So very British

Hanna: What do we do!?
Arya: WE DRINK!

It was one of those situations, you know? We were having breakfast at Chiquito's, the service was slow as the chef was late in arriving, and the order was off, so the manager said: "It's on the house."

Shit.

I'm not prepared for this. I don't know what to do. I'd struggle to complain if I were truly hacked off at them, but drop a free meal on me for a few minor inconveniences (the meal was still very good) and I'm lost. Hanna was no better. I was sweating; she started to hyperventilate as the manager asked if we wanted anything else; all on the house.

Order food that we know we don't need to pay for? That's... That's like inviting us to steal, isn't it? I don't think we could have asked for anything else if we'd wanted it.

And how do you leave? You can't ask for a bill, so what's your procedure. We just had no experience to help us deal with this.

We are so goddamn British.

Life, it's what you make it

I was initially a little grumpy about the price, but this is definitely 95p
worth of toast. (I may have had, like, no pictures to put on this.)

I'm a big one for routine, I can not deny it; a creature of habit. I like my morning cuppa, my early Friday home time and Sunday brunch with Hanna and Arya.

But there is more to life than routine, so I am super excited at the prospect of a family weekend away. It's at Alton Towers, so it's not cheap, but it's mostly all in and we get to take Arya to CBeebies Land, which ought to be a hit. It's likely to be pretty nerve wracking keeping an eye on her in the crowds, but it should be a good weekend all told.

Less awesomely, we missed the renewal letter for Arya's swimming classes, which means we'll be canceling from next term, not this term. It's a shame, because it would ease off Sunday mornings a lot and I was kind of hoping to put that money into the holiday.On the other hand, it's not like we were planning to stop taking her swimming. Having got her into a bath last weekend without any tears, I'm keen not to let her get out of the habit of water.

Medkit, 40K style.

Other new things on the horizon are making my own kit for No Rest for the Wicked (embroidery by Hanna) and modding Nerf guns for same. I'm currently creating a book and stocking a medkit, for which I have picked up 100 centrifuge vials and 100 plastic syringes, and plan to get some paper and sherbet or something to make some patented powders.

Actual Father's Day!

This weekend was actual Father's Day. I could probably have got a free beer in Chiquito's, if I drank. As it was, I got a copy of Pacific Rim, which may deserve a Bad Movie Marathon review on the same grounds as Fury Road (vis, that whether it's any good or not, it has the aesthetic of a cheesy B-movie.)

Aside from the things with Arya, recounted elsewhere, the big news this weekend was that Hanna and I met Andrew's new girlfriend Sam, and managed not to spook her into fleeing, which is a plus.

We also picked up our residents' passes for Ely Cathedral, so we can now get in for free, rather than pushing £20 a head. Aside from its general impressiveness, we were interested in the cathedral because of its links to the King's School Ely, a private school that we are more than idly considering. In theory at least I am a supporter of the state system, but it turns out that theory and practice diverge somewhat when I'm choosing between Arya studying by the National Literacy Strategy in a class of 40 children ranging from the perfectly lovely to firestarters and from highly able and significant;y challenged in a school with no ability to provide suitably differentiated learning without inducing a constant procession of teacher breakdowns, or taking an equestrian PE option in a class of 20.

I guess my feeling is that this sort of education should absolutely be available to all, but as it's not... Family does things to your inner liberal socialist that aren't always pretty.

The impossibility of plumbers

Plumbers. What's up with them?

Even the plumber who offers a 24 hour call out service can't install a simple shower until August, maybe September.

This is Andrew's Father's Day
card...

...and this is mine. I'm not sure
how to take this.

This means that I still don't have a shower, although I do at least have confirmation that what I have is a power shower, so I could in theory buy one and fit it myself, if I felt lucky. I mean, it's water and electricity, but how hard could it be?

In other news, Andrew and I got our Father's Day cards on Sunday, which in retrospect is odd because it isn't Father's Day until next weekend (which at least makes me feel better about not calling my Dad.) The cards in question appear to show a dramatic divergence of regard, although I know that actually I got the one I did because it has a pun in it.

All Quiet

You may have noticed - or not - that I've not updated this blog in a couple of weeks. This basically means that I'm all about the work and the baby, so either anything I've done to talk about is covered in my other blogs, or I'm too tired to remember it.

Sleepy

It's difficult to take selfies with a
baby. In this case I couldn't get one
where we were both smiling.

Okay, so 'sleepy' could be the title of most of my posts, but what can I say; I'm sleepy, and it was that or bitch about the fact that someone bumped into me on the way into work and slopped the water of their umbrella down my neck.

Not much to report from the me side of my life at the moment. I'm mostly muddling through, trying to clear the yard a bit so we can plant some plants and use it as an outdoor area in the nice weather. I had planned to try and put in a sort of conservatory/dining room, but the money isn't there for that, so veggies and breathing room will have to do.

At the weekend I'm taking Arya to see her grandparents while Hanna and Andrew are at Empire. I do need to book up for August's No Rest, but I need to sort transport before I can commit. There's a lot of this sort of hmm-haw in my life at the moment.

Plumbing the Depths

It's been a bit of a week for plumbing. I've had a week's holiday from home with Hanna and Arya, which has been glorious, if incredibly exhausting, but all manner of things have gone wrong in the plumbing department (that of the house, thankfully, not my own plumbing, which would be grimmer.)

"Can I take it to the bridge!"

First, the washing machine died the death. £400 to replace it (including installation and disposal of the old one.) Hanna is waiting in today for them to come and deliver; I hope they get there early, so that she can take Arya to the playground while the weather remains good. This is a possibility now that I have finally found a playground in my home town. I've only been there a year (although in my defence a lot of the play equipment is newer than that.)

Actually, first the main sewer backed up, it's just taken longer to get that sorted. I contacted the ground landlord and have now had a look in the manholes (thanks to the father and partner of one of the other leaseholders, who came over with crowbars) and Anglian Water is allegedly on the case. The progress on this was slowed by the fact that the third leaseholder apparently doesn't communicate much*, and a fire alarm from the third floor flat has prompted the Fire Brigade to direct us to put in an integrated alarm system at no-doubt exorbitant cost (which enlivened conversation with the leaseholder no end, as the tenant and agent had never mentioned this.)

Then the washing machine, which has meant two trips to Martlesham to do laundry. Actually, the one on Thursday was for Hanna to vote, although both of our constituencies stuck predictably with the Blue Meanies. I can't say that the result of the election doesn't fill me with a sick sense of dread, but I'm trying not to let it get to me. I do feel that it's time I got more politically active, however, perhaps because I've got my daughter's future to consider now.

You may recall I said we wanted to
take her to see the diplodocus.

This morning, the shower broke, by which I mean 'made grinding noises and emitted smoke'. I don't know what this is going to set me back yet. I need to persuade a plumber to come in largely on spec to check the connections and tell me what I need to buy. It feels almost cheeky asking.

On the upside, we've been to the Natural History Museum, found that playground, spent time as a family and finally beaten Pandemic (fuck you, global viral Armageddon!)

Ultimately, I am torn between my belief that money is fundamentally unimportant to the pursuit of happiness, and the stark reality that while money can't make you happy, lack of it is pretty miserable, especially when you need to make the mortgage every month. I know in my heart that all I need to be a good father is to love my daughter and be an emotional support for her in times of trouble, but I also want to provide for her** and clothe and house her and sometimes buy her books without worrying about eating for the rest of the week.

In the long run, what matters to me is my daughter. In the short term,  however, having a livable house is no small thing.

Hey ho. I can wash at work, and at least I will have a very shiny washing machine.

* Or indeed at all, preferring to route everything through a solicitor who seems to expect us to pay her for the services for which her client is presumably already being billed.
** In collaboration with Hanna and Andy, I'm not trying to be some sort of sole breadwinner.