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I tell you what, the Goombay Dance Band really did not understand that nature of water. If they think that 7 tears would survive in tact after falling into a river and flowing into the sea and reaching distant waters, then they are fucking idiots.
It’s about time someone said it.
I took Phoebe into school and picked her up, but forgot to ask about the pizza trees.
For those of you who don’t believe I have any staying power - firstly, have you been paying attention: I’ve done 6211 consecutive blogs - secondly, this afternoon I recorded
frame 100 of Me1 vs Me2 snooker, an idea that most people would think couldn’t last for one episode. I will never give up
I have fallen short of my promised 25 frames in 2019, but there is still time to make up the shortfall, if I don’t spend any time with my family at Christmas. I think it will be worth it. My wife can pretend that the noise from the attic is Father Christmas clacking his balls together.
Predictably with pre-Christmas work time running out, I have not made the dent in the Relativity writing that I had hoped. I was really only aiming to get the first four up to recording studio standard (still a little room for minor edits) but I have only done one so far and I can’t see me doing too much more tomorrow. So I have a couple of weeks in early January to pull those four together and to write another two. But I feel fairly relaxed about that schedule. I have a vague idea where it’s all heading and I have an unmoveable deadline and I have already got a lot further than I thought was possible three months ago.
As if to spur me on Radio 4 have started repeating the first two series at 11pm on Thursday nights. Of course I am asleep by then but I can catch up on the Radio Player.
Ep 1 is there right now.
My son was being naughty at bath time: splashing and slapping, so I told him I was going to ring Father Christmas. I didn’t want to reward Ernie by letting him hear Father Christmas’ voice so kept the phone pressed to my ear. “Let me listen” said Ernie. I wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to understand the present-losing peril that he was in, but he seemed to grasp it. I held the phone out so that he could apologise to Father Christmas for splashing too much in the bath and he gave a plaintive “Sorry, Father Christmas.” It’s hard to believe a man as busy as Father Christmas would a) answer his phone so quickly and b) give a fuck about some splashed water and a dad having been punched by a 2 year old. But Ernie, the feckless idiot believed it. Ha ha ha. What a chump.
I later went to church to ask God forgiveness for my own sins including spilling my seed on the ground. But that’s very different. God is super interested in me masturbating, but not in a perverted way. Just in the way that he doesn’t want me to do it, but will still watch me doing it and then make me apologise over his magic invisible phone. Sorry God. Don’t publish me by not giving me the present of eternal happiness.
My daughter is getting smart to the con. When I tried a similar trick on her, she asked how Father Christmas could see her and her friend Matthew at the same time when they live in different houses. And so the house of cards begins to crumble.
For now the catch-all "Because he's magic" seemed to do the trick.
Amazing how many grown ups accept this same basic premise.
