The latest pesky critter has arrived at last.
Tyler James Laffin (or James Tyler Laffin, depending on who you ask) was born at 3.18am local time, Southern Spain on 21 July 2007. His knackered and non-metric father mumbled something about him weighing in at 4000 kilos (ooooowwwwwccccchhhh), but a more sensible friend thought he was more likely 6-7lb. We could wait a long time for the accurate figures!
Apparently he is blond, cute and has his mother's ears. A real blessing, his father has very big ears, with amazingly selective hearing for things that size....
Monday 23 July 2007
Friday 20 July 2007
R S McColl in profit warning...
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/north_east/6907994.stm
They are lucky. Polperro pigeons try to shove small children down the slipway, cause chaos on bin day and steal food from your table. Just beware of the beer garden at the Three Pilchards, the tables at the Tea Clipper, and be very careful where you choose to eat your chips...
They are lucky. Polperro pigeons try to shove small children down the slipway, cause chaos on bin day and steal food from your table. Just beware of the beer garden at the Three Pilchards, the tables at the Tea Clipper, and be very careful where you choose to eat your chips...
Monday 16 July 2007
the best laid plans of mice and men...
... are all in a filing cabinet somewhere.
I went to Spain to see my nephew & his girlfriend, and hopefully meet their new baby (due 8 July). I got to see Elvis Costello instead.
BARGAIN!!!!!
Angela was being a stroppy hormonal nightmare, James just opted for stroppy nightmare. Now I had travelled over with my mum, to do the family thing of greeting the baby, and expected to be on hand to help sort things out ; but although they asked us to stay, it soon became clear we were asked solely to clean up, and walk the dogs. They didn't even have the grace to ask nicely! The dogs were lovely, which is why I lasted 3 days. Mum was furious with them, and their lack of preparation and it ended in a massive argument, so in the end we did the sensible thing and found somewhere better.
Thus the big family event became a 4-day city break in Malaga. Had a very happy time wandering round, lots of stuff to see but we just enjoying the scenery and the sunshine. Average temperature around 33-34 degrees C. In the hotel foyer, I found a flyer for the Malaga Music Festival Terral 2007. Elvis Costello and Mink DeVille were playing on the 14th July at Playa del Peñon del Cuervo.
I don't speak Spanish, and have never visited Spain. The concert started 10pm Saturday and I had to fly back Sunday. So with absolutely no idea of how to find my way round or ask for help, I set off.
It was ace! Special bus service to venue cost 1 euro, it was just up the road on the coast*. I will post a few piccies, if the camera phone pictures are good enough. It was the perfect warm-up to the Cambridge Folk festival ** .
Mink DeVille played at least 90 mins, typically Spanish no one checked to see if they started on time. Elvis Costello and Allen Toussaint, Steve Nieve and some excellent New Orleans brass players, were just superb. It was a terrific mix of Costello and Toussaint songs but missed out Oliver's Army. This caused great anguish to the lady next to me, who clearly regretted this decision. Though how could she whinge? There wasn't a duff song in there, no cheap fillers or dodgy timewasting solos.
Finally got in at 3am, no news of the baby. The little blighter is showing no signs of moving. He's giving the occasional kick and wriggle so we know he's ok, and the heartbeat is good and strong. But he's determined to stay put for a while.
But I still think Elvis Costello was a better deal than the child. At least EC turned up...
* Sophie, think Castlefield with seaside
** 23 degrees C at 2.30am, in fact, how's that for warm?
I went to Spain to see my nephew & his girlfriend, and hopefully meet their new baby (due 8 July). I got to see Elvis Costello instead.
BARGAIN!!!!!
Angela was being a stroppy hormonal nightmare, James just opted for stroppy nightmare. Now I had travelled over with my mum, to do the family thing of greeting the baby, and expected to be on hand to help sort things out ; but although they asked us to stay, it soon became clear we were asked solely to clean up, and walk the dogs. They didn't even have the grace to ask nicely! The dogs were lovely, which is why I lasted 3 days. Mum was furious with them, and their lack of preparation and it ended in a massive argument, so in the end we did the sensible thing and found somewhere better.
Thus the big family event became a 4-day city break in Malaga. Had a very happy time wandering round, lots of stuff to see but we just enjoying the scenery and the sunshine. Average temperature around 33-34 degrees C. In the hotel foyer, I found a flyer for the Malaga Music Festival Terral 2007. Elvis Costello and Mink DeVille were playing on the 14th July at Playa del Peñon del Cuervo.
I don't speak Spanish, and have never visited Spain. The concert started 10pm Saturday and I had to fly back Sunday. So with absolutely no idea of how to find my way round or ask for help, I set off.
It was ace! Special bus service to venue cost 1 euro, it was just up the road on the coast*. I will post a few piccies, if the camera phone pictures are good enough. It was the perfect warm-up to the Cambridge Folk festival ** .
Mink DeVille played at least 90 mins, typically Spanish no one checked to see if they started on time. Elvis Costello and Allen Toussaint, Steve Nieve and some excellent New Orleans brass players, were just superb. It was a terrific mix of Costello and Toussaint songs but missed out Oliver's Army. This caused great anguish to the lady next to me, who clearly regretted this decision. Though how could she whinge? There wasn't a duff song in there, no cheap fillers or dodgy timewasting solos.
Finally got in at 3am, no news of the baby. The little blighter is showing no signs of moving. He's giving the occasional kick and wriggle so we know he's ok, and the heartbeat is good and strong. But he's determined to stay put for a while.
But I still think Elvis Costello was a better deal than the child. At least EC turned up...
* Sophie, think Castlefield with seaside
** 23 degrees C at 2.30am, in fact, how's that for warm?
Saturday 7 July 2007
So now the serious in-fighting about names has started, and it's getting nasty!
Considering that the latest pesky critter has been on the horizon for months, James and Angie are no nearer deciding on a name for their baby. All the usual factors have been thrown in the mix - he can't be named after so-and-so, or the name is too traditional/modern/just downright weird.
Some weird names work. But although I have weird names for pets, I can't see the reasoning behind lumping another person with a stupid name because the parents want to be different. Why don't they give the kids straightforward names and change their own by deed poll?
The good old baptism gets around this difficulty nicely. One of my pals from years back, he became a Christian, ostensibly because he had found God whilst seriously ill. He phoned to say that he was going to change his name to Paul. Well done, thought I, Paul on the road to Damascus and all that. How wrong was I? Very! He chose the name because... oh dearohdeary...he'd always admired Paul McCartney.
Another friend from that time pointed out that "happy-clappy crappy Christian bands always needed more musicians, fine way to be a talentless big fish in a small pond." But then, this was the one who was a vicar's son and had some awful memories of modernised church sermons, so we allowed him to rant a bit. We also had a Catholic friend who chose Francis. His mum was delighted until he 'fessed up that it was chosen because of Francis Rossi.
The baby niece (now 23) was a little ratbag on the subject of names when she was younger. One useful embarrassing story is the time when her poor father was trying to make her behave in M&S. Four years old, Faye had decided to change her name by the useful trick of refusing to answer to her own. My sister-in-law and their two sons had wandered off, and Faye responded to my brother's calls by shouting out "WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME FAYE? MY NAME IS VANESSA, YOU'RE NASTY TO ME AND I WANT MY MUM!" As the security guards descended around the would-be child abductor, she nipped round a stand and found her mum, and decided not to mention Daddy's little problem. He was finally rescued, and bears no grudge. Idiot! I'd have ceremoniously burnt all the Sylvanian Family toys and My Little Pony, before doing a Tracy Barlow and locking her in her bedroom for 15 years!
Considering that the latest pesky critter has been on the horizon for months, James and Angie are no nearer deciding on a name for their baby. All the usual factors have been thrown in the mix - he can't be named after so-and-so, or the name is too traditional/modern/just downright weird.
Some weird names work. But although I have weird names for pets, I can't see the reasoning behind lumping another person with a stupid name because the parents want to be different. Why don't they give the kids straightforward names and change their own by deed poll?
The good old baptism gets around this difficulty nicely. One of my pals from years back, he became a Christian, ostensibly because he had found God whilst seriously ill. He phoned to say that he was going to change his name to Paul. Well done, thought I, Paul on the road to Damascus and all that. How wrong was I? Very! He chose the name because... oh dearohdeary...he'd always admired Paul McCartney.
Another friend from that time pointed out that "happy-clappy crappy Christian bands always needed more musicians, fine way to be a talentless big fish in a small pond." But then, this was the one who was a vicar's son and had some awful memories of modernised church sermons, so we allowed him to rant a bit. We also had a Catholic friend who chose Francis. His mum was delighted until he 'fessed up that it was chosen because of Francis Rossi.
The baby niece (now 23) was a little ratbag on the subject of names when she was younger. One useful embarrassing story is the time when her poor father was trying to make her behave in M&S. Four years old, Faye had decided to change her name by the useful trick of refusing to answer to her own. My sister-in-law and their two sons had wandered off, and Faye responded to my brother's calls by shouting out "WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME FAYE? MY NAME IS VANESSA, YOU'RE NASTY TO ME AND I WANT MY MUM!" As the security guards descended around the would-be child abductor, she nipped round a stand and found her mum, and decided not to mention Daddy's little problem. He was finally rescued, and bears no grudge. Idiot! I'd have ceremoniously burnt all the Sylvanian Family toys and My Little Pony, before doing a Tracy Barlow and locking her in her bedroom for 15 years!
Tuesday 3 July 2007
5 days into old age...
and I've thoroughly enjoyed it so far. Thankies to everyone who sent cards/e-cards/booze/all of them to be on the safe side! If life could carry on like this, I'd be well happy. Here's how it panned out so far.
Friday - indulgence day, ending with a family night, so we could all celebrate with the niece before she headed off for Mexico the next day.
Saturday - spent charging around like a lunatic with the big sis, before heading for a good pub (after watching Dr Who, obviously)
Sunday - nursing a mild hangover with a trip to La Tasca
Monday - working day, but with less bitching than usual (not from colleagues - we are are customer service team, and the blighters do make it hard to be polite sometimes)
I keep being drawn to the old-bag skincare aisle - which in some cases starts age 25. And wondering if I should look at the mortgage again. And this great-auntie thing is looming on the horizon. But I am now really excited at the thought of the trip. Especially as the weather forecast there is sunny, sunny all the way!
There's a reunion planned, all of us who used to frequent a rock pub are getting our sad old arses along to a big night out on 21 July. So for one night we are all going to bop around our zimmers, revisit our fashion disasters and I'll be flaunting the sunburn - yay! Follow that up with a trip to the Cambridge Folk Festival, and I can avoid any serious mature behaviour til September.
Growing older is one thing, but I'm damned sure growing up is optional.
Friday - indulgence day, ending with a family night, so we could all celebrate with the niece before she headed off for Mexico the next day.
Saturday - spent charging around like a lunatic with the big sis, before heading for a good pub (after watching Dr Who, obviously)
Sunday - nursing a mild hangover with a trip to La Tasca
Monday - working day, but with less bitching than usual (not from colleagues - we are are customer service team, and the blighters do make it hard to be polite sometimes)
I keep being drawn to the old-bag skincare aisle - which in some cases starts age 25. And wondering if I should look at the mortgage again. And this great-auntie thing is looming on the horizon. But I am now really excited at the thought of the trip. Especially as the weather forecast there is sunny, sunny all the way!
There's a reunion planned, all of us who used to frequent a rock pub are getting our sad old arses along to a big night out on 21 July. So for one night we are all going to bop around our zimmers, revisit our fashion disasters and I'll be flaunting the sunburn - yay! Follow that up with a trip to the Cambridge Folk Festival, and I can avoid any serious mature behaviour til September.
Growing older is one thing, but I'm damned sure growing up is optional.
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