Friday, September 23, 2011


This is an odd one. Suddenly appeared on a wall near our house. Anyone know what it stands for? Can't find any obvious reference to it. Who is this poor lad? No doubt I will post this and one of the four people who may still be glancing at my blog from time to time will roar with larffter and say,

"you idiot, this is blatantly the work of infamous graf terrorists 'World Graffiti Rebels Group' and this is their hangdog mascot 'wifebeater willy', everyone knows that!"

Fine, I await humiliation, do your worst.


Saturday, September 17, 2011

To infinity and bend

So it came to pass that chuffy didst gird his substantial loins and abscond for the foggy climes of San Frandisco. To send him off in a suitably broken state, we gathered at the Goat for a few (dozen) quiet ones. Why is it that these evenings inevitably deteriorate into calamitous camera phone action. The picture you see here is a failed attempt to capture the essential essence of chuff and porkhead's lifelong bromance, but has sadly turned out looking like a rejected still from Simon and Garfunkel's little known 'Prat Sandwich' album. No matter, with a good showing from the zimmers and the lovely L, we made a hearty fist of it; despite pork hurling JD and coke over 'the Stath' who appeared to have fallen on hard times and was manning the door. He kindly avoided killing us all horribly with a bar mat, but did ask us to leave, which was fine considering they had shut off all the lights and we were the last ones there.

All the best Chuffy, we'll have to do it all again on your side.


Friday, September 09, 2011

Blogger app, hurrah

So, obviously my blog action has fallen off dramatically. Full time employment, extremely mobile child, great tiredness, the excuses pile up. The real reason for my failure was that there was no functional iPhone blogger app available, which would allow me to extend the reach of this insidious device even further.

All that has changed.


Saturday, October 23, 2010

When you're smiling...

The evolution of a smile. Not too sure at first, but as we're sporting our particularly groovy roboten t-shirt, it matters not. Then we put a little more effort into it, managing this rather coy look in the middle. Bubbling over into a full on wide mouthed frog. We're still working on a chuckle, which he seems to manage no problem when he's fast asleep. Hard to describe how disturbing it is, when you've just finished the 12 o'clock dream feed and the boy is fast asleep in your arms. Suddenly, his angelic visage changes as the demon takes possession and he lets out the truly weirdest larf "he he he he." Like he's just released Bond into the shark pool. Chilling.


Monday, October 04, 2010

Brother in arms

Ah bless, the two brothers together for the first time. Never mind big bro looks like he has a giant melonheed, it obviously proved amusing to little bro. With the arrival of Mamabear and Chucky, things got busy around these parts, but we all managed to cope pretty well and it was very nice to have all my sons under one roof. A mad week was had by all, which included the London Eye, Hever Castle, the Science Museum, Hamleys and er, Argos. The last proving to be the most exciting of all as it was where a shiny red PSP was purchased, much to the joy of Chuck.

I must admit to being pleasantly surprised by the Science Museum, which has finally managed to stagger into the 21st century with a load of very groovy interactive exhibits all centred around the intriguing question 'Who am I?' The disturbing image at the top is my haggard visage, retro-fitted to show me as a baby, though for my Mother's sake, I hope I didn't come out with a five o'clock shadow. Thermal imaging cameras, gene splicing, build your own hydrogen bomb, it was all there. A far cry from the wobbly plastic and ancient videos from the seventies that filled the place when I visited five years ago.

I also highly recommend Hever Castle if you have an over-active child, as they have fantastic gardens with two mazes, a lake and a very cool adventure playground, complete with what we Zimbabweans know fondly as a 'fufi slide.' (no, this isn't it, more of an example) The castle itself is bulging at the seams with medieval goodness and has the added 'horrible histories' factor of being Ann Boleyn's childhood country pad, before she went off with Henry VIII and got chopped.

Now, as we sink inexorably into the slough of despond that is Winter, while Chucky revels in the blossoming jacarandas and afternoon storms back in good old Pretoria, it's time to turn our sorry thorts to the fact that there are only 82 shopping days till Chrissie, huzzah! *sob*.


Wednesday, September 22, 2010

2, is the magic number

On entering the third hour of our inaugural journey to Manchester with young Tboy, having only just made it onto the M25 (and even then into a giant queue rather than actually going anywhere) we began to suspect all would not be well. Eight hours later, our suspicions were confirmed. Probably best not to dwell on the wailing and the lamentation and yes I am talking mostly about myself, though he did make his opinions on the Hammersmith road works, M25 congestion,  M1 road works, M6 accident that wasn't an accident and sundry queuing in a sodden nappy, very clearly felt. It was with a measure of relief that we arrived at SC/G's new gaff and a hearty chigger of Wolf Blass. Ta to the Holl'ster for the loan of her teen boudoir and to the little man for remaining remarkably composed, all things considered.

On Saturday, the G Posse assembled en masse for CG's second birthday, and as you can see above, our hostess took everything from posing artfully with bday cake, to looking swaive in a purple wig, well in her diminutive stride. This was the first gathering of all the grandchildren together under one roof, which was a photo-call if ever there was one. Alas, poor Tboy had no choice but to be ignominiously propped up in the corner by his Uncle M, but at least he was looking at the camera. We were fed supremely well and kept thoroughly entertained by our Social Events rep, SC/G; she's a good'n she is, a real keeper!

All too soon we were back on the road and another mammoth journey for our weary little soldier. Fortunately for us, Uncle D had versed us in the ways of 'shhpatting' and as soon as we heard any niggling, we immediately shhpatted all over him and he was off in the arms of Morpheus in no time. (This is a lie) Shhpatting is actually impossible to do without hyperventilating and passing out on top of your child, so while you may utilize it as a method of putting yourself to sleep, the jury is still out as to its efficacy in lulling a child into slumber. So stick that in your shhpat n' smoke it, Child Whisperer!



Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Six week smile?

Yes well, unfortunately, said smile seems to be in response to some dark and devious somnolent thought. We've yet to see any reaction to Papa's inane gurning, though newbie that I am, I continue to be fooled by the smile/defecate interface. We continue then, to receive the Soulseeker Stare (tm) that seems to look into your primal core and find it wanting. Technically, tomorrow is six weeks, so he has a day to perfect his finest smirk, before Daddy turns his gurning dial up to Full Idiot.

Sadly, poor wean has succumbed to a nasty chest infection, care of some unknown entity (JG coffcoffcoff!) leaving him with the kind of bronchial hack one normally associates with a fifty-a-day Woodbine habit. This has added to his already exotic and extensive repertoire of alien, animal and indeed, alien animal noises with which he regales us throughout the night. I should build a hide out of muslin and soiled diapers in the corner of the room and observe him undetected, but that would be silly, not to mention deeply unpleasant.

Next week we will attempt our first cross country sojourn mit baby, to introduce him to his cousins. I am confidant this will all go without a hitch, no really!