Wednesday, 9th February, 2005
The Bill Bailey DVD we ordered arrived, and I had to agree with Jack’s assessment that it’s “well funny”. I feel an affinity with Bill, since we’re both humourists. The only difference between us is that he’s extremely successful, has great stage presence and happens to be a talented musician to boot. There, I must admit, he’s got the advantage over me, since there’s probably not a huge amount of comedic value in a bloke staring at his guitar trying to remember the chords for Home on the Range.
Friday, 11th February, 2005
A man’s work is never done. In anticipation of guests landing on us (not literally) tomorrow, I took the afternoon off to get the house ship-shape (or, more realistically, house-shape). With F. being out and Sarah not being well, poor old Jack was press-ganged into “volunteering” to help. So, while I spent about 5 hours cleaning two bathrooms, the hall, landing and stairs, our bedroom, the lounge, the dining room and the study, Jack bravely changed his bed and hoovered his bedroom.
Jack asked if he’d be getting extra pocket money for all his efforts. I launched into an uplifting speech about fulfilling our responsibilities, all pulling together, the reward of a job well done and the like. It took me a good three minutes to notice he was no longer there.
Saturday, 12th February, 2005
A most pleasant day with our visitors. We watched rugby, went to town, got soaked walking back from town, then dried off while watching a Tom Hanks film, The Terminal. It’s a peculiar yet heartwarming tale (not unlike these diaries, really) marred only by the fact that in my hurry to restock the popcorn I broke one of our treasured blue Pyrex bowls.
Much like a hamster, said bowl wasn’t exactly irreplaceable but had nonetheless been in the family for some time and will be missed.
Monday, 14th February, 2005
This being Valentine’s Day I have of course carried out various essential domestic chores, to whit: New battery in dining room alarm sensor (previous one having lasted a paltry six weeks); New fluorescent tube in kitchen worktop light fitting (a snip at £6.50); New 10 Watt halogen bulb in bathroom downlighter (again). My sense of achievement knew no bounds.
Thought I’d better tackle the assignment from last week’s session of the Finding Your Place in the Kingdom of Our Righteous God and Playing Your Part in the Spreading of His Glorious Gospel course. My thoughtful and decisive answers apparently indicated that I was mildly interested in eight different areas of ministry and may possibly have one or more of at least eleven different spiritual gifts. So that’s much clearer then.
This being Valentine’s Day, F., Jack and Sarah watched Forrest Gump.
Tuesday, 15th February, 2005
The extractor fan in the downstairs loo ceiling has been screaming like a strangled banshee for a while. Being on a DIY roll (see yesterday’s entry), I whipped it out and sprayed WD40 into every available orifice. A quick check of the instructions (carefully filed, naturally, along with leaflets for a fridge-freezer, a kettle we threw away in 1998 and 37 other miscellaneous household appliances) revealed a fairly short section on maintenance, consisting mainly of the phrase Do not lubricate under any circumstances.
While washing my hands after this highly successful task, I also had to rinse several drops of WD40 out of my left ear.
Wednesday 16th February, 2005
F. was not pleased by the small, oily pool on the floor in the downstairs loo. I said I’d have a word with the kids as it was probably some weird hair product.
Thursday, 17th February, 2005
I explained to Sarah and Jack that since our tickets for Les Miserables were pretty pricey, there’d be no father-child bonding trip this year. They put on a good show of concealing their disappointment.
Cycled to B & Q to look for a new extractor fan.
The Dad Diaries are fictional. Probably.