balls in my pockets

It feels good that I'm not putting too much pressure on myself to post a certain number of blogs per month anymore. I had a good run of consecutive months with 20+ scribblings, but that record has well and truly gone now, and I'm not too bothered.
Quality is more important than Quantity, after all. (I'm pretty sure I read that somewhere and that it's accepted as being pretty wise).
Anyway - to end the month of April - here are some more thoughts and observations I have scribbled down while watching the snooker this week. If you've been watching it too, you might get something from this; if you're not a snooker fan, it's pointless reading on...

 

Judd Trump always looks like he's being told off by a teacher and is about to cry.

In about 20 years time, Stuart Bingham will look exactly like Winston Churchill.

John Higgins looks like every new-born baby I've ever seen.

If Mark Williams and Deputy Dawg had a baby together, it would grow up to be Judd Trump.

I really will miss writing ball-based puns for my blog titles when the World Championships ends on Monday.

40% of the Crucible audience seems to have a cough. Are they just trying to get noticed on the telly???

Ronnie O'Sullivan looks like an owl that's trying not to sneeze.

In another life, I would consider being a snooker ref.

I like the spunky, short, blonde ref because she's like the worst headteacher you ever had - every two minutes she's having a go at someone in the crowd for making too much noise. 'Put that drink down!', 'Stop eating sweets!', 'Don't rustle that paper!'. If I was there, I'd be terrified to breathe.
It's a bit boring seeing the same old players in the semi-finals. Next year I'm all-in for a Bingtao/McGill final.

RC 30-4-22

Escaping from the discussion

Part of my annoyance at Gavin's obsession with this television programme idea of his is the fact that it's distracting him from other things I want to discuss with him.  As a manager, you always have dozens of things to deal with at once and the skill you need is the ability to compartmentalise, prioritise and delegate. As the owner and Managing Director of a company, I imagine that is all magnified, but with Gavin, he'll get fixated on one particular thing and spend all his available time and thought and energy on it, to the detriment of everything else. So this week, and for the foreseeable future, if you don't want to chat about getting our sites on television, he's not going to give you a second.  

One of the things I want to bring up with him again is an Escape Room. I know there's a bit of overkill and they're popping up everywhere, but part of my remit when I accepted this position was to find ways to increase our profits out of season, and we have an unused building on our quietest site that would be perfect. It's too big to be used for accommodation; it's too small to be turned into a venue, but we could use its layout to put in three separate themed rooms and have it in use constantly. It could be open as an extra activity for holidaymakers when the park is busy, then we could keep it open for the local populace in Winter when the park is quieter. The building is close to the main entrance, so our permanent residents wouldn't be affected by all the comings and goings, and we could use some of our seasonal staff to run it. Currently, we have to lay off staff after October half-term because there's simply nothing for them to do until March, but with this plan, we could reward a few of our annual returnees with a permanent contract and make them part of the family.

I really think it's a winner, and I really think Gavin will agree, but to get it up and running for next Winter we need to get cracking on it soon, and I think there's more chance of me sprouting an onion out of my rectum than there is of me having a chance to persuade him in time.

RC 28-4-22

It's like Donald Trump all over again

The word has spread about the 'chance to be on TV' idea that Gavin floated yesterday. My suspicion is that he will be the one that put the word out, because it has got 50% of the workforce excited and offering their support for the idea, which is probably what he wanted, and why he's done it. His management team may be reluctant, but if he has the backing of the rabble working below us, he might be able to force it forward as a project.
Who says there isn't politics involved in the holiday industry???

RC 27-4-22

Be seen on screen? Obscene!

Gavin has come up with another one of his 'bright ideas'. He has been watching some show or other on some obscure channel or other, which was filmed at a large caravan park during 2021. He has now decided that we should invite a camera crew onto our sites, for a 'fly on the wall', 'behind the scenes' documentary. This has gone down like a lead balloon tied to a large anvil. There were eight of us in the room when he suggested it; I said I would rather quit than be a part of it; the other seven flatly refused to do it. The trouble is, our esteemed boss and owner tends to believe his own imagination, and if he thinks something is worth pursuing, he will pursue it obsessively even if all his management team think it's a pile of cat sick. So I have a horrible feeling that this is a topic which will be revisited ad infinitum until he gets rejection letters from every TV channel in Britain, or until his entire staff leave in protest.

RC 26-4-22

Baize craze

I'm absolutely loving the snooker this year, and I'm delighted that there's a still a week to go! I have it on in the background while I'm doing things, and it's easy to keep up-to-date without being too distracted. (You soon hear if something great happens because the crowd make that delicious 'ooooohh' sound, at which point you can give your full attention to the screen and catch the replay.) Yesterday I sat with my knee up on the sofa and watched it all day, and I was so chilled and relaxed by bedtime that I had the best night's sleep I've had for years. It's just so damn meditative.
McGill is still the guy I want to win, but by the time you read this his Championship could be over because at the time of my typing this he is 10-6 down to Judd Trump. As a side note, by the way, JUDD TRUMP sounds like a name of a character from a comic book. He'd be a nerdy lad with glasses who gets picked on because of his silly name, then at the age of 16 he would be stung by a radioactive insect and become a super-strong bully-bashing crimefighter overnight. His alter ego would be THE TOXIC WASP, or something similar.

Anyway - back to the snooker table....
My new favourite player to watch is the no.16 seed, Yan Bingtao, because he might well be the coolest guy on the planet. He glides around the table like he's a leaf being carried along by a stream. Everything he does looks effortless, as if he's controlled by an external force and is supremely confident that he'll end up exactly where he's supposed to be.
I'm disappointed that Noppon Saengkham has gone out, because he was a joy to watch. He's a bit too young and too inexperienced to win the thing, but he was a breath of fresh air. Such an original player. The commentators would recommend three shots that he might take on and then he'd do something completely different and amaze them.
It's a bit boring that the same old names keep getting through to the later stages of these big tournaments, but one thing I am delighted about is that everyone seems to be relaxed and enjoying themselves. Too often in the past, snooker has been a boring slogfest of unsmiling, safety-first bore barons. I don't know if it's the joy of having crowds back and actually being able to do what they love and play properly again, but most of them seem to be showing a bit of emotion around the table and letting their personalities shine through. I hope that carries on right through to the Final.

RC 25-4-22

The Ouch and The Slouch

I had a little reminder today that the sprain (if that's what it is) to my ligament (if that's what it is) in my knee is still far from healed, despite me feeling much more mobile and being able to walk sort-of normally. I was sitting at my desk, phone in hand, chatting with the maintenance manager at one of the other sites, and I turned suddenly to have a look at the calendar behind me. The chair swivelled, but my feet stayed where they were, so as my body turned, it caused a jolt to my knee joint. It was only a little sideways movement - the kind of thing that happens dozens of times a day without you thinking about it - but it gave me such a surge of pain that I yelped out and shouted "Ah, f**k". Terry, at the other end of the phone, was taken aback and I had to explain the whole sorry story to him. He was very sympathetic, right up to end of the call, at which point he said, "Before you go, boss - next time you walk across a wet lawn, don't do it wearing carpet slippers" and laughed so hard he nearly cried.
So now I am back to a slight limp, pain every time I step on my right foot, and awaiting the onslaught of several dozen witty texts and e-mails from the few members of staff who hadn't already taken the piss out of my predicament because I'd managed to keep it from them....

Banter, eh?

RC 23-4-22

thoughts about balls

I have fallen into my annual trap of becoming engrossed by the World Snooker Championships, even though it is the most tedious 'sport' to watch on Earth. You have to give the schedulers credit for putting it on at this time on year. I don't know why, but when it's a beautiful Spring day - so you can have the windows open, but it's not quite warm enough to sit outside in your shorts - a long, drawn-out game of snooker on the telly just seems like the perfect way to spend the day.
I hope Anthony McGill goes on to win it. He looks like a chummy sort of cove, and the kind of chap that, were my sexual orientation different, I might find myself thinking about in the shower.

RC 21-4-22

007 out of 0010

As "No Time To Die" is available for free on Amazon Prime, I decided to give it a second viewing. You may remember it was my first cinema trip after The Virus Thing, back in October last year I think, and you may remember that I really didn't like it. I never go back and read these things after I've posted them, but my recollection is that I wrote about 30,000 words slating it as the most boring Bond film ever and a terrible way to end Daniel Craig's tenure as The Man In The Posh Suit.  Watching it last night, though, I was nowhere near as offended, and would even go so far as to say I enjoyed it. It wouldn't make it into my Top 10 Bond list, not by quite a stretch, but it wasn't the Pain-Inducing, Ire-Creating, franchise-culling antifilm abomination I had remembered it to be.
Maybe I went into the cinema with my expectations too high, or maybe I had already subconsciously decided I didn't like the way it had been set up, or maybe I was a little uneasy about being in a cinema during a pandemic and was therefore distracted from the story, but whatever went wrong that day, I'm glad I gave it another go. Because now I can think of it without feeling angry and disappointed, and I can think of Those In Charge Of These Things as worthy custodians instead of sacrilegious sacrificers. And I can even look forward to where they take it next, instead of swearing to myself that I'd never watch another one of their movies, which I'll admit is how I felt at the end of last year.

RC 20-4-22

I struggle to think of titles these days

Man, do I love this time of year. Normally I'd be taking advantage of the light evenings to get some cycling done, but with the recent knee issues (I still can't bring myself to say 'injury'), I am having to rein that in, and spend my time sitting in the garden with a glass of wine and a book instead. What a hardship....

RC 19-4-22

Content(ed)

What a gloriously glorious weekend it has been! Tonnes of sunshine, just a light breeze, smiling people and plenty of birdsong. It's Spring and behaving like it!
My knee is feeling slightly better, but I've been told to keep taking it easy, keep icing it, and rest as much as possible. The internal damage is still healing and still vulnerable, despite me looking fine when I walk, or something. (I try not to pay too much attention when medical professionals are talking and trying to aid me in my recovery!)

God, I've done a lot of exclamation marks in this posting already. That stops now!

So, yesterday with Sophie was gorgeous. She used to be exhausted, stressed and emotional any time we saw her, but being Manager of a care home seems to suit her well and she always turns up chilled and confident nowadays; despite what must have been an horrendous couple of years, what with lockdowns and restrictions and - y'know - all that other malarkey. She brought Mathew an Easter egg that was nearly the same size as his bed and she bounced him on her knee so much his eyes nearly popped out. We had a nice walk, we had a nice lunch, we sat in the garden with sparkling elderflower presse and Pringles and the conversation flowed better than a river after a rainstorm.

RC 18-4-22

A simple thought from a simple man

I love Easter, but I'm not loving the fact that we're halfway through April already. I know it's an annual thing for me, and I'm sorry for being repetitive, but why do the Spring months rocket by like cheetahs in a Ferrari when January and February drag along like sloths in a broken-down Vauxhall?

RC 15-4-22

family matters

It's still strange to think that we'll be a family of four by the end of this year! It's different for Philippa as she's the one carrying young 2.0 so she's already noticing changes in her body and becoming aware of a new life growing within her. For me, nothing has changed, and I haven't noticed any visible alteration in Philippa's appearance, other than the fact that she's a lot happier and seems to have far more energy than she did back in February. There's a good vibe to our homelife, I have to admit. I had my doubts about this whole idea, but I think I had similar doubts before Mathew arrived, and I wouldn't be without him for all the tea in a thousand Chinas. Now it's actually happening again, I'm really chuffed and it's put us all in a good mood. Sophie is popping to see us at the weekend, too, so that's added yet another element to the happiness. I have a feeling this will be another one of those occasions where my wife and my sister spend all their time together talking about female things while Lonely Rory is reduced to the role of teaboy and errands-runner. To be fair, though, I'm working 3 out of the 4 Easter weekend days, so I'll only be here on Sunday, so they may as well indulge in girlie chats and baby waffle while I'm out earning a crust.

RC 13-4-22

Back to the Business of Busyness

Work is busier than an airport lounge during a strike by air traffic controllers. There are people everywhere and it's such a different vibe from two weeks ago, when we were running at about 20% capacity and had time to spend chatting with our permanent residents. Surprisingly, I like it when we're full. Everything seems to run more smoothly when it's all going flat out and no-one has time to think or worry or procrastinate. We've already had a case of Covid confirmed the day after someone arrived, and we've already had a young child vomit in the play pool, so we've really hit the ground running. The Covid thing is a bit awkward because we can't legally stop anyone doing anything once they're here, but we don't want a massive outbreak that leads us to having to shut down the whole site while we do a deep-clean. So it's a case of talking to the family involved and asking them to be sensible and keep away from other holidaymakers. Fortunately, they're a really nice group, and it's only the dad who has tested positive so far, and he's more than willing to stay in the caravan until he's returned a negative LFT. We're providing them with free tests daily, which is something I decided to instigate for this year - anyone with symptoms can text a certain number and we'll bring them tests to the caravan door. It was a battle to get it approved by Gavin, because obviously we have to pay for them all now, but it makes sense to me. There's no government-mandated requirement for them to mess up their holiday by avoiding other people, but if we work with them and encourage them to play fair, we're less likely to have huge numbers of cases and see our attendance suffer as a result. If anyone is positive, we'll arrange to have everything they need brought to their accommodation and offer them another break with us later in the year, when hopefully they'll be fighting fit and can enjoy the facilities to their fullest. Again, Gavin is not happy about the financial implications of this, but I think the wider Customer Service angle is a winner. We accept that the virus will continue to be a problem, we're putting protocols in place to mitigate this, and we're taking as much of a hit from it as our clients, if not more, so they don't have to feel like an illness has butchered their family fun. Hopefully, it won't happen too often anyway, and hopefully the people affected will appreciate our efforts and give us lots of lovely online love in the form of social media posts and reviews, which Gavin is a bit obsessed with. I'm pretty sure that once he sees a few 5-star ratings on TripAdvisor he'll stop moaning about the cost of testing.

RC 12-4-22

One word - COLD!

I have woken up snifflier than an elephant with hay fever. Obviously, a sprained knee is not bad enough for The Gods Of My Body to be happy with my physical condition, so they have thrown a not-Covid-coronavirus at me as well.
Bastards.
It's not all that bad, I suppose. I wasn't planning to be doing anything anyway, but it would be nice to be doing nothing without feeling run down and full of snot.  We have a rather lovely looking joint of silverside waiting to be thrown in a roasting pan, and it would be nice to be able to taste it properly. I'll just have to lather it in English mustard and get my flavour hit that way.
Philippa is planning to mow the lawn today, which is normally my job, but she's firmly instructed me to keep away from it until I can walk without feeling like my knee is about to buckle. I'm a bit concerned, I must be honest, because she has not touched the mower since we moved here. I am worrying that she might injure herself, or bugger up the machinery, or shoot a stone through a window or something. Or maybe I'm just feeling territorial because it feels like she's muscling in on my workspace and taking away one of the few manly jobs that I am manly enough to do successfully. If that's true, it must be coming from somewhere subconscious, because I hate mowing and could happily hand it over to her indefinitely without feeling deprived or emasculated.

RC 10-4-22

Pitch and putt and perfection

I have been ordered to rest my knee, and I shall be doing just that. I have a Sky Sports pass for the month of April and I shall be sitting on the sofa with my leg up watching the last two rounds of the US Masters and feeling thoroughly contented.
Philippa - who is still flush with the joys of imminent motherhood and has never been more energetic or happy - has promised to look after me, on the proviso that I do exactly nothing. My knee is still a problem, she tells me after a chat with one of her GP bosses, because I haven't been following the advice I was given at the Minor Injuries Unit, deciding instead to carry on with life as best as I can. Every time I put weight on it, or jolt the leg, or drive, or pick my son up to pretend he is a helicopter, I am adding to the strain on the ligament and lengthening my recovery time. I need, apparently, to stop behaving like a typical male and actually do as I'm told and just rest it.
So that's exactly what I'm going to do. 
I have to say that Jon Rahm isn't looking great as a potential winner, but I'm sticking by my tip. He's only 10 shots behind the leader, so you never know.....

RC 9-4-22

Pitch and putt and prediction

I have to say, I'm looking forward to the US Masters this weekend.
I know nothing about anything about golf, but I still think Jon Rahm might win. I don't gamble myself, but feel free to take my tip and us it to further your income. Just don't blame me if he ends up 19 over par.

RC 7-4-22

Improvements

The knee is feeling slightly better, thank you. I got it looked at (for free) by one of the kindly ladies in the spa at our slightly-more-expensive-than-the-others sites yesterday. She's a qualified physio as well as a trained masseur and she assured me she could give me less pain and more flexibility after a 30-minute session. Unfortunately, in order to get less pain and more flexibility, I had to endure considerably more pain and uncomfortable, forced flexing while I was with her. I broke out in a sweat, nearly vomited and called her some very unpleasant words. But I have to admit, it felt looser and less swollen this morning, so I went back to see her today and apologised for my language and thanked her. She told me it was nothing compared to what she's been called by rugby players in her old job, and that my attempts at profanity barely reached amateur levels.
I'm still hobbling and feeling rather sorry for myself, but it now feels like a short-term issue that is likely to get better, rather than an injury that is going to have a recovery time lasting months.

RC 6-4-22

More thoughts on the knee thing

I am not enjoying these Clumsy-Man-In-His-30s times that I seem to be going through often.

There really is nothing nice about having my leg restricted by a bandage. I'm a huge fan of seeing women wearing stockings, but if this is a similar sensation then I'd tell them not to put themselves through it. 

 

Leg hairs get very itchy when they've been flattered by a medical tubigrip thing.

 

If you've never had a sprained knee yourself, then take it from me - the worst thing you can do is wake up with an itchy foot, forget you have been damaged, and bend your knee quickly so it's easier to scratch your foot. I'm surprised they didn't hear my scream in Belgium.  

 

And a quick haiku to finish with:

 

I hate my body

It has knees made of tissue

And repairs slowly

RC 2-4-22