4-4-2 or the Christmas tree?

As I confidently predicted previously, Germany did indeed win Eurovision (okay I might have misspelt it slightly). Clearly this was as a result of a thank-you vote for bailing out the Euro and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the female singer was a ‘bit fit’ - apparently. Luckily, I have yet to hear any of the 24 entries so I’ve not got a clue if the song was any good. Unlike the UK general election; I don’t actually get a vote in Eurovision. I didn’t cast my vote in the uk election because I was unable to ascertain what the other parties’ position was on the ‘cider’ tax. And it didn’t seem quite right that I should get a vote when I don’t have to face the consequences of my actions.
We went to see our friends’ new baby yesterday which resulted in two major incidents. Firstly, I was almost forcibly removed from the hospital – apparently it’s wrong to shout at a three day-old boy because he has single-handedly ruined your beach volleyball career. Secondly, having seen the helpless, bald, dribbling little fella it dawned on me just how much they rely on us... it was at this pointI realised I was sat in front of a mirror and that little Jay was actually at the other side of the room. Then of course it hits you just how grown-up George and Harriet are now... scarily so. They are pretty much self-sufficient in most things and with just a little gentle persuasion (using electrified cattle-prods) can be really helpful around the house – especially if the remote control has gone missing and I need the channel changing. Obviously this will all change when George enters his teens next year but it’s good while it lasts. Due to an administration error, I fell asleep before she did, Harriet no longer believes in the existence of the tooth fairy – she still accepts the money though (and most credit/debit cards... sorry we don’t accept SOLO). You may want to vet this blog before you let impressionable ‘tooth fairy’ believers read it (Cathy you might want to make sure Dave doesn’t see it). The good thing about Hattie realising that fairies might not exist is that I no longer have to manufacture my own special brand of fairy dust (using a unique blend of pencil shavings, glitter, 11 herbs and spices and dandruff) each time a tooth falls out.
Wendy’s birthday ‘celebrations’ have started in earnest – she has just got back from a 3 day trip to Broome. For those of you whose knowledge of the geography of Western Australia is a little on the thin side (Kate Moss springs to mind) – Broome is a (mainly) tourist destination situated a mere 2000km north of Perth (a two-and-a-half hour flight). Population 14,000; Climate-tropical; It is the gateway to the Kimberley region and boasts the world famous Cable beach and is known for its breathtaking sunsets and camels. Enough of the Tourism Board spiel – more importantly , there appears to be some sort of irregular atmospheric pressure up there because Wendy, Colleen and Jackie all came back with terrible headaches.
To welcome her back from her trip I arranged a mountain of ironing, that we’d saved for her, into the number ‘40’... a nice touch don’t you think? Not that I’m going to let on how old she is going to be or anything.
I am entering my final week of training in preparation for the big kick-off this week, no not Big Brother 10.... the World Cup. My training has mainly involved being able to hold the remote control, a bottle of cider and a packet of porky scratchings all at the same time (who says men can’t multi-task). Obviously, on that diet, I am at the peak of physical fitness but it could all be won and lost on stamina. We are six hours in front of South Africa so there are going to be some late kick-offs (England’s first two games both get under way at 2.30am). With this in mind I have been slowly increasing my caffeine intake. My daily consumption now is 3 red bulls, 5 cokes, 37 cups of tea and a shot of Irn Bru. I’m going to have no problem staying awake to watch the game... but having taken on board that much liquid I may have to set up a TV in the loo. It's actually quite a relief to be in a country where the build up to the World Cup is greeted with realism and not unrealistic expectations. No one talks about the Socceroos (ridiculous name, I know, but all Aussie teams have got to have a nickname, be it the Wallabies, Opals, Kookaburras or the Matildas) winning the Cup, at best they might sneak out of the group. They are, however, expected to win Big Brother 10.
Right , I’m off to practice my long throw-ins... seeing if I can toss my empty bottles into the recycling bin without leaving the safety of the couch.
I’ll see some of you lucky people very soon,
H