The End Of One Thing, The Start Of Another

I have realised that my titles this month, as well as being good titles for Christmas stories (as planned) could actually work as Chapter headings in one big story. So I might set myself the challenge of writing that story, using those chapter headings, before Christmas 2023. But I've said about doing that sort of thing before, and not done it. It's a lovely idea, but I doubt I'll follow through on it.
Anyway - with this posting, I successfully achieve my challenge of writing a different number of blogs in each calendar month of 2022. So, that's something I can be proud of.
But what else can I be proud of, then, you ask? Well, I successfully navigated my way through a first full calendar year in my job, and I helped my young son successfully navigate his way through another year of life, and I helped my wife successfully navigate her way through another pregnancy and childbirth, so how about that?
I think that's more than enough for one year.

RC 31-12-22

Bravely Back to Base Camp

Well, hello.
It feels like months since I wrote anything in this blog, yet I suspect it was probably only five days or so ago. I hope you are having a wonderful Christmastime, and I shall try very hard not to repeat things that I have said at this time of year in times past.

Our Yuletide plans did not go off without a hitch. Sister Sophie cleverly tested positive for Covid on the 23rd, and our newest family member (he being young Rian, newly of this parish) was alarmingly poorly on Christmas Eve and had to be taken to a walk-in clinic to be checked out. That's life, though, right? Nothing was ruined, the world didn't end, it was still a nice Christmas, and it isn't over yet. Sophie is now clear of the lurgy, but has timed it perfectly to coincide with her return to work duties, so we still can't see her. But that's fine. We now have an excuse for another family get-together, and it means we can have another (delayed) Christmas Day in January. We adapt plans, we make the best of it, and we don't consider these setbacks a punishment from God or let them dampen our moods. 

That's how we roll in the Chesworth clan. 

Rian is absolutely fine, by the way. Babies get affected differently by bugs and this was just an unfriendly encounter with one of the many colds that is floating around society this Winter. I don't imagine for one second that we are the only family to have suffered some illness-related disruptions this December.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Mathew has several new Lego kits that he needs some help with (thank you, Santa!).

RC 29-12-22

Growing and Glowing

I was thinking, after what I wrote at the end of Mathew's birthday, that actually the existence of this blog has given me a wonderful opportunity to record lots of information about his early years, which he could then read online at a later date. And then I felt guilty that I hadn't been doing that since Day One - leaving him a digital daily update of his life and how it changed. And then I thought 'Well, I can start from now!' but then I realised that was putting huge pressure on myself, and I should just stick to using this blog the way I have been for the past 15 years (or however long it is; I lose track). 

It is an amazing thing to reflect on though - just how much Mathew has changed in his 4 years so far, and the fact that Rian is embarking on a similar journey. It's quite sweet to speculate on what they'll both be like in another 4 years. All I know is, it'll happen before I know it. One undeniable truth about being a parent is that it speeds time up immensely. How is it FOUR YEARS since I wrote and told you I had become a dad? It makes me even more determined to enjoy every single second of their childhoods, and to embrace every change as it comes along.

 

And I'd like to leave a couple of December blog spaces free to report back after The Big Day, so I'm going to leave things there or risk running over my allotted 12 entries for the month (to ensure I complete my 2022 Blog Challenge, which I often doubted I would achieve!). So, this will be the last time you hear from me before the 25th. So - from everyone in my house to everyone in your house - A Very Merry Christmas with Lots of Love (and there are now FOUR of us, so that's a lot of extra love this year!)

RC 22-12-22

A Magical Morning

Today was wonderful. It was the first time that Mathew seemed to understand what was going on with his birthday, and he loved being the centre of attention and he loved diving into his presents. We did think about putting them under the Christmas tree, but then we didn't want to confuse the two occasions, or to put any thoughts into his head about how Father Christmas seems to arrange gifts in exactly the same way mum and dad do... Maybe overthinking that, but overthinking is what we do as parents sometimes, and what I do frequently as an individual. The thing is - moving forwards - we really want his birthday to always be a special, separate event from the Yuletide festivities. I know several people with birthdays at this time of year, and it's so easy for their birthdays to get lost in the general frivolousness of December, forgetting that for the central person involved, it's a different sort of celebration (or should be, at least).
Both my sisters were able to come over as well, which was amazing. We're seeing them next weekend for our Chesworth Christmas Cornucopia of Collective Christmasness, but it's lovely of them to make the effort to see The Special Guy on His Special Day. They lathered him with love and played with him until he was pooped. He went to bed exhausted - after a story from Auntie Sophie - and the rest of us drank tea and chatted until barely half an hour ago. Fantastic.
Mathew may not remember this day in detail, but I sure will. A thoroughly brilliant birthday.

RC 20-12-22

Whitescape

We drove over to Ted and Beryl today, and it was like driving through a Christmas card. We had thought about calling it off and staying at home in the warm, but we do need to start getting Rian used to the car (and getting us used to loading everything we need to transport a baby and a 4-year-old), so we ignored the threat of icy roads and ventured out. I'm so glad we did. The roads were clear and safe, and the scenery was absolutely beautiful.
Beryl had baked enough treats to keep 17 schools in snacks for at least a week. She's no longer up to doing the big feasts with twelve courses that keep her in the kitchen for days on end, but she can still churn out a meal fit for a king. (Or three kings, to be more seasonal).
Despite the presence of The Little One, Mathew was undoubtedly the focus of attention all afternoon, with his birthday being just two days away. Ted and Beryl are sort-of Grandparents-by-default and they spoiled Mathew as if he was one of their own large brood.
I watched the first half of the World Cup Final with Ted and then we headed home to have a settled evening here before the frost set in again. Ted was funny because he couldn't decide who he wanted to win, because he can't decide who he hates more between France and Argentina. Personally, I had to root for the South Americans because - if you remember - I tipped them to win from the very beginning! Maybe I should get into the world of sports betting, because even though I based my predictions purely on which shirts I liked, I seem to have done as well as many professional tipsters, and better than most!
I have to be honest, though, and say that I'm sitting here, several hours after the match was due to finish, and I still can't tell you who won. Such is my interest in the original version of the game of football. The American version, however, I love dearly, so if you will excuse me, Sky Sports NFL is calling....

RC 18-12-22

The Inside Physics of an Igloo

We have our staff Christmas party (of sorts) today. I'm a bit nervous because I organised it all, and being made responsible for the end-of-year enjoyment for a group of disparate employees feels like being on a hiding to nothing. There's bound to be someone disgruntled who uses the event as an opportunity to air their grievances, there's bound to be someone who takes to the free bottle of wine a bit too enthusiastically and ends up needing assistance, and there's bound to be grumblings about 'why couldn't we just have a bonus?' when I'm asking them to pull their crackers. Or maybe I'm just projecting negatively unnecessarily, and the whole thing will go off without a hitch and be enjoyed by all-and-sundry. As I said earlier this week on this very blogsite - 'most of our worries are wasted', so maybe I should just chill out, let it all happen, and trust that I have covered all bases successfully, and that my efforts will be appreciated by my colleagues....

RC 16-12-22

Trembling Fingers

Well, I survived my Frosty Drive Through Icy Hell yesterday, and actually it was quite pleasant. Gavin managed to get everything done by 6pm, so I was able to drive after the busiest time of the evening and before the coldest part of the night. The roads nearer home were starting to glisten and get a bit worrying, but the main part of the journey was a doddle. I got to listen to a few Christmas tunes, and a podcast about the NFL, and it was all very enjoyable and uneventful. Just goes to show - most of our worries are wasted.

Gavin was in buoyant mood, and was more focused than I expected. I'm so used to seeing him lost in his own ambitions, trying to filter his thoughts through a disorganised mind that is whirring with nineteen different ideas, that a short meeting with him can be exhausting. But he knew exactly what he wanted to discuss; he had a planned agenda and didn't deviate from it at all. It felt very professional and surprisingly productive.

He's still very excited about his project in Devon, but is aware that he has taken on something that might not be salvageable, and is aware that his enthusiasm may have ridden roughshod over his business acumen when he made the decision to invest in it. There were lots of other things discussed, which I shall not go into, but the basic conclusion I came away with is that I may end up having more items placed on my managerial To Do list in the New Year. I'm not particularly happy about that, but I said I'd give it some consideration and take on what I could, while his Shiny New Toy is distracting him from his Suffolk sites.

RC 14-12-22

Colder Air

My absentee boss Gavin, erstwhile of this parish, has, in his infinite wisdom, asked me to meet him in Peterborough this afternoon for a meeting. He is still spending lots of his time down in the South-West, working on his shiny new project with the site down there, but he's also trying to keep an eye on the Suffolk Coast aspect of his empire, and for some reason it's fallen on me to provide an update, and for some reason he wants it face-to-face. One would have thought that we might take advantage of the many video-calling facilities that became so prevalent during the pandemic, but apparently not.
I suppose, reluctantly, I can admit to admiring his determination to stick to the old-fashioned ways, but I can also admit my frustration at being asked to drive nearly two hours on a day when the temperature is barely expecting to get above freezing, in a week when the icy surfaces have barely started to show a hint of melting.
In years gone by it wouldn't have bothered me, but I do find myself apprehensively checking the weather updates and dreading the drive back after dark. Maybe it's an age thing, or maybe being a responsible parent has led me to give more consideration to my own safety, lest my young 'uns be left with just their mum to provide for them. Or maybe it's the constant doom-laden, scaremongering bullshit that passes for British TV journalism these days brainwashing me into believe everything is a catastrophic crisis, so the merest hint of frost has me reacting like I'm about to drive into a ravine.
Either way, I thought I'd post this now in case I'm dead by the end of the day.

RC 13-12-22

The Journey North

 We're seeing Ted and Beryl next weekend for a pre-Christmas feast-up. They invited us over for Boxing Day, but we'll be locked into a Chesworth Siblings Christmas Get-Together Special, so they insisted we venture their way before, rather than after, The Big Day. It'll be amazing, I'm sure. Beryl is aging noticeably but still seems to become sprightly when she's in a kitchen. She shows her love for people by feeding them, and any arthritic aches, rheumatic pains or general giddiness gets shoved aside by her psychological need to be cooking. I'm sure there's some kind of beneficial alternative therapy that could be established based on this phenomenon. Teaching people to ignore their ailments by giving them complicated recipes and a large group of people to feed. 'Bake Yourself Better' we could call it...

Every car journey continues to be an icy adventure. We're in proper Winter mode now, and I'm pleased to say it's not bothering me. The house is well heated, and we're not dragging The Little One out into the cold air, so there's no concern about him getting a chill. Mathew is enjoying the change of colour in the garden, mainly because our lawn is now looking exactly like the picture on his advent calendar, so he's convinced we live at the North Pole. I'm not going to convince him otherwise. I think an important aspect of parenthood is encouraging your children's imagination, and if I correct his flights of fancy when he's under five, what hope is there of him thinking creatively later in life?

RC 12-12-22

A Sprinkling of Snow

I have decided that the rest of my December blog postings will all have titles that make them sound like Christmas stories. (starting today).

I have an idea to help with the cost-of-living crisis. Martin Lewis should take all the money he's made from his extra TV appearances, articles and interviews and divide it up among every family in Britain. I'm sure we'd all benefit hugely. 

And I promise that's the last time I'll mention him.

 

This may have been the coldest weekend I can ever remember. So frosty, so foggy, so icy.  It has been scary and awe-inspiring and beautiful in equal measures and I have to admit I have loved it.

RC 11-12-22

Pre-Xmas Haiku

Well, December already seems determined to race by us with the same unfathomable speed that the previous couple of months have done. More than a week's worth of Advent doors open already? Christmas Eve two weeks from tomorrow? 2023 just a hop, skip and a jump away?
Madness.
Incessant, unceasing, chronological madness.

 

Advent calendars

A sure way to remind you

How quick your life moves

RC 9-12-22

Early Advent Ramblings

A few things I have noted down this week (and then forgotten to blog about!)

I overshot in November, which means I won't be covering all the numbers 12-23 inclusively with my Blog Challenge this year. Ah, well - that's a small consideration alongside the fact that I might actually achieve the original challenge (of a different number each month). 

Plus, it was very satisfying to reach the end of Nov with EXACTLY 200 postings published. 

 

I am pleased to report that The Christmas Cheer has finally entered my system and I am feeling all festive and frivolous! I was starting to worry that it wasn't going to appear this year at all, but now I'm up and running with it and there's still a good two weeks of pre-Christmas Yuleness to enjoy and milk to its driest.

 

Our tree is now up and decorated! Mathew keeps running over and punching the baubles to make them swing, which I can only see ending badly one way or another. There's tinsel a-plenty, and a lovely picture of Mathew at the top, sitting in the middle of a lovely silver star, which was a little craft activity he did at playgroup this week. 

 

I am already fed up with driving home in darkness.

RC 5-12-22

11 down, 1 to go

So another page of the calendar is about to be turned. Another month is about to be consigned to the history books. A month in which the Chesworth Clan grew in number by one, and I managed to keep my 2022 Blog Challenge simmering along nicely.  I hate to sound old, but this year really has flown by like a bee flying by a window. It has swept past like a broom sweeping past a cupboard as it deals with some spilt potpourri. It has crashed over us like a wave crashing over a sandcastle, leaving us soaked in its essence and wondering what happened to the construction we built at low tide.
None of that makes sense, but that's nothing new in this blog.

December is always a busy month for us, of course. Wedding anniversary, Mathew's birthday, big family Christmas stuff, but as I alluded to in yesterday's posting, I'm approaching it all without my usual superfluous enthusiasm. I don't know why, and I don't want to keep going on about it, but I'm just not up to Feeling Festive. I'll probably blame Climate Change (as I do for most things). It still feels like early Autumn and so my pretty little brain is confused and is not entirely sure what month it is. Plus - there is the small matter of the recent pandemic (don't know if you remember that!) so this is the first year since 2019 that our Winter has not been affected by lockdowns, or variants, or restrictions, etc, and so I am trying to experience a familiar feeling that actually hasn't been around for over three years. I wouldn't call myself a creature of habit, but maybe the lack of repetition over these recent times HAS reset my internal calendar and paused my usual Yuletide exuberance. I also changed careers during that period, so that's affected things too. AND we have a new baby!
Or maybe I'm just tired and overthinking things - which, let's be honest, IS a habit of this particular creature.
Well... whatever... see you in December!!!

RC 30-11-22

When do we put the tree up?

I love a Christmas tree and I like to have them up for as long as possible, to brighten the Winter darkness and keep us feeling cosy, but I'm not sure I'm anywhere near being close to being ready to get it out of the attic and decorate it.
I'm just not in the mood yet, and I don't really want to force it.
Christmas is a state of mind, not a date, and my brain just hasn't kicked into that festive mode yet. I'm still wishing it was beach weather and pining for evening barbecues, I'm not ready to embrace the onset of Winter and accept that it's almost Advent.
I know I'll get there eventually. It may even happen when we're well into December and only see me Full-On Christmassy for a fortnight. It may even hit me as late as Christmas Eve, when I'm sorting presents for the little ones and not having to think about work for a week or so. Part of me feels disappointed, but part of me isn't too bothered. It will happen when it happens, it will be what it will be, and in the meantime I'll just get on with life and continue to be annoyed by the incessant onslaught of Christmas adverts that seem to be plaguing the airwaves, channels and internet.

RC 29-11-22

reflections on the World Cup

Bear in mind before reading this, that I have not watched even one minute of the FIFA World Cup....
So, everything you are about to read has been fabricated in my imagination, while laying awake at night, and is in no way an accurate reflection of the tournament currently taking place in Qatar: (although I do think no.9 is probably on the money...)

 

1. I really like Germany's decision to ditch their traditional kit in favour of bright pink tutus.

2. My favourite goal of the tournament so far is when the Qatari left-back scored a back-heel volley from the halfway line.

3. ITV's decision to use drunk convicts as commentators has been a revelation.

4. I love the stadium that has been based on the design of a double-decker bus. The fact that the two halves of the pitch are on the two different decks has really made the matches interesting. 

5. Not sure I'm enjoying the rule that says all second half substitutes have to enter the field of play naked.

6. Interesting statistic - 93% of the South American managers have shaved eyebrows.

7. So engrossed am I in the group games that I have had to smoke 70 cigarettes a day just to keep myself awake enough to catch up with work. 

8. Having seen all 32 teams play at least once, my prediction for the final is that Cuba will meet Bolivia and win 7-6 after extra-time.

9. The real winners of this event, let's be honest, are the makers of haircare products for men. Some of these footballers have so much gunk in their hair it looks like they've swum through an oil spill.

10. Having Santa's elves as referees has added a festive flavour and nicely acknowledges the fact that this Cup has buggered up Christmas.

RC 28-11-22

Moany about money man

This may come across as bad-tempered and gitty, but I think my point is valid - 

If I could have my time all over again, I think I would follow the path of the TV 'money-saving expert' Martin Lewis and end up with his career. I don't know what special qualifications and experience he got in his earlier days, but it must be nice to make loads of money by 'advising' people who don't have any finances of their own. He must have a Hell of an agent, because he seems to have set himself up as The Ultimate Financial Guru and is now the go-to 'solving the cost of living crisis' guest on just about every media outlet in Britain.

And he doesn't even strike me as particularly impressive. His 'tips' seem to fall into three categories:

1. Things that should already be obvious to anyone with a modicum of intelligence.

2. Products and services that he has almost certainly been paid to endorse. 

3. Ideas that won't work if lots of people follow his advice and do them, as by their nature they can only be beneficial if only a few people can take advantage of them. 

I have nothing against him personally, I just don't like the fact that people are always looking outside their own intelligence and rational thinking for answers these days, instead of trusting their own abilities. Just because some reasonably-attractive middle-aged guy on telly is heralded as some kind of Economic Messiah, millions of slaves-to-their-mobiles Brits hang on his every word and jump on his every suggestion. 

So I guess - now I've typed it out and thought about it a bit more - this is yet another Rory Complaint about the state of Modern Society, rather than being anything about Martin Lewis and his particular made-up market that he has cornered.
But still - I'm sick of hearing his voice, and I'm sick of hearing his name mentioned in every office conversation ("Well, Martin Lewis said..."), and I'm sick of the term 'expert' being used for someone who always sounds like he's peddling a glorified pyramid scheme. 

  

If anyone fancies defending him, please feel free to do some research and tell me exactly how much money he has saved anyone with his cleverer-than-thou screen-grabbing appearances. 

 

Rant over...

RC 26-11-22

One week to Dec... WHAT??!?

We're deciding whether to introduce Mathew to the joys of advent calendars this year. We've tried to hold back as long as possible with most treaty stuff. We know that once sugar enters his life it will be a constant battle to limit his intake, so we've tried to leave it all as long as we can before introducing things like ice cream, chocolate buttons and licorice. But Christmas is Christmas, and Advent is Advent, and one of the joys of the Yuletide Season is a regular morning ritual of opening a window and indulging in whatever is found behind it, and I'm wondering whether 2022 is the year to introduce him to that particular annual pleasure...

I can't quite put my finger on why, but I ain't Feeling Festive yet. With only four weeks (and change) to go before The Big Day I would normally be as soaked in Christmas Cheer as my mother's liver used to be in alcohol, but that feeling hasn't materialised yet. The weather has been unseasonably warm, and we've had The New Arrival to distract us from Normal Life, so that may be part of it, but even so I am surprised at how little I am looking forward to the next month or so. I'm sure that will change at some point. I'm sure I will end up being more Christmassy than a drunk elf covered in tinsel. Or maybe I won't, and if I don't, that's fine too - every December can't be the same, or life would be repetitive and boring, would it not?

 

Speaking of 'repetitive' - you are welcome to your views on my children's names, but please feel free to stop mentioning those views to me, or my wife. YES - my eldest son has the middle name Ryan, and his younger brother has the first name Rian. So what? The former is an Americanised version of a European surname; the latter is the original Gaelic name meaning 'King'.  They are different names, and we have used them differently in each case. Deal with it. We're not the first parents to use names repetitively within families, and we won't be the last. I can't even promise you that, if we ever have another offspring (and I have to say, it's not something I'm considering right now), we won't use Rian AGAIN. There's a lovely female version, spelt Ryann, and I have to say I'm a big fan of the name RIANNE for a girl as well, so be warned. I might even do it just to annoy you....

RC 24-11-22

Happy JFK Death Anniversary Day

I'm not enjoying all this Winter rain, but I'm trying not to be influenced by the weather anymore, so I won't talk too much about that.  

My tip for the World Cup got off to a great start, didn't it? Argentina lost 2-1 to a team 50 places below them in the rankings, despite having the ball in the net FOUR TIMES in the first half.

(My God - it almost sounds like I know what I'm talking about!)

 

I have a worry that no-one wants to be a specialist in any chosen field anymore; they want to be 'that specialist who is also a YouTuber'. There must be 10,000 student doctors around the world who are also trying to carve out an online career by posting countless videos of themselves during their training. I do wish these people would just concentrate on learning what they need to learn to do their job properly, rather than focusing their efforts on becoming celebrities. 

 

On a less moany note, it is only a month until we pass The Shortest Day. The mild October and the birth of my second son have seen me relatively unaffected by the onset of The Darkness because I barely noticed 'twas upon us. Now, suddenly, I realise that it's only three months until we're back in BST, and that has put me in a very cheery mood this evening!

Shit - it's four months, not three.... But still....

 

A very large portion of the people that I dealt with today seemed to be in an incredibly positive frame of mind, and I can only ascribe it to the fine result achieved by the England football team yesterday. Even with my limited knowledge, I know that 6-2 is a pretty impressive outcome, and I am particularly delighted to discover that it is the only match in the history of all the World Cup tournaments to have ended with that scoreline. That satisfies my data/statistical/mathematics weirdness immensely.

RC 22-11-22

A crap poem, and a Monday plan

A frosty start
A bulging heart
Winter, like a splinter, hurts me

I don't think that is going to get any better if I try to continue it, so I'll bail out there.

Eight degrees Celsius is the anticipated high today, with the expectation of heavy rain showers this afternoon. I intend to spend as long as possible carrying out duties in my office, and as little time as possible venturing out and about.

RC 21-11-22

You won't get insight like this on Sky Sports...

Hard to believe that Rian is already two weeks old; but also equally hard to believe that he hasn't been part of our household for years! It's amazing how right it all feels, and how a family of four feels more full of love and more appropriate than a family of three. I wonder if this happens every time you create a new offspring, or whether there is an optimum number at which it starts to feel blase and repetitive? Is there a kind of exponential growth of joy, where each subsequent child boosts your levels of delight still further? Or would No.7 feel like an imposition and an inconvenience, rather than a welcome addition? I doubt Philippa and I will ever find out, because I don't think either of us is planning to hit anywhere near a half-dozen number of little ones!

 

I had a chat with Ted today about the World Cup, which kicks off soon (or probably already has, depending on when you read this). He had a very intelligent response to my suggestion that Argentina will win the tournament - "You're a twat."   

Apparently, according to Ted, Brazil have the best squad they've had for 20 years, and they have game-changers all over the pitch, while Argentina have defenders who are, apparently, "slower than Beryl's driving." 

So there you go. 

I don't quite understand the controversy about the armbands that the different team captains will be wearing in Qatar. But all I would say is that, in my humble understanding of the way the world works, you don't influence change in other cultures by swanning into their country, ignoring their beliefs, and forcing your own viewpoints on them regardless of how they might react. But what do I know?

RC 20-11-22

Confusing

Another beautiful afternoon. Cool, but in a pleasantly fresh way. I just had a nice walk around the site and if I wasn't aware of the time of year, I would have sworn it was an early Spring day. You know those ones when things are starting to bud, and everything's brighter, and the cold damp of Winter is finally starting to dissipate? That's what it felt like today, rather than an early-Winter, heading-for-darkness, glum affair like what old November's used to be like.
One day I will get used to all this seasonal change, I assure you. Or maybe, at least, one day, I'll stop boring the pants off you by blogging about it so frequently. 

 

We are doing a Zoom quiz with some of Philippa's sporty friends tonight. She hasn't been so active on the badminton (etc) front since throwing herself into Motherhood, but she still has some very good friends from that quarter who she meets up with regularly. This is the group from the sports club in North Norfolk that she knew for years before we headed South. Philippa isn't the only one who ventured away from the area, so every so often they like to all reconvene together online and make an evening of it. This time around, one of them has decided to host a Virtual Quiz Night (it's like being back in lockdown all over again, but I'm looking forward to it!)
I'm not sure how well we'll do as a team - Philippa is a bit frazzled, I'm only really useful on science, movies and the NFL, and Mathew will probably be asleep before we start. And as for Rian? Well, unless there are questions about nipples and shitting I don't think he'll be much help at all.

RC 19-11-22

Good To Be Out Of It

I realised today there is a World Cup of Football starting on Sunday. I mean - I knew already, but it has dropped in and out of my conscience because I haven't had to really think about it too much; and that's the wonderful thing about it. In the past, major sporting events - especially soccer ones - have caused a massive upturn in my workload because, in the world of supermarket retail, taking advantage of current events to maximise profits and squeeze a few extra pounds out of your poor customers is huge. Now - apart from agreeing to allow staff to decorate the bars with England flags and allowing them to take extended lunch breaks to watch lunchtime games - my life has been pretty unaffected.
Even to me, though - an uninterested, unsporty, unpatriotic man in his thirties - it feels weird that this is happening in Winter. It's a bit like me being expected to watch a Summer Super Bowl. It's just not right.
Anyway, for those of you who let their life be dominated by how well your chosen team is doing, I send you my best wishes for a successful tournament and an enjoyable Festival of Football (that isn't really a festival because it's happening in Winter, but let's not go on about that).
And if you're interested in placing a bet on the eventual winners, I have a couple of tips.
First, based solely on how much I like their kits, I'd put a pound or two on ARGENTINA.
Then, I found a 'World Cup Calculator' thing online that lets you predict what the result of each game will be, and then the algorithm works out for you what the rest of the tournament will look like. I did that this morning, rolling dice to determine the number of goals scored in each match by either team, and after doing that for all 64 games, in the group stages and knockout face, the country that won the final was SENEGAL.
Get on it...

RC 18-11-22

And now it's raining (hard!)

What a week. Bright sun Monday, dull and cold Tuesday, and now it's raining like God's bathroom has sprung a leak.
I don't want to go on about the weather, as I think I've promised several times over the past few years to stop doing that completely, but if you asked me to rank my meteorological preferences, days like today would be very, very low on the list. Low cloud, everything dull, wetter than a sweating clownfish. I hate it. 

 

In other news, the 'Is It Too Early For Christmas Tunes' debate seems to be dominating every aspect of life. Is there really nothing more important to worry about at the moment? I guess it's a nice distraction from Autumn budgets, and 'crisis this' and 'crisis that' and 'imminent accidental nuclear holocaust' and what have you, but does it really have to be such a big thing? Two people in the office want to have a Spotify Xmas playlist going in the background, but two others want to leave it until we're well into December. As one remarked "If I start hearing Mariah chuffing Carey in November, I'll be going on a killing spree long before Christmas Eve."  One of the cafe managers on one of the smaller sites wants to decorate and 'start the festive feeling ahead of our family fun days' while his chef has said he'll quit if a tree turns up before Saturday December 10th. I'm trying to let them sort it out amongst themselves, but that isn't working, so I've decided to turn the final word over to Gavin, 'so we have an all-encompassing company-wide policy that covers all departments and therefore generates a consistent outward-facing attitude and image to the public'. (Copyright 'Rory Wankspeak Ltd' 2022) 

Normally, I'd be right in there by now, stirring up Yuletide excitement and reminding everyone that it'll all be over before we know it and we should make the most of it, but I'm not really feeling that way this year.  Autumn has been so mild that it just doesn't feel close to Christmas yet. And - you know - having a wee baby in the house tends to take your attention away from upcoming dates on the calendar!

Having said that, we are well aware that young Mathew has his own Big Day before The Big Day itself, and I assure you Big plans are afoot to make his 4th birthday a Big 'Un!

RC 17-11-22

And now I have a cold...

Woken up with coughs and sniffles and splutters, AGAIN. Did a Covid test, for a laugh, and its negative, so it's yet another cold virus that has probably been picked up from small children somewhere. God, I miss those lockdown days when no-one was interacting and things like colds were forgotten about for a couple of years. Can't we all just go back to wearing masks, spraying each other with antibacterial mist and keeping a brooms-length distance between us at all times? I swear I had never felt healthier....

I'm wondering whether I should keep away from the little fella, or whether it's good for him to be exposed to these human germs as early in his life as possible. I think I remember being told that breastfeeding babies are effectively covered by their mother's immune system, so as long as this isn't something that can break through Philippa's natural defences, Rian should be fine if I breathe on him.  Mathew hates being snotty, but the chances are that this arrived in our house courtesy of his trips to playgroup, so if it was going to hit him, it probably would have by now. 

 

There's a cold breeze whipping through the caravan park today and it's making me feel very unpleasant. I don't know why a simple cold can make you feel so miserable, achy and knackered, but it does. Well, it does for me anyway. Maybe other people sail through these viruses like a longboat sailing through a canal, but not me.
Having said that, I'm not even sure that longboats sail, and if they do, I'm not sure if they do it on a canal, so I think I should give up now before I dig myself in any deeper.

RC 16-11-22

Nov Part 1 Successfully Navigated

It's the mid-point of the 11th month of the year! If that isn't something worth celebrating with a luxury mug of hot chocolate and a mince pie, then I don't know what is. My first mince pie of the year, by the way, although I very much doubt it will be the last.
Today felt a lot more like the time of year it actually is, rather than some weird, deceptive late-Summer day like what we had yesterday. It was a hell of a change from one 24 hours to the next, although I don't know why that should surprise me anymore. 

 

Anyhoo - away from weather - it's been just another day in the life of Newborn Rian and His Insatiable Appetite for Breast Milk. It's quite a disheartening time in a Dad's life, really, these first few weeks and months. Junior really has little to no interest in getting to know you, and just sees you as an inconvenience that they have to endure before they go back to the one that provides lactation. I can see that it could be soul-destroying, if you weren't made of strong enough stuff. You've been waiting months on end to get a chance to meet your offspring, and when they finally drop out and appear in your world, they couldn't give two shits whether you're there, or in a ditch. Post-Natal Depression in Fathers isn't talked about often, but I can imagine it being a thing.

Apologies if there are any weird spelling errors or additional, unexpected letters in this posting. That mince pie was far more crumbly than I expected it to be, and I now have to find a can of compressed air to blow all the bits of pastry out of my keyboard....

RC 15-11-22

November (lack of) Rain

We had a gorgeous, glorious family walk this afternoon. Well - two of us did. Mathew put his wellies and gloves on and had great fun jumping around in a stubble field. We did think about wrapping little Rian up and all trekking out together, but Philippa was tired after a restless night or two, and he is, after all, only a week old! So they stayed home in the warm and my eldest and I ventured out as a twosome; also in the warm! It is ridiculously mild for the middle of November, and as I sit here typing we have the type of gorgeous sunset that makes one glad to be alive, and that we only normally see in early September. What I would call an Autumnal Extravaganza. Climate change is a terrible thing, and I find it as depressing as anything else in existence, but it has to be acknowledged that it's pretty bloody lovely to be playing outside with my son when we're only six weeks away from Christmas, (And we are - by the way - only 6 weeks away!! 6 weeks today is the 25th December!!!)

RC 13-11-22

The peace and quiet, and whether it's a good thing...

I am pleased to report that I have caught up on some sleep. I have cut down on caffeine, I have been eating properly, and I am getting my mind and body back into some sort of manageable, healthy routine.
I'm back at work today, just for a few hours. It feels weird to be away from the family for the first time in a week, but it's good to have a distraction from the constant tugs of parenthood. I mean that in the nicest possible way, by the way. I'm not glad to be away from them, and I'm missing them terribly, and I am spending every moment wondering what little Rian is doing, and how Mathew might be reacting to it, but I do have to get back into worklife at some point, and it's good to be here reminding myself how to do the job I am paid for, that will, after all, pay for the upkeep of the family I have torn myself away from today.  Jesus, that was a long sentence, and contained a LOT of commas.

Today's 'To Do' list is all about Christmas. We're putting on these little 'Fun Festive Family Drop-In Days' on weekends in December and it's time to put the finishing touches to the plans. I do sometimes feel as if my career is being steered towards Events Co-ordinating, but I'm partly to blame for that because I keep coming up with these ideas and then persuading Gavin to let me give them a go. He - our erstwhile boss - has been worryingly absent and noticeably uncommunicative over the past week. It probably means he is cooking up another hare-brained scheme that involves running for Parliament or turning the holiday centres into refugee camps for Ukrainians, or something similar. I am trying not to give it too much headspace, and concentrating instead on ordering more glitter for our elves....

RC 12-11-22

Is it Thursday? April? 2039?

I'm so tired I can barely recall my own name.
The weird thing is - it's a FUN tired. I'm not sleeping because I'm so enraptured by The New Arrival and so excited to see what each new morning brings. I guess it's also likely that I'm still adrenalised from the birthing efforts at the weekend and my body hasn't yet calmed down enough to let me relax and let me sleep. I think I read somewhere once that becoming a parent is much like being in a huge train crash, because it's such a life-changing incident that messes up your body systems and takes weeks to recover from. Or maybe that's just something that I thought of myself while laying awake last night, and then convinced myself over the course of today that I had read somewhere.

Philippa, amazingly, seems to be getting better and getting into a good new routine much quicker than me. Granted, she is both far more sensible and far more intelligent than me, but even so I'm finding it impressive how quickly she has taken to being an Official Certified Mother-Of-Two. She is currently sleeping soundly, having also done so for most of last night, give or take an incident or two of feeding. Personally, I am listening to the wind batter the windows and wondering whether or not I should put the kettle on and settle on the sofa to watch whatever NFL game is part of this week's Thursday Night coverage.

(I've just looked and it's Atlanta Falcons at the Carolina Panthers on Sky Sports. Kick-off 1.15am tomorrow. They have a combined total of 6 wins this season. I don't think I'll bother).

Maybe I'll just read The Bible. Might be some good tips in there on parenthood... Or sleeping... Or both...

RC 10-11-22

Onslaught, but nice

We've had a steady, constant stream of visitors coming in to meet little Rian today. Mathew was highly amused at all the attention and having lots of people to play with. Philippa is now asleep after finding it all a bit exhausting.
I am feeling tired, proud and overwrought in equal measures. It's been nice, but a bit overwhelming, and as nice as it is to have four pot roasts in the freezer and enough lasagne portions to feed an army for a fortnight, I hope these people won't all forget us in a few weeks time when we might really start needing some help.

RC 9-11-22

Some random, tired thoughts

Babies are noisy and messy. I'd forgotten just how noisy and messy they are. It's a real challenging whirlwind of a situation having a near-three-year-old and a newborn in the house, but it just all feels so right. 

I have to give us credit for the way we timed our new arrival to fit nicely in between half-term and Christmas. It means I have quite a quiet period at work, so it's fine to be staying at home and helping out in every way I can. 

 

Delivery companies and couriers must make a fortune out of people having babies. I've lost count of the number of times our doorbell has rung with a new bunch of flowers for Philippa or some kind of toy for little Rian. Even Mathew has had a few presents turn up.

 

I'd forgotten how panic-inducing it can be to suddenly be responsible for a baby, which is essentially a completely useless item that will perish if you don't give it your every moment of attention. The key, mentally, is to just deal with one thing at a time as it happens, and not spend every waking moment terrifying yourself with thoughts of what might be to come.

 

Having said that, this all feels absolutely fantastic.

RC 8-11-22

So...

Well, I'm exhausted, but I'm happy, and that's a good way to be.
Philippa, to be fair, is far more exhausted than I am. Can't think why. It's not as if giving birth is tougher on the mum than it is on the dad.....

Mathew is perplexed by the whole thing, but seems very taken with his little brother. We've managed to delay any friends and family coming round to 'Meet The Addition' because it's hard enough getting used to a new paradigm at home while you're still knackered from the hospital without having loads of goo-ing and coo-ing women in their 40s and 50s getting under your feet. So we've managed to put off any and all drop-ins until Wednesday at the earliest. 

My work sent a delightful bunch of flowers, with a large teddy bear. He is extremely soft and cuddly and will have pride of place at the foot of 2.0's bed, which will probably give him PTSD later in life, but will look cute in photos.

And we have a name, but I'm reluctant to reveal it, because we want to let the person who inspired the middle name hear about it face to face.

Ah, sod it - he won't be reading this.

We've gone with RIAN EDWARD.

Rian is pronounced as Ryan, but is the older, more original, Gaelic-based spelling, that can be used for either sex of child, and seems to be becoming more popular.

To be honest, we'd settle on the name months ago, but I never told you coz it was fun to engage in frivolous speculation, moniker fantasising and some good old-fashioned pulling-of-the-wool-over-the-eyes-of-your-readers. Not that any of you gave a shit, I'm sure.

I'm going now. Not sure I mentioned it, but I'm tired. And emotional. Tired and emotional and proud. And a dad! Twice over!!!!!

RC 7-11-22

Dreams Come True (baby edition)

My virtual wish, expressed in this blogsphere recently, has been granted.
Rory Offspring 2.0 arrived just after 11pm last night. 
All is well, and no doubt I will reveal more information, and express more feelings, as the days go by, but for now I am just happy to report that The Big Event has happened, and we are now A Family Of Four.
We're not going with my Bonfire Night Birth Name suggestion of 'GUY' though. We have named him, in honour of recent events, RISHI SUNAK CHESWORTH.

No, I'm kidding!! We haven't actually settled on a moniker yet.
But we have another boy!!!!!!!

RC 6-11-22

Remember, Remember (or don't)

I have a strange urge to hop on the old Velociped this morning and cycle around most of Suffolk. I don't know where this has suddenly come from. Maybe it's all the nervous energy coursing around my body as I await The Imminent Arrival. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't even looked at the bloody thing in months, much less sat on it or made it move through the power of my legs. Maybe it's the paunch around my waist that has started expanding as work has become quieter now and I have more time to pick at unhealthy snacks during the day. Whatever the reason, I have a good excuse not to act on the urges because I have a series of meetings today about setting up bits and bobs for Christmas. So that gets me off the hook a bit.

Philippa panicked last night because her little 'Baby Bag' had been moved. It's her little hiking rucksack that contains everything she will want to take to the hospital with her when her waters break, and Philippa being Philippa (and being an ultra-prepared type of person) it has been packed and ready to go since July. It has lived very close to our front door for the best part of three months, but last night it 'had gone' and induced such a strong, strange sort of mental meltdown in my wife that I'm amazed it didn't induce labour. It turned up in the kitchen about 3 minutes after she noticed it was missing, but in those 3 minutes she acted as if we were about to be nuked.
I think her mum had moved it when she did one of her 'helpful tidy-rounds' yesterday morning. I don't know why - and I hope this doesn't come across as sexist in any way - but all the women I know seem to deal with the late stages of pregnancy (in themselves, or others around them) by cleaning everything to within a millimetre of being transparent. 

I had a little lunchtime walk on the beach near work on Thursday. The waves were crashing and the wind was whipping along the sand. It was like being slapped in the face by Winter. October had been so mild that I had forgotten we're approaching the end of the year.  But it all popped into my head as I fought my way back to the footpath over the dunes, dressed completely inappropriately for a Winter walk in my office trousers and a thin jacket! And the main thought I had was - "Shit, another month and the Christmas tree goes up!!!!"

RC 5-11-22

Fireworks Haiku

Bang go the rockets
Whizz go the Catherine Wheels
And they make me smile

RC 4-11-22

The wait/weight goes on (a poem)

Still no baby.
Overdue.
Bedroom can't be pink or blue.
Still no gender.
Don't know yet.
Eggshell white or dank courgette?
Feeling restless.
Urge to paint.
Don't yet know which sex it ain't.
Sick of waiting.
Next Monday?
Sod it - let's make all walls grey.

RC 3-11-22

Chipper!

I felt really excited all day today. I enjoyed Hallowe'en Weekend, but it exhausted me, and the last couple of days I've felt a bit blue and run-down while I dealt with that. But today, with a nice chunk of sleep behind me and a belly full of proper meals, I found myself getting really giddy with joy at what's happening, and what's to come. Mathew is old enough to enjoy fireworks this year. He's old enough to understand about his birthday and Christmas, and old enough to start making memories that will become traditions that will become mainstays of his life. Bonfire Night is one of my three favourite days of the year, and even though I might not be able to go out to a big display this year, it'll be amazing, because if I CAN'T go to a display, it will be because I'm a dad again! And I remember what an incredible time it was when I finally got to meet this little child that had been growing away inside my wife for nine months, and I get to have that happen again! Soon!
So I'm excited...

RC 2-11-22

Holy Christ, it's Nov!

Well, I'm still on target to achieve my 2022 Challenge - of posting a different number of blogs each month - so that's something. I should probably aim to hit 23 in November, rather than be lazy and aim low, like I did in October. Of course, all that could be scuppered by childbirth, but that might go the other way and make me MORE determined and concentrated. I'll certainly have more to write about, I'm sure!

RC 1-11-22

ONE MORE IN OCTOBER

I went for a walk last night, around the local footpaths, as my brain was still fizzing with activity after a big weekend of Hallowe'en stuff at work. It was ridiculously mild. It would be quite easy to forget that I was in the UK, or that it was the penultimate day of October.
As we teeter on the brink of climate collapse, the seasons have all been shifted and what used to be early Winter is now late Summer. I feel I should castigate us as a species for the alarming speed with which this has happened, but instead I find myself enjoying the effects and milking every mild moment as if I'm on holiday.

Part of me wishes I was on holiday, by the way. The downside of being able to put on a fun, spooky event for families onsite is that everything else takes a back seat and gets delayed, and now I'm having to play Catch-Up despite being exhausted and in the mood for a lay down. It wouldn't normally bother me to look at the calendar and realise it's only 8 weeks til Christmas, but being over tired and with Imminent Offspring Arrival hovering imminently, I'm finding it all stressful and difficult to get motivated for. 

Philippa is playing a very cruel game with me, although I don't think she's doing it deliberately. Obviously I'm on standby to drop everything and rush home if the old waters break, so every time my phone makes a noise my heart leaps into my throat and my hand reaches for the car keys. To lessen the frequency of these mini-breakdowns, I've set my mobile so it makes a different sound if a message comes in from Philippa. (Then I can receive other calls without losing control of my sphincters for a few seconds). But since I've done that, my wife has taken it upon herself to message me 10 or 12 times a day, 'just to keep in touch'. And every time that sound strikes up, I'm convinced it's about The Big One. So I'm not sure what will happen first - Philippa's second labour, or Rory's first cardiac arrest. 

Happy Hallowe'en, by the way.

RC 31-10-22

Satisfying... so much so...

Just to say - my last blog was exactly 250 words long. And it happened by accident. For those of you who only found this blog recently, and haven't read back through the ridiculously numerous back catalogue, that will mean nothing. But those of you who have followed my journey and learned a bit about the weird way my weird mind works weirdly, you will understand the significance and, I hope, be happy for me.

RC 28-10-22

Sometimes insomnia is favourable to dreaming

I had a dream last night that left me wishing I could keep myself awake more often. My insomnia has been really well controlled in recent months, but I'm starting to wish that wasn't the case.
In the dream - and I'd like to highlight the fact that at no point in the dream was I aware that I was in a dream; it all felt incredibly real - Philippa went into labour. For some reason, I wasn't allowed in the delivery room with her, and while the birth was happening, I had to go and help clear up a spillage of engine oil in the staff car park, which was underground beneath the hospital. When I was allowed back up to the maternity wing, I had to climb 700 steps that curved around the outside of the building, before breaking in through a triple-glazed window (apparently, this was a Covid-secure measure brought in that morning). Philippa was asleep, and a weird side effect of giving birth was that her body hair had grown ridiculously long, and she lay there like some kind of sexy sasquatch.
When I asked where my new child was, the nurse introduced me to a six-foot tall man standing in the corner, who introduced himself as TROY DUNCAN CHESWORTH and gave me a hug, saying "Hi, dad!".
If none of that sounds too bad, please bear in mind that when I caught a sight of myself in the mirror, I looked exactly like Rishi Sunak.

RC 26-10-22

I'd be embarrassed if I cared

We have a lovely family from Canada staying this week. They're over in the UK for a month, visiting different cousins and aunts in different counties, and their little tour has brought them to Suffolk for a few days. The dad, who is called Simon, is very chatty, and also genuinely interested in how we run things onsite, as he works in the leisure industry back home.
This morning, we were enjoying a coffee together as I showed him around our main entertainment bar, explaining how things changed during Omicron and how we dealt with any mini outbreaks among the staff during the Summer. The TVs in the bar were tuned to BBC News, which was depressing the nation with discussions about the latest Tory Party leadership contest. Simon watched it for a few minutes and then said, "No offence, but what exactly the Hell is going on with your political system these days?"

I felt my shoulders sag as I explained that I really try very hard not to engage with it at all. I just let it all go on in the background of my life, and try not to get too worried or elated either way. He said he felt the same about his own government, but pointed out that most of the world's population currently seem to be looking at Britain and thinking 'Well, at least we're not in THAT much of a mess!' which is a bit demoralising. The thought that we might be some kind of enjoyable soap opera for the rest of humanity as they watch us being driven off a financial cliff doesn't fill you with pride does it?
And the thought that Boris Johnson might actually be about to be re-elected to lead the party that conspired to throw him out less than three months ago is one that fills me with despair. I may be about to give up on democracy forever.

RC 24-10-22

Oct even lazier than Sept

How have I not had time to write a blog or two throughout this week?
The truth is that I HAVE had time, I just haven't had the inclination or the inspiration. I think I have fallen into the trap that I warned you I might fall into, regarding my ambition to post a different number of blog postings each calendar month in 2022. If I throw 5 more 

missives at you before Hallowe'en, I will have reached 13 postings this month, meaning I will then have covered all numbers 13-22 inclusive, and my challenge will continue on into the 11th month of the year.

Anyway, enough of that old waffle, let's catch up:

 

Philippa is feeling really uncomfortable. However she sits, lays or stands, and whatever she tries to do, or whatever movement she makes, she ends up breathless and confused and aching. It's like having Covid, while carrying an extra 7 stone or so in weight. Mathew is worried that his mum is going to explode one day soon, so we've tried to explain the concept of pregnancy and childbirth to him as simply as possible, without freaking him out or giving him nightmares or permanent psychological trauma. 

 

Work is very busy again, as different parts of the country kindly have their half-term holidays in different weeks, so we're having a fortnight at nearly full capacity. This is the big week coming up, though, as most local schools are off, and we've also opened up the sites a bit to local people for day visits, so they can come in and enjoy our Hallowe'en trail and activities, and (hopefully) have a good look around and persuade their parents to bring them here for a week next year, or (better still) to make a permanent purchase and actually own one of our caravans. 

I should be quite nervous about all this. A lot of it was my idea, and I had to push Gavin really hard last year to get it to happen, and if we don't end up seeing a benefit from doing it, it'll reflect badly on me. But, strangely enough, I'm not nervous. I'm barely bothered. For two reasons - imminent childbirth distracts you a bit from other, ultimately pointless worries; and Gavin is so engrossed in his South-West Coast Project that he's hardly paying attention to Suffolk at all.
I'll give you more on that later, but now I have to go and supervise a mask-making workshop in our play area.

RC 23-10-22

I WANT A BONFIRE BABY

I am begging Philippa to hold on tight until November 5th so our next child can be born on Bonfire Night! Wouldn't that be amazing? I may have to miss out on fireworks displays, but I think this would almost be worth it. It's always been one of my favourite days of the year, and what better way to celebrate than by creating new life? If we time it right, we can go into labour on the evening of the 4th, then little Guy could be born just after midnight on the 5th, and we could still make it out to a party somewhere that night!

(I'm kidding about the party, but not about using the name GUY. Doesn't 'Guy Chesworth' sound like a really cool dude???)

RC 16-10-22

Lazy little blogette

I think my 2022 challenge, which I had managed to maintain through to the end of September, may be torn apart by my imminent case of fatherhood. It's hard to concentrate on achieving something that is ultimately pointless, when there is a huge life-enhancing event due to happen sometime in the coming fortnight or so.

RC 14-10-22

Filmic Listies

You can tell things have started slowing down at work, because now I have the time to do things like this:

FILMS I HAVE NOT SEEN FOR AGES AND WISH TO SEE AGAIN SOON:

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

Midnight Run

Monty Python and the Holy Grail

The Life of Brian

The Hunt for Red October

 

THE BEST PICTURE OSCAR WINNERS OF THE 1990s RANKED IN ORDER OF PERSONAL PREFERENCE:

Dances With Wolves

The Silence of The Lambs

Unforgiven

Schindler's List

American Beauty

Braveheart

Titanic

Forrest Gump

Shakespeare in Love

The English Patient

 

THE ONLY PEOPLE I WOULD CONSIDER ACCEPTABLE CHOICES TO BE THE NEXT JAMES BOND

Riz Ahmed

Nicholas Hoult

RC 11-10-22

Relative

Time seems to pass by very slowly when you're waiting for a specific major thing to happen.
Or maybe it's the fact that Philippa is too big, and feels too uncomfortable, for us to be able to do much in the way of activities or trips out, so our lives have become a repetitive slog through the same routine in the same house over and over.
On the plus side, I ate an extraordinary amount of food yesterday. I did a rare Sunday morning fry-up, consisting of scrambled eggs, smoked back bacon, grilled field mushrooms, my signature baked beans (with added black pepper and BBQ sauce), Lincolnshire sausages, grilled tomatoes and toasted granary bread. Then I put a joint of topside (from the local butchers, NOT a cut from a supermarket) in the slow cooker and we each had a mid-afternoon thinly-sliced-beef baguette with butter and mustard. Then, about 7pm, I rustled up some spicy parsnip soup and served it with a warm ciabatta. Three delicious, homely meals, each prepared by myself and each, in their own way, tasty to the point of obscenity.
Mathew made do with a bowl of Rice Krispies, a dippy egg for lunch and some turkey dinosaurs and beans for tea, but he was equally as happy as myself and his mum.

On a sidenote, did you know that 'ciabatta' means 'carpet slipper' in Italian?
You probably did. But if you didn't, and that information leads to you winning a pub quiz sometime in the future, be sure to raise a glass to old Rory for helping you on your way.

RC 10-10-22