Alive. It's alive! IT'S ALIVE!

That right arm - famous for pulling Dad's nose and stealing the food from my plate given any opportunity - was relieved of it's temporary sling prison on Tuesday, as the doctors concurred that the collarbone break was now healed

Apparently a little bump remains in the bone (though I can't locate it), but due to his age that will absorb, leaving no trace.

I think his Granny, unnecessarily feeling guilty for the toddlers fall, was most delighted by this prognosis. "Give Granny a cuddle using both arms" I instructed Luca once the doctor was satisfied. I don't think I've seen Mum smile so hard as he wrapped both arms tightly round her.

Amusingly he now needs constant reminders to relax his arm. Weeks of having his arm constrained in a single position has led him to unconsciously hold it in an "L" shape in front of his chest for periods. He gets a little embarrassed by his forgetfulness, and during a visit to the supermarket later that same day sternly told me that "I like it like this"

There's little else of note to report I'm afraid. Unless you're interested in how I fared in my footballing comeback following a two week absence due to a minor foot injury? No? Fair enough

**Useless fact of the day - Carole passed her recent IT exam following a 3-4 day course with a 78% score despite having thought she'd failed**

You have rekindled my faith in the human race. It's not nicked, is it?

My metamorphosis into Aberdeenshire's own Delboy Trotter was made complete on Sunday, as I staggered out of bed at 5.30am and drove through deserted dawn streets toward Thainstone Market. My car, overflowing with an unimaginable amount of worthless cr*p, arrived at destination perfectly on time, at the advised hour of 6am. Where I positioned my motor in the queue alongside similarly lifeless souls in their work vans and saturated Renault Clio's. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited. A full hour later the gates were finally and suddenly opened and we haphazardly filed in one by one, desperately wiping the condensation off the inside of our windscreens as we blindly drove, open flasks of coffee tipping everywhere as we did. We were shown to our allocated spots, from where we............guess what? Waited a little bit more.

A further hour passed before the market officially opened, and only then did the strict market rules allow our boots to be opened and cheap foldaway tables laid out (un)resplendently. A scene akin to dropping a bag of chips at the seaside ensued, where the seagull-esque punters descended on our vehicles without mercy. Desperately keeping this previously unseen horde at bay while we unpacked was easily the days most stressful job.

It was interesting to see which items markedly enticed the buyers. My DVD collection and books remained largely, and surprisingly, untouched throughout. Most peculiarly however my biggest seller, without question, was my music collection. I've long known my music taste is of an "acquired" nature (obscure indie label bands primarily) so I fully expected to finish the day with much of it still in my possession. As so often, how wrong I was.

Word quickly got around that a trader (guess who?) was here with "great stuff" (the words of innumerable punters who turned up breathless, eagerly sifting through my CD collection) and my long built up collection was rapidly decimated by lines of ageing indie kids. Perversely, the more obscure a band was, the more excited many of these buyers got. One almost literally salivated as I described in detail the sound and genre of "The Concretes" first album.

At least I now know there are people in the world significantly sadder than myself.

Carole and Luca turned up mid-morning to visit, and allow me a brief break to stretch my legs. Luca particularly enjoyed his job as the banker, and eagerly popped the proceeds of each sale into the tin. His attention span ran short, however, by an appetite that would put Godzilla to shame. He sat in the boot of my car and munched away throughout. Banana? Gone. Crisps? Gone. Biscuits? Gone. Chocolate bar? Gone. Our food stock ran drier than a hot Saharan summers day, so Luca and his stomach (we classify them as two separate entities now) was taken home again by his Mum to further devour the contents of our cupboards and fridge. Here's the two of them (or three counting the toddlers tummy) before they departed.

I eventually arrived home mid-afternoon, where a wife-to-be was present and waiting with my much needed late lunch, and a son who was waiting to help me eat it.

**Useless fact of the day - Each year 1.5 billion pounds are spent at Car Boot Sales in the UK. One million people visit Car Boot Sales every weekend**

Bad backs of the world unite

A lazy weekend is being perdured, with my buttocks having rarely left the agonisingly uncomfortable confines of our bedroom carpet

Why? Because I've spent much of the day in front of my PC, enduring the painfully slow process of burning my entire CD collection to my hard drive in preparation of their forthcoming sale. Tomorrow, at the point where dusk turns to dawn I'll roll out of bed and pour my aching and unwilling figure into the front seat of my car and drive the 3 miles from our house to the weekly car boot sale at Thainstone Market (http://www.goanm.co.uk/thainstonecentre/sundaymarket/index.html)

Again, you may ask the question why (or perhaps not, I'd guess the arch tediousness of this blog has lost most of you so far). Don't I have a job that brings in enough pennies to feed and cloth my family? Well, yes (indeed I've just had a well timed promotion with commensurate pay rise) but as the wedding approaches - 35 days, yikes - the bills are beginning to drop through our letterbox with increasing regularity. I don't expect a car boot sale to contribute too much, but as they say in Asda - every little helps

Despite my earlier comments, it's actually been quite interesting sifting through our loft and cupboards, finding items of monetary value, emotional value and (predominantly unfortunately) no value. See the picture below for what is presently strewn beside me:-

And this is but a small percentage of what I'll be taking with me - much of our upstairs hallway is filled with junk I've dragged out.

It's been quite a nostalgic process as I dig through the rubble. You remember where you lived when you bought that book, or the places you went around the time of buying that CD. Of course, however, you only remember the good things from those times. It's interesting how time filters the bad memories from your mind and leaves only those of a more pleasant variety.

Liz left us just a few days ago, after her most recent week long visit. For a variety of reasons both Luca and Carole enjoyed her visit even more than normal, with both rather quiet and subdued following her departure. Carole in particular loved having her around, for all the help with wedding preparations. Conversely this is without mention of the simple fact she doesn't see her Mum enough, and time is always finite.

Luca has been in good spirits of late, with his broken collarbone and sling barely slowing him down. He still throws himself at his Dad like a guided missile, and with this my face has been contorted permanently into the following expression:-

Wednesday, with his final hospital appointment and accompanying x-ray and (expected) doctor's all clear can't come soon enough.

**Useless fact of the day - In 1998, the latest year for which such information is available, among persons over 65 years of age, 4,655 white men and 132 African-American males committed suicide. By contrast, 902 white women and 20 African-American women committed suicide that year**

Who's that?

This is Carole. Voluntarily posing for a picture. Of course, there are conditions attached - namely her simple desire to show off part of the apparel of her hen night costume. Fangs to follow....

This has been the first blog in many a month not to begin with mention of Luca. And of course I'll revert to norm with the pictures below, the first demonstrating Luca's complete disregard for the healing process of his broken bone - I'd asked him to pose and smile, so he took off instead, his sling (and hips - he is dramatic) sashaying in his wake.

Our initial intention had been to watch the local amateur football team play football (perversely Luca hates football on TV, yet loves watching the game live and in person) but the game had ended just before our arrival. In the light of this I, hesitantly, agreed to take him instead to the swing park. And yes, that's my toddler son with a broken collarbone climbing up the slippy part of a slide one handed. Eeek!

"It's not easy with one hand" he'd said before his ascent. This statement has become his mantra since the break. Putting on shoes, eating cereal, even turning the TV channel - the cry of "Help me, it's not easy with one hand" will emanate from a toddler who is clearly milking the situation for all it's worth.

"Catch me at the bottom Dad - it's not easy to stop with one hand"

The final picture below was the last taken before I dropped and destroyed my camera. Judging by the quality, perhaps the God's of photography were trying to tell me something.

Finally, please cast your vote on the poll above. Before our departure to our Irish honeymoon Carole and I will be spending two nights in a hotel in Aberdeen. I've narrowed it down to two choices. Let me know your vote, and I promise not to entirely disregard your opinion. Probably.

**Useless fact of the day - The owner of Kodak (George Eastman) named his company after the sound the he thought the camera shutter made**

Luca's first broken bone

This picture was taken only an hour ago, immediately after leaving Aberdeen Children's A&E. Luca had a fall outside nursery this afternoon after his Granny Jo picked him up, and although it initially appeared the damage was little more than superficial, over time it transpired there was more wrong than originally suspected.

A trip to the hospital followed, where an x-ray revealed a broken collarbone. It'll repair itself over the next few weeks, and he'll wear a sling during much of that time to aid the healing process.

He's home now however, and went to bed laughing and is clearly in little discomfort. I'll report more tomorrow, and will take a video of him proudly displaying his sling.

And yeah, my heart is still in my mouth!

**Useless fact of the day - The collarbone is the bone most often broken (fractured) in childhood. Children are prone to breaking collarbones because they don't completely harden until adulthood.

The clavicles, or collarbones, are the long bones that help connect the shoulder girdle to the rib cage. A break can happen when a toddler falls on her shoulder or on an outstretched hand**

Just photo's and video's tonight

Another weekend has passed with Luca having again worn down my limited reserves. With this as my excuse to type little of note, please scroll down to enjoy/endure Luca's recent misadventures:-

My favourite one to inaugurate proceedings - Luca pulling faces on the corner of the most infamous street in Aberdeen's red light district! Fear not, as the time was barely 10am it was unlikely we'd come across any inappropriate activities. We'd taken the train into Aberdeen to visit the cinema and the reasonably significant distance between the train station and beach side cinema (surprisingly uncovered by public transport) necessitated us taking the shortest route. Considering the surprisingly hot weather endured Luca's puffed utterance of "I'm too small for this", clearly angling for me to offer a carry (an offer which wasn't forthcoming), wasn't entirely unexpected.

We had a few shops to visit after the movie ("Planet 51" - he loved it, I thought it was terrible) and of course those big brown eyes pleaded for me to supply a shiny pound coin every time we stumbled across a child ride. Being a soft touch, I often accede.

We took the bus home, but only just caught it. We'd ran the last hundred yards to the bus station, with the wee man showing surprising acceleration. The bus doors were closing as we arrived, but the driver kindly waited and allowed us to step (or in Luca's case vault) on. This was one instance (of many) where the presence of Luca was a boon. Would the driver have stopped and waited had I, a 6ft+ shaven headed lanky thug, been the only one running? Unlikely.

As you can see, the excessive walking around Aberdeen (we covered a few miles) had exhausted the boy, and he fell asleep a few times on the journey home. Perhaps we'll stick to the car until his stubby legs are a little longer!

He's rarely still for long however.

This one was taken today, as he bravely pushed his Dad to the side and fought off the Great White Shark with his bare hands. Either that, or he was pulling a comically poor scared face as we passed an odd shopping centre mural.

The above video is so dark to upload it was almost an act of pure folly - you can't see anything besides the final three seconds. Look carefully however. This was Luca dancing to the music during the end credits of "Planet 51". Trust me on this, he really works his derriere as he jives.

The final video was taken last week. Enjoy the bit right at the end where he plays keepy-up using only his head before volleying an overhead kick into the top corner.

**Useless fact of the day - Commonly used words to describe this blogs author are deceiver, deluder, fabler, falsifier, fibber, prevaricator and liar. Amongst others**

Where does he hear these things?

It's been a week or memorable quotes from the little man. From the impudence of this conversation with his Mummy:-

"Would you like a bite of my chocolate bar Mummy?"

"Oh, yes please Luca"

"Huh, I might have known...."

To the unintended cheekiness of another conversation with his Mother earlier today:-

"Mummy, come down the stairs on your bottom"

"No Luca, I'd rather walk"

"OK sweetheart!"

He sounded like a proper cockney geezer when he called him Mum sweetheart.

I'm feeling a little better today after my predicted hangover of yesterday. Luca stayed over with his Granny and Granda on Friday night, allowing Carole and I our (separate) nights out. Carole's was a slightly more sedate late lunch so she was home by early evening, whereas my night was the expectant pub crawl. It's rare I allow myself the opportunity to drink much these days, in fear of starting smoking again - my smoking was always interrelated with my drinking previously.

With this in mind, and in preparation for a potential banana skin, I've discovered the existence of herbal cigarettes. Containing no tobacco, nicotine (nor indeed any of the addictive substances found within a normal cigarette) I'm intending to buy a pack for our honeymoon. It's Ireland, there is copious amounts of drink around therefore I'm a little nervous. If I weaken after a Guinness or two too many then I'll stick one of those in my mouth. It's now been two years since I quit but it's still difficult.

On that subject, when am I going to put weight on? Every other ex-smoker I've known appears to have put on an average of a couple of stone after quitting. Curious.

Despite my lack of bulk, at least my fitness continues to improve. One of the "characters" I play football with (a bizarre chap who was accepted onto TV's "Come Dine With Me" and is presently trying to appear on "Coach Trip") wrote out an analysis of all of our footballing characteristics. I was nicknamed "The Slave" due to my unselfish running and apparently endless stamina. At least I hope that was the reason......

Saturday morning, post drinking binge, began exceptionally early with a call from work. Well, with my luck could I expect anything else? After grumpily battering my keyboard and drinking cheap coffee in my office for a couple of hours I drove out to pick Luca up from his Granny's. "I'm staying here" he announced upon my arrival, "I think I'll live at Granny Jo's house now"

Once we'd driven back to Inverurie - protestations having been ignored - he and I took a bus into Aberdeen. I'd used Carole's car earlier that day as I'd left my own in Aberdeen the previous evening, but now needed to reclaim my own motor. Luca demanded to accompany me, not out of affection or companionship, but more due to his curious love of buses. Here he is below.

Once in Aberdeen I decided we should do something to make the trip worthwhile. Luca quickly found his preferred form of entertainment:-

Before the two of us toddled to the cinema to watch "Toy Story 3". It was brilliant, I'm not sure who enjoyed it more!

In the evening Carole and I watched our traditional Saturday night movie (along with a diet busting takeaway to relieve our aching hangovers). This week it was the remake of "Clash Of The Titans". Do you remember how shonky and crappy the original was? Yep, this was the same, but simply with wonky computer graphic monsters rather than wonky plasticine ones. They didn't greatly greatly enhance proceedings.

Today (Sunday) has been a little more wasteful, with yet another morning call out to the office. Once home I took Luca shopping for some goalposts for the back garden. Here he is in full goalkeeper mode:-

Perhaps I should have purchased smaller goals. He struggled to reach the shots I was blasting into the top corner......

**Useless fact of the day - Bulgarian International and former Reading 'keeper Borislav Mihaylov gained notoriety during the 1994 World Cup Finals in the United States when he suddenly appeared with a full head of hair having been completely bald on top only weeks before. It turned out that he had decided to wear a wig to help promote his toupee company back home (During the Quarter Final game against Mexico, the poor man had to adjust his hairpiece under the protection of a towel after the blazing sun had caused him to sweat just a little too profusely…)**