ataleof2women

Ahh stick it up ya bollix

I havn't truly felt truly part of the blogging community without a story of a diet to recount

So now we have booked our last minute Spanish dash I have precisely 6 days to get my beach body

As long as this pic starts with '14' in 6 days time I'll be ok so look forward to my daily postings on all things diet.

I'm off now to kick-start things with a good dump. Wish me luck

From a recent trip to Winchelsea

If only I had had the benefit of this when I was 18 I would have been beating the women off with a stick...especially if I had mastered the mong-moves being demonstrated from 3:14

Just been sent this

If you continue to focus on the '+' sign in the centre of the image you will notice that the circle of violet circles will soon DISAPPEAR completely and you will see only the green spot (which is actually violet)

You are driving in a car at a constant speed. On your left hand side is a drop of about 10 feet to the ground. On your right side is a fire engine travelling at the same speed as you. In front of you is a galloping horse, and you cannot overtake it. You look behind, and see you are being chased by a galloping zebra.

What must you do to safely get out of this highly dangerous situation?

For the answer, click and drag your mouse from star to star.  

* Get off the sodding merry-go-round.  You're pissed and will injure a small child *

The prospect of being cooped up in a room full of 20,000 screaming 11 yr old girls had been looming large on my horizon for several months as the days clicked past towards No1 daughters birthday treat.

And come last night the waiting was over, so with a car-full of barely contained excitement, I led the way to the O2 for the joys of Girls Aloud.

My tactic of 'heading in the general direction of the Canary Wharf Tower' and finding it from there nearly proved disastrous as the signage to the arena was virtually non existent when coming in from the East. It wasn't until one of the kids pointed out the small brown crown on the road signs wasnt actually directions to the Tower of London "Its a bloody crown I tell you!" but was instead a little brown dome that we found our way into the huge expanse of tarmac that is the O2 car park

"Have you booked online or on the telephone?" asked the car park attendant.

"Well I reserved online but had to pay over the phone as the security number on my credit card has rubbed off because it lives in my back pocket"

"So is it online, or on the telephone"

"Both"

"But I need to find you on my list"

"No you don't. I give you this receipt you sent me when I paid and you let me in to the car park."

"I can't let you in unless you're on my list"

"But I have a receipt"

"Is it an online receipt or a telephone receipt"

The range of responses from within the car varied from "Ask to talk to the supervisor" from Mrs Wife to "Just buy another ticket Dad" from No1 daughter who is a recent graduate of the Royal Horticultural School of Money Propogation.

Outside, the chap in the Range Rover behind us had begun to chew on his steering-wheel whilst the dog in his passenger seat slobbered away excitedly as though his owner had just said, "see that bloke in the blue rugby shirt over there.....". Why anyone would bring a dog to a pop concert I have no idea although after the first support act had left the stage I began to wonder if it was infact an understudy in case of late attacks of laryngitis.

By now highly irritated, I got out of the car to try and talk some sense into the barrier operative and watched the slump of a thousand shoulders in the queue behind me at the grim realisation that the bloke at the entrance barrier has now been forced out of his car. Several miles away a horn tooted but was wafted off towards the Greenwich eyot by the early evening breeze.

I looked down at the list on his clipboard

"Thats me there" I said as I took his pen and crossed my name off the list.

"All that fuss" I said to the rest of the car as we went through the barrier to find a place to park

"What was the problem" said Mrs Wife

"No idea - but keep your fingers crossed the guy in the Range Rover isnt a Mr Simpson or one of us is going to be a Ridgebacks supper in a few minutes"

Parked up, we unloaded the picnic and made our way towards the Thames footpath where we had been told there was a pleasant picnic area, well away from hungry pedigree hunting dogs

"Joanna went to American Bar and Grill when she came here" piped up one of No1 daughters less appreciative friends (the same one who had said "Eeeuegh its disguuuuuuusssting in here" on getting into our car. Ok so maybe I should have mucked it out before we left but I was winning an egg fight at the rugby club at their end of season BBQ so had other priorities)

"Oh well, you'll have to make do with a picnic. Have you ever seen the Thames Barrier before...?"

We found a perfectly nice spot by the river and gorged on the finest Mr Marks and Mrs Spencer could muster

"Eeeuegh I haaaaaatte chicken" and before our charming attendee became another Thames drowning statistic we scoffed, packed up and headed into the arena.

We had barely stepped through the secutiry checks when I got the first of many digs in the ribs from Mrs Wife.

"Well if she doesn't want people to look at her she shouldn't go out dressed like a porn star"

"Its the fashion these days" said No1 son who I thought was out of earshot.

"I beg you pardon?"

"Its the fashion. Everyone knows that. Did you know a porn shops opening by the station soon?"

Suddenly I felt very very old and frankly quite depressed that this is the subject of 11 yr olds conversations these days

Still, at least I now know he's not gay, after he pointed out with a big grin on his face that you could see one girls pants her skirt was so short. I didn't give away I had already spotted her but let him think she was his catch. What a great Dad I am!

And so, with a pocket full of cotton wool balls, we took our seats

First up was "Girls Can't Catch" although I couldn't help wondering what a cruel twist of fate had led to the the last bit of their name (....a tune even if it whacked them in the face) being deleted from the promo literature.

"Girls can't sing", as keenly observed by No1 son, would have been more appropriate.

At one point in their particularly nasty set, a leap from our seats on the top tier of the O2, seemed the only way to escape the wailing banshees on stage.

But that would have spoiled the evening for No1 daughter and friends on her birthday treat, not to mention the several dozen people 150ft below who would have broken my fall.

So I did the honourable thing, kept my counsel, plugged my ears with cotton wool and waited for, in the words of No1 daughter, Cheryl, the fat one, the blonde one, the skinny one and the really really white one.

After being spared any further aural torture from the girls who couldn't sing we awaited the appearance of the main act (more girls who couldnt sing...as I'd told anyone who cared to listen for the past few weeks) as the pre-pubescent screaming built to a wall-paper tearing crescendo

In a dazzle of fireworks they appeared through a fog of dry ice and a really strange thing began to happen.

They started to perform.....and they were actually bloody good.

I know they are only 5 girls singing and the real talent lies in the songwriting, the choreography, the lighting etc etc but no-one ever held that against the Supremes.

And for the next 2 hours we were treated to one of the slickest, most upbeat, catchiest shows I'd seen in years.

I am now officially a fan of the really really white one because she seemed to have the biggest stage presence of them all - and anyway, I always have a soft spot for the underdog, if you pardon the expression

No1 daughter & friends danced and cheered and clapped and generally beamed solidly for nearly 2 hours and No1 son saw Cashley Cole sitting in the box just below us which made his night and by the end even his surly "god this is so embarrasing" pose had turned into full-on arm waving and dancing in strict accordance with the instructions emanating from the stage.

To cap it all we went from seat to front door in less than 50 minutes (god if there's one thing I really can't bear its queuing to get OUT of somewhere!).

All in all, despite the car park debacle, a huge success

And if I could be bothered to consider nominees for the title of Greatest Girl Band of all time, I think we might just have seen them last night.

So the innocent few drinks with an old, but recently relationshiply traumatised, friend on Friday has now morphed into the biggest challenge I have faced in the past decade.

Yes, I think he should get back on the bike and start meeting people again after splitting with his partner of 6 years

No, I dont think that at 40 he has missed the chance to be the fantastic father I know he will be

Yes, I know it was a bad idea agreeing to go speed dating with him for moral support

And yes, it was a shockingly bad idea to let both our competitive natures get the better of us and put a monetary challenge together based on valid phone numbers harvested during said speed dating event.

So I think I will be an importer of carved wooden elephants for the night....should provoke some interesting coversations

And as long as it gets me one more phone number than him...then I'll be happy

Oh and also that he finds a nice girl.

Is a littel bit late and clouded by too much Pimms (frst of the summer dont you know) red wine and XCourvoisier. BNut heres what s come out of today

Lost count of the tinme but it was faster than yesterday
IDstance wqas trhe same
1 Get off the phone you pr*ck
1 graceful descent into the town
1 flowing dismount into the midsts of a throng of guests that had come for home-made curries and fun at our place

I learnt that a good friend was once handcuffed and thrown into a swiming pool by The Mob

I learnt that whilst my piano playing is masterful when played through the headphones in my own little world, infront of a group of eager onlookers it;s cock.

I elarnt that as far as Writing Competitions go, its not what you know but who you know

I learnt that I'm not double jointed despite procreating a daughter whose key joints are only held together by flaps of skin

I learnt that its better to know someone you can't have, than to have someone you dont know.

Although not even 14 miles, tomorrow mornings ride is looking an awqful long way.

47 minutes
13.5 miles
Countless potholes avoided that weren't there at the end of last summer
1 f*cking c*nt (of a taxi driver)
1 stupid f*cking cow (of a school-run 4-by-fornicator)
0 potholes hit
0 cars kicked

Pleased to come in slightly faster than going home last night as the ride in is slightly more uphill than the ride home. Still nowhere near last summers times when I was zipping around like Lance Armstrongs bastard half-brother though - all I have now is a backside that feels like Stretch Armstrongs bastard half-brother

This morning reminded me why we are so lucky to live where we are. I wish I had the energy to have broken off the ride and snapped the vista. Maybe in a few weeks.

I ride past this country church that is far too big for the village it sits in and the steeple was illuminated by the early morning sun and backed as it was by the most cloudless azure sky it showed up the intricate brickwork and masonry in all its Norman glory.

A little further on I came out of the shadow of the hedges and through a small wooded area where the sunbeams of pure warmed honey trickled through the branches and massaged my burning thighs made chilly by the early morning air.

On the final uphil run into work over the railway bridge, I struggled pathetically past a couple of surly schoolgirls ambling to their lessons which bought me down to earth again with an embarrasing thud. I was half tempted to get off and walk past feigning a puncture but instead struggled past manfully as though cycling through treacle.

At least I got another stroke of pleasure from the mp3 as Springsteen sang..

Now I know your mama she don't like me 'cause I play in a rock and roll band
And I know your daddy he don't dig me but he never did understand
Papa lowered the boom, he locked you in your room
I'm comin' to lend a hand

I'm comin' to liberate you, confiscate you, I want to be your man
Someday we'll look back on this and it will all seem funny
But now you're sad, your mama's mad
And your papa says he knows that I don't have any money

Tell him this is last chance to get his daughter in a fine romance
Because a record company, Rosie, just gave me a big advance

So familiar yet after a half-year of not being listened to, oh so distant.

Time to do some work