Negative SoundByters – a gentle, good evening to you all! You will all be very pleased to know that I am now almost fully recovered from that nasty, little lurgy that had invaded my pristine, Grecian inspired temple. I had to resort to the big guns in the end. While I try and resist using antibiotics, it felt like my face had gone through twelve rounds with Anthony Joshua such was the sinus pain and general state of unhappiness I was in. My home brewed concoctions were not passing muster, although Mrs H’s hot toddies were not unwelcome!
I don’t usually write with the television on in the background (this sort of quality prose is crafted with few distractions!) but it’s World Cup time, and England is playing Tunisia in the first game of their campaign. I support England in the absence of Banana Banana. (Sorry that’s Bafana Bafana, the South African football team who is even more inept that England when it comes to big tournament performances!) Long suffering is taken to a new level if you are an English supporter (they would liken it to Chinese water torture except the drop of water is an AJ fist) and I am not sure it will be any different at this World Cup, especially since it’s in Putin’s backyard. Vlad is not exactly a fan of the UK and I wonder what skulduggery he has in store. I see that he has already unleashed every single midge in the motherland on tonight’s venue – a sticky, muggy night in Volgograd (formerly Stalingrad in case you were wondering). The score is still 1-1; I will update you if it changes…
In a previous post I described how I managed to damage my laptop – with mouth wash. Unfortunately there was no antibiotic equivalent that was going to restore my trusted machine to its former glory. The Apple technician gave me the look of that long suffering England supporter and launched into all the issues he had encountered in trying to bring it back to life. It’s wasn’t quite the last rites but it was pretty close. Upshot is the screen is buggered. The technician originally thought it was some groovy wallpaper design until he realised it was globules of mouthwash that had splattered across the retina display. He had to disconnect the battery in order for the machine to power up. One upside is it now turns on automatically when I attach the power cord – go figure. And the keyboard is stuffed as well; therefore I need to use an external keyboard. It has ceased to be what one might define as a laptop in a portable sense. It works perfectly otherwise; I just can’t use the screen, keyboard or charge the batteries.
TWO ONE ENGGGGLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAANNND! Harry Kane does the job and then proceeds to get jumped on by all his team mates – talk about Love Island! Wow.
And on that hopeful note, let’s move on…..
Lots of round shaped love.
Hoddy!
Shoe shopping.
It’s not something I have ever got a thrill out of. For me shoes are functional; they should be comfortable and not clash with my ensemble. Until Mrs H came into my life I was unaware that what I had on my feet clashed regularly with my chosen attire. She quickly sorted that out and now if I am ever in doubt I pass the combination past her seasoned eye.
However this past Sunday we went shopping as a family for Rafe’s first pair of shoes. Using the collective word “family” is slightly misleading - Rafe and I had come along for the ride; Mrs H was going to be in charge of the purchase itself.
Rafe isn’t walking yet, but he is using whoever is close by to lend a hand and support him as he waddles about with whichever adult he has managed to collar; he or she doubled-over trying not to trip over the blonde dynamo! Given the amount of time he is now spending on his tootsies, Mrs H decided that shoes were a logical next step. I agreed in a rhetorical sense – that’s if you answer somebody back who isn’t expecting an answer from you and doesn’t really care.
There is nothing cuter than a baby’s shoe – especially that first one. Mrs H opted for a slip-on which looked very comfortable to me. The one I liked had a cool dinosaur stitched into the fabric. Mrs H went with the plain blue. I think even Rafey would have liked the T-Rex but when he is in his late twenties he will be able to choose his own shoes!
Needless to say he looked super sharp and he got to try them out in the pub where we met a friend for some afternoon swifties. Mrs H slipped them on his feet and we ordered our drinks. Out of the corner of my eye I was watching how Rafe would handle this new addition to his wardrobe.
Being a supple baby his first instinct was to bring his foot up to his mouth and give one of his new shoes a dribble proof test. Satisfied that it wasn’t edible, he then tried to remove it – like his socks, nothing stays on his feet for too long. (I keep telling Mrs H that South African babies and toddlers don’t like wearing things on their feet.) He just about succeeded, but Mrs H was wise to his wily ways and promptly replaced it. He gave me a twinkly look; he wasn’t going to succumb that easily!
We enjoyed our drinks. Rafe went on a few tours of the pub – chatted up a few girls (it’s easy when you have blonde hair and blue eyes!) – and chewed on a few olives (yup: sour, green olives – go figure!). It was nearing his bedtime so we decided to wrap things up. I went for a final pit-stop and on my way out bumped into my mate who was escorting Rafe on his last sightseeing trip before home time.
Take a guess: one slip-on was where it should have been. The other was nowhere to be seen! I didn’t hold it against my mate; babies are cunning and Rafey is no exception. He’s dazzling you with the blue saucers but at the same time he’s working out your weak spots that he will exploit without compunction – a sort of mini Vlad if you will!
Rafe will get used to his shoes; he just needs to remember that a black leather belt with brown shoes is a no-go!
OUT :)
Pic of the Week
Farm house doors - I love the stone work and iron mongery...
