I’m writing this post on borrowed time; Toby is asleep in the garden (don’t worry he’s fine) and I’m going to try to write and publish a whole post before he wakes up. It’s something I’m going to try and teach myself to do more often. I’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to anything so when it comes to blogging, I will write a post, save it, re-read it the next day, tweak it, and maybe even tweak it again before I am happy enough to release it unto my 10’s of readers. I think I need to lower my standards a little in order to increase my post numbers exponentially.
So today Lisa has gone into London to visit a friend for a Birthday brunch and Toby and I are having the day together. It’s strange, we spend pretty much every day together (except Monday when he now goes to nursery) but for some reason, when it’s just us two on the weekend it has a different feel to it. I can’t quite put my finger on why.
The one and only time Toby was awake when walking the dogs.
We took the dogs out for a walk, the same time we do every day. By we took the dogs for a walk, I mean I wrestled to keep the pushchair pointing approximately forward and out of the bushes with my left hand, whilst two wannabe husky’s pulled mercilessly at my right hand to get to the field to play ball a few seconds quicker than if they just chilled the hell out. Toby is down to one nap a day now, but he takes it during this walk, so he is usually asleep within 10 minutes due to the rhythmic motion caused by my cack-handed pushchair-dog handling as described above.
Today is Sunday, so naturally, at this time of year, as I understand it, that means people like to play football. Now let me lay out my stall from the start, I really really don’t like football. I don’t like any aspect of it. I never enjoyed playing it, I’ve never enjoyed watching it, I certainly don’t like talking about it. When I was in the Met I used to police Tottenham matches and we were always told, “Watch the crowd, not the game” and whilst everyone else was secretly watching as much of the game as they could, I would happily watch the crowd, and start wondering how much electricity the floodlights use, how they keep the grass (sorry pitch) so nice, how much the TV cameras cost, heck I even just stood and looked at the brick wall in the tractor tunnel sometimes. Continue reading