A serious bit

The Lovely S is not a happy bunny.

She is a combination of angry and frustrated.

She gets angry and because she gets angry she becomes frustrated because she is unable to deal with her anger; has to bottle it all up inside – until she can get home where I can sit and listen and talk and we discuss and eventually, after some time, sometimes quite a lot of time, we cuddle and smile and agree that yes, people really are stupid fcukwits who don’t know better but really should.

People treat The Lovely S as though she’s a lowly serf – a know nothing sack of sh*t not fit to shine their shabby, chavvy shoes let alone be worthy of being treated as an equal.

But the truth is that The Lovely S is several million times better than the people they will ever be.

No-one should be treated the way some – not all, not by any means – members of the public treat The Lovely S. 

And her workplace – they treat that as if they personally own the building and everything inside it.

Why do people do that?

Anyway.

The Lovely S is, as I’ve said, an unhappy, frustrated – and just a little angry – person.

That’s not the person she is.

Normally The Lovely S is a beautiful, delicate, sensitive, compassionate, caring person capable of bursting in to tears at the softest, emotional thing.

And she’s fearsomely intelligent too, have I mentioned this?

I think I must have; how I fell in love with her intellect weeks before we met?

She’s not normally the hard-arsed, intolerant, staring-eyed sweary person that she was earlier this evening when she wrote this.

I’ve fed her – she needed that.

I’ve listened to her (and I sympathise).

But now it’s time to take her to bed, to cuddle her, tell her how much I love her and to tell her once again that some people really are sh*ts.

And we can cuddle up in bed, watch Big Brother (cringingly) or read.

I shall kiss her and by degrees she’ll get back to her normal self.

My poor lovely S.

B.

Get up you lazy sod!

You!

Yes you in the green bathrobe; sitting there on the couch. Expression like a half-intelligent zombie while you’re bashing away at that laptop.

Haven’t you got a million things to do, f’crissake?

You’ve got a horse to exercise – prior to competing in Gloucestershire with him tomorrow.

You’ve got to drive down the motorway then walk and learn a cross-country course (see above).

You’ve got to run through your final pre-competition check-lists and load the lorry.

And your in-laws are coming at 2-ish, staying for tea and you’re cooking!

And you haven’t done the shopping yet, have you?  No, I knew you hadn’t.

You haven’t even taken your lovely wife breakfast in bed yet – haven’t even made breakfast yet!

Idle, that’s what you are; bone bloody idle.

Now get cracking before I tell everyone how you’ve been sitting there wasting time for the last two hours.

Go on, get a bloody move on.

🙂

B.

The welfare of the child is paramount

This is a quote from a piece of legislation that is the centrepiece of English and Welsh childcare legislation: The Children Act (1989) as updated in 2004 under the Every Child Matters guidance.

The Children Act (1989) sets the legislative framework for a number of childcare policies that were already established case-, statute- or common-law.

It brought together and formalised a number of assumptions regarding childcare rules – and went on to establish diverse standards that would be applied within a regulatory framework.

What was new was the one simple statement which became a pivotal, doctrinal mantra for childcare: ‘The welfare of the child is paramount’.

Unfortunately this statement of imperative has been continually eroded since it was enacted; as if it were a large block of cheese persistently nibbled by an ever growing mischief of mice (details on request).

But one Rotherham-based GP – Dr Matt Capehorn – wants to put the welfare of the child back at the forefront of parental and legal thinking.

Dr Capehorn, who runs a paediatric obesity clinic, feels that parents who allow their children to become obese should be removed from the job.

Have their children taken in to care.

Dr Capehorn argues that obesity is a child protection issue; believes that parents who allow their children to become obese are killing them slowly.

But obesity is a growing problem.

So shouldn’t we be treating the cause of the problem?

Hmm…

What to do?

How about…

* Reinstituting competitive sports in schools
* Putting phys ed back on the compulsory timetable
* Forming a national programme of sporting disciplines
* Ensuring children have six-monthly weight checks (not BMI, that system is plainly broken)
* Compulsory six-monthly fitness examinations for children

Yes, let’s start there.

Of course then we’ll have to deal with the parents who think feeding crap to their children is a good idea.

Off with their heads?
B.

Sometimes I live a simple life

Today I:

Backed up my laptop (complete not incremental)

Backed up The Lovely S’s laptop (same procedure)

Backed up my iPod

Backed up the static html and all content on the website

Backed up the MySQL database, php-scripts and CSS that makes this Blog

Backed up all posts and comments

Downloaded and installed an additional layer of Anti-spam clevery-stuff

Moved my MP3 and MP4 files off my laptop hard disk on to my half-terabyte external hard disk (thus creating almost 10Gb of free space on my laptop. Yay!)

Set my iTunes software to look for all music on the external hard disk as a default

Took The Lovely S a cup of tea and breakfast in bed

Got in to bed for another hour or so and read

And cuddled

Got up, did getting up then getting dressed things

Made a picnic

Drove in to Bromsgrove, minor shopped

I mean we only shopped for a couple of items, not that we went shopping for any minors

As if!

Shivver

Went to the coffee bar and ahem ate carrot cake, drank hot chocolate and read The Daily Telegraph

Just like being back in Iceland, but without the Telegraph

Went to the park, found an excellent sitting down spot, spread our wings (and things) and sat

And read

And picnicked

And people watched

And chortled at what we saw

Then read some more

Cuddled

Stroked

Read a bit more

Came home

Washed, changed

Started writing this post

Drove to Worcester

Walked about town for a while

Went to the cinema

Watched The Simpsons (The Movie)

Laughed and held hands while doing it

Came home

Ate toast, drank hot chocolate (yes, more!)

Finished this blog post

Shut down the computer (this is a prediction)

Went to bed (ditto)

Fell asleep in the arms of a beautiful woman (bit of a dead cert!)

See?

Today I lived a simple life.

But it’s been fun.
B.

Meanwhile, over in Spain

Daughter reports…

She’s going to Cadiz.

Camping.

To a very special water park.

Is it the one where they film the children’s television programme La Banda? I ask.

Oh, Dad!

Bullseye.

🙂

And she’s going to try out as a Majorette, just as soon as they’ve tracked down where this thing occurs – Juviles or Cadiar or maybe somewhere else.

She’s enjoying her school holidays – and thinks she’s done well in her examinations.

I’m sure she has, she’s bright.

I’d love to get over there to see her but there’s two chances of that happening right now; slim and no – and slim’s just left town.

Oh well.

Soon as I can then.

Brennig.

Candles in the wind…

sniff

Phone call to Daughter.

sniff

She is unwell.

sniff

She has a runny nose and it’s sore.

sniff

But (bless) she’s determined that it won’t stop her from going to school tomorrow.

How so??

Because the school year is almost finished in Spain and prior to the start of three months summer holiday(!) it’s a big school Fiesta tomorrow.

Apparently she’s taking chicken sandwiches (every pupil takes at least one food ‘thing’).

She didn’t get her carnivore tastes from me.

Brennig.