The pitch was a couple of hundred yards from my front door. There was a small tunnel through to my house and mum was standing at the mouth of said tunnel.
An instant feeling of guilt overcame me as I walked towards her.
When within 20 feet or so I immediately said, 'I didn't say it mum'.
What was I doing, she'd not said a bloody word yet and I had already admitted my guilt.
Mum didn't do cross, not real cross, she did 'disappointed' which is worse, she would just turn her back and walk off, I would follow, metaphoric tail between my legs.
Needless to say my part in the game ended right there and then that day.

Can you dig it man?..........erm, no.

Today I gardened, yes, gardened. I'm not even completely sure if the borders needed watering or not, I just did it. I took it upon myself to fill a watering can, and I watered the garden, this is gardening right? 

Was it satisfying at all, no, not really but it passed 4 minutes. 

Does the garden look better for my intervention, again no, why should it, I'm no Percy Thrower (ask your parents).

I tipped water in roughly the right place, it soaked it, plants drink it, job done. Cant go wrong really. Puddles are ok right?

Anyway, that's that job done for a few years now. Still, it's good to keep your eye in.

That wont wash out

Thud, crash, thump.

2am and I've been woken by what sounds like either, the most incompetent of burglars or the most blasè, either way it sounds like we have a visitor. 

So, it goes without saying that the first thing one does in a situation like this is; tuck your body completely in under the duvet, nothing can get you now. No harm can come to someone who is adopting the 'anti-bogyman' approach to self preservation. 

I lay, tucked in, for 5 minutes listening to thumps and bangs. They sound remarkable close to the bedroom door. 

Bugger it I think, I need to find out what this is. I look across at Nicki and ponder waking her to send her, however, shes already awake and making no signs of leaving the bed. I slip some trousers on, I dont want to scare the neighbor's if I need to chase the bugger down the street now do I.

I creep over to the bedroom door and slowly turn the handle. Peering into the gloom i notice a dark patch on the floor in the bathroom. I reach in and pull the light on.

Vera is there, laying flat on the ground thumping another f**king mouse. She glances up at me like I've disturbed her, she actually gives me the skunk eye. 

This time she has however murdered the mouse, we can see some of its life force soaking into the bath mat.

The mouse gets tossed out of the window and we both get back into bed wide awake.

I did take the opportunity while out of bed to have my old persons midnight wee though, Haha, a little win on my part.

I've got a carrier bag.

You are not going to believe this but today's offering is animal based too.

Vera, one of our cats, decided to bring a mouse in, not an 'on full parade to one and all type of in', oh no sir, a stealthy, sneak it upstairs and play with it kind of bring in.
Nicki pops upstairs early evening and goes into one of the boys rooms. There, bold as brass is Vera idling away a happy hour playing with the mouse.
Nicki shouts down the stairs to me.
All I hear is, 'shut the doors shes.................inaudible.
'What'? I shout back.
'Shut the doors shes got...............inaudible.
I now decide I should get my lazy arse off the sofa and listen properly (something that doesn't come naturally to blokes).
I get to the bottom of the stairs ready to shout back 'what' when I see the reason for her calling. There is Vera, three stairs up chasing a mouse.
Why for crying out loud has she let it go?
Down the last few stairs it scampers straight into the living room, followed, obviously by the cat and me. It darts behind the door and I kneel down, cushion in hand, ready to catch it. A quick shove of the cat out of the way and I have it, under the cushion, just like a baseball mitt.
'Quick, get something to put it in Nick, get a jug'.
10 seconds pass of me pressing down on this soft furnishing.
'I've got a carrier bag'. Nicki says.
This fact takes a few seconds to sink in........a carrier bag I think. All I can picture is letting go of the cushion and watching as this bloody carrier bag wafts down on the mouse, which will obviously just sit there, good as gold.
'NO, A F£%KING JUG', said through tears of laughter.
I lift the tiniest bit of pressure from the cushion and the mouse is away.
Under the sofa if runs, Vera sits grumbling at it. Nicki lifts the back covering flap on the sofa up and allows Vera access to her prey. Shes under there like a flash, and the mouse is out in equal time from the other side.
Its like Laurel and Hardy now.
I make another grab with the cushion and get it again, wow I'm good.
'Jug' I say, surely no more words are needed.
Jug in hand Nicki comes to my aid, releasing the sofa, under which is Vera.
Well, the noise coming from under that sofa I've never heard the likes of before.
'Bugger, I've squashed the cat' she shouts.
So, cushion in one hand over the mouse, I lift the sofa with my other hand to let the cat out. She exits perfectly unharmed, if not a little pissed off.
Back to concentrating on the mouse.
Jug in hand Nicki gets ready. I lift the cushion and she slams the jug down on the mouse. Misjudging her attempt she brings down the jug right across its throat. I cant help it, I nearly piss myself at the expression of absolute horror on the creatures face, anyway, a slight realignment and its in the jug, alive. 
Jug in hand I toss the vermin in a hedge nearby.
We await its return.

Big nasty

Don't like spiders, never have done, never will do. I know I'm bigger than them, it doesn't matter.

Bedtime last night and I'm dead tired from sitting down all day, this lock-down stuff is exhausting. Start getting undressed, I remove my shirt, (you might not want to ponder to long on that image), and there, right above me, is the mother and father of all spiders. Tattoos, hobnail boots, the works.

'Big nasty' I call out.

'What' Nicki says.

'Big nasty' I say again.

Nicki, who is standing a few feet from me just wonders what the hell is going on. Only when I start, for some reason, to put my top back on, (god knows why I did that, was I suddenly embarrassed) does she turn and see me pointing at the new wall pattern.

I climb, as manly as I can, onto the bed, being on the bed can save you from a million fears don't you know.

'Don't drop it darling' I plead.

If she does indeed drop it, then its going behind my stuff, and I may need to de-camp to the sofa downstairs for the night (I've done it before).

Being, ahem, a little shorter than me, means she has to stand on the end of the bed and a chest of drawers to reach the goliath.

'Pass me a magazine while I get a jug please'

I pass her a magazine, which by some strange quirk of fate happens to be a Spiderman comic (I kid you not).

'Oh, its waving at you' Nicki informs me, like I flipping care.

'Oh, that's nice, Just don't drop the poxy thing' I repeat.

Well, the girl done good, a quick flick with 'Spiderman' and its in the jug and out the window, probably ready for a further assault tonight.

Why cant this woman just hit the sodding things.

I hope you washed your hands

Hey everyone its Saturday, SATURYAY, more like SATURMEH.

Never has a weekend been so roundly, and enthusiastically greeted with such a lack of joy, well, certainly not since last weekend anyway, oh, and next weekend, probably.

Welcome one and all to week 3940 of lock-down. How are we all coping?

Tough huh!

You know its going to a slow day when going for a poo is rating as one of the highlights, and the rest of the house start chanting 'Out in one'.

Today I'm not sure what to get up to, well actually, I mean, today I'm not sure what room to sit in.

Tanned todger

I don't do bored, never have done, never will do. I do guilty; guilty at myself if I sit around and waste a day away, but not boredom. Funny but I never feel guilty until the day is done and I've looked back in disgust at my laziness.

So, today's while away an hour of not sitting was, cleaning the canopy above our front door. Something I can safely say that I have never done before. Was it fun I hear you cry, nope, is my, rather to enthusiastic response. It filled an hour like I said. No

one said that the chores, for that is all these jobs are, were meant to be fun.

Still on the subject of 'lock-down' who else is drinking way to much tea and coffee? I bloody know I am, never been to the toilet so much.

Pretty sure that if I'd have been weeing alfresco the old chap would, by now, have a nice tan, its been out that much.

I wont delve into your private hell of drinking to much of the slightly less good for you stuff, we all cope in our own ways, just don't get to reliant on it.

Funny how cleaning the canopy above the front door can be more of a draw than washing the car. I've never ever been enthusiastic about washing cars, not sure why, just a task that has never floated my boat. I may reach the point where I need to do it, just not yet.

So, here ends today's update. Now go, do stuff, but above all, stay safe.

Much love.

Pout for me darling

Another day of waking up and thinking are we there yet. I'm starting to know exactly how a kid feels on a long car journey.

It's not that it's boring, I think I'm coping ok, mainly due to the fact that I have a boredom threshold on a par with Mount Everest. I can sit, just sit, to be honest, I don't think many can 'just sit' better than me. That said, it is nice now and again to do something.

Today we managed to acquire some flour, the boy brought it home, 2 bags, 2 whole bags.

Flour, I'm sure has got itself a street value now, it's as rare as a modest sentence coming out of Donald Trumps face.

I was toying with the idea of bagging it up in 10gram zip lock bags and getting me a little group of kids to, ahem, distribute it around the estate, but then I thought, nah sod it, its ours.

I can picture it now, all these worn out women with bad hair and ragged nails desperate for flour (blokes do look raged too but it didn't seem as amusing to me).

'Got any self raising mate, I need me some self raising'

Me 'Nah sorry love, only got plain, plain any good?'

'No, no, I need self raising'

Me 'got and raising agent'.............?

Right, lets stop that, its silly.

I'm just waiting to see the real girls at the end of this. No manicures, no hairdressers, no, ahem, plump lips. No more pouting. Real photos of real people. Gonna be some seriously busy beauticians after this all clears up, not to mention hairdressers.

I even think that the mullet could make a welcome return for us blokes. How glad am I that I never lost the belief it would come back. Finally I'm going to look fashionable, (I nearly said again then).

All joking aside though, us blokes definitely have it easier than you girls, we'll just look rugged, you, unfortunately, will look haggered, but we'll still love ya.

I'm sorry, what did he say he'd done!

So, we sit in doors most days now, listening to each others moans and groans, kids mainly. The birds outside have never sounded so happy.

Nature, it would seem, is thumbing its nose at us poor souls stuck indoors.

What can we do with ourselves during this time, hobbies we thought long lost to having to much 'important' stuff to do? Maybe, maybe not. Some of the past hobbies have long since been discarded, or sold in my case; I can hear my family and close friends telling me,”told you you should have kept that stuff”, yeah, whatever.

I have dragged up a couple of previous hobbies, long thought lost to being to busy. Painting, and writing to name them both. Past a happy hour or three painting over the past few days, which was nice.

There has been another form of painting done too, one I'm not quite so, ahem, keen on.....walls and skirting boards. Good god I hate decorating, which anyone who has lived with me during the past, erm, entirety of my life, would be only to happy to vouch for.

I was tasked with decorating the living room around 18 months ago, which means at that time we went out and bought all the stuff, so, when this natural reset happened the old, we cant really go out and buy it excuse wants going to cut mustard. Bugger it.

The thing with the living room wasn't just the painting, oh no, there was wallpaper involved. Now I'm no painter and decorator so I really wasn't looking forward to that part.

So, after, I think it was, 4 days, the room was done, well, as done as it was going to be. So now what? Lock-down means those jobs we didn't have time for before are suddenly doable; its a living hell for someone as, how can I put this nicely, ah yes, bone idol as I am.

The dining room needs decorating too, if you fancy it? We have the paint for that.

Now, in normal times there would be about 3 years between rooms, this was looking like there wouldn't even be 3 days.

Well, as hard as this might be for some to grasp, I did it, I painted 2 rooms in the same year, no, scratch that, the same month, THE SAME MONTH, and you know what, they both look pretty groovy.

Well, I think that will do for today's update, back to pondering stuff.

Oh God, what have I done now.

A couple of weeks ago a friend, renowned for getting others involved in activities posted an ad on her Facebook page; it was to enter and be trained in, The Great East Swim 2020.

Signing up includes a 12 week open water swim course, entry to the event itself, access to physio  and fitness and nutrition class, it also includes wetsuits use. 

It's for people who dont train very much, and are not fit. I, over the past couple of years, have managed quite easily, to fit into both those groups. 

The induction for the course is towards the end of March when I need to prove to the trainer that I can swim two lengths of a pool. At the moment it will be close, and not pretty. I cant swim far at all doing the breathing technique, I'm all head out of the water and thrash, its bloody ugly to be honest. 

This chap has the unenviable task of turning a two length thrasher into a 34 length side breather, he'll deserve a medal.

Anyway, I'll keep you updated with my progress, minus any pictures of me in the wetsuits, after all, to see that you need only Google seal pictures.

He shoots .....He saves

I used to be, once upon a time, a goalkeeper. Not of any particular note but I like to think, had I had a father influence in my younger years, to nurture me along, I might, just might have been, half decent.

I also dream, although I can very rarely remember any of the detail. Most of the ones I do remember are just plain wired. I can safely say, apart from the falling dream where you jump, I never ever act them out, until last night.

I was playing in goal, not in any particular team or tournament,  just a game of football. It may have been an important fixture but I can't remember that part.

A cross swung in from my right, waist height towards the edge of the 6 yard box. So, not on target but a cross to be attacked. I dived out and stopped the ball with my left hand and pulled it to the ground, still in one hand. I spotted an attacker sliding in and therefore needed to secure possession by grasping the ball with both hands. I slapped my right hand down onto the side of the ball, or what I was dreaming was the ball. I had in fact taken possession of Nicki, my partner. One hand was rested on the back of her head and the other, taking control of the ball, slapped down the side of her face. Needless to say, we both awoke with a start, and a moment of puzzlement. Fortunately I'd not bought the right hand down with a huge amount f of force, just enough to wake a sleeping partner.

The moral of this sorry tale.
It's a good job I'm not a continental keeper or, I may have punched it clear..   

Sexercise

I publish my running and cycling activities on a site called Strava, for my less active friends this is a site that shows the people you connect with just what you've been up to exercise wise. I use it when I've been out and can normally bank on getting well into double figure likes, however........

For the last few weeks I've been a lazy bum; its a mixture of, work hours, weather and just a general malaise on my part. I make no excuses about, being injured or such like, I'm just bone idol.
Sunday I thought it would be quite funny to post my weekend activity, sex, yes, sex, yes 53 year olds still 'do it'. Controversial I know but, hey, most people do it, and at my age, boy does it take it out of you. So I thought to myself, that's more of a workout than I've done for a while, so I'm blooming counting that. I squared it with my partner and she chuckled and said, yep that's fine. Its been live on Strava for a day and a bit and has attracted two,  yes two likes.

I can honestly say that I didn't realise just how incredibly prim and proper my friends are. Its either that or they just don't think that's a workout! I can assure you that I worked a bloody site harder than some of the stuff Ive done in the past which attracted lots of likes. But they were real workouts, like running and stuff I hear you cry, yeah right, my heart rate hasn't been as high as it was Saturday for a long time.
So I suppose what I'm trying to say here is, loosen up folk, life is way to short to be serious all the time. It was meant to be funny, treat it as such, please.

Oh, and have a nice Christmas, and don't forget, plenty of exercise. :-)

Alarmed!!!

I leapt from my seat and was just about to make my way smartly to the fire exit, when I realised that the horrendous din ringing out in the cafe wasn't the fire alarm but some blomin woman's ring tone.

Wow, that's a seriously awful noise. Ear piercingly shrill. No melody, no tune, just pure........sound!

HELLO, she bellowed across the room, she didn't need a phone.

Two minutes silence and it sounds again. I half expect the fire brigade to turn up.

She doesn't even look embarrassed, remarkable!

Coffee drank we venture around the store to by some groceries that I need at home.
Forgetting that the car is broken and I've cycled into town I set about buying way more than I can fit in my rucksack, let alone haul home (all up hill I might add). Its when I get to the checkout that it dawns on me about the car........bugger!
Still, think of the strength training.

The Iron lady

The alarm sounds and I rise, sleepy but none the less awake. A quick belch, fart and scratch of the nether regions and Im ready for coffee.
Todays the day of my coached swim session. Im suddenly wide awake at the thought. Should be fun though, I know my coach and know we can laugh while still learning, should be fab.
Coffee drunk I head off to collect her.
She's at the door as I arrive. Blimey, super keen and ready I thought! I should have realised, after getting a text from her 2 minutes before asking if I was on my way, seriously super keen (strict)!
She gets in the car, and suddenly how hard this session is going to be comes into focus.......my coach has her handbag with her!!!!! HER FLIPPING HANDBAG!
Coaches don't carry handbags do they? Mine does. Im really scared now, can I live up to the expectations of a handbag carrying coach, of course I can't, not a chance. She is at least smiling, or is it a laugh, at what she has in store, I will find out soon enough.
Even though I tried driving as slowly as I could to the pool we still arrive much much quicker than I would have liked. I park up and get out.
The passenger door slams shut.
Are you taking the handbag inside? I ask.
Erm....yes, why wouldn't I. comes the reply.
Cos your coaching a swim.
She finds it quite amusing that I should be shocked at someone bringing a handbag to a swim session. She's smiles back at me, or it could be wind, or, more likely, a grimace at the pain she is about to inflict on her lowly subject.

I look to see if I can see the big blue rosette with "Vote Tory" on it, there isn't one, phew.
'What do you want from this session'? She shouts, sorry, asks.
To get out alive I think to myself.
'To improve my breathing technique really, and be a better swimmer please Miss'. I say, whilst backing away touching my forelocks.

 I waft my membership card at the minion on the desk, tell him that Mrs T (not her real name) is here to do a bit of coaching and do I need to pay for her.
No, just make sure she sits on the seating, he replies.
Really, I have to TELL her to do something. I look round into the the steely eyes of my coach.
'He said, him over there...........erm, the chap behind the desk said you have to sit in the seating area'. I duck instinctively for fear of the repercussions.
Tut, comes the reply.
I fear for the desk chaps safety if she ever sees him alone in the street, poor sod.
Well, to cut a short story long the coached swimming session didn't actually happen. Turns out that at Hadleigh swimming pool brining in your own coach/helper/Prime Minister, is frowned upon.
No coaching allowed unless its with our coaches..........Really!
I managed half a length. Membership now cancelled!

What have I done????

I've failed as a parent, well and truly.
Today I saw a video on Facebook, which made me smile. I usually tag my daughter in any of these posts so she to can have an ah moment, or a chuckle. This one had both.
Little did I know it would make me realise I have failed so dramatically!
The video in question showed a seal on a beach with a labrador dog. The seal was being petted by who I take it to be, are the dogs owners.
They pet the seal and then the seal cuddles the dog, all very cute and warm hearted stuff. Wheres the failure in that I hear you cry?
We that comes after.
I picked up my daughter, I won't tell you how old she is, suffice to say she's in her last year as a teenager :-) lol.
We chatted about how cute the video was and I said, rather innocently, wow I've not seen anyone pet a seal before in the wild, they can give you a nasty nip. They have really sharp teeth.
Can they, came the stunned reply from daughter. Oh yes darling, razor sharp.
I didn't know they had teeth, came to gobsmakingly remarkable comment from daughter.
Sorry? I said, you didn't know they had teeth!!!!!
How do you think they eat fish, bloody suck them.

'Oi Dave, these blooming fish take an age to eat, sucking them'.
'Yes Trevor, for crying out loud don't try the squid, you'll be there forever'.

I was, to say the least, dumb struck.
Fortunately we have a wonderful relationship and I laughed endlessly at her, even when she started crying. :-)
Its one of the many things, that, unfortunately for her, I wont let her forget for a good while.
Thank you darling, your a star and I love you to bits