the adlards

I found it ever so slightly disconcerting this afternoon when, standing precariously balanced at the very top of a ladder, I felt a vice-like grip encircle each ankle and a two-year-old voice say, “You safe, Daddy.” It did feel oddly secure, in the same way that being manacled to a fence railing in the path of a bulldozer must feel secure – one thing’s certain, if she goes you go. Fortunately Josie is at least as sure-footed as I am at altitude and very much more daring.

Shortly prior to finding myself at the top of the ladder I had been up to my elbows in muck, cleaning the neighbour’s drains. Yes, the saga continues. Last weekend it was clear that the drains were still very much blocked. They were flooding our garage. I popped over to have a friendly conversation with our neighbour and persuade her to call a plumber. Things began well – she had her hearing aid in – but I obviously lost the plot somewhere because the conversation ended as she left for two weeks holiday, giving me the name of her plumber on a slip of paper.

When I’d caught my breath, on Monday, I dropped the name off with the neighbour who shares her drain (this is not a traditional, or even good, measure of the closeness of a relationship). By this weekend it was clear that nothing was being done, so I went in search of a set of drain rods. Now you need to understand that if the masculine journey was a board game, then owning a set of rods would be like finding the Ring of Power, it’s a defining moment. To have, in the space of one week, wrought a set of patio furniture and become the owner of a set of rods is almost immeasurably potent. Basically I’m finely powdered with sawdust and smell really, really bad. Perhaps I should have done them the other way around so the sawdust could absorb some of the smell. That would have meant capitulating and cleaning someone else’s drains a week earlier … wasn’t going to happen, was it.

Weekend pics of Jo and Soph in the gallery.

It occurs to me, having just spent three hours of my Friday evening reforecasting the IT budget for the next eight months, that although I never have actually swung birches, Robert Frost was certainly onto something there. I must be in a comtemporary-American-pastoral-poetry sort of mood. If I was a contemporary American you’d be in real trouble right now because I’d be trying to write it.

Snow falling and night falling fast,
O, fast in a field I looked into … but I plagiarise; onward and upward …

I have been struggling for several weeks now with what I’ve decided is hayfever on the basis that a cold that lasts this long is usually terminal. It has been interrupting my sleep (snorts of laughter from Michelle) and causing me untold psychological distress – I have a deep-seated hatred of not being able to breathe through my nose, which dates from early childhood (I mean the hatred, you know the nose does). One side effect of my nasal syndrome is a form of night-time snorting which I’m sure is absolutely peculiar to me and has driven Michelle to sleep in the loft. I stop breathing (sometimes for a while), press the tip of my tongue to my palette and use the back of my tongue to force air through my nose; very effective without actually having to wake up and blow your nose. Somewhat disturbing, of course, if you’re not me and might be concerned that, say, I’m dying in my sleep. Also, the whole point of not waking up to blow your nose is compromised somewhat if your partner shakes you vigorously by the shoulder to check that you’re still ‘there’, as it were.

The other major side-effect has been very vivid dreams. I don’t usually remember my dreams, but somehow the shallowness of my sleep (or something) has changed all that. Two, in particular, remain with me from the past few days. In the first I was in a pool which was a sort of square, grey granite-lined inlet of an enormous lake with turquoise water. Looked a lot like Sun-Moon Lake in Taiwan, if you’ve seen that, but it was in America. And it was warm. There was a ledge at surface depth that I could hook my elbows on and just relax in the water (now that I’m writing this I realise I’m lucky I didn’t wet the bed).

So anyway there I was relaxed and hanging out in the pool with my therapist. Oh, did I not mention her? She was a version of a person I know well and respect, but in a very different body (that I haven’t met, but perhaps suited the environment better). She had an interesting approach, starting with, “So how are you feeling today?” and progressing to, “How do you feel?” followed by, “James, why don’t you know how you feel?”. Not a quick progression, of course, and quite stressful because I clearly didn’t have a clue how I felt and everyone else in the pool could hear her asking and me not answering.

The next night (I think) I dreamt I was walking to work. I was walking up a street with leafy trees along it and looked up to see horses – complete with shirts, ties and smug expressions – walking past me in both directions. I noticed how proudly they held their heads and started copying them, instantly curing my I’m-a-lifetime-keyboard-jockey posture. Except it didn’t, of course. But at least I can imagine horses while I walk to work and start strutting with knees high, shoulders back, neck stretched out and tongue lolling. I always get a seat on the train …

I’m sure I would have dreamt last night too, except there was a team of mosquitos in the room who seemed more interested in playing tag with each other than eating me, which meant I had to keep getting up to kill them because they weren’t coming to me … you have to sleep, perchance to dream.

Josie knows the McDonalds jingle. She must have been watching grown-up tele at a friend’s house because I’m sure junk food companies don’t target two-year-olds.

Nobody knows kids’ real capability like retail marketeers. This evidence from My Friend Tim:
Dad: Thank you for playing so nicely with Nathan today Cameron.
Cameron: (emerging into full alertness from repose on couch) What did you buy me?

Thinking of trying to keep a straight face, I was spared a trip to the dentist today by illness (on the part of the dentist). I wonder if he’s married to an Ofsted Inspector … . They were good enough to leave voicemail so I didn’t make it all the way home. In fact I only made it as far as Pret, where I picked up lunch and then went back to the office. So, unexpectedly, I’m halfway through yesterday’s Great Big Actions List. What will I do tomorrow? The aniticipation presses against my ribs like a firework on the verge of bursting. Or perhaps that’s my dinner.

Sophie has become a bit wary of her big sister’s attentions, preferring today to shout the odds before being smothered rather than grinning and waiting to see whether it’s any better this time. Maybe it’ll rub off on Josie, who I can’t help feeling would be better off shouting the odds sometimes rather than being perpetually cheerful. Well, except when she’s teething of course. Or has a cold. Or wants Weetabix, not Rice Crispies. Or hasn’t quite finished with her bath. Or … hmmm … well, I’ve written it now, might as well leave it.

The table arrived as promised today – very impressive service. It’s my kind of furniture, too heavy to lift and with six little hardwood dowels to be banged into the table leg assembly to secure it. Makes me feel like I wrought the whole thing myself of a raw tree with only hand tools. Fortunately it came with three spare dowels …

In other news, I had time between my meetings today to compile an actions list; I expect to get to start working through it between 12.30 and 1 tomorrow, and 10.30 and 11 on Thursday. Sublime? Ridiculous? Offers, anyone?

Josie has a new swing that doesn’t need pushing. Could this be the end of, “swing-swing?”, “swing-swing!”, “SWING-SWING DADDY!”
When I came home she dragged me outside (“Show you! Show you!”), climbed onto her green chair, grabbed the trapeze and leapt. Great fun.

Some pics in the gallery, including Josie swinging, Sophie in a hat, Josie drawing and a great big table. Roll up! Roll up! One and all …

We don’t have any before and after pics of the house, but here’s a picture of feet.

Shoes should be like bottle tops. They shouldn’t fit on unless they’re exactly the right size. Last week we had Jo’s feet measured because they didn’t seem to have grown much. They were two sizes bigger than we thought and yet we could get her shoes on. That just shouldn’t be possible. It is a comfort to know she’s growing though; this much fuss standing still just wouldn’t be on.

She spent the day at Sebastien’s today. An Ofsted Inspector was doing the rounds – I hope Jo didn’t ruin the visit. I suppose we can take comfort that the spread of stinking colds amongst the young of the Three Counties will eventually be traced back to one roaming Ofsted Inspector.

Sophie laughed so loud and lucidly today (not at all like a stoned sealion) that Michelle thought it was Josie. She’s changing daily, and changing nappies even more often than that.

The garden furniture arrives tomorrow (possibly through our absent neighbour’s fence). We’ll be sure to take pictures. It occurs to me that a 2.2 metre 3.5 kilowatt gas-fired patio heater might set fire to the pergola … I may need to install aspirating smoke detectors with a pumped inergen gas extinguishing system in the eaves 😀

Some pics from today in the gallery.

Having procured Odin’s banqueting table yesterday evening (just another piece of trans-dimensional bric-a-brac) we came back to earth today with a trip to our favourite furniture emporium. We needed a chest of drawers for Sophie’s room as there was still a small part of carpet you could stand on, and when you need any piece of furniture and only have a day to get it there is – regardless of what your personal feelings toward it are – only one place to go. We got to Ikea at 10 and were out at about 13.30, so I still maintain it’s impossible to get through any meaningful visit in under three hours. We got a great little chest of drawers. And another of those cool hanging storage things I finally put up in Soph’s room yesterday. And a set of bigger plastic cutlery for Jo. And a swing, some spare handles for the kitchen cupboards and some dish towels. Oh, and overcountable bent ply shelf brackets because those are always useful. We narrowly missed getting a kids seat in blow-molded plastic that when turned upside down doubles as a cross between a coracle and a bright orange lead balloon. It was reduced …

Despite having three new molars coming through and a stinking cold, Josie had fun wandering around the shop. There’s a well-positioned slide and play area at the midpoint. Trouble only really started when Michelle took out a sling to carry Sophie in, who had begun to fuss a little. Josie definitely wanted to get in too. Michelle was pretty sure it wouldn’t be safe for anyone concerned to carry them both stacked up in a sling around her neck. Half an hour later we were out and they were both asleep in the car. There is something immensely satisfying about sudden silence in a car that a second before was full of kiddy yowlings. They do sometimes just click to “off” and they’re asleep in an instant; tension gradually eases out of your kneck and shoulders and you start discussing whether to just keep driving for a couple of hours to try to keep them asleep.

We opted for drive-thru. We haven’t been to McDonalds for six years or so but thought we’d grab a coffee to extend likely sleep times a bit. Turns out they’ve got a lot healthier (or cleverly appear to have) and we got food too. Toasted deli sandwiches would you believe. I bet the coffee was half-caff. Both kids woke up, we tore home and they went to sleep again in their own beds.

The Three went to the park in the afternoon while I sorted the loft, which is now ready for us to move our bedroom back up there. Looking forward to that – it’s a nice space.

I’m back in my corner of the living room. More importantly I no longer have to squeeze between the drying rack and the wall to get here. There are also practically acres of visible crapet (a somewhat poignant misspelling with two little kids around – we’ve bought the tiles and soon the floors will be washable). We’ve been engaged in a manic two-day cleanup and rearrangement, which moves into its third and hopefully final day tomorrow as we tackle the loft. Having decided against the conservatory we’ve had to reclaim our living room from the tide of toys. Of course all that cool stuff had to go somewhere so both Josie and Sophie have new-look rooms with peg-rails and hanging storage that Dad’s had ready for months and hasn’t made time to put up. It’s always easier to talk in the third person when discussing these occasional but total lapses in responsibility.

Josie was very pleased with her room when she got back from a walk to town today (YES, she was accompanied). I’d cleaned and rearranged it while The Three were out this morning and she was so excited. When I woke her from her naptime she looked out the window and was convinced the garden had been changed too, “Oh look, lovely, my garden all finished! Lovely.” I love her to bits.

Michelle and Josie were very pleased with Sophie’s room too. Sophie acknowledged all the hard work with her first truly projectile vomiting episode. That extra little bit of effort really does make all the difference, don’t you think?

This evening while Michelle and I were eating dinner together we heard a strange thumping sound. It was pretty late, but we thought one of the neighbours must be fixing something (it wasn’t late enough for that but sounded just like it). It started up again a little later so I thought I better check on Jo and Soph and crept upstairs. Couldn’t hear anything, so quietly put the top landing light on and carefully opened Josie’s door to be met with a cheerful, “Hi!” (with big grin – I’m sure she’d been bouncing on her ‘new’ bed). She’d collected all her soft animals around her and launched into a detailed explanation of how her bunny was not, in fact, a bunny tonight, but a guinea pig from the farm (Willows Farm where we spent a couple of hours this afternoon). Too exciting a day, I fear, with too much sleep. No more of this “poor thing’s teething and got a cold, she needs her sleep” stuff …

The highlight of Michelle’s day was undoubtedly had on eBay. She’s just started buying; on Wednesday a pair of shoes for Josie, today a set of teak garden furniture (which I must say, looks beautiful). Yes, I know some of you have seen in our shed and there are two other sets in there, but this is in a different class altogether. We can entertain at this one. The plan is to string curtain wire straight from the front door to the back, putting a slight bend in to negotiate the living room entrance, then to hang tinsel over it to make a sort of shimmery tunnel so that when we have people round we can usher them past the kids and paraphernalia straight to the Garden Furniture Entertaining Set. It’ll be like arriving at Valhalla. We’re putting a deck in too and getting a patio heater. We’ll tell guests to dress warm and use it all year.

The best thing about my corner of the room is that our neighbour‘s on holiday for two weeks so I get to listen to whatever I like.

A few new pics in the gallery, including pics of Sophie’s first bottle feed yesterday.

The Three spent the afternoon at Willows Farm while I spent the day at our server farm. I was reviewing build for our new infrastructure rollout; they were eating icecream in the sun. The build’s looking good, but I know which farm I’d rather be at.

Josie is going through a very “tactile” phase with sister Soph. Michelle put it well this morning: “I have new respect for Pete and Caroline.” I’m not sure I respect them any more than before, but if they got the same degree of attention Sophie’s getting I am heartened that they turned out as well as they did.

After briefly contemplating having a family evening out to dinner, we opted for normal bedtimes and something oriental at home. Roll on weekend …

There is something obscene about the way a train will stop and stuff even more passengers in while inside the heat and the stench of close-packed bodies slowly reduces everyone to a parody of their normal selves just in time for work.

On Monday trains were running to a reduced timetable and terminating at Kentish Town (overhead line problems). The train was absolutely jammed full of people but two extra stops were added en route – the fact that only three people could actually fight their way into the coach at those stops making it abundantly clear that the Fat Controller had no idea how full the train was. Cries of, “Move down, please! (I desperately want to squeeze onto this train and spend half an hour with your fat sweaty belly pressed against my back).” I finally bailed out at West Hampstead when a couple of hundred people looked determined to get on. I don’t like getting to work sweaty, but I won’t tolerate getting to work wet with someone elses sweat (perhaps I’d feel different if Michelle commuted). It took me fifteen minutes just to get off the platform on Monday because of overcrowding.

Today wasn’t much better. Do you think anyone will actually visit in 2012? Perhaps we’ll have to impose Mugabe-esque press controls for the years leading up to the Olympics. Probably wouldn’t work any better for us than it has for him. Perhaps Mugabe-esque population controls. We could just lock up everyone who usually commutes so only visitors get to use the facilities. That might work …

The Three are fast asleep; one’s teething, one’s in the middle of a growth spurt and the other is just plain knackered. Sohie laughed today for the first time. Michelle blew air against her face and, after an initial sharp intake of breath, she laughed for several minutes. From Michelle’s recreation of events I believe she laughs a bit like a spaced-out sea lion.

The doctor has assured us that a rash around Josie’s mouth is just a backlash from the cream he recommended last month to get rid of what he was sure was a fungal rash around her mouth. IT DIDN’T WORK. THAT’S WHY WE BROUGHT HER BACK. He says to take her back in two weeks if it hasn’t gone. Might as well make the appointment now. Oh wait … you can only make appointments on the day.

Josie’s enjoying drawing. When I have time to put some more pics up (soon), I’ll put some of hers up too.

I know, I know, I haven’t written for ages. Two whole days … and what’s worse, that bloody awful limerick with the bad rhymes has been staring me in the face every day. It seemed profound when I thunk it in the dead of night, now it seems, well, umm, actually still profound.

Been feeling a bit under the weather, which is hardly surprising given that this is ”summer” time. I had to take a suit to the dry cleaners for rain damage for goodness sake. We had a great weekend though – there was, this Saturday, a car boot sale so My Good Wife was in her element. Josie scored a very cool trike; Dad scored having to push Josie around on the trike feeling like a troll with a headache while Mum explored the sale 😐

We finished the weekend off with a barby at “bastien’s house” which was excellent fun.

Josie’s got molars coming through, which isn’t fun for anyone, but hasn’t stopped Michelle going to Willows Farm and the parks with her friends (yes, and Josie). Teething certainly nets Jo plenty of ice cream. When I was a child we used to have to get a tonsillectomy to get ice cream.

Monday and Tuesday have passed in a blur of work and what I have decided must be hay fever.

Quote of the day (in a large meeting running through a large project):
“James, is there anything you’re not involved with?”
“My wife and children.”