I'm getting old

My legs are sore. Indeed most of my muscles are now very cross with me after last night.

As an alternative to the usual routine of stretching out on the sofa and eating jam sandwiches while watching whichever diabolical horror movie is most current I instead made a rare pilgrimmage to the great oudoors.

Or not so great. I was playing football in Aberdeen last night, and as I arrived through a great deal earlier than I anticipated I decided - in my wisdom - that I could squeeze in a gym session too.

My mid-thirties body, resplendant with it's devastatingly dwindling fitness level, rather objected however. After an hour in the gym, followed by another hour running up and down a football pitch against players fitter and more talented than myself my muscles tweaked and pinched me with gusto, as if to say "You plonker Rodney"

My evening of frivolity, allied to that of Caroles usual fitness class, meant that we had to play "Pass the Parcel" with our son again. Thankfully his Grandad was obliging and picked the wee man up from nursery and took him home with him to Banchory. All very nice for him (he loves his Grandparents), but it resulted in a late night for our shaggy headed lad. He was still fast asleep even as I left the house for work this morning.

Referring to his shaggy head, see the accompanying poll to this blog and let me know your opinion - Carole and I are as yet undecided.

Liz is coming up to stay again on Friday, so Carole and I are desperately making our way through our built up collection of horror films before she arrives - funnily Liz doesn't share our enthusiasm for watching eyes ripped from their sockets and intestines used as skipping ropes.

Going back to Luca (plus ca change), his interest in music has reached a new juncture. Although still mainly interested in his nursery rhymes he also recognises and enjoys specific pop and rock. Lady Gaga (american dance pop star) and The XX (obscure electro-indie) are perversely and diversely his favourites.

I am careful, however, about limiting his musical exposure. Indeed to this day I can't listen to "Yellow Submarine" by the Beatles without being reminded of car journeys sat in the back seat feeling car sick as Lucy pokes me in the ribs growling "your bottoms on my bit of the seat" while Kelly twiddles my ear to submission.

Are we there yet?

**Useless fact of the day - The first cars did not have steering wheels, they were steered with a lever**