Following further "app" purchases (Apple really do have my credit card providers on speed dial) today's blog entry is the first created solely using my indomitable IPad. Any spelling/grammatical errors I shall blame solely on the software, and fully excuse the effects of the rather lukewarm beer currently coursing it's way through my system.
The most recent event of note, of course, is Luca's recent (and first) birthday party. Being my first attendance at such an event (his Mother has previously assumed the responsibility of attending those of his friends) I have to admit at suffering an initial alarm at the sheer volume and intensity of the occasion. I'd always imagined our son to be rather a handful of the hyperactive variety, but the other attendees matched and even bettered his natural exuberance, inevitably resulting in an occasion reminiscent to the battle scenes involving the Ewoks and Stormtroopers in "Return of the Jedi".
It wasn't all bad however. There was cake.
Few pictures today I'm afraid, but the above is a (rare) picture of Mother (clad in my "favourite" attire of a fleece. No matter how many I burn another swiftly appears in its place) and son, both resembling drunken Red Indians with varying paints strewn across their face. Such messiness is a common theme on my returns from work. Reason alone to retire early from work and begin anew with an alternative career in grifting.
Final picture of the evening? A sword duel between grandson and Granda. Who won? Judging by the number of "Gently Luca" and "Ow, watch my hand" I'd perhaps suggest that had this been times of yore then the youngest member of the Stewart family would have won the hand of fair maiden.
Less successful was Luca's most recent football training session, only hours ago. Following an initially successful transition to the elder age group, a firm step backwards was made today. Ironically, he was greatly adept during the skills section of training, showing admirable footwork, but the actual game provided greater disappointment than even the baffling continued success of Piers Morgan. He appeared disinterested and distracted, spending much of the game chatting with one of his teammates. Stern words were provided by Dad during the journey home, and the hope he at least tries a little bit next week most prominent in my mind.
Does the referral to "Dad" in the previous paragraph indicate I've been reduced to referring to myself in the 3rd person? An even remotely capable wordsmith shouldn't be reduced to such errs. What next, will "LOL's" begin appearing in text accredited to my name? Is this carelessness due to tiredness, drunkenness or simply the natural denouement of my current mental faculties? Im really not sure which I'd rather the answer be.
More important than such trivialities, however, is the upcoming hospital appointment for Mike. Although an actual date has yet to be given, it's been indicated that the appointment will occur within the next 2-3 weeks. The details of such I'd prefer not to list on what is technically a publicly available web page, but suffice to say we're grateful the doctors have noticed, and very much look forward to the successful (relatively minor, local anaesthetic) procedure.
**Useless fact of the day - The highest earning underground train driver in London earns in excess of £60,000.00 per annum**
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