For us Northerners, Blackpool illuminations is a rite of passage. It's a coming of age moment. Right up there with your first Greggs pasty, chip barms and rickets.
I'll not lie, I had high expectations. So much so I may have bigged it up a little too much.
Duinrell Family Park - Canvas Holidays
Big Shop with Little Helpers
Like Riding a Bike
A few months ago I read what was possibly my favourite ever tweet …
At the time it really made me chuckle. Not so much now.
You see that 68-year-old man is a comrade; a true brother in arms.
Not only could I carbon date my housework from within the mountain of clothes, but also my life.
I don't think I'm giving anything away by saying both peaked around 2009.
I suppose I should write the obligatory back to school post. As a parent blogger I think it's in my contract. I also have a confession to make, but more on that later.
As of next week they'll both be in school full-time. Sonny is already there, Luca however is still within the graduals stage.
It's been a grim fortnight with both the boys suffering a week each of fever and phlegm.
It's been so prolonged Sonny has started referring to Calpol as a pudding. Luca has a Calpol dance!?
Two weeks house-bound has meant they've had to draw up a gentleman’s agreement on some house rules.
Sonny has asked that I write about his first week at school. Luca would also like me to mention his new nursery.
Seriously, you'd think this whole blog revolved around them?
Wednesday was Sonny's first day. It went well, really well. So well in fact I didn't bother sending him in on Thursday.
Father, caregiver, storyteller, teeth-brushing inspector, school-on-time deliverer, comic in residence, Mario Kart Grand Master ...
… but you don't need to ask them, because I've done it for you.
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?
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 don't want to sound overly dramatic, but you know that image of a polar bear clinging to an iceberg? That's me in the shower that is. And if you're thinking hippo in a bathtub, shame on you!
It all began when the kids first scaled Mount Stair-gate. Until then, upstairs was a savannah of sanity.
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.
My childhood was one big game of hide and seek, or more accurately hide, jump out, and measure your success on the pitch of the ensuing scream. Even at 38 I still feel a sense of anxiety if either of my sisters are in the house and I don't know exactly where they are at any given time.