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It was 20 years ago today….
Happy Birthday Warming Up. I guess now I’ve hit this milestone that this is a good time to tell you that I think this is the time to bow out graciously. We’ve had a Helluva time, but surely I can’t keep this up forever. So with regret I have to tell you that I AM carrying on FOREVER. What a fucking idiot.
You’ll have to wrestle this laptop out of my cold dead hands. Actually you’ll probably not have to bother if my hands are dead, because presumably I will be too. And I am not fucking blogging anymore if I am alive but my hands are dead. This isn’t the Twilight Zone.
Someone on Twitter asked me to give a precis of the 20 years of entry, down from the several million words to something more manageable. I came up with “Lost man gets found.†Which I think is pretty good and doing it in four words makes me feel that I may have wasted some of my life padding it out to quite this length. But there we go. I didn’t quite know where I fitted in in 2002 or where my life was going or if I had a career any more, but twenty years on I’ve found the place that I belong and the people I love (I had to make two of them with my magic cock, but it still counts) and have a career that I probably couldn’t explain to the feckless 2002 version of myself. Would he have understood that it was possible to broadcast your own audio and video over this new thing called the internet? Well yes, he’d have probably got that, but I doubt he could see it making him any money.
I am definitely happier than I was 20 years ago and though I wouldn’t mind being 35 again. But it wouldn’t be any different than last time. So let’s just stick with the life I ended up with. It’s been quite good.
Don’t start from the beginning.
Twenty years? Every fucking day? Come on.
Sometimes you do something remarkable that nonetheless goes unremarked upon. But it’s the doing that matters, not the remarking.
Not sure if I should be proud or ashamed. Or, as I actually am, ambivalent.
I know a few of you have been with me all the way which has been a tough ride, (especially the nearly eight years of dull parenthood). I think we can agree it’s quantity, not quality that is important.
And never missing a day.
NEVER. MISSING. A. DAY.
Regardless of whether there was anything to actually say.
Today, again I tried to mainly relax. I thought I was well on top of the morning routine, without any panic. But it was 8.15 one minute and then 8.35, literally the next minute and we had to get a rush on. We were still in time and my kids weren’t the last kids through the gates. But they were nearly the last kids through the gate.
I’d nearly cancelled my personal training session, but somehow it went OK. But after that I watched football and had a long bath and then it was time to pick the kids up again.
I took them to Ernie’s gym class and then out for a pizza. They wound me round their little fingers and got everything they desired. They didn’t really watch the football - and I can’t blame them, it wasn’t very good, but even so I think the reaction of England fans is fucking ridiculous. 4 points from 2 games and a pretty much unbeatable goal difference. It’d be better if they played like they did in match one for every match, but give them a fucking chance.
Phoebe spent most of her time trying to work out ways to hack football and be unbeatable. Her first idea was to carry the ball on your back where no one could get to it. Or to balance it on the top of your head. I thought there were flaws in the plans, but what if you put some kind of ball shaped hole in your back so the ball lodged there and then you could pull a lever and shoot it into the goal. I bet there’s nothing in the rules to stop you.
I liked her trying to short cut her way to football success, though think it’s best if she just keeps practicing for now.
