Accentuate the positive...

Isn't the internet a fascinating construction of modern time? Just when your addled brain think it can't remember the theme tune to some bizarre 1970's cartoon you used to watch, a quick search on one of the many search engines will allow you to transport yourself back in time to the halcyon days of youth. And sweets. And "pizza pies" (I cringe when I recall my mother presenting the family with the congealed circular, flat object from the oven and proudly announcing the arrival of the pizza pie. "Topping? What topping?!! That's how the Italians eat them, you know. Now get eating!". Ah, happy days).

Anyway, where was I? Ahh, yes. Going back in time. This evening I have discovered bizarre clips form Star Trek, old Bing Crosby Christmas songs and the wonderful Peter Sellers singing 'A Hard Day's Night' in the style of Richard III / Laurance Olivier. Oh yes, and 'Zip a de doo dah'. I shall retire to bed a happy man.

The children, principally Matthew, adores it. So far the tutelage of my eldest son has gone according to plan. As an aficionado of Doctor Who (I know, sorry, I did undergo medical intervention but it didn't work) I have successfully engendered a knowledge of the series from 1963 to the present day into my small person's brain with surprising efficiency and speed.

How surreal that he can now correct his father, mother and, indeed, anyone else who would care to be told when they get the name or number of whichever incarnation of the Doctor is currently on screen. His fascination with the series is almost obsessive and, frankly, goes way beyond my intended teachings. I've created a monster...What have I done. One day he will be the third Doctoer, all white hair and driving an imaginary yellow roadster (this role now latterly appointed to Gran who does, allegedly, have hair like the third doctor, according to Matthew) the next, he is the fifth doctor. He has his own walking stick (at his request, I kid you not) so he can be the first doctor and also an umbrella to be the seventh... The other boys and girls in the nursery are most confused, especially when the wendy house is commandeered as his Tardis.

Well, they may be confused now but imagine how impressed they'll be this next year when the new series of Doctor Who is showing and Matthew will be able to point out that he is the ninth doctor and...blah..blah...blah... You get the picture. Oh how proud am I.

One of my oldest friends (in all ways, hehe) has kindly sent me information on how to get my own web address. I'm going to investigate how I might move this blog to a more appropriate web site. I'm truly grateful to him; it means that there's even more to this blogging thing to consider.... Hmm, I've just noticed that the use of the word "blogging" in the last sentence sounded like a pseudo-swear word. Interesting. Very blogging interesting.

And so to bed. Don't mess with Mr In-between.

Bob the Builder

I write this to the strains of one of the children's alleged favourite videos blaring on our tv/video combi in my nearby bedroom... Ooh, I can't wait for them to grow into some decent programes hehe... Maybe then we can all enjoy a good episode of Newsnight or Question Time.

So, today. Well, it happened. Am delighted it's over and I'm back home. Work was busy - meetings in and out of the office. Needless to say I slept in. Deliberately. Then I ambled around various meetings feigning interest in some and, to my surprise, having interest in others. Bought lunch; as it was so cold outside I actually made time for lunch and bought myself some hot sustenance (lentil soup and macaroni cheese) which I later ate cold as I got caught up in a chat with people about something or other in the office. I'm not 'fully engaged' at work at the moment, which is a shame as it's so incredibly busy.

I'm permanently distracted by things and suffering from extreme paranioa and insecurity. I'm sure of that, I think.

Came home to a family filled with the dreaded lurgy. Oh dear, fractious little boys, full o f green gloop. Poor things. And now? Dinner, if we can ever decide what to cook. No wine tonight. Had too much last night, began to imagine that I was Keith Floyd (or at least sharing his liver).

And so to our next course...

In the beginning

There was me. And here I am. What are these blog things anyway? My god, you'd think after all these years I would have a) known what a blog is and b) realised that I didn't need to have one in order to feel fulfilled as a human being. And yet.... here I am. This is the beginning.

It's a dreary Sunday (aren't all Sundays, by definition, dreary?) and I'm viewing, with no small sense of despondency, the prospect of the week ahead. Oh yes, I forgot you don't know anything about me yet. Well, I'm married with two beautiful sons (I know, all parents say that their children are beautiful but in this case, of course, it's true) and I live in Scotland*.

*Invaluable lesson for those not from Europe - Scotland is one of the four countries that comprise the United Kingdom. It is not independent from the other three countries but it does have its own laws and Parliament. This parliament was restored in 1999 following almost 300 years of being governed centrally by the Westminster Parliament in London, England. Never presume that Scotland is a part of England.

I work an inordinate amount of time, for reasonable financial reward, undertaking lots of travelling, pointless meetings and engaging in conversations about things which neither party has any particular interest in but it does rather pass the time of day. Beyond work, I involve myself in far too much messing about on the internet, drinking either a) lots of alcohol or b) lots of water, somehow missing out on time with my family even though I'm in the same house as them and watching television (It's addictive, I'm convinced. Something to do with radiation...). The drinking lots of a) or b) is also addictive. However, it's cause is completely associated with guilt - in term of a) the guilt is about not doing enough at work and/or at home. In terms of b) it's about having undertaken option a) a lot.

Well, there you are, I'm a thirty-something (now that would be telling!) Scottish male with a penchant for the ridiculous turn of phrase and, oh yes, a really, really nice family. More on this later. Welcome to the story so far...