Stupid Farm Rules!

Heh, heh, just you try and stop me!

A Grand Weekend

This was the kind of weekend that makes me love working for London Underground.

On Friday, we looked after my niece Emily. Although the weather wasn't great, we took her over to Gullivers Land in Milton Keynes. She started a bit reluctant, but soon went on the rides with me. Fortunately, the rain held off all day.

On Saturday we went over to my brother's to watch the football. Although the result didn't go our way, there's not a lot better in life than a few beers and footy with your brother is there?

On Sunday we went to a cremation at 'Chelle and Gaz's. My understanding was that it was intended to be a barbeque. Later that day, my piss smelled of burnt chicken. Gaz claimed not to know how that could be.
Later that evening, Gary and Caroline popped over for a few drinks. Those few drinks were followed by a few more drinks and then a couple more. They left just before midnight, I dunno how Gary got up for work at 4am today!

Today, the weather was simply beautiful so we decided to go out.
We went over to Woburn. We had a pleasant walk around the town itself, followed by a drive near the Abbey and Safari Park, air-con on all the time. Matty was amazed to look out of the car window and see the real life deer just lazing around in the fields. Mind you, the missus was very impressed with the size of the stag's antlers. It made me feel somewhat inadequate!

So that's that then, another long-weekend has passed and I'm now faced with seven late shifts on the spin.
Suddenly my love of working for London Underground has faded again!

She's Mad I Tell Ya

Today we had Uncle Jeremy on for the benefit of Matty. One of the chavvy slags on the show had really big eyes. So I said to the missus;
"She looks like one of them big eyed, furry, mother fuckers, that hang around in trees."
"A Goldfish."
"What?!"
"Shut up!"

Last Thursday I went for a few beers with my mate Darryn. His wife kindly picked us up from the station with their kids in tow. On the way to their house, we were discussing work being done in their garden when Darryn's youngest Amy came out with;
"Then we can all go out and roll in the mud naked."

There was a moment of silence before everyone burst out laughing.

Interesting Fact

Fox's Glacier Mints are made from baby foxes.

My Cat The Murderer

On monday night, our beloved Peanut-Face brought home a mouse. The only problem was that it was still alive. As I was at work, it fell into the missus' hands to run around, with Matty in one hand and an empty chocolate box in the other. She eventually caught it and released it out the front of the house.
Learning her lesson, Peanut-Face decided to ensure that the on she brought home on wednesday night was dead.

Be Warned

The cows shall have their day!

Bee Gone

Apparently, U.K. bee numbers have fallen by around 30%.

Am I the only person who sees this as a good thing?

At Last, An Update!

I've been on early shifts all week and have been very busy.
As a result, I've been getting in exhausted and just lazing around, hence the lack of posts.
So, here is the news from my world;

The missus has been signed off work by the doctor until her maternity leave starts. This is due to high blood pressure, bad hips and swollen (fat) feet. She gives me an evil stare when I call her Bigfoot. Can't think why!

Hendrix the hedgehog was moved on by my brother-in-law Gary. I guess he had to really. After all, it was his stuff that Hendrix was shitting on!! He was released into the local woodlands. Hendrix that is, not Gary. Although......

Yesterday the missus and me went to her sisters for dinner. Michelle cooked a superb Pistichio, which is a greek pasta dish. Gareth helped me try out some lager. Russian, Estonion and a "Black Lager" all of which were very tasty indeed. We also discussed Facebook, but that's not for here!

Today I finished a few jobs around the house. The amount of work left is as near as makes no difference to nothing. The baby's room is only missing one thing now, the baby.

I've settled for the evening now. I'm gonna sink a few beers, watch Arsenal against Ajax and then I'm gonna watch the first 2 episodes of A Town Called Eureka season 3, which fell on to my iPod in a completely legal fashion.

Undecided

The hedgehog situation has yet to be resolved.
To be honest, I don't know what I should do.
He's not hurting anyone out there. If I take him to the woods up the road he'll probably just come back and I was only joking about the rusty shovel across the head. There are some people I'd like to do that to, but not a defenceless creature.
What's worse is that we've now given him a name (I keep using him, it could be a her), we've called him Hendrix after the rock god. This has given him a kind of "pet" status, which is making the decision awkward.
Besides, it's kinda cool having a hedgehog in the garage.
Isn't it?
I'm thinking of arranging a boxing match between him and Peanut-Face, but he'll probably win on points.
Sorry.

The Latest Lodger

I'm sitting on the train to work, feeling glum knowing that I won't see the lovely weather as I'll be underground and the mobile rings. It's the missus.

"Hello?"

"Oh my god! Oh my god, James!"

"What's wrong?"

"Oh my god! Oh my god!......."

I'm thinking she's gone in to labour and I just about hold on to my bowels.

"........there's a hedgehog in the garage!"

Pause.

"What?"

"There's a hedgehog in the garage!"

"A hedgehog?"

"Yeah, a massive one."

"Well show it to my toolbox and get it to finish the bathroom."

"What should I do?"

"Just leave it until I get home."

"What if it shoots spikes at me?!"

"It's a fucking hedgehog love, not a sniper."

Later I get the photo of the hedgehog sleeping under the bbq, the fucker's making himself at home!

When I get home I find him just outside the garage door, the picture didn't come out so well. I made the mistake of coming in the house to get a torch and he'd gone again. Back under the garage door and behind all the stuff that's being stored there for countless relatives. I'll have to wait until he settles for a kip tomorrow. Depending on how frisky the little raasclart is, he'll either get wrapped in an old towel and taken to the woods or he'll have his head staved in with a rusty shovel.