Yo-kai Watch 2 - Fleshy Souls & Bony Spirits
How outraged are you, I mean really?
How to Survive the Apocalypse
I'm technologically challenged. There, I've said it.
Just before Christmas we switched from Sky to Virgin, since when I've spent an inordinate amount of time staring blankly at menu screens on the TV. I find change difficult; finding channels more difficult still. Has anyone seen BBC4?
I love a good sports day, although I prefer to call it by its proper name, Sky Sports Super Sunday.
School Sports Day on the other hand ...
I try to remain enthusiastic. No really, I do. But there comes a point, normally around heat 32 of the sack race, where it starts to wane.
I've not blogged over the summer holidays. I'd like to say it was a self-imposed sabbatical, but that would be ignoring the hours sat sobbing in front of a blank screen calculating how many hours it was until school re-opened.
Had an accident in the playground that wasn't your fault? Better call Sonny.
If it was your fault, say nothing and call him anyway.
This is a conversation we had a few days ago...
Sonny: “Have I got PPI?”
Sonny: “You sure?”
Sonny: “... think I might have.”
Me: “Pretty sure you've not.”
Things I've learnt (and not) this week...
People who work are grumpy.
I'm not suggesting all people, but those of us at home during the day say hello when we pass in the street you know. Well, unless you live at No 42.
Every day for a year I've said hello. Nothing. Every day I swear I'll not bother tomorrow.
A couple of weeks ago we were invited down to London for a Tesco Toy Casting; at RADA no less.
Our travel expenses were paid for and as the boys had never been to London we decided to make a weekend of it and visit some friends we see all too rarely.
I love everything about France, even if my last trip was memorable for very different reasons. But then who's not nearly been arrested for human trafficking at some point in their lives? Really, just me?
I've decided to embrace my inner grumpiness through a series of posts I'm calling 'the mutterings of a middle-aged man'. And before you say it, no, it wasn't always such; at least not officially.
And where better to start than this.
It may seem a little premature to be writing a review of 2016, but I'm not sure what my internet signal will be like if I need to bunker down with a four-year supply of tinned sardines and a wind-up torch. If Vodafone's coverage in my kitchen is anything to go by, it's not looking good.