Fathers Day - Photos to Do

What a day; home about 7:30 but no kids up to greet me for Father’s Day, which meant that, at least,  I  got the chance to grab a cold beer and relax before being assaulted by Hannah’s demands to open this or that  present first…that was to come but not for a little while. She would, I think, having been waiting ready to pounce if she Nat and Deb hadn’t been up very late waiting for the vet to call to say how Monty’s operation had gone (fine as it happens…how nice of you to ask).

Above the fire place on the mantle there was a fine array of pressies far more than I can ever previously recall receiving. I forgot to take a photo of them in their pristine unwrapped state so here’s a reconstruction after they had been unwrapped.

There were two clear themes as you can see;

1. a selection of fine literature, at least fine so far as I’m concerned and as they were purchased for me then my concern is the only concern to be concerned about…if you take my point;
2. And a selection of speciality beers and cider i.e. not the usual cheap, 96 pence for four, ASDA shit which is usually all I can afford.

As predicted the sleepers finally awoke and while the semi comatosed Nat took his own sweet time to emerge from his sleep induced state the contrastingly invigorated Hannah bounded down the stairs and launched into the very verbal verbosity predicted a little earlier on this very page.

The cards and presents were wonderful and the only thing that somewhat spoilt the morning was the constant bickering between Hannah and Nat and Nat’s increasingly violent responses as this went on. While he acknowledges, and is inordinately proud of, the fact that he is substantially stronger than most boys his age he somehow fails, deliberately I suspect, to make the connection that this means he must learn to act with greater restraint and not whack his 10 year old sister as hard as he does his thirteen year old” male” mates.

While I was berating the kids for this silly behaviour, during which Nat got the hump and stormed off to his room, Deb contacted the vet’s practice to find out what time we could go and visit Monty. They advised about 11:00 AM so I got on to twitter for 10 and uploaded the pictures I’d taken of my presents while the kids got dressed in their spectacularly slow fashion. I swear there are sloths (which in comparison to my two exhibit levels of hyperactivity normally only in those who suffer with ADHS and indulge in a super heavy mega-strength crystal-meth habit) who would be embarrassed to know them!

Eventually with the kids dressed and partially washed, they are both severely allergic to soap and water, we piled into the car and headed off to the vets. We arrived about 15 minutes early and settled down to wait. Eventually we were taken through to see our happier but exhausted mutt. Poor old Mont was showing signs of his ordeal and only managed a few half hearted wags when he saw us. We spent about 10 minutes with him before leaving to let him sleep off his surgical adventures.

Nat wanted to go to Argos in order to buy/redeem some X-box voucher that’ll allow him to purchase on line via the box various additions to his existing games. As we were nearly to the Beaumont Leys shopping centre than we were to Fosse Park we decided it would be quicker to go there so that I could eventually get home and go to bed. I hate to sound like a snob but this was a bit of an excursion into chav land. The people who shop there are from the same class as the people Jeremy Kyle recruits his guests from. We were soon surrounded by track suited persons who had never done a days sport in their lives and most of who were, at the very least, borderline obese. Bluntly put we were in thick fat fucker land.

After Argos we took a quick trip into the shopping centre where I acquired a Fredrick Forsyth novel I’d not read before (note to self: I owe Nat £3.00) and got the chance to see a bit of 3D TV action. Must say I was impressed but it’s galling to know that they’ve generally only on sale in the shops frequented but the professionally unemployed. Families like mine who work can’t think about buying these items.

We were home a little while after this and Deb dropped off Nat and I before taking Hannah to the shops to return her first bra and replace it with a bigger one (she bought it yesterday and it was too tight). Nat immediately disappeared to his bedroom to use his voucher thingy and I uploaded a few photos of Fathers day and Monty to TwitPic. I soon receive a number of tweets concerning Monty and peoples reactions to the good news that he’d come through his Op. Good tweepeople these tweeters I begin to understand why I like them so much. You never hear those Jeremy Kyle fuckwits saying you “Dissed” me on Twitter no it’s always Face Book where the morons hang out. Shortly afterward I went to bed and slept the sleep of the just curled up in the arms of Morpheus.

Up at six, roast pork for dinner (Yum) and off to work. Never gotr to see Hannah’s Father’s day dance but promised I’d watch it tomorrow.

There Endeth the Father’s Day Blog…well apart from these totally unnecessary sentences which have been written sorely for the purpose of taking this entry to and beyond the thousand word barrier, a barrier that many strive to break but few do. A barrier I myself once thought to be insurmountable but one which I now regularly smash. I laught in YOUR FACE one thousand word barrier you are nothing and I…I am everything I encompass the all that is the quantum reality of the human spirit (hat tip to Deepak Chopra for this nonsensical bollocks) I transcend you and in doing so glorify the human spirit. As the New Gods of Kirby’s Fourth World sort to pass through the barrier that was the source so I too do to you. TOLD YOU! (1070)