We're back

The sabbatical is over, we're/he's back. Point of order - it's Christmas. With the season of Christ Mass devoted solely to presents for Luca (ignore those myths about the birth of Jesus, and the season of giving), the short chap has very helpfully scoured the shelves of "Toys R Us" to assist in this years choices. Spoilt child ahoy:-



"Thundercats" sword. Yes, another toy from my childhood has been recycled for the ever demanding Generation Z.

Any cars. The bigger the better. Natch.....

Dragons will be popular too. Rather apt the attire atop his head makes him resemble a knight from the middle ages on a quest to battle the dragon to impress fair lady.

Even Luca knows he's pushing it somewhat here.

Lego. You can never go wrong with Lego.

He'd run out of imagination by this juncture. Yes, that's more Lego.

Does anyone else remember the days when a tangerine in your Dad's sock on Christmas Day was considered a treat? Bah and indeed Humbug.

A mere wisp of a blog today. Much like the attempts to start my car on these rather finger numbing winter mornings, it's advisable to start slowly before building toward any degree of normal practice. With this in mind, please vote on today's poll for your preferred subjects of perusal.

**Useless fact of the day - The coldest temperature recorded in Antarctica was -129 F. In Scotland we call that Spring**

Where does the time go?

Bouncy slides. You can't beat them.

Of rather more pertinent interest, I hope, will be the video below. Is Luca's football training paying off? Judge for yourself below.

**Useless fact of the day - Kelly has a boyfriend**

Video killed the radio star

We went to the cinema after football training yesterday. The projector broke. Seriously. Is it still 1955?



As recompense - Luca was distraught - we embarked on a sightseeing trip instead. The "brisk" Scottish wind was the cause of Luca's Mr Miyagi impression above.

Briskly moving on from the borderline racism of my comment above, our second picture is of the more eerie variety. Taken within the confines of a hydraulic 3D ride at the funfair, the imprints from Luca's vice like grip on my hand are still apparent.

Sunday was actually his second visit of the weekend to the fair. We may have to limit his visits somewhat however, as he's now attempting to grow the back of his hair into a rats tail. Or at least he might, I do feel it could be contagious. Racism, gypsy discimination, I'm on for a narrow minded hat trick today.

He'd visited the previous day with his Mum (while I was at work), and "enjoyed" his first experience on a roller coaster. Yes,the only person on this earth with less of a tolerance for heights than I accompanied his Mum on a roller coaster. "Make it stop Mummy...."

Cutest moment of the week was undisputed however. He prefers a packed lunch to school dinners currently, so we've been sending Luca to school most mornings with a fully stocked lunch box. However, last week we discovered an interesting remnant in his box on his return home. Amongst the orange skins, cellophane and chocolate bar wrappers was a passport sized photo of me. He'd stolen it from the kitchen table that morning (I had a few laid out for my driving licence renewal) and stowed it away in his lunch box. He'd taken it to school to look at at lunchtime. "Why did you do that?" I curiously enquired. "Because I love you" he replied matter of factly.

Enjoy the videos below of Luca "enjoying" the weather during an excursion to the beach.

**Useless fact of the day - What do you call a gay dinosaur? A Mega-saur-ass**

You say it best.....when you say nothing at all

"It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open ones mouth and prove it". Wise words from Abraham Lincoln, and an ethos I've been following of late, hence my lack of blogging prose. I am favouring this excuse over the rather more plausible laziness theory.



A secondary excuse is that of Mike and Vals recent visit. Their week long stay encompassed a few activities, such as (illustrated above) a trip to the funfair. Do you lose more money paying for the rides or by having your pockets picked at a fair? I can't quite decide.



Crathes Castle above, and a startlingly rare visit from the sun. We paid for a tour of the castle too. Curiously I felt disappointed with the visit, as not much had changed within since my last visit from a few years previous. Yes, my unconscious isn't quite bright enough to realise that centuries old castles located within protected trusts usually don't change a great deal. Was I expecting flat screen TV's? I've perplexed myself somewhat.



Will Luca willingly dress up at Halloween? No? Will he wear this freebie Knights costume every other day, with the exception of Hallows Eve? Most probably.



On the train with Grandad. Good fun, but more amusingly was the "flyball" event being held on grounds near the platform. "Flyball" is a dogs agility event, and so with time to spare before the trains departure Luca and I went down to watch. Lots of dogs on display, albeit some not quite as friendly as you'd wish. Luca encountered one such beast. He approached the animal without caution, only realising his error when the muscular hound made a dash for him, jaws agape. I knew the dog was tied up on a long lead. Amusingly, however, Luca didn't.


"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!" came the howl as those 12 inch long chubby legs whirred in the breeze, like a Caucasian gnome version of Usain Bolt. He's never moved as quick in his entire life. I don't think I've ever seen him as scared either. I still guffawed. Bad Dad.

As I quite can't recall the likely portents of this above cafe conversation, nor can even conceive a pithy comment related to it I'll give up and get ready to retire to bed. With Scotland having resumed normal weather conditions my toes are as numb beyond belief - yet we get used to this sensation up here peculiarly.

I love our country. At what age is it acceptable to wear socks to bed? Am I nearly there yet?

**Useless fact of the day - A human head remains conscious for 15-20 seconds after being decapitated**

What's that funny smell?

A mixed bag of pictures today. Let's sort out the wheat from the chaff.



The above was taken last weekend during a lunchtime stop at an astonishingly poorly run cafe in Westhill. Luca is attempting the perverse superhero trick of covering only his eyes to conceal his true identity. Well, if it worked for Batman, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, Aquaman, etc then it can work for Luca. But what about Superman? All he did was slick his hair back. Why did no-one recognise him? And what's with the pants?



This is from Tuesday. Luca is still on half days at school, so this weeks challenge has been to find things to do to keep him amused in the afternoons. As the incredible quality of my picture taking illustrates, we took a train ride.



Wednesday now, and we took the newly re-imported (from her USA excursion) Granny out to lunch. I'm unsure as which is more prominent, Luca's fiercely determined stare or the fact Granny has much of her lunch attached to her chin.



And now today (Thursday). With Luca recently acquiring a curious fascination in fish, we arranged a visit to his Granda's fish factory in Fraserburgh. Lunch had to be located first however, and we stopped at an innocent looking cafe on route in a town called New Deer. As observant as ever, we'd been in the cafe for over 5 minutes before I realised it was one of those strange church cafe's you find in many rural towns up here. The waitresses, as standard in such establishments, were 116 years old with at least 2 crucifix necklaces on show each. I did worry Luca was going to burst into flame.



He didn't though, and we arrived into Fraserburgh shortly after. Granda received a quick greeting before we lost his attention to the fish tank in the back office. "His name is Borange Orange" Luca proudly announced upon realising no-one had ever named the offices pet fish.



Eventually his attention was re-established, and captured by the many seafaring paintings around the building.

Receiving instructions from Granda on how to behave when entering the factory. He appears to be kind of listening here, but his attention is clearly being drawn elsewhere. Unsurprisingly, it's"Borange Orange" in his line of vision here.

"Is there games on your computer?"

It took a while, but after a folding exercise involving this protective overall an origami master would have been proud of, we wrapped Luca up in preparation for his visit into the factory. He loved it, and had never touched a fish before today. "They're a bit slippery" was his conclusion. The only mildly worrying moment was when Granda demonstrated the machine that tore the skin from the fishes body. As his face turned grey we decided this was perhaps a step too far in his days education.....

A visit to the harbour followed, primarily to allow Luca's clearly still jet lagged Granda to pack up for home. Although he would rather have stayed with his Granda, the boats at the quay held great fascination for the intrepid lad, as did the assorted mutilation of the various catches on display. He is a boy after all.

**Useless fact of the day - 650,000 tons of fish are caught annually in the UK for consumption**

Luca's first day at school - August 2011

Strathburn Primary's youngest pupil (he's still only 4 and a half y'know) began his school life today.



Breakfast time. Tuck that shirt in boy.



By the time we'd reached the car he'd been kissed and cuddled to a point of submission. "He's not a baby any more", "I can't believe he's a schoolboy now", and various other sentimental parent-esque banalities.



Simon Cowell asked for his trousers back.



His Mum actually asked to be in this photo. Seriously. Even Luca was shocked.

So I took two. Snow in the Sahara is more common.

He looked so small in the playground, but took to his surroundings immediately and began his search for other fun-minded kids. His parents became invisible to him.

Until Dad was needed again natch. While we were chatting to other parents and waiting for the teachers to arrive outside, Luca joined some other children in climbing the various apparatus around the play-yard. "Dad!" he called from atop a steep wooden structure. We waved to him.

2 minutes later the call came again. "Dad!" We waved again. "Dad, come here" he called out.

I wandered over. "Hi Luca, are you having fun?". "Dad, help me down" he whispered, "I'm stuck". He'd been too proud to shout his predicament across the busy playground and had instead waited patiently, contemplating his situation and flashing carefree smiles at anyone who walked past.

His teacher is called Mrs Cocker. I know.

Finally the children were lined up, and Luca led his Primary 1 class inside. Did he cry? No. Did he even look back? Of course not.

We expect him to have moved out by the time he's 7.

**Useless fact of the day - The first schools were set up by the ancient Greeks and Chinese**

Get to sleep!

It's 8.20pm on a Monday night. I've already walked Yoda. I've also eaten dinner (chicken pie, yeeurrgh). The execrable Eastenders is on TV. A perfect excuse then, to escape to the confines of our bedroom to post the latest in my ever dwindling blog entries.



Problem. I have no new photo's to post. Quick solution, pop through to Luca's bedroom and disturb his slumber for the instant gratification of a new picture. As above.

Alternately, I could instead post a picture previously taken, yet considered so uninteresting it's inclusion in a previous entry was considered unwarranted. So here it is. Luca and Yoda.

Yoda, the canine equivalent of a tremble machine. So nervous that the sound of a car backfiring 3 streets away causes her to involuntarily soil herself. She's never truly recovered from the infamous firework experience, where she bolted at the sound of the bangs, got herself lost and lived wild for 3 days.

Isis, gratefully, is a much bolder hound. Several times larger than her younger brethren, and many years older too, the prospect of a firework causing such mental scarring is unimaginable. That said, she's not without her quirks. Most notable is her ability to communicate via a fart.

I wish I was kidding. She wanders through to the living room, lets one go, then promptly turns around leaving the rooms incumbents to truly appreciate her gift. Every day she does this, every day. Why? I wish I knew. I think she hates us.

A quiet weekend has just ended. Saturday began with a health check and fitness guide for me at Bannatynes Health Club. An unique experience for sure, akin at times to being at a doctors surgery. My results were printed out for me at the end, and rather surprisingly determined my blood pressure to be below average, my lung capacity great and my resting heart rate low as well. These, amongst other results, concluded (according to the chap) that I'm actually rather fit.

Consciously withholding from the instructor that fact I spend 60-70 hours a week sat at a desk, and had irresponsibly munched on a doughnut and a half on route to the club, I decided it would perhaps be inappropriate to query with him as to whether I should continue with my membership, if indeed I am already fit.

I am aware these results allow me great scope for self delusion. I am both aware, and comfortable with that fact.

I wandered down to wallow in the jacuzzi after that, inwardly gloating at my supreme physical condition, while actively avoiding examining my distinct lack of a 6 pack and anorexic arms.

During my delusions, 20 miles away Carole and Luca attended (another) birthday party. I can't remember the child's name. That said, neither, likely, can Luca. But he had fun, it seems

On Sunday, while I slumbered, Carole drove Luca to Aberdeen to visit her friend Annie (or "Aunty Aunty" as Luca peculiarly refers to her). Annie's dad died this week, which, as you'd suspect and understand, leaves a huge gaping hole and a feeling of dispiriting emptiness.

Luca had discussed the plans with me the night before, as I put him to bed. "I'm going to see Aunty Aunty tomorrow" he smiled. "Her Daddy is dead" he continued. His smile turned into a frown. "Who will be her Daddy now?". Following brief contemplation I explained that no-one would, that you only get one Daddy. He seemed surprised and looked away, briefly looking up at me intermittently as he digested the information. Eventually he smiled. "I'll share you with her, you can be her Dad too"

Sometimes they're worth it

**Useless fact of the day - Thomas Edison's son, as well as taking a cast of his dying Father's face, also caught his Dad's last breath in a bottle**

August 2011

A perfect pale Scottish boy. Living in the North East of the UK gives you that distinctive goth-esque hue due the total absence of sun 11 months of the year. As you can see in the picture, he even has his hands tucked up inside the sleeves of his jacket. In Scotland, we learn to do that before even potty training.

Edit - Scots/English boy before the Southern most members of our family object. Indeed, I adore the fact that even within the same sentence he'll oft bounce between accents.

However, over the past few weeks his accent has noticeably become more anglicised. With my work necessitating an ever lessening presence at home he and his Mum have spent a great deal more time together. As frustrating as my absence is, it has undoubtedly further sealed the bond between Mother and Son. They still butt heads on occasion, but are both slowly learning that it's their latent similarities that have caused previous conflict, rather than their differences

Or more succinctly, they are so alike in nature (they're absolute doubles) that they're essentially arguing with themselves......

I do come home sometimes however. Luca loves the rare occasions I'm here, but is slowly learning that he's no longer my baby. He still often tries to sit on my knee, but as of last week I've banned him. He is so massive now, yet still so elegantly uncoordinated, that he regularly cracks me in the nose with that enormous head of his. I come to bed every night looking like I climbed up Mount Everest on my face.

Having mentioned work, Carole's been keen for me to relax and de-stress as much as possible. With this, I've joined a gym! I know that sounds a bit of an oxymoron (how can you exercise and relax at the same time?), but the gym I've joined is Bannatynes. For those of you who've visited one of these centres (both Carole and Dad are already members), you'll be aware that its as much of a leisurely spa as it is a centre for exercise. They have a "chill out" floor in their gym (I don't get that myself), massages, jacuzzi's, a "slow lane" in the swimming pool and best of all a cafe with comfy chairs and huge selection of cream cakes.

I'm not going to get fit any time soon methinks.

Finally, enjoy the video's at the bottom of the blog. The final video was taken as he modelled his new school trousers (the prospect of his upcoming attendance still terrifies me) while seemingly simultaneously auditioning for a role in the new "Planet Of The Apes" movie.

**Useless fact of the day - Apes can learn sign language, and can learn up to 1000 signs**

Gubbins is a real word

"It's been two weeks since my last blog", I thought, "I'll have heaps of great photo's". Absolute gubbins of course, and one of many daily instances where I delude myself with such abandon. I'm a horrible photographer, and should be banned.



The above is the perfect case in point. I took four pictures of Granda and Grandson cuddled up together on our sofa and this was honestly the best one. The lighting is so skew-iff Luca resembles a deity. But he's not. Really. Not even slightly.




Onto the Banchory Show now. Can you see him on the bouncy slide? He's like a chameleon.



Here's the best picture. Not really much to say here. It's a tractor

Petting the lambs. Or black sheep. Are we still talking about the animals?

One of the few things Scotland does exceptionally well. Old school hotels and country houses set in acres of idyllic scenery. In this instance it's Thainstone House Hotel, only a couple of miles from our front door. I paid a visit on Sunday having received a free trial days membership to their leisure club. It was great fun, and following a gym session and a swim, I felt the stresses of my profession drift away as I followed suit in the steam room. Upon hearing their membership rates on my departure though, all those knots in my shoulders immediately reappeared. Cheek clenchingly expensive.

A little more on the cost effective side, however, are Luca's haircuts. I took him to the barbers on Saturday morning - not the type of establishment I normally frequent naturellement - for a quick trim. "Don't watch me!" he squealed every time I raised my eyes from the newspaper to watch the progress of his haircut. I can't decide if this was down to his burgeoning self awareness, or more likely due to his desire to be left in peace to flirt with the hairdresser. "I've got loads of cars you know" and "Have you seen my shoes, they're really cool" were two of his more typical statements (always statements, never questions) as Mr Smooth worked his magic. He's an odd little chap.

**Useless fact of the day - Nearly a third of all bottled water in the US is contaminated with bacteria**

Sunny summer July 2011

I did invite her. With Luca and I planning a weekend away, I of course attempted to convince my wife to join us. "What's the plan?" she enquired. "Well, firstly" I began, "we're driving to Glasgow to watch Partick Thistle play football". At this juncture Carole's current plan of lunch with the girls became singularly impossible to postpone. I can't comprehend why.



Luca was positively buzzing with anticipation, even throughout the 3.5 hour car journey. Predictably however, he decided to fall asleep just as we arrived in Glasgow. Here he is, with that weird "eyes half open" sleep thing he does. He may be possessed. It would explain much.




Luckily we were parked near a local playpark, and had an hour to kill before heading to the game. "Luca, we're here". His eyes remained shut, as he emitted a low grumble from the base of his throat. "And we're going to the park". His eyes sprang open so quickly my startled elbow nudged the car horn. Being in Glasgow's west end, this at least served a purpose of instantly scaring off the kids who were at that moment attempting to remove the cars hubcaps.




I'll avoid the prison bar jokes.

Here comes Luca, determinedly striding across the playparks apparatus. I know I joke about his timidity, but he's far more confident than he was. Only a year ago he would likely have crawled across this section (if he'd even dared to venture on it at all). Incidentally, doesn't his stride here resemble that most infamous picture of Bigfoot?

Perhaps he is the missing link. Monkey-esque, he swings himself onto the slide.

"Yeeeaaahhhh!"

And be just like the other apes I'm tired of monkeying around.

The phrase "deja vu" was intended for use with many of my blogs.

Eventually his fun ended and we made our way to Firhill, outside which I took this picture of Luca. What's this sad face thinking? "Dad, are you really going to coerce me into a life of depressing desolation, forcing me to follow a truly terrible football team?"

Yes I am, but I'll buy you chocolate.

"HOW MUCH CHOCOLATE?"

Incidentally, we actually beat our illustrious opponents, Celtic, 2-1. This made the next leg of our journey rather more upbeat, as we inched our way through the Glasgow evening traffic before joining the open roads toward Loch Lomond. We initially stopped in a town called Tarbet and took in the gorgeous view overlooking the loch.

He's either really excited or constipated. It's often hard to tell.

We could have stayed all evening, but instead drove the last 3 miles of our Saturday trek to a nearby hostelry which contained the familiar faces of....

.......Granny, Granda, Aunt Dawn, cousin Jordan, Uncle Barry and Aunt Helen. Luca's astonishment was not staged, as I'd intentionally neglected to advise him of his evening companions. Seeing Granny and Granda outwith their normal realm was of great surprise to him, as was the appearance of the other strangely familiar faces. It took him a while to warm up however, as the regularity of his meetings with the Glasgow (shire) branch of our family is overly infrequent. Indeed, for the first 20 minutes or so he took refuge on his Granda's knee, cuddled up and coyly avoiding attention.

Here's a much improved picture. I attached the previous image purely as it amuses me. It's the pretence people have, of not being aware of a camera aimed at them. You invariably know when a camera is pointed at you, and it's a curiously human instinct to pretend you're unaware unless directly advised. Why is this? My theory is vanity, as if the picture of you is less than flattering you can at least quibble that "I didn't know I was in the picture, you caught me in a bad pose". Perhaps Kelly, our resident head doctor, can offer a more cogent hypothesis?

Following dinner, we retreated to our overnight destination of.......I can't remember. It was late, and I was tired. My brain was on autopilot at this stage as Dad navigated the few miles to the timeshare. It was as befitting an abode as the surrounding scenery demanded, and a beautiful place to stay. The view from the balcony was awe inspiring, overlooking endless grassy terrain, lochs, lakes and hills. You simply couldn't see a single building, road or car no matter what angle you strained your neck at. Awesome.

I'll describe details of the weekend at a later date. As keen as I am to post these pictures this evening, I'm equally as keen to spend the few remaining hours of the weekend with my family.

Plus of course the final episode of "The Apprentice" begins shortly. Heathen that I am.

**Useless fact of the day - Jane Goodall, a famous, legitimate and highly recognised primatologist and anthropologist, keenly believes that Bigfoot do indeed exist in the wild**