My relationship with my wife seems to have deteriorated in the last few days. I can pinpoint the cause: she bought a copy of The Sims at the weekend for £1 ($2).
The irony comes in the fact that she’s trying to replicate our relationship in the game. Her Sim is trying to form a loving relationship with a Sim of me she has created. This involves her spending every spare moment playing the game.
So our real life relationship is suffering in the name of furthering a Sim relationship!
when it comes to the world of Harry Potter (although granted, I know what a muggle is!)
I have bought the first three books, in preparation for Godzooky 1 gaining interest. This may be the summer when he’s ready to tackle them…
I have no real preconceived ideas about the books, but I have not yet felt the urge to start reading them.
Saying that, I can admire JK Rowling for inspiring another generation to read and am at a loss to understand why certain elements feel the need to criticise her.
She’s made money. Great, why shouldn’t she?
She writes kid’s books that adults read. Is that a crime? Enabling parents to discuss a novel with their children?
Anyhoo, I read about this and my respect for her ratcheted up another couple of notches:
Natalie MacDonald (featured on page 159 of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire) was a real person.
She was 9 years old and dying of leukemia, when she wrote to JK Rowling asking what would happen in the next book, as she would not be alive to read it.
Ms Rowling emailed back, but sadly the young girl had died.
As a tribute, JK Rowling created a character with her name, as a first year student at Hogwarts, in the House of the Brave.
During a promotional tour to Canada, the author went to visit Natalie’s parents.
Nothing more needs to be said.
There are some moments that just leave me speechless as a parent. More and more they’re becoming moments involving my daughter.
Last night I was sitting on the sofa next to her whilst she ate some chocolate. As with most 3 year old’s this is a messy process.
When she’d finished she had extremely chocolately hands, and turned to me saying: “Daddy, will you get me a tissue, please?”
How could I refuse such a reasonable and polite request?
I brought her a tissue, she wiped her hands and then deposited the used tissue in my lap.
“Thanks for that”, I said.
“You’re welcome!” she chirped as she swung off the sofa and wandered off.
Ever polite, even when dumping me with her rubbish!
of umbrellas is reaching crisis point. I’ve never used umbrellas, they always seem too unwieldy and cumbersome.
This “summer” of never ending rain seems to have populated every street with extra umbrellas. Being a tall-ish bloke these are ideally placed, height wise, to gouge my face and eyes.
People bury their faces underneath them and ignore their surroundings.
The only brief moment of satisfaction are where they catch my shoulder or arm, and send a shower of cold water upon the umbrella wielders body. It’s small consolation for the number of swift body swerves I have to make and scrapes I receive.
The course yesterday was quite interesting. Serves me right for being cynical.
I’d never really thought of myself as being outspoken, but clearly when the chips are down I can sort things out. It opened my eyes to myself a little bit.
The trip home was slightly enlightening too. We were told to wear casual clothes for the course, so the suit and tie stayed at home.
It was interesting to see how people react differently when you are/aren’t wearing a suit.
Over the last few weeks I’ve noticed that I tend to get a seat on the bus to myself, whilst wearing my suit. There are very few people wearing “business” attire on this route.
I don’t glare at people or anything to try and bag myself a whole seat. I just sit down and start reading my book.
Yesterday, wearing casual clothes, I sat down and started reading, yet I was the first person to have a “full” seat.
Is there something about suits that put people off?
Can I harness this “power” to further my own ends?
Early post today, as we’re off for training as a team.
HIT training in fact. Unfortunately it’s not some sort of combat based day, where the victor assumes dictatorial control. I say unfortunately, as being the biggest bloke here I would have fancied my chances. I would have made the trains run on time too!
Instead it stands for High Impact Team training. So after today we should be a slick, efficient group.
Yeah, right.
Cynical me? Never. Alright, almost never.
OK I forgot to mention I was away Friday – visit to Grandma Zilla, but I’ve got a note here somewhere …
It was a lovely, relaxing weekend, I witnessed the HP madness first hand – watching people clamour for the final copy in one shop. I guess I should read the first 6 before I get too excited though?
This morning I have been trained as a “Facilitator” in meetings between teams and their managers. Should/could * be interesting.
* delete as applicable
one of those classic moments that children come out with, and if I don’t jot it down I’ll lose the memory of it.
Godzooky 2 was clearly having some sort of wardrobe malfunction last night and was plucking at her backside repeatedly.
Being the caring parent I am, I asked her what was wrong.
Her reply creased me up:
“My knickers are in a twist, just like mummy gets her in”
make rash promises about things I’m going to post about.
I keep mentioning my transport woes, yet never actually get anything down about them. Maybe today will be that day…
Firstly though, just had my Performance Appraisal. No biggie, as I’m skilled and accomplished in my work. Ahem, mostly.
We go through a whole process of analysing what I promised I would achieve, what I actually have achieved, and what I’m going to achieve in the next 6 months. Yes, it is as exciting as it sounds!
All through my appraisal though was this little voice in my head “Pay me the fucking money you owe me!” repeated again and again, like a mantra.
When I actually brought up the subject, more politely than that obviously, I was informed that it shouldn’t take too much longer.
Great, 5 years after starting this new role I may get a pay review. I’m crossing everything for a major increase x 5 years. Kerrrrrching!
Got that one out of my system now.
Transport – you never know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Fact.
Regular masochists who read this drivel might recall that I normally travel to work on a tram. Trying not to expose myself to attractive young ladies on the way.
Well, our trams are currently out of service as they replace the tracks. The lines they use were originally train lines, and they needed to be updated. (Unless you’re Delboy’s Daughter, in which case your line is unaffected, lucky you!)
So I have had to alter my mode of conveyance. I am now part of the bus community, as in care in the community, clearly.
I could have opted for the Tram Replacement Buses which have been laid on by a simply oustanding organisation (in case anyone from my work is reading this), but I hav eopted for the regular bus looney network.
My first day of bus travel saw me arrive at work 5 minutes later than normal, and arrive home 10 minutes later than normal.
No big deal, and extra 15 minutes per day is no hardship, right?
Except the second day saw me arrive 30 minutes later than normal at work, and a massive 50 minutes later getting home.
That is quite a difference!
It’s a game I call bus lottery. Will it turn up on time? How long will the journey take? What weird and wonderful characters will adorn the bus today?
Expect colourful tales to follow.
I have another 6 to 8 weeks of this game to play….
no time to start my public transport woes post, instead here’s a picture from our press, which I thought was funny.
It’s been done at Cerne Abbas and the local Pagan group are not amused by it.
It’s been done in bio-degradable paint, so in a matter of minutes (with our current rainfall) it will be gone.
Whilst I know it’s a promotional tool for the new Simpsons film coming out, I prefer to think of it as Home playing ring toss….
Godzilla Roars 