Those of you that have been following my blog for a while, may remember the story a couple of years ago, during an alcohol fuelled Facebook conversation when I felt everyone was going completely over the top just because a 'Friend' had lost her dans leg (whatever that was) in the post.
And so your 'hero' waded in taking the mickey only to realise gradually that I had misread the situation and it was actually Wendy's son, Dan's prosthetic leg that disappeared in transit to the Island and perhaps my facetiousness, like the errant limb had been a little misplaced.
Although the family was very understanding regarding my witless attempt at humour (though Wendy called me an old fossil for suggesting that she had contributed to my error by not using the necessary apostrophe)tonight, I had opportunity for complete redemption.
Dan is an extremely capable sportsman and competes with the best in the Island at hockey and also does athletics, so today his Mum put a plea on Manx Harriers' page for a right foot spiked athletics shoe to be cut up and fitted to the bottom of his blade.
I knew that I had kept our Terence's pair despite him quitting the sport some years previous, so I immediately contacted Wendy sensing that chance to turn finally from zero to hero and we arranged for Wendy to come round to my house to collect it.
However, the God of Prosthetic Limbs thought otherwise and that I still had time to serve as a perceived idiot.
Somehow, during a rare clear-out a couple of weeks earlier, I'd managed to throw one of them away and you guessed it......I had only a left foot.
Thankfully, Alan Corlett has stepped in to save the day and my complete rehabilitation will have to wait a little longer.
Tuesday, 25 March 2014
Wednesday, 19 March 2014
The Joys of Grandparenthood!
With Irene on the boat the other Sunday, it was decided that I would attempt to get Harry, our 2 year old grandchild back to sleep when he blessed us with a 3.00am wake-up call.
And so began my solo babysitting day. Instead of 'Snuggles Daddad,' it was kicks to various parts of my anatomy though I did eventually get him back off for a while.
Still, it was too early for Match of the day (like I'd be allowed to watch it instead of 'Peppa Pig') but I managed to survive breakfast, even persuading him to use his cutlery to eat most of it.
He spent the rest of the morning bringing out his toys etc. including Irene's Hula Hoop which he always rolls out to me accompanied by the phrase, 'Skipping Daddad.' Usually this activity includes about 5 minutes of gyrations for me whilst he bounces his blow-up cylinder off it.
Aah. A chance to relax for a while he watches a little TV? Daddad! Daddad! And he's in the cupboard under the stairs and I have to extract his toy vacuum cleaner for him. It gets worse. 'Yours Daddad! Yours Daddad!'
When normally, I'm either lying in bed or watching MOTD, preparing to race, there I was with Henry in hand cleaning the dining room and kitchen at 8:15am!
I'd already decided to take him swimming but I didn't want to use my ace card too early in the game, so I decided it would be fun to take him to watch the 20 miles race on the N.S.C. perimeter road and that's when I made my big mistake by parking next to the main building, so that he could see the pool.
'Swimming Daddad! Swimming Daddad!' 'Later Harry. Let's go and watch the race.'
Well, I just about pulled that one off and attempted to negotiate our way through the race to Manx Harriers clubhouse without Harry rugby tackling any of the athletes where he started attacking the biscvquits and throwing cake on the floor when he decided he didn't like it.
'Swimming Daddad! Swimming Daddad!' was the every two minute refrain and at this stage I decided to try and walk the rest of the way round but he wouldn't believe me and threw his first tantrum across the river from the well known fast food place where there was an audience of people witnessing my child abuse! I couldn't persuade him to go the short way back to the car, so we had to go the long route back whence we'd came, though now he'd decided that every 100m he was going to stop dead and sit on the wet grass bank.
Frazzled is the description of how I was beginning to feel but eventually, we made it back to the swimming pool which would have been fine if we didn't have to move away from the building to get the bag from the car. This time it was full on kicking and screaming and there was just no explaining that I had to take him in the wrong direction. For a nearly 3 year old, he's very strong and I gained another few observers, probably on the verge of calling the Police to report an abduction!
He escaped as I queued to pay and I was caught in the 'No Man's Land' between controlling the child or never actually getting in to the blooming baths and luckily, he caused no damage to himself, others or the Reception and eventually I made the changing area.
Battling to tog him him and half dressed myself, I made the shocking discovery that in the bedlam of the morning so far, I had forgotten to pack my swimming shorts!
I calmly explained my predicament to Harry who listened attentively and replied that he understood that I'd made a simple error and it didn't matter anyway because we could easily slip home and grab them.
Actually, I was frightened that he was really going to injure himself because he just went wild but eventually we made it back to the front desk where I realised I could buy a horrible pair of budgie smugglers for £16 and once again we were heading downstairs.
Harry was ready again quickly and kept trying to unlock the changing booth and I was just about to slip into my new purchase when I noticed that the lady had left the security tag on them. I could have cried but I quickly decided that I'd prefer to be mistaken for an idiot or a shoplifter than go through the whole rigmarole of returning to Reception.
It was with immense relief that we eventually made it into the water and I could finally relax a little.
Five minutes later, 'Tout Daddad!' 'Daddad's car!'
I growled, ' There is absolutely no way we are getting out of this pool for at least 45 minutes after all I've been through to get you in here!'
There was a little more chasing about and of course when I wanted to take him home, he didn't want to go but despite forgetting to bring a spare nappy, we made it back without any more major mishaps and I even managed to have the security tag removed from the trunks.
By the time I handed him back to mum at 15:45, there was only one place Daddad was heading to and it took a good few of Dr. Okells finest to restore my equilibrium (Perhaps slightly over restored if the truth be told ;) )
And so began my solo babysitting day. Instead of 'Snuggles Daddad,' it was kicks to various parts of my anatomy though I did eventually get him back off for a while.
Still, it was too early for Match of the day (like I'd be allowed to watch it instead of 'Peppa Pig') but I managed to survive breakfast, even persuading him to use his cutlery to eat most of it.
He spent the rest of the morning bringing out his toys etc. including Irene's Hula Hoop which he always rolls out to me accompanied by the phrase, 'Skipping Daddad.' Usually this activity includes about 5 minutes of gyrations for me whilst he bounces his blow-up cylinder off it.
Aah. A chance to relax for a while he watches a little TV? Daddad! Daddad! And he's in the cupboard under the stairs and I have to extract his toy vacuum cleaner for him. It gets worse. 'Yours Daddad! Yours Daddad!'
When normally, I'm either lying in bed or watching MOTD, preparing to race, there I was with Henry in hand cleaning the dining room and kitchen at 8:15am!
I'd already decided to take him swimming but I didn't want to use my ace card too early in the game, so I decided it would be fun to take him to watch the 20 miles race on the N.S.C. perimeter road and that's when I made my big mistake by parking next to the main building, so that he could see the pool.
'Swimming Daddad! Swimming Daddad!' 'Later Harry. Let's go and watch the race.'
Well, I just about pulled that one off and attempted to negotiate our way through the race to Manx Harriers clubhouse without Harry rugby tackling any of the athletes where he started attacking the biscvquits and throwing cake on the floor when he decided he didn't like it.
'Swimming Daddad! Swimming Daddad!' was the every two minute refrain and at this stage I decided to try and walk the rest of the way round but he wouldn't believe me and threw his first tantrum across the river from the well known fast food place where there was an audience of people witnessing my child abuse! I couldn't persuade him to go the short way back to the car, so we had to go the long route back whence we'd came, though now he'd decided that every 100m he was going to stop dead and sit on the wet grass bank.
Frazzled is the description of how I was beginning to feel but eventually, we made it back to the swimming pool which would have been fine if we didn't have to move away from the building to get the bag from the car. This time it was full on kicking and screaming and there was just no explaining that I had to take him in the wrong direction. For a nearly 3 year old, he's very strong and I gained another few observers, probably on the verge of calling the Police to report an abduction!
He escaped as I queued to pay and I was caught in the 'No Man's Land' between controlling the child or never actually getting in to the blooming baths and luckily, he caused no damage to himself, others or the Reception and eventually I made the changing area.
Battling to tog him him and half dressed myself, I made the shocking discovery that in the bedlam of the morning so far, I had forgotten to pack my swimming shorts!
I calmly explained my predicament to Harry who listened attentively and replied that he understood that I'd made a simple error and it didn't matter anyway because we could easily slip home and grab them.
Actually, I was frightened that he was really going to injure himself because he just went wild but eventually we made it back to the front desk where I realised I could buy a horrible pair of budgie smugglers for £16 and once again we were heading downstairs.
Harry was ready again quickly and kept trying to unlock the changing booth and I was just about to slip into my new purchase when I noticed that the lady had left the security tag on them. I could have cried but I quickly decided that I'd prefer to be mistaken for an idiot or a shoplifter than go through the whole rigmarole of returning to Reception.
It was with immense relief that we eventually made it into the water and I could finally relax a little.
Five minutes later, 'Tout Daddad!' 'Daddad's car!'
I growled, ' There is absolutely no way we are getting out of this pool for at least 45 minutes after all I've been through to get you in here!'
There was a little more chasing about and of course when I wanted to take him home, he didn't want to go but despite forgetting to bring a spare nappy, we made it back without any more major mishaps and I even managed to have the security tag removed from the trunks.
By the time I handed him back to mum at 15:45, there was only one place Daddad was heading to and it took a good few of Dr. Okells finest to restore my equilibrium (Perhaps slightly over restored if the truth be told ;) )
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