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**

Scorchio in Scotland

A 22 degree roaster in Aberdeenshire today. Dogs panted, grass turned brown, women with bleached blond hair forgot to dress before leaving the house and that odd shiny, shimmering effect appeared on the roads, confusing and transfixing at the same time.

And Luca melted.

He woke happily enough at 7.40am with Dad and trundled downstairs for breakfast for some hurried toast. Tous commes normale, at least until we walked out to the car. "It's a lovely day" he opined. This state of mind didn't even last until we reached the car. "It's too hot Dad, I'm tired" he whined, before obstinately clambering into his car seat, with that oddly teenage girl strop look upon his face.

Having long since learnt to tune out his moans, we drove quickly to his football training. He then staggered through the session, only coming alive at the (peculiarly arranged) rugby kicking section of the class. Confidently kicking the rugby ball over the bar successively, I noted a couple of Dad's tell their sons to "watch what that boys doing" when encouraging their offspring.

Proud? A little. A future Gavin Hastings perchance, though hopefully without that curiously monotone Scottish public school drawl.

We departed 5 minutes before the sessions end however, as his skin colour had by this stage began to resemble that of an enraged lobster that had fallen into a vat of beetroot juice. We then drove (all windows wound down) into Aberdeen to visit the cinema. Today's "treat" was the live action/CGI version of Yogi Bear. I've had piles that were more fun.

Following successive quick trips to my office and the supermarket, his deteriorating condition forced me to take him quickly home thereafter. We arrived home to find his new bed built. Have I mentioned this previously? Luca has been (justifiably) complaining of late that his bed was becoming too small for him - no surprise as it's a toddlers bed he's had for a couple of years. See the pictures at the top of this blog, taken this evening of his first sleep in the new bed.

He does, of course, faff, tremble and complain when climbing up and down the two stepped (!) ladder. Bear Grylls our boy will surely not be.

It's my birthday on Tuesday. I'll be 36. Carole, however, last night discovered a way to distract me from my depressing descent toward middle age. She took us to what was undoubtedly our worst ever dining experience.

Having received vouchers, she booked us a table at "La Bamba" restaurant in Aberdeen (http://www.labamba.biz/). Despite it's previous questionable reputation, the appeal of vouchers combined with the fact it's now under new management convinced her it was an experience worth undertaking.

My wife is not often wrong but I suppose if the UN can err if they present incoming US presidents with the Nobel Peace prize before they'd, well, actually done anything, then so can Carole. The difference being I don't love the UN.

We arrived to find (very young) staff hanging around chatting rather than greet patrons and lead them to their table. Once eventually noticed, we were lead to our table in the corner, past a hen party, a 40th birthday and a 30th birthday. All entirely encompassing drunk women wearing clothes two sizes too small for them and enough make-up to make a test lab rabbit wince.

Having squeezed through we were sat at our table near the toilets, with it's handily "wipe-clean" tablecloth. Our order was taken shortly after - no great decisions to be made, having been faced with the smallest (1 page!) menu I've ever witnessed. The starters arrived, and the rubbery taste of my overcooked (by about 3 hours) mussels was at least distracted by the cacophony created by the hen party as they stood upon their tables belting out "It's Raining Men"

We've never eaten so quickly, and gratefully shot out as the hen party roared into the chorus of "I've Had The Time Of My Life"

Oh the irony.

But we did laugh all the way home. This will certainly be remembered. Much in the same way the Ukrainians remember Joseph Stalin.

**Useless fact of the day - Every day you breath in one litre of other peoples anal gases**

Londinium

As the seasons change our lives do too. With the summer season upon us things have become so busy I struggle to recall what my sofa looks like. I miss it, it's comfy.



Starting at Fathers Day (a week past Sunday) Luca and I drove straight from our weekly early morning football training session in Culter to Banchory in order to take my Dad/Luca's Grandad out to lunch. Arriving too early, and buoyed by the unnaturally scorching weather, we took temporary sanctuary in Banchory's Bellfield Park. As you can see, Luca loves chocolate ice cream more than anything or anyone else. No woman will ever receive a gaze as adoring as the one Luca adorns upon that cone.



Eventually Dad came off the golf course, and we met him at our intended place of lunch - inventively the golf club. Above is one of the few times Luca sat still as his Granda took pictures of him.



Once finished, Dad lifted his groaning belly full of Sunday Roast and took Luca out to the putting green. Luca loved it, and even showed (a little) aptitude.

"Get in the hole!"

"This time"

"OK, what do I do now Granda?"

"How about I sit down and you clobber me with your golf club?"

Fast forward to Friday, and we're now in London. Carole, I and a couple of friends booked a few days in the UK's capital, flying down early on Friday and returning late on Sunday. Great fun, but of course Carole still doesn't pose for pictures as the above demonstrates

You have to catch her unaware, like above. I think she's holding her breath here to avoid inhaling the stench of stale, sweaty air that permeates around a London Underground carriageway.

We of course frequented many, many pubs during our visit. For Dad's benefit, here's the most interesting ales I discovered. The Doom Bar was off, but the Rev James was still flowing so I tried a pint. It was bloody awful.

On the London Eye, with Big Ben in the frame. This was the only photo I took due to my overwhelming fear of heights. My companions took great pity on my affliction, guffawing loudly as my skin colour fluctuated between white and green.

This was more my thing, a guided tour round Arsenal FC's stadium. Fascinating stuff (for a geek like me), with some mind blowing stats. Season ticket waiting lists vary between 9 and 11 years, with many packages costing £50,000 per annum upwards!

In the British Museum now, with the featured picture being of some Egyptian dude. I don't know who he was, but I liked his hat.

The trip was great fun overall, and utterly non-stop. The only time we spent at our hotel was to sleep, which was fully our intention. We did the proper tourist thing, visiting landmarks, features, museums, displays and shows, as well as spending a goodly amount of time in public houses naturally.

I even enjoyed the musical we saw too, "Blood Brothers". Good fun, but as with most musicals would be immeasurably improved with the removal of most of the songs. Yes, I am aware that's a bit of an oxymoron.

**Useless fact of the day - The London Eye weighs 2,100 tons**

No photo's!

As technologically incompetent as I am, I still can't quite comprehend how over a course of a week (the period since my last blog) I've managed to take not one single distinguishable photograph. The best I have is one of Yoda's semi-bald paws. She really is the most nervous of dogs and has taken to nibbling on her back paws over the last fortnight. A real "awww" moment for sure, but I'm still pretty confident you have absolutely zero interest in looking at it.

One potential picture I can't quite get the lighting right on is that of Luca's leg. Four years old and he has legs almost as hairy as his Dad's. Combine this with the ever apparent thick trail of hair running between his neck and tailbone and it raises questions of his parentage. For those of you as TV obsessed as I this may bring to mind "First Born" as a logical explanation........ (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_Born)

If you recall a little boy bellowing "gnat gnat" then you'll recall this puerile excuse for televisual science fiction. It made "Blakes 7" seem realistic and well produced.

Wasn't 80's sci-fi great? There was another programme about a nuclear holocaust (was it called "Threads"?), which weirdly set the action in Sheffield of all places. I love that, you can imagine the script writers meeting. "This is an epic, terrifying and engaging concept we're dealing with here people. Where shall we set it?"
"London!"
"New York!"
"Rio De Janeiro!"
"Tokyo!"
"Sheffield!"

"Sheffield, perfect, who's for lunch?"

I've drifted off on a tangent. Perhaps this type of prose is more suited in a world where no-one is likely to read your ill informed musings (unless you happen to have slept with someone famous). I talk, of course, of "Twitter". Due to it's ease of use and shorthand format I've been considering posting my witterings on there instead and keeping the blog open purely as the main medium to record Luca's ascent toward adulthood. Good idea or bad? Please vote on today's poll to the right of the page.

Luca has been as charming and manipulative as ever. His bedtimes are proving ever more complex to control as he cleverly takes control of almost any situation. Our gullibility caused us to initially fall for his latest trick, which involved him cuddling into you upon bedtime being announced with the classic line "I don't want to go to bed, because I want to stay downstairs with you because I love you so much". I swear he even flashes his eyelashes.

He's definitely going to be a rugby player however. As disorienting as it often is when he hits, I must say I've been highly impressed with his recent attempts to take me down. He uses his Dad to test his burgeoning strength and is currently developing techniques to knock me off balance. Recently he's become highly adept and has worked out that tackling me hard and low using his shoulder and arms is the most effective ploy. Having played rugby for 7 or 8 years as a junior myself I'm intrigued to see how this develops.

And while referring to development, Luca had his first stand up wee-wee today. He's always sat down on the toilet previously, but with his first school term fast approaching it was decided to re-attempt teaching him the stand up method. He did manage (with help from Dad), but was unimpressed with this new technique. "I think I'll sit down next time" he told me as he washed his hands afterwards, "My willie is still too small to reach over the edge of the toilet"

At least I've had time at home this weekend to witness and help with such matters. Today was my first day off in 12 days, and it showed as I didn't wake until the obscenely late hour of 1130am. This current craziness is caused by my main current work project being that of an unnamed oil company drilling in Greenland. For those of you who read the news with interest, **** are the oil company who are currently drilling in Greenland, much to Greenpeace's chagrin. Indeed their objections are so vociferous Greenpeace's worldwide head this week personally scaled the rig of the "**** ********" vessel to further disrupt operations (yep, one of the vessels I'm responsible for).

I did wonder why I was mailing their invoices to an evil volcano lair.

My lawyer insisted on the asterisks. He's also Ryan Gigg's lawyer so he must be good.....

**Useless fact of the day - It appears "Facebook" has reached saturation point, as figures released this month show a worldwide drop of 3.7% (a loss of 100,000 users in the UK alone)**

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**