You're kidding me?

I'm really not. They graduate from nursery nowadays. And they say society has reached a plateau...



He looks very cute nonetheless. In the background is one of the girls from his nursery. I love the fact Luca has been going to nursery for years, yet even now as he prepares to leave I still couldn't confidently tell you the names of more than two of the assistants there. I've inherited my Mothers memory retention. Even now, nearly 36 years after my birth, she regularly refers to me as Ross.



Where's Wally?



On to Lochinver, where Carole, Luca and Liz recently enjoyed a 3 day break. This picturesque landscape, situated on the West Coast of Scotland, is one of the most untouched you'll witness in the developed Western world, certainly within our isles.

The picture above is even more breathtaking, perhaps as the sun had made a rare appearance. As gorgeous as it is, Scotland suffers the curse of being cold, wet, dank and windy all bl**dy year. Apart from our summer, which lasts approximately 2 weeks per annum and is blighted by the sun bringing forth the appearance of Scotlands most dangerous animal - the midge.....

A lighthouse. I can't tell you more, I was 200 miles away in my office. I'm sure "Google" can tell you more than I.

That's a suspiciously toothy smile from the boy. He's either appreciating the West Coast forest trail more than you'd expect or has spotted a bar of chocolate behind his Grandma's ear.

Crazy golf. He apparently (you'll have realised by now I was nowhere in the vicinity when ANY of these picture were taken) loved it and played with great seriousness throughout the entire 18 holes. Granda Ian and Gramps TomTom can now perhaps begin his training in an attempt to create the new Tiger Woods. Albeit a version of Tiger Woods with a little less sexual deviance than the original assumedly.

And that's it. I'm currently in my office (yep, it's 2pm on a Saturday afternoon) and so need to wrap this up so I can return home and enjoy my weekend. Isis has recently introduced a new greeting, where she farts immediately upon my appearance. I really don't know what that means.

**Useless fact of the day - The population of Lochinver is under 600**

It's June 2011 now - bloody Nora, where's the time gone?

With my having been absent from blog-land for so long you'd be entitled to expect more than seven photo's surely? You'd be wrong.



Despite the rather exiguous total I'll describe each, beginning at the "Taste of Grampian" festival we attended on Saturday. It's an annual event held only two miles from home and a real favourite of mine, as with my palate having extended somewhat during adulthood (much to the chagrin of Mum, with her having endured the rather more unadventurous tastes of my childhood) I really enjoy the huge selection of exotic and locally produced foods on display. Luca, unfortunately, seems to share my childhood reservations and doesn't yet have an extensive range of foods he enjoys. But as Popeye says "I knows what I likes", and the above picture is him sampling a rather basic yogurt drink sample. Additionally, as yet he has little shame, and returned to the stall 3 times for a top up.




Here he is enjoying sample number two.



And getting it all over his nose.

"I'm going back for another one Dad". Shamefully, I didn't even purchase a bottle.....

Fixated on "Mr Chuckle" above, the festival's resident balloon bending clown. Do you know what is yet?

It's a sword! Oh, the imagination! The practicality appealed to me too, as if maneuvering a 4 year old round a packed festival isn't tricky enough, we now had a 4 year old determined to have a balloon fight with anyone he encountered - even if they didn't have their own balloon sword to fend him off with. "Be careful" was our continual, yet futile, cry.

The picture above was taken today, as Luca lapped the office of our local tyre repair centre. "Don't photo me" he continually wailed, all the while conceitedly shaping his body into camera friendly poses.

But why were he and I in a tyre centre today rather than our usual weekday abodes of office and nursery? Because this morning was the latest of Luca's school inductions (in preparation for his August start date), so I took the day off to accompany him. It was a peculiarly surreal experience, as we (and other parents) arrived at the school to be faced with a large group of awkward looking 11 year olds. These kids were our children's "buddies", and had been individually allocated to each of our 4/5 year olds to show them around - they'll also be their buddies when school starts for real to help them ease in.

The look of concern on all parents faces - mine included no doubt - as our small ones were led nervously away by hand by the Primary 7's was complete, and I'm certain I wasn't alone in illogically feeling levels of trepidation as Luca was led out of sight. Following a coffee and (rather stunted) chat amongst ourselves, we were allowed access to the kids again. Luca, in the mere 20 minute period (although it felt longer) had rather predictably reverted to his bolshy self and was tearing around the schools gardens with Alex, his buddy.

Alex, incidentally, is a dead ringer for Ron Weasley from Harry Potter.

While at the school, I had a rather illuminating chat with the Mum of Murdo, one of Luca's nursery friends. Or ex nursery friends. It transpires she pulled her son out of Luca's nursery last week after he'd been repeatedly hurt by another child. Sound familiar? For those of you who don't recall, I myself had a succession of meetings (heated at times) a year or so ago with the nursery over the injuries being sustained by Luca. On a personal level, all has been fine with Luca since then (I guess I'm not an easy person to ignore) but it drives home the necessity to continue to be vigilant. Or awkward, as I can be prone to be, and most likely am again.

I'm going to be one of those pain in the a**** parents the school hates aren't I?

On a more positive note, Luca continues to advance and has developed a rather wicked sense of humour. He has a sly and intelligent wit, and occasionally even demonstrates understated humour. Of course, he also still enjoys laughing at a good fart, but who doesn't?

I'll write in more length later this week (including describing Luca's newly obtained technique used to knock his Dad down), but as the time approaches the witching hour I'll bid a temporary adieu as I depart for bed via the fridge, intending to satisfy my curiosity of the current freshness of that 3 week old pastie with the greenish bit on top.

**Useless fact of the day - Until 1944 parents had to pay to put their children through secondary education**

It is Scotland after all

It is infrequently that we are allowed to forget where we live. As the rain, snow and hail lash upon us - even attacking us horizontally at times - it is as if our home country is a jealous lover, unwilling to let us dream of another place. Scotland screams at us to love her because of and not despite her faults.

Today proves the theory. As I sat in my office, consciously willing the window to my right to continue to withstand the assault by hard rain, the weather reports provided us updates of the happenings on the unpleasant side of the window pane. Driving rain and gale force winds have barraged much of Scotland today with the North East taking the brunt. My journey home echoed scenes from movies such as "The Day After Tomorrow" and "2012" as my car intricately weaved through the dozens of fallen tree's in it's path.

Someones roof even ended up lying across the dual carriageway halfway between my office and home. Yes, a roof. Ironic really, your roof deserting you in severe weather is a bit like owning a dog that doesn't ever respond to your commands. Isis

At least the Scottish summer (cough) is consistent, much like our Luca. Every day he continues his quest to be the worlds most awkward 4 year old. His delaying tactics when we ask him to do something he doesn't like have now reached legendary status. My personal favourite is the new "fluff between the toes" tactic, which he employs every night before he puts his jammie's on. "Hold on" he'll demand as you attempt to get him ready for bed "I have fluff in my toes". He will then proceed to spend five minutes picking the imaginary fluff from between every one of his toes, determinedly never meeting your gaze, knowing that with eye contact endeth the lie.

He really frighteningly resembles his Mum now. Forget the physicality - eyes, hair, build, smile - he has taken on many of the nuances of his Mother, most pertinently his single minded and determined nature. I love the knowing look he gives you when you tell him to do something, the grin appearing on the corner of his mouth as he contemplates how to manipulate the situation into making you think you've won while actually ending up doing exactly what he wants.

I would write more, but with Lucy's earlier blog (about driving over snakes and chasing bears) having blown everyone elses efforts out the water for a least the next calendar year this effort feels a little superfluous.....

**Useless fact of the day - Despite misconceptions, Scotland actually has the longest summer days in the United Kingdom - 17 hours of daylight. Alternately, Scotland also has the shortest winter days, with a mere 7 hours of daylight**

Granda would have been proud

As you'll have been aware (I may have mentioned it once, twice or thrice recently), I was playing football this weekend at the theatre of dreams - Firhill Stadium, home of Partick Thistle FC. It was great fun walking out onto the hallowed turf, and my enthusiasm obviously influenced the club photographer - if you click on the link below you may recognise a certain ageing enthusiast:-
www.ptfc.co.uk/media/photo_galleries/miscellaneous_galleries/2010-2011/firhill_cup_and_fun_day/image_011

Once viewed, please vote on the poll on the right........



It's not only opposing strikers who have had to put up with my close attentions of late, Luca has also "enjoyed" a little more of my time of late. Here he is above outside the polling station before I cast my vote (I voted Green just to p**s off Alex Salmond) sporting the most curious of grins. Click on the picture to gain a closer image, has Luca been taking smiling lessons from Cherie Blair?

Back to Firhill, here's the boy getting his face painted. That familiar reticent smile and questionable stare was bestowed upon the face painter throughout

I'm a tiger!

For most of you this picture is simply a cute photo of Luca eating a cake. Dad however will be looking at Luca's company - yes, that's Willie Kinnibugh, Simon Donnelly and Jackie McNamara in his company

Yes, this was his favourite bit of the day. We simply couldn't get him off it, he loved it. Luca is without question the most cautious of children, so we relished watching him repeatedly throw himself from the top of this bouncy slide. I've rarely seen him so carefree. Indeed, at one point he threw himself from the top with such abandon that he didn't touch the slide until halfway down, rolling the rest of the way down like a chubby avalanche. "This is really good!" he squealed as he prepared to climb the steps again while simultaneously hiding the fact that he'd hurt his elbow.

Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of Carole yet. But fear not, as I will in the next blog. Carole bought a raffle ticket at the stadium, and when the draw was made during a break in play was delighted to hear she'd won something. Her disappointment as she reached the centre circle to find her prize was a signed picture of the Partick Thistle squad was negated by the company around her. As the photographer lined her up for a picture she stopped him to insist on having "two good looking men in the picture with her"

She wasn't referring to Luca and I.

Two Thistle players were quickly identified and rounded up into the picture, both giggling like schoolboys. "They'll have thought I was a proper cougar" Carole confided with me later, "but I don't care" she declared, falling about in laughter

**Useless fact of the day - A "cougar" refers to a powerful, predatory older woman who uses her appeal and status on younger, more inexperienced males**

My dog the racist

My dog is a racist. A curious statement granted, but a correct assumption nonetheless. Yoda, our little Jack Russell is the most timid of dogs. I don't think I can even adequately describe in prose how timid she is. To give an example, Carole was throwing out a piece of bubble wrap last week. But what do you do with bubble wrap? You pop it, it's an entirely instinctive and strangely pleasurable act. Unless you are Yoda. Upon hearing the first pop she bolted up the stairs ands hid underneath our bed. That's how timid she is.




But I digress. Why is she a racist? Because it has become apparent of late she views fellow dogs in one of two ways - with aggression or friendship. So, Poodles - friendship. Bulldogs - friendship. Springer Spaniels - friendship. Black Labradors however? Wuff, wuff, snarl, bark bark bark bark bark. Some dogs fetch sticks, others can crawl, some even roll over and play dead. Mine is a racist.



Xenophobic canines aside (words I never imagined I would write), the less frivolous side of tonights blog, of course, belongs to Luca. With another week having passed, I thought it best to present a photographic record of the week to illuminate all on his activities. The photo at the top is an irrelevance, but was taken outside my company's Peterhead base (I was up there for a series of meetings) which left me wondering how long such a nice view outside your workplace would take to become just another everyday image to which you'd be aware of but ultimately ignore? More interestingly, the picture directly above was taken of Luca in what is curiously one of his favourite surroundings - the Tesco supermarket cafe. I guess there is no accounting for taste, but he considers this a genuine treat.

This is in our bedroom, early on a Saturday morning as Luca (successfully, natch) convinced Carole and I that sleepy time was over and that his day was due to begin. The odd creature in the foreground (other than Luca...) is the boys favourite current toy. A £1.50 rubber spiky piggy. Of all my qualities the main one he has inherited is my desire for cheap tat.

The above image was taken during Aberdeen's semi final tie at Scotlands national stadium in Glasgow (Hampden Park), where I unfortunately took residence for the day. Great atmosphere, but a resounding 4-0 defeat is about as much fun as a fart in an elevator

With summer upon us, it was time for a new hat for Luca. Yes, that's a "Transformers" hat. You may not need many guesses as to which parent took him shopping that day.

The hat has rarely left his head since. The following day he wore it all day at nursery. When I removed it from his head that evening (under duress I might add) the top of his hair was so plastered to his head the style resembled that of a Newton Abby monk. Here he is again above, with hat on again of course, at Haddo House on Easter Sunday. We attended their annual "Easter Egg Hunt". As you can see, Luca's attempts at searching proved a little futile, so instead he proudly displayed a stick he found instead.

But there's a playground on site too, which of course offered him some recompense.

Time and time and time and time and time again...........

"Last shot Dad, I promise"

Finally, here he is above just before his Asthma Clinic appointment. Due primarily to the relief his inhaler has provided him (alongside various other methods and factors), the cough he's had almost his entire life has entirely disappeared. Our clinic appointment was designed to discuss his progress, as well as an opportunity for his parents to speak about any concerns. However, as I had asthma myself as a child I had few queries to air. The most interesting part of the appointment for me was the doctors record taking. Our formerly tiny mite now stands at an impressive 3ft 5.5 inches.

**Useless fact of the day - On average, a person produces half a litre of fart gas every day, distributed over an average of around fourteen daily farts**

It's not my fault.....

I'm sorry. Again. My excuse for lack of blogging activity of late is simple - my PC has broken down, again. What's wrong with it? I don't know, I push the button and it doesn't turn on.

Yes, it's plugged in.

So, until it's repaired I'm afraid my blogs will continue to be updated from my work PC, and as such will be devoid of photographs. On the positive side, however, my camera is building a extensive collection of pictures - primarily of Luca, natch - of which I'll post all upon repair of my home PC.

Every negative has a positive. A bit like Colonel Gadaffi. Yes, he's a tyrant, a maniac. But he will one day die and feed the undernourished Libyan ground worms

I haven't seen much of Luca lately unfortunately. Due to work and other obligations I've been away a great deal longer than I prefer. For example, I was away half this past weekend in Glasgow for Aberdeen's semi-final against Celtic. We lost 4-0. Our 4 hour drive home through unending traffic and roadworks provided little comfort too funnily enough.

I made up for it yesterday however, taking the day off work (yep, I sometimes don't work....) and spending the day with a 4 year old who could barely remember my face. We spent the day at various parks, shops and the cinema ("Rio", it was great) before an exhausted tot and I returned home to put our feet up. Interestingly, he already slouches on the sofa like a fat 50 year old. What's he going to be like once he actually reaches that age?

He's a real tease at present too. I've mentioned previously of his habit of turning off the bathroom light whenever I go in, but he's also now started to adopt songs for various occasions. For example, if he catches me getting dressed in the morning he'll trot through, smack my butt and begin singing "Daddy's got a bare tummy, bare bummy, bare tummy". How do you combat this? I'm perennially to busy laughing to chastise him

What else? Carole appears much improved, as the antibiotics seem to have cleared the worst of what was ailing her. However, the doctor, as standard up here it appears, has seemed very vague on the actual cause even if he was able to provide a solution. Perhaps I'm being pernickety, but I'd prefer a clearer and more straightforward diagnosis rather than going straight for the drugs every time.

And me? I'm going to Greenland. With a new contract having commenced at my work I'm being (most likely forcibly) loaded onto a charter aircraft next month to organise the customs/logistical side of operations in Kangerlussuaq. Sound like fun? I don't think so......

**Useless fact of the day - Greenland has a population of 56,452 and is the least densely populated dependency or country in the world. It's also a bit cold**

Is this a good day or bad? 05/04/11

A little good news just filtered through. I've gained a place in the Firhill Cup, a football competition taking place at Firhill Stadium, hope of the (in)famous Partick Thistle. Full scale 11-a-side game on the legendary pitch where past masters (such as Alan Hansen, Mo Johnston and Chic Charnley) have plied their trade. It appears I'll be playing in my favoured right back position, so with the clock to kickoff counting down (33 days....) I need to get in training so as to not completely humiliate myself. "But you're almost 36 years old now Gary" you'll be saying, "and you were never much cop even in your pomp". These are valid points, the validity of which I'll accept. But still ignore.

Can you tell I'm excited yet? In other matters, I'm taking Luca to the doctor tomorrow. He's developed a very curious scratching tendency which is causing concern. At present he has prominent scratches across his face and back (most administered as he sleeps) and has even scratched a chunk out the top of his head. I'll update further tomorrow.

Coincidentally Carole also has an appointment tomorrow, as the practice work toward a solution for her lingering infection. The initial prognosis was tonsillitis, followed by a contradiction last week where they claimed it may instead be glandular fever. However, the blood results have come back indicating this is not the case. Similarly to Luca's, I'll post further as soon as I have word.

**Useless fact of the day - A common natural remedy to child scratching on Google is to give the child a starch bath, with the bathwater including one tablespoon of starch, three teaspoons of cold water and one pint of boiling water**