Edition 53: "A frozen nipple..."

Good Evening Negative Soundbyters! I am sitting with my feet up in our lounge drinking some water (recovering from a weekend jaunt down to Cardiff to watch the Springboks lose another game of rugby) and eating some biltong. (That’s pretty much all that the springbok is good for these days! For my international readership biltong is dried meat and a springbok is, well, a small bok that jumps around the veld. The veld is…okay this might never end; use Google if you are still lost.)

The trip to Cardiff was an interesting one. First off I misread the instruction about meeting times and found myself at Paddington station at six thirty in the morning when, as it turns out, our train was only departing at eight thirty. I can confirm not a lot happens at Paddington station on a Saturday morning at that time especially if you are looking for some breakfast because you didn’t have any before leaving the house for fear that you would miss the train! I had to settle for an Egg McMuffin alongside a group of rather large men wearing bright orange overalls and hardhats. (I didn’t think it wise to discuss with them why rail engineering works are so disruptive and cause us Londoners such inconvenience.) Instead I munched my muffin in silence and pondered my navel, as there was absolutely nothing else to do!

As is typical of any train heading towards a sporting event in the UK, it was packed to the rafters. Thankfully our trip organiser had booked us seats otherwise we would have been standing for the 4.5 hours it took to get to Cardiff. As is typical of most trains in the UK it was delayed; it crawled, ground to a halt, sped up, shuddered, slowed suddenly and maintained anything but a consistent speed all the way to Cardiff. We pulled into Swindon (which is just two stops out with the end in sight), the train stopped, more sardines crammed in, and then, as is typical of trains in the UK, it didn’t leave the station as one would normally expect. Instead we sat at the platform for about 45 minutes. No communication except some garbled announcement from the driver or conductor asking people who didn’t have seats to please leave the train; apparently it was overloaded and somebody had fainted or something. That went down like a proverbial lead balloon; nobody in our carriage took the slightest notice. Separating a Springbok fan from a rugby match is about as likely as nuclear war on the Korean peninsula! (Um Hoddy that is becoming more real by the day…).

Anyway when the train finally departed, it departed going backwards. There was a stunned silence. This was a first for just about all of us; it seemed we were heading back to London! I looked on Google Maps and breathed a sigh of relief – the little blue ball was still heading in the direction of Cardiff, just possibly via a different route! Given the result maybe a night in Swindon wouldn’t have been so bad!

I’ve nattered on for a bit too long so I will skip this week’s events of geopolitical significance and move on to the anecdote.

Big Love

Hoddy X

Tonight I fed Rafe some “real” food for the first time. Mrs H entrusted me with the plastic spoon and some cauliflower puree and I got to tick off another New-Dad experience.

First a quick word on the puree. Mrs H has mastered being able to puree about every vegetable and fruit you can imagine. Our freezer is filled with rows-upon-rows of frozen little food cubes which I have received very precise instructions on how to prepare for Rafe’s culinary delight. I wondered whether there was a bacon-and-eggs breakfast puree but thought better of asking; Rafe is going through his 4-month growth spurt now and he is doing his best to keep Mrs H up at all hours of the night! Sleep is therefore in short supply – as are senses of humour when it comes to critiquing baby food preparation!

I put Rafe in his recliner (we don’t have a high chair yet) on the dining room table. Mrs H passed me a very large plastic bib that pretty much covered his entire body (for good reason), the spoon and then the puree. I was set.

We both checked each other out. Rafe must have been thinking “Why is New Dad looking at me with that stupid grin on his face and what is that blue stick that he keeps waving in front of my face?” I was like “Son you need to throw me a bone here; Mrs H is watching…..”

I put a dollop of cauliflower on the spoon and gingerly moved it in the direction of Rafe’s mouth not sure what to expect. Mrs H had told me that he blew her a large raspberry as she was feeding him some carrot; she was the one who ended up needing the bib! He looked at me a bit suspiciously (this did not look like a nipple) but he opened his mouth and I quickly inserted the spoon. As most babies are want to do they are used to trying to put all manner of things into their mouths, and Rafe is no exception. He closed his lips round the spoon, sucked a bit and then opened again. The spoon was clean!

I had done it! I was now becoming a multi-faceted, “value-add” Dad. Rafe loved his cauliflower puree and truth betold I loved feeding it to him. He ensured in true baby fashion that every inch of his plastic bib was covered in a dribble-puree mix as well as his hands and parts of his face, but the little man had a smile from ear-to-ear so I must have been doing something right. (Obvs a big shout out to Mrs H for getting the recipe bang on!)

It just shows that in life even the small things can bring you so much joy; and I didn’t have to pick cauliflower out of my hair when I was finished!

OUT :)

Pic of the Week

Not sure how many seafaring voyages she has left in her...