How to Train Your Viking

Sunday

Ever the sucker for things that jangle and lyricists that make me smile it comes as little surprise that The Lucksmiths happen to me. I'm sure Dave punted a track by them my way. Either way it is a smiling me typing today.

Trad start to a bank holiday weekend day as I attempt a little DIY. Cal's DVD collection has outgrown the shelving and having bought a new Benno unit from IKEA ages ago I finally put the thing together. Traditionally I manage to hit my thumb several times and utter immortal Tom Sharpe lines at the room and the cat who occupies it. Throw into the mix I am kinda watching an episode of Rome at the time and it all seems natural that Dame Irony is in the house.

Saturday

A day in which I run around in preparation for the bank holiday traditional downturn in the weather mowing lawns and such like. The grass as usual is being awkward and growing in between mowing sessions. The pygmy tribe that hang out in the long grass at the end of the garden have again retreated to the uplands of the rockery.

Actually the garden is looking better than it should because Monst invested a sum of twice the amount she told me (stoopid girl told a friend that over the phone as I arrived back on Friday - I don't go ape as predicted, what's the point it's done and dusted now) in a couple of women to hack away at the garden for the morning. They were on a better wack than I receive for it and no grief about not tidying the house as I potter about outside. Anyway the rockery out front now looks a whole heap better and the grass can piss me off by growing again over the week.

Of course this is a precursor to Monst and the boy going to see 'A Bridge to Terabithia', I drop them at Edge Lane and return home. Get bugger all achieved from that. Then off to pick them up and drag them to Warrington. We visit a garden centre for a mooch but have a more productive time at Borders where we come away with a few things including 'How to Cheat a Dragon's Curse' the latest of the Toothless books. Then to the LA Bowl for Jack's party where I watch the boys bowl and Monst reads. Theres a turn up for the books. Home via the Silver Valley. Where I discover Sammy Lee's childhood fancy, the views on child abduction from our fellow diners, whether I wish to or not.

Friday

Early dart to Reggie, quick catch up with stuff I missed yesterday. Coffee from the meeting Place, park on Jamaica Street and wander down to the performance management training with Elaine G. Arrive early. Goes well. Impressed as usual.

Home and as this is meant to be a pleasant evening I prepare to cremate meat as the folks visit Marie and co so Cal can play with Meggie. Cool.

Technology, Bah!

Damn, bast and medium weight curses, technology hasn't failed but idiot boy has. Left the phone cable at work so I can't hook up to write this online. Still in the land of steam powered floppy drives I have a cunning plan. Serenaded by Mr. Billy Bragg and 'Life's a Riot with Spy Versus Spy' an album of class songs crudely executed by the man himself, a guitar and a Roland combo if my mind can stretch back that far. Back in 1985 it was crucial listening at 14 Queens Avenue as I lived there alone with the family up the road after my Grandfather died and they needed someone to prevent the gaff being burgled. Good preparation it was for student life, with my kettle having psychological problems thinking it was a saucepan and no TV just righteous music selected by the music police (mind you I do have a memory of Kaz Caswell playing some Supertramp much to my disgust). A time of free festivals, supporting striking miners ad believing a guitar could change the world. Hitchcock and the Egyptians were fresh out the wrapper and Soft Boys re-releases were beginning to become available. God that place was a bit of a loveshack, 17 place to yourself and raging hormones it was every father's nightmare. Moved on to 'Brewing Up with Billy Bragg' as i'm plainly on a nostagia kick. Tripped to Cally's 'Harvest Festival', no matter how much i know it's a fertility rite and just whipping it out, measuring it and giving it a strategic shake would do the job, I just didn't have the heart to tell them that. Sharon loved it, watching him singing the 'Oats and Beans' and 'All thing's Bright and Beautiful' and all the other dodgy hymns that were written to ensure that the social order was kept in place and society grooved along as required by those running the dominant ideology. I sat there and it was quite moving on the one level watching Cal interacting with the class. All the time I was thinking that rather than a rendition by the recorder group of the 'Skye Boat Song' (a song commemorating the failure of George to nail the balls of the Gay Italian Dwarf to anything useful) and 'London's Burning' kick ass rendition of 'Satisfaction' or 'Anarchy in the UK' would have been more interesting. Which reminds I must chase Brian over this ******* server for this pilot 'cos no doubt he ain't got back to Joe. Laughed like a drain as the townees were singing a song about the country code, put 'em in a field of bullocks and they'd shit 'emselves. On return from the Harvest festival did tend to the family estate. Could hear my Grandfather Lamb spinning in his grave in South Stoke, as I once again adopted a Social Darwinian approach to gardening and cut the budleia and dogwood right back (about 6 inches from the ground) on the basis that it'll either live or die as a result. If it lives it'll be all the stronger for the experience (mind you serves him right for working in service as a gardener's boy and gardener). Just to be fair, I also took things out on the lawns (yes he's still rotating at the thought of how I seeded the lawn and the fact that it is as flat as a lunar surface) and gave them a mowing that'll teach them to grow. Feel shagged out as a result of this and plan on having a long hot soak. Yesterday's library open day went well, we had 63 through the door and only 4 of 'em were other librarian's. Seems like the leafleting worked. Christ knows what the next publicity stunt'll be. This marketing lark's a treadmill htat once your on you just gotta keep going. Looks like we need to change the library name (people are confusing our role with HCLU's) so we'll do that as soon as we run out the current batch of leaflets and drift into Fade. Talking of which looks like people may find some money for us to fling the thing on the internet proper. Need to get some costs together and work out what space we'll need to do it. Another day on not doing librarianship.