New song - and for the first time ever, words! They were made up on the spot and sung by one of the twins. I like the bit where she triumphantly says "I can sit!".
And don't forget the old favorites, vaguely country and this one.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Resort
When the twins were very little (not quite 1) we stayed in a place in Cornwall, a vaguely resorty place. There were a few well-appointed cottages and a central converted farmhouse that had, among other things, a nice swimming pool. There were a number of other guests in the other cottages, mostly families like ours. Parents and kids.
What was really striking about this place was that there was a roster for the swimming pool. You put your name down for a timeslot, and at that time the pool was all yours. You couldn't use it without booking. I mentioned to the guy who ran the place that this seemed a little strange. He said to me that the reason for this was so that you could use the pool without having to worry about having to deal with other people who were using the pool, and what struck me at the time was that to him (and, I suspect, to the other people there) that seemed a perfectly good and sensible arrangement.
To me this just sounded horribly English.
What was really striking about this place was that there was a roster for the swimming pool. You put your name down for a timeslot, and at that time the pool was all yours. You couldn't use it without booking. I mentioned to the guy who ran the place that this seemed a little strange. He said to me that the reason for this was so that you could use the pool without having to worry about having to deal with other people who were using the pool, and what struck me at the time was that to him (and, I suspect, to the other people there) that seemed a perfectly good and sensible arrangement.
To me this just sounded horribly English.
More NYE
We're staying in a resort-type place, lots of apartments, a communal pool, the works. It's great. About 8pm on New Years Eve, when I had just gotten the girls to bed and was counting down the minutes until I could reasonably send the boys to bed (and hence me) there was a knock on the door. I couldn't imagine how this could be a welcome interruption.
I opened the door, with my face arranged in a very surly expression. It was two young men, around 20. Not drunk, just normal guys. One looked at me with a bit of surprise and said "is Matt there?". I said no. His mate then asked me "are you sure?". What I love about this is that his mate thought it was quite feasible that Matt was, in fact, in my apartment and that I was somehow hiding him. I was very tempted to sigh, turn my head in the direction of the living room (which they couldn't see from the door) and say "Matt... you better come out now". But I didn't, I just couldn't think fast enough.
Speaking of nice young men, I was having dinner with my kids at the pub here and there was a young man near us who I couldn't help noticing had a superbly athletic body, and as I was drinking my (full-strength!) beer I was idly wondering why I didn't ever have a body like that (and also, why he was wearing a baseball cap indoors, and what his wife - who was with him - was like). My older son leaned towards me and said "Dad, don't look now but that guy over there is Brad Johnson from the Western Bulldogs". I somehow felt better for knowing that - it's his job to have a superbly athletic body, it's not like he's some real estate agent who just works out a bit and was lucky with genes.
I opened the door, with my face arranged in a very surly expression. It was two young men, around 20. Not drunk, just normal guys. One looked at me with a bit of surprise and said "is Matt there?". I said no. His mate then asked me "are you sure?". What I love about this is that his mate thought it was quite feasible that Matt was, in fact, in my apartment and that I was somehow hiding him. I was very tempted to sigh, turn my head in the direction of the living room (which they couldn't see from the door) and say "Matt... you better come out now". But I didn't, I just couldn't think fast enough.
Speaking of nice young men, I was having dinner with my kids at the pub here and there was a young man near us who I couldn't help noticing had a superbly athletic body, and as I was drinking my (full-strength!) beer I was idly wondering why I didn't ever have a body like that (and also, why he was wearing a baseball cap indoors, and what his wife - who was with him - was like). My older son leaned towards me and said "Dad, don't look now but that guy over there is Brad Johnson from the Western Bulldogs". I somehow felt better for knowing that - it's his job to have a superbly athletic body, it's not like he's some real estate agent who just works out a bit and was lucky with genes.
More Pants
I posted a thing on xmas eve about how I'd noticed a strange smell, and how I eventually figured out that it was my trousers, which I'd picked up from the cleaners a couple of days earlier.
Bizarrely enough, the dry cleaners called me yesterday and left a message on my phone asking whether I'd in fact picked up my pants. I couldn't resist - I called them. I told the woman there that I had picked up my pants after all; she then asked me whether I was sure I'd picked up the right pants. I said they were - they're a little tighter than when I left Sydney a couple weeks ago but definitely my pants. I hung up.
Now I'm thinking. There's been some mixup, they think I got the pants that were meant for someone else. And my pants had an odd, chemically smell. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? I should rinse them out and then drink the water, they must be impregnated with cocaine. Or at the very least, wet them a bit and suck them. In the movie version of this there'd be shadowy hitmen willing to risk anything to get the pants back.
I'll report back.
Bizarrely enough, the dry cleaners called me yesterday and left a message on my phone asking whether I'd in fact picked up my pants. I couldn't resist - I called them. I told the woman there that I had picked up my pants after all; she then asked me whether I was sure I'd picked up the right pants. I said they were - they're a little tighter than when I left Sydney a couple weeks ago but definitely my pants. I hung up.
Now I'm thinking. There's been some mixup, they think I got the pants that were meant for someone else. And my pants had an odd, chemically smell. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? I should rinse them out and then drink the water, they must be impregnated with cocaine. Or at the very least, wet them a bit and suck them. In the movie version of this there'd be shadowy hitmen willing to risk anything to get the pants back.
I'll report back.
Lorne again
While I was safely asleep on New Years Eve - with the aircon turned up full to block out the racket from the street nearby - a Carlton footballer was being assulted about 50 yards away. The report in the Oz said that his girlfriend got a broken tooth in the assault, and that the 4 guys who did it were all from Western Australia.
I can't come down here without being reminded of Lorne Guyland, the character in "Money". His name only makes sense if you imagine it being spoken.
I can't come down here without being reminded of Lorne Guyland, the character in "Money". His name only makes sense if you imagine it being spoken.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
New Year
I was asleep by 9pm on New Years Eve, and had the first decent night's sleep I've had for a few days. No, it's not just because I have no friends; I'm at the beach (Lorne) with my 4 kids doing the Dad thing.
How was 2007?
Good things:
I fell in love. Once.
I'm quite a bit wealthier.
I started playing piano.
Bad things:
Not much really, I'm just a year older.
A good year.
How was 2007?
Good things:
I fell in love. Once.
I'm quite a bit wealthier.
I started playing piano.
Bad things:
Not much really, I'm just a year older.
A good year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
