MORE CONVERSATIONS WITH ALBERT

But first a story about my poor Mum;

In 1999 I floated a Company on the LSE and it attracted quite a bit of attention as it was the first listing on Techmark and also one of the quickest full listings from start of the business to getting quoted. It was the Dotcom boom and all that and really crazy days.
After the listing, the Company was valued at God knows what monopoly money price and it attracted quite a lot of press attention, including the local Paper in Barrow where my parents live and where I went to school. So on the day after the Floatation, outside all the newsagents and paper shops and on the newspaper stands were billboards with the large headlines "Local Barrow Boy is £27 Million Pound Trader “. Actually it was a lot more, it was all a load of crap anyway, but this was really embarrassing to me and especially to my family. Anyway the Local Paper, The Furness Evening News, rang up my Mum for a quote (and they ran a Wholesale Fruit and Veg Co which was really struggling at the time because of the growth and domination of Supermarkets). Anyway when asked to comment on the news about her son, she said:

"Anyone who owes us money won’t be bothering to pay us now will they?"

And now back to the main event, Albert:

Oh well, nearly the end of another hair tearing day and I have only the putting to bed ordeal to get through, so just a couple of hours before I can take it easy.

There really have been just too many incidents to recall in the short space of time before I have to go through the "That clock is wrong" routine and the daily hunt for his bloody glasses but here's a quickie.

Today I went out and bought quite a neat pair of walkie talkies which I thought would solve the "what happens if he needs help in the night problem". What a fucking mistake!!

"Dad, I've bought some walkie talkies for you to use at night in the apartment"
"Right son"
"Now you press this button only while you talk but dont press it afterwards. Got that?"
"What button son?"
"This one on the side"
"I cant see that button son"
"You don’t have to see it Dad, just press it, it the lumpy thing on the side"
"But I can’t see it"
"Just feel the damn thing Dad"
"Calm down son"

We solve this problem by sticking one of Dacie's bright sticking plasters on it and we are set to go
"Right Dad, I'll go outside and in a minute you press the button and say a few words. Ok?"
"Yes son"

I go out side

"GERMANY CALLING , GERMANY CALLING, GERMANY CALLING. OVER"

"For God's sake Dad!  Now can you hear me, over"

"GERMANY CALLING, GERMANY CALLING, GERMANY CALLING. OVER"

"Stop fucking around Dad, over"

"ONE , TWO, THREE, THE CAT RAN UP THE TREE. OVER"

I go inside and and throw my toys out the pram

"Dad, I've just been into town on a very hot day and bought these so we can all sleep well at night"
"I always sleep well son, always have"
"Well I don’t not if I think you are going to fall over or do something stupid in the night so let’s test them properly. Right?"
"Yes son"

I go outside again

"GERMANY CALLING, GERMANY CALLING, GERMANY CALLING. OVER"

I stomp back inside
"Dad be serious for once"
"Son , I know how to work these"
Anyway he's been calling on them every 5 minutes since then and they have become an instrument of torture. Tomorrow wwe will hide them in the morning and bring them out only when he's in bed and we'll have a fining system for abuse!

Anyway I'm off to finish off the putting to bed procedure now. "OVER!"

Right he's all tucked up and reading the Bible (did I mention he's a true believer?) and saying his prayers (of which I apparently account for a disproportionate half because of my drinking, smoking and bad language).  I go back in 20 minutes to check and turn the main bedroom light off.

Anyway tonight we had a kind of result, he hadn’t lost his glasses and miraculously the clock was the right time...............by the way, I had Darcie with me for some of the time.

"Dad?"
"GRANDAD?"
"DAD?"
"IN HERE SON""

He's in the bathroom again
"I can see Granddads’ bum Dad!"
"He's having a wash Darcie"
"Is he washing his bum Dad"
"He's always washing his bum Darcie"
"Oh, why Dad?"
"Because we all have to wash our bums Darcie"
"You wash my bum for me don’t you Dad"
"Yes Darcie but I'm not washing Granddads’"

The old boy had been suspiciously quiet
"I'VE LOST ONE OF MY HEARING AIDS SON"
"Right, I'll look for it"
"PARDON SON?"
"I'LL LOOK FOR IT DAD"
"Why are you shouting at Granddad, Dad?"
"Because he cant hear me Darcie"
"WHAT'S THAT SON?" (Bizarrely when he cant hear he always shouts)
"I'M SHOUTING TOO DAD"
"Shssshhh Darcie"

We find the hearing aid in his slipper....God knows how it got there ...and now's he's ready to get dressed for bed. Darcie has gone back to the house.

"I cant find my vest" (he sleeps in a white T-Shirt which he calls a vest)
"I'll look for it Dad"
"TAXI FOR CASEMATES , TAXI FOR CASEMATES" The bloody walkie talkies are on a mini cab channel
"Don’t shout son"
"That's not me Dad"
"Who else is here son"

We turn off the walkie talkies but only after I hurl some abuse at the lazy rip off bastards out of earshot of Dad, something I've been dying to do for ages to the assholes.

"Son the phone's been ringing in here a lot tonight"
"That’s impossible Dad, we don’t have a phone in here"
"Its rung at least 5 times son but I don’t know where it is"
"That's because there isnt one, it must have been the walkie talkies Dad."
"It was the phone son"
"Ok Dad "
" I'm telling you it did"
"Whatever Dad"
"It did"
"Ok Dad, let’s not argue"

It turns out Zoe has taken his vest and other stuff to wash them but due to an avalanche of stuff from Katie it hasn’t been done, so I take him one of mine, a rather nice pale blue Ralph Lauren that I am rather fond of.

"Dad, your vest hasn’t been done yet so here's one of mine"
"Its blue son"
"That's right Dad, just like the milk" I'm feeling a bit chippy at this stage
"My vests are white son"
"I know Dad but this is one of mine"
"I don’t wear blue vests son"
"Well you are tonight unless you want to sleep with your bollocks hanging out"
"That's not funny"

THE FUCKING PHONE RINGS!!!

"Answer that son!"
Some dipstick has left one of the portable handsets from the house in the fucking kitchen. Its not for me , by the way, as usual.
"I told you there was a phone in here son"
"Yes Dad, so you did"
"Night son"
"Night Dad, Love you"
"What time is it son?"
Thinks did Zoe reset the fucking clock after the electricians were here today
""It’s ten past one Dad"
"Clocks been right today son"

And here’s one about my beautiful daughter, Darcie;

I am beginning to think that some of my Dads devious genes have been passed onto Darcie. We took her to see her Gran today who was in the "Watch" Ward for those recovering from surgery. Grans actually sitting up in a chair by her bed and propped up in another chair across the room was a bloke with no legs, who actually looked dead to me and was a dead ringer for the old boy in "Waking Ned"

"Hi Gran, are you poorly sick"
"Yes she is Darcie so we have to be very quiet"
She takes a little stroll around the room"
"DADDY, THAT MAN'S GOT NO LEGS!"
"Ssshhhhhhhhh Darcie, he's very poorly"
"Why hasn’t he got any legs Dad?"
I have no idea what to say here
"Look if you're a good girl we'll go and get a little something from the shop after"
"Ok Dad"
She then finds Grans’s  grapes and proceeds to eat most of them and in the meantime a Nurse has come and miraculously resuscitated the legless corpse who now has his eyes open.
"Dad, that man with no legs has his eyes open"
"Ssssshhh Darcie"
I turn my back for a second to talk to Gran
"HEY WHERE ARE YOUR LEGS?"

At this point I go and get her from in front of Dead Ned, make our apologies and take her out.

And now back to the Old Boy;

I have had to stay up for a while as Alastair is out with Owain playing pool, and though he's a great mate of mine, I don’t think he'd be top of too many lists as a role model for the 16 year old and future, Doctor Docker. He's got a curfew of 3.30 and I told  him if he comes home pissed then the shit will really hit the fan, hence I have to be up to check him out.
In the meantime here's another conversation with Albert from last night.

After visiting Mum in Hospital in the evening, I said I'd go and get a Take Away Curry, as Zoe had been running around all day after Gran and the rest of the extended family ( there were 10 for dinner including Owain and Camilla, who'd popped up for a Sundowner.) and needed a break.
We park up in Queensway Quay, put the order in and Alastair , Dad and I were enjoying the sunset, a cool pint (well a very weak Shandy for Dad) and some poppadums when I spotted Michelle, who owns the Lounge bar next door and is a friend of ours, walking along the Quay towards us.
Wanting to give Chub a heads up rather than Dad, I said quietly

"Look out son, here's Michelle, she's got the best pair of tits in Gibraltar" (edit, apart from yours Zo )
"Who has son?" said Dad, who I thought was nodding off and is normally as deaf as a fucking post
"This girl Dad, she'll be here in a minute, she's got wicked tits and don't look round like that"
The old boy, I swear managed to comb his hair and sit up 6 inches taller, in an instant
Michelle arrives, looking bloody horny in a white sundress, showing plenty of the best tits in Gib
"Hi Phil, how your going" or something like that, she’s a Geordie, but don’t let that put you off
"I'm fine and this is my Dad and my son Alastair"
Bit of conversation about Zoe and some about my Mum etc and then Dad drops this on me.
"Well Michelle, you know what my son said about you?"
I'm thinking, "Shit, he cant do this to me, she’s Zoe's mate on Face Book and all."
"He says you've got the best bosoms in Gibraltar and I make him right !"
(for some reason I think be rates "tits" as a swear word and he doesn’t ever swear, well apart from the time I accidentally trod on his sore leg).
"Well Albert, now I know where Phil gets it from" ( I have been pissed a few times in her bar, to be fair).
"Well Michelle (the old boys really perked up by now and there is a wicked glint in his eye) I always said that if I had to commit suicide I'd like to put my head between some bosoms and smother myself to death and my legs are killing me so can I ....
"Shut up Dad for God's sake"
Chub's pissing himself laughing by now
"Look Michelle nice to see you and see you on Sunday at the quiz night"

Somehow I don’t think Zoe and I will make Sunday night after all.

He never ceases to amaze me. Take last night when Chub and I took him to visit Mum. I find it pretty hard to spend the full visiting time in there so on a pretext of getting Mum some supplies from Morrison’s Chub and I sneaked off for a sneaky beer (and in my case a ciggie). When we got back the old boy is not sitting with my Mum but chatting up some other bird in the next bed that looked perfectly fit to me.

I've just wheeled the Old Boy over to the apartment which is Round 1 of the going to bed process. He eases himself down the three steps using the hand rail, while I whip into the kitchen and layout his breakfast stuff. The kettle is filled ("but not too full son"), his bowl and plate laid out (with spoon) and his sharp knife in the exact positions that we have established by some bitter negotiation. The All Bran and Apple ( a Golden, Golden Delicious, ie a Yellow one not a green one for which I sifted through 4 fucking boxes to find 4 that just may meet his requirements earlier today at Morrison’s). Then I set the aircon units to 24 quiet (which we have negotiated as the optimum settings) and so all is set up for when the Old Boy finally appears.

"Shut that door son or you'll let mosquito's in"
" But your standing in the doorway Dad"
"Have you filled the Kettle son?"
"Yes Dad"
"Not too full son"
"I know Dad"
"Is the All Bran out?"
"Yes Dad"
"Did you remember the spoon son?"
"Yes Dad"
"Is the Bread by the Toaster"
"Yes Dad"
"Did you get me an Apple today son?"
"Yes Dad, its a Golden Delicious"
"A yellow one son?"
"Yes a Yellow one"
Is my sharp knife there son>"
"Yes Dad"

Shit, I suddenly remember I haven’t half filled a small glass with Cranberry Lite and placed it by his bed, go to the kitchen but cant find the glass so take in a half filled cup instead.

"That’s not my glass son , it’s a cup"
"Well spotted Dad but I can’t find your glass"
"I always have a glass son "
"What’s wrong with the cup Dad"
"I can’t see what’s in it son"

Thinks, “fuck it”, its boiling hot still,but I'll run over and get another glass anyway. Comes back with new glass, half fill it up and take it in

"That’s not my glass, mine's a small one"
"This is a small one Dad” (and it really is bloody a small one too)
"Mine is smaller"
"So did you bring a glass over from home then? This is the smallest we have"
"No I didn’t, but that’s not my glass"
"So what have you done with that glass, which is the same as this glass ,and the same as the 4 others which we have, all exactly the bloody same"
"I don’t know son, but Zoe will get it for me if you won’t"
"No she won’t as she's busy"

Thinks I'll go and ask her just to shut the old Bugger up. I run over in the boiling heat
"Zoe, the daft bugger thinks we have a smaller glass than this and wont fucking believe me when I say we haven’t"
"It’s  in the dishwasher Philip"
"What is?"
"The small glass that I bought him, take it over to him, you know what he's like"
"FUCKING HELL!"

Runs back over again, sticks head round the door
"Dad, Zoe says your glass broke in the dishwasher, just use that one, I'll be back later"

Round 2

He's finally got into bed. I've laid out his new underpants and buttoned up his shirt buttons on his clean shirt and that’s hanging on his chair.

"Zoe will find that glass son"
"Its broke Dad"
"She'll find it son"
I mumble
"She's a good girl Zoe, she puts up with you son"
"Yes Dad"
"Is the All Bran out?"
"Yes Dad"
"Where's the thing son"
"What thing?"
"The air thing son"
"Ah that thing. It’s by your hand Dad"
"What's it set at son?"
"24 as we agreed Dad"
"Turn it down a bit son
"I turn it down to 22"
"NO SON THAT’S TOO COLD!"
"You asked me to turn it down dad"
"So turn it down then its far too cold"

I turn it up to 26

"That’s better son"
"Night Dad, love you"
Night Son, and make sure you count your blessings"
Which will be the title of another conversation when I have recovered the will to live
"I will Dad, Sleep well"

And now the saga of the bloody Panama Hat.

It was Alastair’s last night here for the summer and I suggest we all go out for Dinner to Charlie's in Marina Bay.

"Dad, fancy going out for Dinner, after we have visited Mum?"
"That'll be nice son"
"Right let’s get ready then"
This involves him peeing for an hour, looking for his comb ,then combing his hair, another  15 min then 30 minutes of him whingeing  and moaning about going up the ramp. Anyway we're up the ramp now and getting in the car, which is another 15 min!

"I've got to go back son"
"For God's Sake Dad, we'll miss visiting time. What is it now?"
"I've forgotten my hat"
"Where is it, I'll go and get it""
"You won’t find it son"
"Why won’t I find it?"
"Because I've lost it son
"Well lets go without it then Dad"
"I need it son if we sit outside son"
"Where did you have it last Dad?"
"If I knew that it wouldn’t be lost son"...this is familiar territory by the way

I go and look anyway and amazingly find it on the toilet cistern in his apartment
"I've found it Dad"
"Good, its got sentimental value has that hat son"
"Looks like you need a new one to me Dad, it looks like its best days have long gone, its got a hole in it"
"That lets the air in son"

We do the hospital visit and have our meal at Charlie's both of which would merit a "conversation report" in their own right and its now the next day.

"Its bloody hot today Dad, you'll need your hat on"
"I've lost it son"
"But you only had it yesterday"
"I'm telling you I've lost it!"

I ring up the Hospital and Charlie's to ask if anyone has found a rather battered Panama Hat with a hole in it and draw a blank. I look all over the House, the apartment, the garage and the cars

"Dad, we haven’t had any luck at Charlie’s or the Hospital and it’s not in the house, shall I get you a new one?"
"It’s got sentimental value has that hat!"
"Look Dad, it’s only a hat and I am sure we can find a nice one"
"It had ventilation in it son"
"I know Dad, it was a bloody hole"
"It was ventilated son"

I go to town and its a 110 fucking degrees here and try to find a ventilated Panama hat and I cant find one, plenty of hats, but no Panama’s and I am sweating cobs and getting into a fucking bad mood. I get back to the House without a Panama but with a straw hat.

"Dad I've bought you a new hat!"
"Why did you do that son?"
"To replace the Panama hat"
"I didn’t ask you to do that son"
" I know, but it’s very hot and you need to protect your head, or you could get sunstroke and go even madder"
"It’s not as good as my Panama Hat son"
"I know but I'll find you one of those as well another day , it was too hot to go wandering round town anymore today Dad"
"You needn’t have bothered son, really"
"I know Dad, but we've got to look after you, I may get a bit cross with you sometimes , but I do love you really"
“You needn’t have bothered son, as I've found it"

“FUCKING HELL!”

The silly old bugger had somehow managed to stuff it behind the cushion of a chair he never sits on.

I dont know if many other members have elderly parents who are like mine, where my father is in a wheelchair and my mother has Parkinson's, which is debilitating. Now I do love them dearly and arrange for them to come here each year to have a holiday in the sun (good for the bones etc) and to give them a change of scenery but I am not just cut out to be a carer! They've only been here 5 days and my Dad is driving me nuts like today when I set him up with in a chair with some binoculars to look out at the ships in the Bay. After asking me for the fucking twentieth time "Philip, where's that Boat from?", " I dont know Dad" I felt like chucking him in the bloody pool.
Tomorrow we are going to see the WW2 tunnels...wish me luck.
Oh and he has decided to write his memoirs and so I bought him a laptop and now we are teaching him how to use it......its driving me mental!

Here's the latest with my Dad.
The light above the door to the Pool Apartment has broken and its needed to light up the 3 steps so my parents dont kill themselves in the dark. Anyway as its summer here, its bloody hard to get anyone in at short notice, so I have scrabbled around and managed to get some Rumanian and his brother in law round who have done some work for Owain. Anyway the guys are on a ladder drilling some holes for the replacement lamp when my dad spots them from the Kitchen where he is busy writing his memoirs, feet up, tea at hand, fans gently circulating and me waiting on.
"Son, what are those blokes doing?"
"Dad, they are replacing the light"
"You didnt need to do that for us son."
whipsers under his breath, "whatever Dad"
"What did you say son"
"There here now Dad, lets hope they know what there doing"
"Havent you used them before son?"
"No Dad, but its not rocket science"
"Is he a Rocket Scientist? He'll be very dear then"
He's fron Romania Dad"
"A Romanian rocket scientist then"
"No Dad, he's an electrician"
What's he doing here then son?"
He's come to mend the light Dad"
"All the way from Romania...that must have cost you a fortune. Your Mum and I can manage quite well without it son"
"Well there here now Dad, now do you want another cup of tea?"
Yes son but I'll just go over to the apartment and see how Mum is"
Half hour later after painfully slow loading him from chair into wheelchair accompanied by squeals and yelps and my Dad if right next to the Romanians on the ladder.
"OY.....So where in Romanian are you from?"
"que? qui? etc etc"
Son, they don't speak English"
"I know Dad"
Dad uses his well tried technique of speaking to foreigners by shouting at them very loudly in broken English
"OY, YOU DO GOOD JOB FOR MY BOY. YOU DO BAD JOB MY BOY VERY ANGRY"
"Dad, shut the fuck up!"
"Pardon son?"

Dad has two hearing aids too. We've just had this conversation about me having to pick up my daughter Rosie who has been staying with friends in Val de Lobo.

"I have to go to Portugal on Sunday to get Rosie"
"Portugal?, How fars that son?"
"About 4 hours drive Dad"

Pause while he thinks a while

"4 hours, how longs that then son?"
"Well 4 hours Dad "
"You know what I mean son"
"Not really but I have done it in just over 3 , I think its about 300 miles"
"Cant she fly here then son"
"No Dad they dont fly from Porugal"
"So there's no flights from there son"
"No Dad"
"Why's that son?"
"I dont know Dad"
"So you cant fly from Portugal then"
"That's right Dad"
(turns away and tears hair out)
"What's that above the oven son?"
"Its an extractor Dad"
"Where does it go to?"
"Dad we're going to dinner now"
"I'd better have a wee then"

30 min later, still waiting!!

Well we have just come back from the Chinese, which is just over the border in Spain. It took a full 40 minutes to load them all into the car, including Mum, Dad, Zoe, Alastair, Katie and Darcie, plus wheelchair. Now we have some stairs into the garden from the garage which are a bit steep but I had the Carpenter make a ramp, so we can push the wheelchair up and down, but it is a bit hairy for the old boy who is terrified I'll let go of him and the poor old bugger does shit himself when I am in charge.

A couple of snatches of conversation from the old boy tonight, firstly when we cross the border.

"Son, so we're in Spain now"
"Yes Dad"
So we've left Gibraltar then"
"Yes Dad"
2 minutes later

"Are we still in Spain"
"Yes Dad"
We arrive at the Restaurant

"So this restaurant is in Spain?"
"Yes Dad"
"But I can still see Gibraltar"
"Well that's because we are just over the border Dad"
So the Border is just over there then son"
"Yes Dad, its just over the road"
"Right, but this restaurant is Chinese then"
"Yes Dad"
"So they have Chinese restaurants in Spain?"
"Yes Dad we're sitting in it"
"So its a Spanish Chinese restaurant?"
"Yes Dad"

We finish the meal and get to the border
"So Son,are we in Spain"
"Well this is the border Dad"
So that's Gibraltar"
"Yes Dad"
"So we're not in Spain now"
"No Dad"

We get back to the house and are in the garage area (which takes about 4 cars) and I;ve parked near the garden steps and lowered the suspension
"Can you lower the car son"
"I have Dad"
"I dont think you have"
(I check it) "I have Dad"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes Dad"
"Now I think we go backwards down the ramp son" (which is fucking impossible and we always go down frontwards)
"We always go down forwards Dad"
"Well Mark (my b-in-law) always took me down backwards"
"No he didnt Dad"
"He did son"
No he didnt and we're going down frontwards whether you like it or not"
"Dont be like that son"
Like what Dad"
"Like that son"
"For God's sake Dad, just shut your eyes if you're scared"
"I'm not scared"
"Are you ready?"
"Get Alastair here to stand in front"
"Why Dad"
"In case you drop me"
"Shut your eyes Dad, you wont need your all bran tomorrow"
"Why's that son..aaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!"

Morning Update.
I am knackered as I stayed up to make sure Alastair made his curfew last night but I went over to the flat a while ago to make sure things are ok with the Old Dears anyway, but not feeling at my brightest.

"Son, this milks not blue"
(Thinks, what the fucks he on about now)
"Really Dad"
"Its not blue son"
(Thinks, he's really lost the fucking plot now)
"Looks alright to me Dad"
"No its not"
(Thinks, is there something wrong with the old buggers eyes now)
"I only bought it yesterday Dad, its fine, just drink your tea"
"Can you buy Blue milk next time son?"
(Thinks I'd better have a word with Mum whos' in bed)
"Mum, I think Dad's eyes have gone funny he thinks the milks the wrong colour or something"
"He's been going on about it all morning Philip"
(Thinks, poor dear.)
"He wants Blue milk Mum, I think he's going nuts"
"Oh he always has the Blue milk Philip, but I have the green"
(Thinks, fucking hell we're in trouble now if they've both gone nuts)
"Mum, we have white milk here, like in the old days"
"Have you been drinking Philip, he has the full fat milk and I have the skimmed"

I told you I wasn't feeling at my best this morning. I havent been drinking but I already feel like having one after just 20 minutes of been up.

Oh and there was this one too. We have two Chinese restaurants that we go to here , one is called The Wok which is a self service Buffet where you gtake the ingredients and they cook it for you and the other is called Zen's, a service restaurant that does all you can eat and drink for 20 Euros (very popular with our crowd who usually leave it almost comatose). My kids prefer Zen's for the food, so we went there last night.

"Son, that restaurant last night"
"Yes Dad"
"It's not as good as the other one"
"What other one?"
"You know, the other one"
Thinks, he must mean The Wok
"Do you mean The Wok Dad?"
"I mean the other one son, where you bring me the food"
"Oh right Dad"
"I'm not saying it was a bad meal but the other one's better"
Thinks you bloody ate enough of it though
"Oh well, we'll go there next week if you want then Dad"
"Your Mum and I prefer the other one son"
"Sorry Dad but the kids wanted to go there last night"
"We're very grateful son, your Mum and I"
"Pardon?"
"We're very grateful, it was a lovely meal"
"No problem Dad"
"But can we go to the other one next time"
"Yes Dad"
"And can you go and get me some blue milk"
"Yes Dad"

1. This afternoon we have taken the old dears for a ride round Gibraltar, to Europa Point to see Afica and then over The Rock to see the Apes, finally ending up in Morrison's where Zoe shopped and we had tea and cake.

   First of all we have the ordeal of going up the ramp, getting them into the Car (and as we had Alastair, Beastie and Darcie with us, the wheel chair and needed space for shopping, we took two cars. The Old Dears can get in the small car much more easily, so it makes sense too.

   Random snippets from the tour.

   "I dont think that Ramps straight Son"
   "Yes it is Dad,"
   "Well I'm telling you it's not"
   "Look if it wasnt straight it wouldnt fit together and wouldnt fit flush at the top"
   "What did you say son?"
   "Look Dad it's straight OK?"
   "Well I'm not going up there till it's straight"

   Thinks, let's get Alastair involved

   "Chub! Is that Ramp straight?
   "Yes Dad."
   "Right tell your Grandad"
   "Grandad it's straight"
   "Ok son, I think it is now"

   Going to Europa Point
   "That's a big house Son. Who lives there?"
   "I dont know Dad"
   "Somebody must live there"
   "Yes Dad"
   "What's in that building son"
   "I dont know Dad"
   "You dont know much do you son, Zoe knows much more than you"
   "Well ask her then dad"
   "She's in the other car son"

   At Morrisons (bear in mind my Dad was a Wholesale Fruit and Veg Merchant)

   "Do you want to come in Dad or go straight to the Cafe?"
   "I'll come in and look at the fruit and veg son"
   "Dad, the strawberries look nice, do you want some?"
   "Where are they from son"
   "Morrison's Dad, we're in Morrison's"
   "I mean where are they from"
   Thinks, I'll look on the packet which strangely doesnt say where they are from
   "It doesnt say Dad"
   "It must do son"
   "Well look yourself then"
   "Where are my glasses son"
   "I dont know Dad, where did you leave them?"
   "I dont know son, ask your Mum"
   "Mum, where are Dad's glasses?"
   "I don't know Philip, probably at home"
   "Dad , shall we leave the strawberries or just take a risk and buy them, they look good"
   "I thought you'd already bought them son, Now where do those grapes come from?"

   We finally escape from the fucking Fruit and Veg section and get to the Cafe
   "Fancy a cup of tea Dad?"
   "Is it from a pot"?"
   "What?"
   "Is it from a teapot Son?"
   "Oh, I'll find out Dad"
   "What cakes are those?"
   I read off the names of all the dozen or so Cakes they have there
   "Do they have cheesecake Son?
   "I cant see any Dad"
   "What cakes do they have then?"
   "The one's I just told you dad"
   "What were they again?"

   You can see the House from the outside Cafe where we were sitting. Well actaully the trees in the garden and the part of the Apartment
   "Dad, you can see the House from here"
   "Where son?"
   "Well if you look to the left of that yellow building up there, its the trees that you can see"
   "I cant see anything"
   "Right, if you look at the yellow building and the green one up there its in between them"
   "Well I cant see anything Son"
   "Look (standing behind him and pointing) down my arm and its right there"
   "Son, where did Mum say my glasses were?"
   "FFS!"

Some of you may know that my Mum broke her leg last night at the hip joint and has had an operation today. Some of you may also know that my Dad has the ability to drive me nuts and so last night after the trauma's of ambulances, visits to the Hospital, some tears (mainly mine) we eventually got back home and I had taken him into the Pool apartment and was getting him settled down for the night. Now my Dad (like a lot of old people) is a man of routine and he has to have everything done exactly and precisely to his ways.

"PHILIP!"
"Yes Dad"
"WHERE ARE YOU?"
"Right behind you Dad"
"What are you doing there son?"
"Waiting for you to get out of the way, Dad."
"I'm not in your way"
"Can you fetch my glasses"
"You're wearing them Dad"
"No I'm not"
"Yes you are Dad"
"I mean my reading glasses"
"What do they look like Dad"
"They look like the one's I'm wearing"
"Thats helpful Dad, where did you have them last"
"If I knew that I wouldnt have to ask you son"
"Do you need them just now Dad?"
"No but I keep them by the bed"
I fuck off back to the house and spend 10 minutes looking for them

"I cant find those glasses Dad"
"That's alright son, I was wearing them, now where are my other glasses."
Thinks FUCKINHG HELL!
"What do they look like Dad?"
"Like the one's I'm wearing. I just told you that"
SCREAMS SILENTLY
"That clocks wrong son" (This is a big Digital Alarm Clock with a huge screen that I bought him so he can see the time at night without his glasses)
I check my watch and its one minute diferent
"Its the same as my watch Dad"
"Well your watch is wrong then"
"Well Hublot did do the timings for the World Cup Dad"
"Who"
"Hublot Dad"
"Who blew what son, are you alright son?"
"Look Dad, its the right time, believe me"
"No its not, its 2 minutes wrong"
"For God's sake Dad, whats the big deal about 2 minutes"
"Well my watch says its 2 minutes fast"
"Dad does it really matter and I dont know how to reset it and Zoe is in bed and I'm not waking her up for the sake of 2 bloody minutes"
"I didnt ask you too"
"Yes you did"
"No I didn't, I just said it was wrong"
Beats head in frustration

Eventually he gets into bed (this is about 30 minutes later)

"Now are you sure you're going to be alright Dad and dont want me or Chub to sleep on the sofa bed"
"I'll be fine son dont worry"
"Well if you want me just press the 1 button on that phone and it'll ring to the phone by my bed"
"I cant see that button without my glasses"
"Well you're glasses are by your bed"
""There not the right one's "

Goes back to the house and looks again

"I cant find them Dad, I'll get Chub over"
"No son, I am using your Mum's, she's probably got mine"
FFS!
"That's good Dad now what time will you be up?"
"I always get up at 6 son"
"Right I'll be over to make your breakfast"
"Dont be silly , I make mine and your Mum's every day"
"Really?"
"Yes son"
"Night Dad"
"Night Son"
"Mum will be fine"
"Aye she's a tough old bird, she's been so good to me"
"I know Dad, she's the best"
"She shouts at me you know?"
"Really Dad, I'd never have guessed, Love you!"
"Dont forget to bring the blue milk over in the morning"

I go over at 6 with the blue milk and the old bugger's sound asleep. I go back at 7 and he's still asleep. Eventually he gets up at 8.

"What's the time son"
"Ten past eight Dad, you had a good sleep then"
"That clocks wrong son"
"Morning Dad!"

 Just a quickie as I'm off to the hopsital

I went over there early on as usual for the morning visit and he's already up.

"Morning Dad, where are you?"
"I'm in here son"
"Where?"
"Here son"

Work out that he's in the bathroom and go in where he is standing stark bollock naked at the sink

"Er what are you doing Dad"
"I'm having a wash son"
"Right Dad"
"While your here, can you do my back, your mother usually does that"
"Ok"
We wash, rinse and dry the back and while doing it notice a smell like a dead badger coming from the Loo area (its a pretty big bathroom)
"Has one of the dogs been in here Dad"
"What?"
"Have you let the dogs in here there's a funny smell"
"Is there?"
"Smells like a dead animal Dad"
He starts laughing so much I think he's going to fall over
"I've had a good turnout today"
"What Dad?"
"I'VE HAD A GOOD TURNOUT"

Thinks, what the fuck is he on about

"I wont be needing my All Bran today son"

I hastily open the window and start gagging

"That's good to know Dad " said from the doorway.
"Now I'm going to wash my bollocks son"
"I dont care if Mum usually does that but today you're doing your own"
"I do my own balls son, now what time is it son?"
"Dont start with that one again Dad"
"Start what?"
"The time thing Dad"
"What time is it son as I think you're late for the Hospital"
"Right Dad, I'll see yoou later"
"Where's the facecloth son?"
"No bloody chance Dad, see you later"

The Tri Nations is back this weekend and im excited for many reasons. Not only do we get to see a clash between to strog sides but also this is going to be a marker for New Zealand.

There has been a lot of hype after two wins against SA but lets be honest, whilst it was good to see and the team performed well, it was two wins against a lacklustre SA with home support.

Now McCaw and his men face an Australia team who seem more intent on running the ball than they do! It is going to be fast and a great contest at the breakdown. Pocock was exceptional against SA last week and McCaw has been back to his best.

Then looking at the backs, NZ showed what they can do and that they can pretty much do it from anywhere on the field. Then you have an Australia team who have, flair pace and youth. These kids will try something that your average player wouldnt dare do.

My heart says NZ by ten by my mind says it will be closer than that. Possibly 3-5 points. One thing is for sure, we will get a better idea of just how strong the ABs are looking if they can pull off a comfortable win away from home against the Aussies.

Well Saturday was pleasing. Not only because i saw the World Champion South Africans take another loss but also becuase it showed that the first week's win wasnt a flash in the pan for NZ. The ABs kept the intensity, fire and most imporatntly, pace from the first test. It seems that they mean business.

Back to back wins and tries will please the rugby public in New Zealand but a trophy less campaign will not. So it is important that during their break they focus and build the intensity up for the Australians. I think it may be a bigger test than the Boks.

As for SA, there is no need to panic but suddenly they have a huge game this weekend. Australia are rested and have seen how NZ have swept them aside for the past two weeks. Couple that with the fact that SA havent won in Brisbane then suddenly the task is a big one for PDV and his men.

SA need to go there and use their experience. Dont try anything new or flash, get back to basics. Get the scrum working to give Spies a platform to run off. Get the line out working to give the backs front foot advantage. Also they need their big players to step up and i hate to point fingers but you, Habana! Get involved! He disappeared for the last two weeks. It is all very well and good, and this goes for the squad, being there and playing well when the going is good but when it gets tough, you need to stick at it. Dont hide.

So to this weekend. I think Australia will take this by around 12 points and i have a feeling, a small feeling, that we could see some special performances from their backs. We shall see....

Friday afternoons have become more exciting now that the Tri Nations have come into play. They have become even more exciting after the thrashing we gave the South Africans last weekend. However, anyone prediciting the same result again would be a fool.

In fact i sadly said to a few friends whilst in the pub last friday that NZ should not even bother attempting to take the Tri Nations trophy of the World Champions. I didnt think we looked sharp enough, even with a comfortable win over Wales. South Africa are a different prospect all together.

I was extremely pleased to be proved wrong though last saturday. Pride and passion and a hunger was shown and was something that i havent seen for a long time. Suddenly the string of mediocre performances and the fact that South Africa, one of two of the old enemies, were being touted as the best in the world, brought back a fire in the black jersey.

We played with pace, power and a dynamism that you would have expected from the men in green and gold. On the other side of things, South Africa looked stunned, lifeless and lacking ideas.

So where do we stand this weekend? Well it would be foolish to say the tide has turned and South Africa are no longer superior. They had an off weekend. That said i saw things in the New Zealand display that make me confident of a win this weekend although i feel it is going to be a very close affair. I cant see SA not scoring for a second consecutive weekend. If that is the case then serious questions will start to be asked. As for now, judgment needs to be reserved. One game cant tell a tale.

Oh and thought on Bakkies Botha.....i dont think you need telling but...he is an idiot.

Bring on tomorrow!

Alarm goes at 5am, and have to admit that I am already awake, as the nerves have kicked in....

We packed and loaded the bikes onto the back of the car to head down to Hampton Court for the start of the race. Mick (my brother in law) and I were fairly quiet in the car, Mick because he kept packing and unpacking his bags, something he did not stop doing until we arrived in Paris.

Hampton Court was heaving, and heaving with very fit looking cyclists who all looked confident, thin and ok in lycra.....

It is weird when you are walking into another sport, you know you are not good at it and you know that they all know you are not good at it....and to be honest I was bloody bloody nervous!

Mike and Ian were there, the other members of our team, plus the other 350 plus riders. We had received an email from the charity, Right to PLay, the day before saying that our fund raising of £42,000 would put 1500 kids through their programmes for a year, so great timing and we did mention it to each other a few times as our arses got worse and worse!

It was an amazing experience, not neccessarily a completely enjoyable one, but it was tough and bloody hard at times with the temperatures at 35+ on the road for eight hours at a go.

There was a hill outside Dover that was just brutal, it was just not funny, and I psyched myself out before it even started resulting in the worst cramps that I have ever had! In my quads, both, then my hamstrings, then my hip-flexors and calfs! All at once! I was kneeling by the side of the road leaning on my bike - the other riders must have thought that I was praying before taking on the hill...! Not if they had heard my language.....

The best part of day one was the Burger King was had before getting on the ferry! Bloody lovely! Burger, chips and coke, the food of champions.....

Day two was the toughest, rolling hill after rolling hill, interspersed with bloody long hills! One of the guys I was cycling next to summed it up perfectly 'F***ing hell, if we were in a car, we would be looking out saying what beautiful countryside, look at the lovely rolling hills... and all I can think of is f**k the rolling hills, I hate the f**king rolling hills' Had me laughing for quite a few miles.

Once you started day 3 you knew that it was nearly over, and although we had to complete 80 miles before lunch, once there we knew that we could smell Paris......or our guts were in a bad way.One of the ladies was shaking so badly at lunch she could not hold her bottle of water to drink. The shaking hands did provoke the inevitable jokes.....what a waste and all that..........luckily after a few litres she was ok to finish.

We rode in as one huge group of 350 into Paris, with the 25 odd outriders blocking off all the junctions etc. So we cycled up a deserted Champs Elysees - which was awesome. Shame I was too bloody knackered to take it all in.....

So after about 330 miles in three days, we finished. Standing around outside the hotel, in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower it was hard to believe we did not have to wash out our bike bottles, get the powders etc ready for the next day, get the power bars into the tops, gels, jelly babies etc etc. We could stop and relax..............

It was a great feeling, so we got pissed.......which was very sensible when we were no doubt dehydrated anyway! But it was a good end to a pretty intense three days.

So apologies for my absence on here, a huge huge thanks to those that sponsored me and here's to being able to sit unaided in a few weeks............haha

Experience does count for so much and I have to admit to a big grin watching Thompson 'trying' to put his contact lense in when there was an injury! Brilliant! haha. It took him so long and if you watched closely he actually flicked it off his finger once the ref was not watching................

But hey, some people will no doubt get annoyed and say that is cheating.............

As for the game.........well this was the style and approach that we all hoped for last weekend, so a little late but very welcome none the less.

England played with pace, in attack and defence, they pressured the Aussie's with their defence, the hits were better and the intensity was better. In attack it was similar, forwards ran onto the ball, basic I know but it was missing last week, the backs were similar and there was more variety.

It is too simple to say that Youngs was the factor even though he was sharp, passing was crisp and he looks an awesome prospect, but there was far more to it than that. The backrow for a start were a different group of animals, Easter was strong on the ball, Croft immense in the line-out and Moody was back to hunting at his best. The were helped by a more dynamic front five with Lawes carrying powerfully and the scrum retaining it's dominance.

The forwards and at times the basks seemd to understand how important the tackle area was, and we were far more physical once there and far quicker to get there in sufficient numbers.

Above all it seemed that the mind set was right. Foden was counter-attacking from the off which showed the frame of mind was significantly different from the week before and how much more effective did he look as a player as a result. The back three are becoming an effective unit, I am still yet to be convinced of the balance in midfield. We still lack one centre with the vision and ability to pass with speed and accuracy and hence release that back three with even more effect.

I also did not understand the substitution of Youngs at such a crucial time?

Those points aside, to win against the Aussie's on their patch is a great achievement and massive congratulations to the players on that achievement. Hopefully they will now stick with that style and mindset as they move towards next year's World Cup

So Lawes is in, at last ,and so is Youngs as the two changes to the England team to face the Aussies.

I know it is easy to be negative and I have tried to be positive about England selection as often as possible, I suppose deep down I want Johno to succeed if I am being honest, and at times this makes me biased I admit, but the Lawes selection leaves me just a little confused.

Lawes was in epic form at the start of the season, but was deemed too 'green' and he needed experience before he could start for England. Being honest his form then dipped slightly, but now suddenly he is ready......?

I am waffling I know, but what I am trying to say is that I get the feeling that none of England's selections are ever pro-active, they are reactive. Foden was only picked for the last 6 Nations game after Armitage's from had really hit rock bottom.....Lawes was the new young buck ready to be blooded during the 6 Nations, but nothing............Youngs has been in amazing form but missed the first Test.............Barkley has been 'the' form midfield player at the end of the season and.................

If a player has the ability, then age is not an issue. And many players just can not perform at Test level because they do not have that ability, and no amount of seasons at club level will ever give it to them. I have always believed that young players should be given their chance, in an environment that encourages and develops.....

Players need to understand their roles within a team and be confident that those roles allow them to deliver their full potential. In that respect I feel very sorry for Care, he is a different animal for Quins and looks inhibited for England. I hope we are not saying the same about Youngs in a number of Tests......

I am also very concerned by the midfield. Hape and Tindall are not subtle, they are not players with guile, vision, distribution etc. They are brave, physical, honest. But to break down the Aussie defence we need nore than that, as shown by the first Test. So the creative responsibility falls entirely on Flood's shoulders............is that a good thing? He stikes me as a good guy, struggling slightly to impose himself at Test level, and needing a little help / encouragement to get him there. Instead he is left as the sole creative, the sole distributor..................not a great call in my book.

Yes any selection can be pulled to pieces, mine would be laughable I am sure. But I just wish we could see some pattern from England, some attack, risks, adventure, fire, pace, variety, anticipation, angles of attack, speed of hand and mind -all the things I am convinced that the likes of Ashton, Foden, Cueto, Barkley, Youngs and Flood possess, but are just not showing us.

Hopefully Wells will instruct his forward pack that quick ball, and plenty of it is the only way to break down Test defences. Slow, grinding pick and drives went out with my lot, let's move on FFS ! Part of me would like to see Ward-Smith in at 8, but maybe that is just a change too much, but he does have the power and pace that is needed at Test level on the hard grounds. Easter needs a big game, as do Croft and Moody at the breakdown where Aussie dominated last week.

Fingers crossed that we fire this time......

Let's be honest guys the 1st half of the AB's versus Ireland was men against boys and even then we are talking boys with not even the first sign of hair on their chests or chins> THe AB's started with real intensity and the Irish just had no answer at all. Their frustration was shown by Heaslip when he tried to knee Dan Carter in the head, bloody stupid and he couldn't even do that right. He was one of the stand out players for the Lions last summer, so a big loss to the Irish who were right under the hammer anyway.

The AB's coaches will be especially happy as they blooded 4 new caps, who all performed well. The issues they will not have liked will be that they got 52-7 up after 55 minutes and then just eased off the gas. They leaked 20 odd points at the end of the game which is just down to a lack of metal strength and focus.

THe one thing the AB's really need is depth as having watched the Boks beat France, the Boks looked worryingly good. I thought the French came to SA meaning business and yet when they threw all they had at the Boks physically, the Boks just took it and came back at them even harder. THe Boks dominated line-outs again and even had the edge in the scrum. The way they disposed of France is a warning to the rest of the World with the WC only 16 months away.

As for the English against the Aussies, well the last time Johno was in Aussie he lifted the Web Ellis, so he knows how to beat the Aussies. Not sure he knows what team to pick, whether to go for the old experienced guys and dog it out, or throw in the young bucks and see what they have got. I think he should be blooding more youngsters, see if they sink or swim. The English should be kicking themselves as that was a great chance to win in Aussie, but their defensive gate was pathetic. Yes they dominated in the set, but Moody needs to take the points when they are on offer.

The Aussie backs looked very sharp, a lesson the the Poms but the scrum coach will be under real pressure this week as they were shocking.

Oh yes, and the Welsh look the best of the Northern Hemisphere, they only lost by 2 points the other week.

Once you have congratulated England on their scrummaging, it is pretty hard to find any other positives to their game.

Australia on the other hand looked sharp, inventive, creative and unbelievably heroic in defence. They played with their heads up, they took on the forwards in front of them when running in open play, they attacked with pace and with variety in their line of attack, and not surprisingly it worked and worked well. All common sense really for an attack coach.......isn't it?

So what are England doing?

At times I have to hold my hands up and say I have no bloody idea. We seem to kick a huge amount of first phase possession, and OK that might well not be the most positive of strategies, but it is a strategy, but what is amazing is our chase!!! There were times when just one guy was chasing hard, and he was easily beaten. Now that is just simple preparation and attitude. No excuses. If you are to play a tactical kicking game, then your chase has to be good, very good and England's was poor, very poor !

I am not making excuses, but Danny Care seems to be straight jacketed into a game that is completely alien to him. Why? Didn't Burgess show us what a damage a threat at number 9 can do?

Also Australia are known to be a good defensive team, so to break them down you need creativity and guile. We pick Hape and Tindall in the midfield. Both strong, powerful men, but neither is known for his creativity, pace or guile. It struck me as a strange selection and sadly proved to be sterile in attack and even vulnerable in defence. At Test level you need pace for both, is that not obvious to the coaches?

And now for a terrible generalization, but the one game in the last ten or so that England have played, where we looked threatening, relaxed, natural even, was the performance against France. And it was a performance that was very 'un-Leicester'. Sadly the performance against Australia was classic Leicester, and yet again at Test level it failed. Yes the set piece has to be good, but it does not win Test matches as Australia have just shown us in bright Technicolor !

You need to place the defence in front of you, you need to attack it's weak points as it is right then, not as you pre-planned it to be. You need to attack it at pace, you need to vary your lines of attack, points of attack and ball carriers who do the 'attacking'. Sadly England do not seem to look at what they are attacking to see if there is a front five forward caught out of position, they do not attack with pace, with variety, or even with numbers.

Inevitably unless there is a huge improvement in the next Test, big and uncomfortable questions will be asked of the coaches, and the players as they can not abdicate all responsibility. But the coaches really should have had enough time to establish a style and an intent with this group of players. How can Ashton and Foden be so effective with the Saints, and yet so redundant with England......

The biggest glaring sign for me after this defeat is that England need to accept that Shaw, Thompson and even Easter might well be effective in the wet and mud of the Premiership, but on the hard grounds of the Southern Hemisphere it is time for younger more athletic models....