grumpy old man interlude

Ah the joys or parenting when you're a #grumpyoldman. All's fair day today means Sal gets freedom and I take on parenting duties. Now, I'm not sure if I'm a good or bad parent, really I'm not. I tend to explain - in probably too much detail - all the decisions I make. I also have a pretty good track record of answering all questions the kids ask, refusing only when I know they know the answer or when I can tell them what to do to find the answer for themselves.

The upshot of this is that I have two pretty well rounded, outgoing, confident little ladies who are not afraid to ask questions and offer their opinions. Which is great. Unless you're their dad and you're right about something. They have not yet worked out that correcting people or offering another point of view (their's) does not need to be the default position. Sometimes you just need to understand that dad might be talking sense when he says don't wear those shoes, take a jumper, try to go to the toilet before we leave, make sure you drink enough water...

So the problem I have...I answer, I explain..and if I get nowhere I let them make their own decisions, even when they are wrong. Setting them up for fail? I don't think so. I do (what I believe is) my best to let them make the right decision. Then allow them to make the wrong one. Then have a mini-retrospective when the wheels inevitable fall off.

Like they have this morning.

• Don't wear your crocs if they hurt your feel, we'll be doing some walking. 
• Puts on crocs.
• Wear your Keens, they will be better if you have a blister on your toe.
• Keeps crocs on.
• Taxi to breakfast and then a relatively short bimble around
• My feet hurt (well no shit sherlock...inner monologue)
• Try to walk properly
• I can't walk (quite a drama)
• Let's walk back the shops up here; if I buy you some shoes then do you think you'll be able to walk? (repeat a few times)
• No, oh the agony, you go on without me (limping as if has trod on an IED)
• A bit too much explaining of the situation
• Will you be able to walk today? In different shoes?
• No, we need to get a taxi home
• Get in taxi
• (almost home) if you buy me shoes then I should be able to walk
• too late little lady, too late...inner monologue (words broadly similar though.)
• We need to make sure your blisters get better so you can have a nice day with mum tomorrow
• I'll just go in the pool then
• No you won't, you need to keep your feet clean and dry (repeat)
• Oh but but but, so unfair etc.
• (internet search) What does that say?
• Keep your feet clean and dry
• (sullen)

So here we are back at the villa and I'm letting the kids sort out what they can do. Funny thing...AJ tells me today has been her best day so far because she hasn't got in trouble. Ah, the joys of parenting.

Anyway, before this happened we had breakfast at Revolver. Here are some pictures from this morning and maybe I should take this opportunity to blog about Monday.

YELLO

This far into the month of juneathon and with my unplanned song-a-day-sort-of-theme coming along quite nicely (One Direction notwithstanding) I was running my usual run wondering what to use for another day of JACs (Just Another Commute.)

Inspiration came on the bridge as I eased past another runner and thought he decided to stick with me...for a while. I'm pretty sure he did speed up and maintain his10ft gap for a while before I dropped him (in my mind) or he just slowed down because, really, why bother (more likely)?

The answer to that question is "The Commuter Olympics", a phrase I heard from a semi-pro triathlete who once worked in a building I once worked in and I'd chat with every so often. I hate getting beaten over the bridge, so will invoke The Commuter Olympics if someone tries to stay with me, or I'll pick a target ahead and try to beat them. I usually do pretty well.

So today I thought of Yello.

Good facial hair. I look like a hobo at the moment with an unkempt red beard, flecked with grey. Doesn't help that I like wooly hats and wandering around unshod. A colleague I have worked with for maybe 5years genuinely mistook me for a homeless person last week. My beard is, to coin phrases my brother uses to describe his, a "beard to be feared" and "full hobo."

It was a short day at work. AJ was being presented with a Principal's Gold Award for something or other this afternoon at a special school assembly to be held at 2pm. A more engaged parent would likely know more than I did. So I did 4hours in the office, mainly so I could run in and back (I could have worked from home) before leaving at noon. The run home was a slow, lead-legged plod in some wonderfully un-wintery weather. I've been Sydney based since 1999 and I may be getting soft, but it can get cold here. A proper bone-chilling cold. Not today though. Maybe 20 degrees, wispy clouds in a mostly blue sky. Lovely.

But it was just another commute, albeit in daylight hours.

The assembly was cute. I'd been to one last year when AJ was in kindergarden and it seemed to go on forever and it seemed like everyone got some award or other. Maybe because I was (and still am) getting used to this having-a-kid-at-school malarky, maybe because I have no recollection of anything like this from my school days. Of course I may have been a dunce...

The letter we'd got from school said she was getting a "gold award" which turns out to be pretty special. Only 8 kids in each year get it, for excellence in maths and English. Seems my laissez-faire approach to schooling is paying off - go me!

But really, go AJ! The especially touching bit came yesterday though; she knew she was getting an award but seemed just as (if not a little bit more) pleased that I'd be there to see her collect it.  bought her an ice ream after the assembly and gave her her first pair of Dunlop Volleys, dad's favourite shoe. She seemed happy.

I guess I'm doing something right.

tears of a clown

Clowns copyright their face by painting a copy on an egg. True story. That has nothing to do with anything here, but my brother told me and I'm telling you and it is interesting.

Another groggy morning, up at a bit after 5am then the standard coffee-heart-starter and dog walk. I drop the kids off to before school care and daycare each Friday which adds 500m to my journey to work. I really struggled today. Over-dressed in the Helly polypro and singlet combo I was sweating like a racehorse from the get-go. Legs were heavy, the backpack seemed heavy; everything felt heavy. It was a proper plod today and I was glad to get it out of the way.

I'd hardly got through my first meeting and first Lemsip when my phone rang. Daycare had called Sal who was now calling me. H had spewed 4 times and I needed to go and collect her. Sal was in a workshop with 40 people, so I was "it." Fair enough. I figured the run would not be much slower than the bus, especially outside of peak hour when bus services to the Northern Beaches get a bit patchy.

So after a two hour break I was on the road, heading back homewards. It was a bit of a slog again; the total distance is not a problem, but I was all set for an eight hour break between runs with more food and fluids onboard before number two. But with my first ultra on the horizon I figure that a bit of running-near-empty is probably good training. So I did struggle, and mount Seaforth was a bitch, but I wasn't too grumpy about it.

H seemed full of beans when I turned up. Once again a sweat monster I decided to walk the under-one-km home, with her on my shoulders, rather than stink the car up. And this afternoon I worked from home. And now I am drinking Rogue Chocolate Stout, which is really rather good. Probably not ideal stuff to rehydrate with - and I am a bit dehydrated - but it's Friday so sod it.

So 23km for the day and a milestone for the year. With 18 days of June left I have reached 1826.8km in 2015, which is the equivalent of 10km per day for half a year. Unlikely to keep that up in the second half, but I should thank Cathy and all at the J-athons for pushing me twice this year. Bastards.

Let's return to the clown theme. Again, bugger all to do with running but there you go.

a day worth blogging

beautiful at the Bower, a photo by Auswomble on Flickr.

I am a bit crap when it comes to blogging about the kids and their awesomeness and a lot of stuff in general and for that I do not apologise. If I'm a bit crap then I'm a bit crap - so there. For the record the kids are awesome. Both Sal and I find ourselves locked in a battle of wills with number 1 while number 2 refuses get to her knees and now drags herself commando style all over the house in search of things to upend over herself. They are awesome in the correct sense of the word and awe is inspired every day. Which is not to say I will blog any more about them than I presently do.

So to today. I woke up a little grumpy despite having been gifted a 15minutes lay in and not getting woken until 4:45. This, I suspect was evening the score for Friday's 4:15 start. Anyway, I got up and kept the kids quiet until approaching 7am when I could take out my grumpiness on Sal. I suspect the grumpiness was a hangover from a Saturday spent filling a 3m3 skip with bricks, concrete and wet sand.

Anyway, a proper row was narrowly avoided and we went out for some breakfast at Splat in Queenscliff. I've been there a couple of times before and like the view from the deck - all along Manly beach - the pictures on the wall - especially the one of the shark and swimmer at the Bower - and the guy who runs the place - who seems like a decent bloke. It was a far more relaxed breakfast this morning on account of me not having cycled there and arrived a stinking, sweating wreck or got there with a mental dog in tow.

So we had breakfast and it was pleasant and the girls behaved and we drove home and the grandparents, who have taken up residence, took AJ out while Sal headed out bag shopping with Harrie and I was a free man.

I have been longing to get back in the water since Fiji - in November. So I grabbed a backpack, faffed around a lot deciding what gear to take (deciding to ditch the weight belt and wetsuit in favour of a rash vest), grabbed the pushbike and headed to the Bower to see if I could swim with the sharks.

Manly was busy with crowds in town for the final day of the Australian Open of Surfing that looked like it was going to take place without waves. Bad for them, great for me. I got to the Bower to find it looking pretty nice - just like the picture. I chained my bike up, left the key to the chain in the backpack that I hung from the handlebars and went down the steps to the water.

Australia is having a La Nina year. That means a lot of rain and cool temperatures with warm seas. Today we didn't have the cool temperatures or rain but we did have the warm seas. Perfect. I headed out and saw my first shark, a small Dusky Whaler, after about 30seconds. It had already been a good outing.

I got out over the sand and found a huge school of Yellowtail heading north. I duck-dived down to join them swimming over the weed and between the boulders. Clearish warming water, loads of fish, a shark. Happy days! After a while I turned to head south as that is where I have seen more sharks in previous years. And after a while I spotted another whaler. My breath hold was getting a bit better - but not outstanding - and I was pretty comfortable swimming around at about 5m. As it was low tide that was deep enough. Any deeper would need a shovel.

I turned back towards the rocks, passing a lone, juvenile Kingfish and another Whaler. Then I found a small Wobbegong sitting on top of a rock. I started to beat myself up for not having a camera with me (always take the camera!) as I did a few dives to get a good look at the little carpet shark and another that was wedged under a rock about 8ft from the first.

I saw a few scuba divers approaching so swam over to them and let them know there were sharks about. I do like hanging out with scuba divers while I'm on breath-hold :-) A quick trip to the surface and I went back down to point out the Wobbie on the rock. I should have pointed out both as one of the divers damn near stood on the second one. On the surface I had a chat with another snorkeler about the sharks before heading on my way south.

I saw no more sharks but enough fish to keep me happy as I started to get a little chilly. I got out after around 40mins, very pleased with myself. I grabbed a coffee and sat on the wall by the steps to watch the world go by and take this picture. Then it was time to head home.

I decided to first ride along the beach to check out the crowds at the surf comp. So I put my sandals on, packed or strapped to the rucksack everything else and headed along the beach. With my bike helmet clipped to the backpack and my t-shirt knotted on my head (I'd forgotten to pack a cap) I felt very much as if I lived "on the beaches." It was a nice feeling.

Along the beach and then back to the main road. I stopped to correctly fit the t-shirt and bike helmet and then cycled home. I was a little surprised to find that I'd been gone under 2hours. I really must do this more often.

Sal was cooking a roast for dinner and with only Harrie to look after I got another free pass. Rowlf hadn't had his long walk so I took him down to the Spit so he could have a swim in the Harbour. He was his usual mental self, I was back by the water and all was well in the world.

OK, I need to go to bed, so that's the lot. A good day; overlooking the ocean with my ladies, in the ocean with the sharks and paddling in the shallows with my dog. Three out of three.

MORE COWBELL

Once again circumstances conspired to rob me of sleep and one might have thought dent my ambitions. Nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, today's run to work was my best for a long time and I felt as strong as I have felt all month.

Last week work stuff went bad and I was up until silly o clock on Thursday night. Friday was a shitty day on the road. The thing that went bad last week was attempted again last night, which meant I was up late working. I finally got to bed at about 02:45, although I had grabbed a couple of cheeky naps in a chair before that. My final joking email of the night said something along the lines of "I'm off to bed for 90minutes." Oh fate how I love to temp you. On the dot of 04:15 Harrie woke up and so did I. I got her back to sleep and went back to AJ's floor where I was sleeping. Alex wakes early and I was positioned to block her path to the parent's room so Sal could get a half-decent sleep before work.

Alex, of course, woke just after 5am. A warm milk bribe got her back to bed until what sounded like a rat or a possum in the roof had us both wide away at about 05:30. Sod it, the bakery opens at 6 and they sell coffee. Sal was awake by now so I grabbed AJ and Rowlf and we did a coffee run. Considering how little sleep I'd had I was feeling OK. Sal left for work and I took the girls to daycare. Time to hit the road.

My car key and the small tin of vaseline I carry in the top pocket of my backpack were banging together and doing a very good impression of a cowbell. This was not even remotely annoying; in fact cowbell is a great sound and motivates runners and cyclists the world over. It probably bugs the shit out of cows, but there you go. An ever so slightly different route to the Spit avoided a couple of small, annoying hills. Parriwi came and went and at the lights in Mosman I almost forgot to crack my bottle of water. I felt good and was running well along Military Road. In fact I was a little concerned and made a conscious effort to slow it down a bit. But I didn't slow down. I relaxed into my running but my average pace kept rising. I wasn't flying along, don't get me wrong. But I was ache free, form was good and I felt as if I could just keep going.

My theory is this. Staying up late meant I was drinking more water last night and I was therefore better hydrated. I must be mentally fatigued; after all I did a day's work in the office, ran home and then worked 5:30 until 02:45. But I think I reached a state of tiredness where the brain does not bother about the body. The body is in good shape and, free from the evil intrusions and tricks of a mind trying to make me stop, it just keeps going. A lot of those niggles and feelings of fatigue are tricks of the mind. Anyway, that's my theory. Not sure it will hold true for the run home, but it certainly worked on the way in.

I took the Bridge steps two at a time and decided, after a little uming and ahing, to grab a couple of cheeky extra km on the way in and do a 10mile commute. Instead of heading for Barangaroo I turned east and around the Opera House. A couple of quick tourist pictures then through the Botanical Gardens, up to Martin Place and then down to King Street Wharf to make sure the garmin clicked over 16km and a bit.

I do wonder if I'll pay for this on the way home, but for now...I feel GREAT.

By midday my feeling of greatness had subsided and I decided to call it a day at 13:30. It looked - and was - oppressive outside. Humid and drizzle, very still. So it was a workmanlike trip home. Legs still felt good and I made good progress, but it was simply the commute home and there isn't much more to say about it.

So there you have it, 27km and a bit in about two and half hours today. Best of all...only a week to go. I'm puling into the home straight.

different strokes

frangipani
Originally uploaded by Auswomble

Funny old world innit? On our daily walks AJ and I pass trees and bushes and flowers and I make sure I point them out and tell her the names, all of which she remembers and now she points them out to me as often as I point them out to her. She sometimes wants to take flowers and I make sure we grab ones that have recently fallen, explaining to her that we leave the flowers on the tree or the petals on the roses so other people can enjoy them, just as we do. Stop, admire, have a sniff and move on. Alex understands and is happy with that.

Compare and contrast with the kids out front at the moment. They are ripping sodding great branches from our neighbour's frangipani tree and then shredding the ripped branches by smashing them against power poles. And these are not the neighbour's kids. Bits of branch, flowers, leaves - all over the place. To be fair to the kids, the parents are out back of our neighbours' house, leaving the kids to their own Lord-of-the-Flies-devices, so I'm not too surprised. They'd been playing in the road when we got back from the cafe earlier; Sal told them to be careful, showing at least as much concern as...well, you get it.

Now I'm still new to this parenting lark, and I'd be the last person to suggest that my way is better than anyone else's. However...

Home Alone but not really

running
Originally uploaded by Auswomble

Every so often Sal needs to do a couple of days work in Brisbane and overnights there. If there is a Monday or Friday involved she can tack a bit of weekend on and catch up with her folks or her sis. She has taken AJ with her (once I think) and the grandparents get granddaughter good-times, but typically the little lady stays with me. Which is cool, because I get to spend whole days with her, not just the pre and post work bits of the working week.

Mind you, relatively speaking I get loads of time with the little lady during the week, mainly because I am a pig-headed sonofabitch who refuses to not walk my dogs - and AJ comes with me every morning - and I refuse to work my arse off beyond what I believe is fair and equitable. Result is that AJ and I get up at 5am, head out with the hounds at 5:30 and get back at around 7am, in time for Sal to take her to daycare at about 7:20. So I get a little over 2hrs every morning, not bad I think you'll agree. I usually get home a little before 6pm and at the moment the monkey finally stops arising about and gets to sleep at around 7:30 so I clock up over 90mins each evening. I dress her each morning and get her ready for bed most evenings as Sal takes her post-dinner bath. Yes, I am a lucky bastard and get a ton of time with my daughter.

I am loathe to say looking after her is easy, but mid-week, with a couple of exceptions, is OK. Months ago Sal and I decided that should AJ wake before midnight Sal would be on duty and after midnight it would be me. Sal craves sleep and claims she is unable to function - unable to function! - before 6am. She is, of course, lying to herself. But I've had enough of arguing. Luckily for Sal the little monkey never wakes before midnight and the result is I do every night's parent duties until my body collapses on me, at which point Sal steps into a breach she avoids like the plague at all other times. That's about the worst of it.

As each week progresses I tend to get more and more tired and have my moments in the wee small hours when the little lady pushes me a bit. I'm sure all parents do. But we always make up. Once I'm up and moving in the morning I can pretty well get through - berocca and large coof, kick-start - and quite often I'll have a catchup nana nap at the weekend. Sal's helpful advice of "just go to bed earlier" is rarely headed. With monkey asleep at 7:30pm I'll browse the net, watch some tele and chat with my bro for a couple of hours. I mean come on, 9:30pm is hardly burning much at that end of the candle. I could stop running, but tend to find I have more energy when in training than not, so that ain't gonna happen either.

And so it was wed-fri this week. Up at 5am, out with the dogs, he boys and AJ run around the park while I have a coffee and then back by 7am for a quick turnaround before I did the daycare duties. Even adding the daycare I still get to work by 08:30 - before most of my colleagues - and with a super-short lunch I head off at 3pm to collect AJ at 4pm. I can even run to work, keeping my training up, just about. Mileage does take a dip. Dinner is around 5pm, bath finishes a little after 6 and bed is about 6:45. Goodnight #1 precedes 45mins of messing about before sleep happens. This week we had a couple of moments in the small hours and a bit of a snap as she did the terrible-two "no" thing. Probably would not have been too bad, but she placed them back to back. Don't rip that letter open, it is for mum - rip. Pick your pajamas up off the floor - look at PJs, look at dad, walk off. A few tears, a couple of apologies and we made it relatively unscathed to the weekend.

This morning I was pretty much knackered. AJ had murmured at 3ish and I simply told her to go back to sleep, which she did. A little after 4 she woke again and I got her some milk. She went straight back to sleep and so did I. At 5 she woke again, asking me to turn the light on. Not today, I thought. No I said, either go back to sleep or get up, but I'm staying in bed. I gave her option three of jumping in to bed with dad and sleeping. She took that option. Well, I assume she did. I remember lifting her into mum's spot and the next thing I remember is her saying "dad, dad, get up" at 6:10. She could have been watching tele, pissing about on Facebook and smoking in the intervening 70mins, I was dead to the world.

I'd promised AJ we'd go to the beach and she could have a swim but I woke up not knowing if that would be today or tomorrow. But the the dogs needed walking, so I had a bit of time to make my mind up. We took the weekday park route and I thought we could head to Wild Sage in Cammeray for breakfast until I got there at 7:30 and was reminded that they'd do a coffee but no grub until 8am. Bollocks. I could feel a faff approaching. We headed home and I thought about breakfast at home but AJ had babycinno on her mind and I am always up for a cafe breakfast. Fed the dogs, packed a bag and headed to Dee Why. We'd got up late, so a slightly later breakfast was no big deal.

Got to the cafe at about 8.30, AJ heading straight in to our usual table. No high chair today, she's a big girl. The waitress recognises us and is a big fan of the little lady; after breakfast - AJ asked for the bill and paid - she got a couple of stickers, something she was extremely happy about. As we headed towards the water she had her arms thrust out front so the world could see the stickers, one on the back of each hand. I'd hoped we'd go straight to the pool, but we had no chance of getting past the play park.

Alex loves the play park, and it is quite shaded, so in we went. Straight over to the slides and ladders, she clambered all over it and then over it again and again. I suggested the pool a few times, to no avail. We had a go on the swings and then were back to the slides and climbing. She is getting quite adept and agile and has hardly any fear or trepidation. Only slipped a couple of times today.

An aside; I wish that when I was teaching AJ about waiting her turn and sharing that those parents who don't do likewise would get their ignorant fuck arises out of my grill. Ahem, luckily the majority of parents are great and are not bringing their kids up to be be selfish fuck wits.

I needed a piss, which AJ was gracious enough to grant me and therefore we headed towards the loos and the pool. Relieved, she had a quick dip in the pool and then, before we fried, we headed back to the car. Little lady was getting tired and we were pretty much spot on her nap time. Damn I'm good! We drove off, stopped at the Long Reef pie shop for provisions and just after that she was spark out. Plan now was to head to the national park, find a shaded spot to park in and then I would grab an hours shuteye too.

About 25mins in I found a new car park, Carrs Creek Reserve, pulled in and parked under a tree, in the shade, next to the water. Sorted. Open windows, recline seat flat, time for a kip...unless Alex wakes. Which she did. Grouchy and clearly not in the mood to sleep in a stationary car. I was in no mood to argue and drove off. Did some mental maths with times and sleeping requirements and decided to head to Berowra Waters. It is a lovely spot, a bastard to run and it would make a pleasant change to drive through instead of do it on foot. There is even a small cable-pull-ferry, which I felt sure Alex would like.

And she did. She woke just before we got to the ferry. The ferry was on the other side of the water, so I stopped the engine and we got out. I took a couple of pics as the thing was pulled back to our side - the crossing takes only a couple of minutes - and then we got back in the car. It was lunch time, we crossed Berowra Waters and pulled into the marina car park for lunch at the marina. There was a play park that I thought looked promising until I realized it was not shaded. We headed in, found a shaded table and after spotting a few (scaled, swimming) mullet we shared a fish and chips lunch. The little lady pretty much matched me, wolfing down her "half." We went exploring after lunch, I asked if she wanted an ice-cream and she gave a no-nonsense "no." Er, OK.

We walked around the waters edge and I took her to watch a couple of fishermen gutting and cleaning their catch. Then it was back to the car for the journey home. The journey took us up and over and back down and up through Galston Gorge. Surprised that I'd not driven it before. Jason loves it on his bike...at least three of the switchbacks are not quite as much fun in a 5m+ 2ton bus, but I can see the appeal on two wheels. It is very pretty. The cyclists on it are bonkers. They bomb down at 50kmh and then haul are up and out again. It'll get your heart pumping. Think a motorbike is the best option.

Epic diary post eh? Figure it is worth putting down, every so often, life as it happens.

We got home at about 4pm, and then the weekend becomes very much like any other weekday. We had our dinner, we had the bath and we had some arising about before falling asleep at about 7:30pm. I wonder how the night shift will go?

meanwhile, yesterday

gum boots
Originally uploaded by Auswomble

Continuing this blog's no-real-chronological-sense theme, we'l go to yesterday. Sal had planned to catch up with some work pals on Saturday morning and was going to leave at 9.15 and as she likes to sleep in I figured I'd take the little lady and dogs for a walk and then we'd head to the beaches for brekkie and general fun-stuff.

Oh dear, I sense a dull post...

So that was how the day started, with the added ingredient - rain - making the morning slightly different. Been a long time since we had the rain cover on the backpack. Dogs were not as keen on the precipitation as I cut the park leg of the walk, grabbed a coffee and headed back home. A few hugs for mum and we headed to Dee Why.

Oh dear, this is dull...

We had breakfast where AJ got props from the waitress for being so clever, which I politely accepted. She, of course, IS not smart, but she works hard and she knows a lot of stuff and behaves herself. She is, I say subjectively but do believe holds objectively, a great kid. We then headed towards the ocean pool that we never got to. We spent about an hour in the play-park where AJ defied gravity on the slides, berated me for not swinging her high enough and climbed every ladder she could find. She had a great time, and it was great to watch.

A quick diversion onto the sand and then back to the motor where it was decision time. The choice was to head to West Head for a kip or head over to Glebe to hang with some DailyMile running friends and meet a few of those friends I'd never met. We have those friends these days don't we? Any-hoo, Glebe won out and en-route AJ fell asleep, only to wake up when we arrived, waking with her grouch-head on after a mere 30mins sleep. Bugger.

We got out and said a brief hello. Well, I did, AJ buried her head in my shoulder and was not having a bit of me putting her down on the ground. I shook a couple of hands, we did the "on your marks, set" duty and sent the others off for the get-together run. We had a look around the Glebe foreshore and I took a few pics and then headed home to get a bit more kip before mum got home.

Look, I had fun and this post is my diary, so I don't care if its proper dull. But I do care that I need ot got ot bed, so quick-smart...

Afternoon - rain coat and gum boots, splashing in puddles. More fun. Cheeky monkey cheekier than ever.

Sunday. Long dog walk for Rowlf, swim and a catchup on the dog grooming I've been a bit slack with of late. Bit of a fight with the big fella, but he looks pretty top-notch again. Then a 15km run to the Bridge and Balls Head and back (15km, 1:15 - felt pretty good about that) while the monkey had a sleep, then family lunch and home. And that was the weekend that was. Plenty more bit and pieces, plenty more to say, plenty of sleep needed, so that's it.

Or maybe, just maybe I'm watching Gone in 60 Seconds. you decide,.

why so wordy?

In case you're wondering why I'm blogging so much at the moment. First there was Janathon. I was required to blog every day of January to be in with a chance of finishing in the medals. I found the time to put finger to keyboard each day for that. So, now I'm putting down as much as I can remember that AJ and no-name-yet-bump might one day want to read - before I get busy at work or run out of oomph. I tried to write in a journal, proper old school, when AJ was born...but I slacked off a bit. This is easier, because I dip in and out while at work. Apologies for picking off a lot of the low hanging fruit.

I'd love to know more about my folks and it's now too late. I'd like my kids to know as much about their grandparents as I can get down on paper - I'll be printing this blog in book format and leaving it on a shelf. So there will be stuff about mum and dad hidden amongst the mundane me-me-me. If I write down a load of stuff now it is an insurance policy against going senile, terminally forgetful or dead. Will they ever read it or be interested? Who knows. But there will be something for them. So, for a while there will be a change of style from the years of opinionated ravings to a gentler, diary of the past and present style. With moments of bile-spitting.

And now back to the main feature...

where the kangeroos?

AJ and a roo
Originally uploaded by Auswomble

Our time spent in Canberra is the stuff of excruciatingly dull blog posts so I shall try and keep this brief. The facts man, just the facts.

Hempy, whose name is Dave, had a mate named Dave over when we arrived so it is a good job we call him Hempy. Dave left and we decided to head out for ice cream at the Kingston shops. Plan A was to walk, but the distance and heat saw us jump in the car. I susepct Hempy will get used to this when his little 'un arrives in June. We got to the shops and cafes at around 4pm and spent a little time finding one that wasn't closing. A cafe-come-bike-shop named Velo Republic Cafe/Cyclery fit the bill. Dave and I tried to have a coffe while AJ made several bids for freedom. We picked up a couple of DVDs on the way back, Four Lions and The Expendables. Dinner was sausage veg and mash, which AJ got into before heading to bed spot on time.

Bed was in the second bedroom on her fold-out lounge. At home Sal has put up curtains that would have done well in the blitz and AJ called out "lights off! lights off!" as the blinds left the room comparatively light. I explained that the lights were off and she crashed out with very little arsing about. We settled in to watch Four Lions (very funny) and I bailed after about15mins of the Expendables. Hempy didn't last much longer. Although there was a very comfortable looking bed in the second room I opted to sleep on the floor. I can sleep pretty well anywhere, and although I was confident I'd wake up if AJ decided to get up and go for a nocturnal wander, I figured that if I was asleep in the doorway and didn't wake up at the noise then the kick would wake me. As it happens she slept pretty much through until 5am when she woke and would not get back to sleep, despite me trying to convince her it was still the middle of the night; it was certainly dark and quiet enough, but her internal clock was firing on all cylinders. I put the light on at about 5.30 and we played about and read and then at a little after 6 we headed out to fail to find any kangaroos around the random-choice roads I drove along. Cap and babycinno o clock rolled around and, sticking with what I knew, we went back to Velo Republic where the monkey was more manageable than she had been on Saturday afternoon.

AJ has been a little off her food recently. Not today, which is combination good/bad news. Good to see her hammer through the vegemite toast and banana bread, not so good that the leftovers I usually feast upon where scarce. Ah well, I'm not burning many calories at the moment, so no biggy. Hempy joined us for breakfast, driving over in his 1963 Morris min 850cc. Fairly sure the straw AJ used to drink her water was fatter than the pipe on the back of his car. We took a couple of little-and-large pics of the mini and the bus and then headed back drop off his car, load ours and then head for brunch at Black mountain where we could look once again for roos. This was all very exciting for AJ, who had been telling me we were off to see the kangeroos and kept asking where they were.

AJ fell asleep as soon as we got in the car. At Black Mountain she was in a deep sleep so I dropped Hempy off and we headed home. Good to be on the road early, shame we didn't get an opportunity to explore, would have loved to spend far more time with Hempy. With the kid on the way he may stay on the same continent as me for a while, so I’m sure we’ll catch up again soon. Might even get back in the water. I really must do a Hempy-and-the-other-divers post. Anyway, back to the diary-style entry.

Not keeping this very brief am I? Nearly done.

The drive back from Canberra to Sydney is precisely as dull as the drive to Canberra. Maybe even more dull as you pass Lake George early on. In the mist and drizzle the lake had a nice atmosphereric look to it. We drove past and then I went onto auto pilot. The only thing of note from the journey home was nutrition fail. I managed to blast past a small huddle of roadside eateries before Sutton Forest, where I knew there was also a stop. Alas this stop was McDonalds only. Bollocks. I made the best of a bad job, giving AJ a few fries, the bun from a chicken supreme (didn't look at all supreme to me) and the chicken that I removed the coating from. A couple of spoons of sundae and then a Rafferty's, which probably had more nutrition than the rest combined. Still, she's young and this was a rarity. It broke my “No Maccas” run that must be around 8yrs. I suspect the next streak will last 20yrs. The very worst thing about the experience was seeing that shit food in front of my daughter. She had a play on the play-park-thing, got cornered by a bigger kid who chastised her for picking her nose and pulled her finger from her nose and made her cry (that was challenging for me; I didn't enjoy it one bit, but she recovered and kept running and climbing and sliding) and then we fled.

Last bit. Back home. Outside temp - 24 degrees. Inside temp - 31.5 degrees. We dodged a very hot Saturday-Sunday bullet in Sydney. All windows and doors open and the temp dropped quick enough. Dinner. Bath. Bed. Glass of cheap wine to congratulate myself for a better-than-average parenting performance.

Ceryx guttulosa

Ceryx guttulosa
Originally uploaded by Auswomble

For the first time in ages I slept without the aircon on, partly because the temp had dropped a little and partly because my throat was feeling like it had been assaulted with red-hot sandpaper. When I start to get a cold I can go downhill pretty quickly. I don't seem to get mild colds; either I'm well or I am wiped out. When I'm wiped I find walking up a small hill like climbing Everest. I tend to throw everything I can at a cold to try and stop it from getting a hold, or at least keeping it off my chest. As soon as I got home from work yesterday I threw down a Lemsip max. Sal had made shepherds pie, and I threw a load of that down too, before finishing off a large chunk of cheesecake. There is an old saying "feed a cold, starve a fever" which just has to be nonsense. If you're fighting something you need to keep your strength up, so get stuck into your food. I am, of course, an expert.

I went to bed about 4hours later, so had another Lemsip max and got some Vicks First Defense up a nose that had been running like a tap all evening. As luck would have it, or because that's the way the body works, my nose stopped running when I fell asleep and I had an OK nights sleep, better than Sal who slept badly and made the mistake of leaving the bedroom door open last night, finding herself AJed at silly o clock. I did the decent thing and pretended I was still asleep, getting a little rest if no more sleep. At about 6am AJ had worn Sal down, they got up and headed out for a coffee. Throat on fire and nose blocked I dragged my arse up off the floor and we all went out for breakfast.

And so to the running. Going into Janathon I was planning to average 10km a day and clock up 310km for the month. It soon became apparent that this would not get me anywhere near the pointy end of the ladder, which I guess I had set my sights upon. As the days passed and I realised I could clock more than I thought I was capable of my target moved from 10km to 10miles per day. So with three days left I needed to knock out 25km. Easy enough without a cold, but what about with it? Sal suggested I take it easy today but I thought that was a risky strategy. My thought process went a bit like this.

The cold is still above the neck and therefore my breathing is not compromised. Feeling like shit cannot make your muscles weaker; your mind can make you think you're weaker, but you just have to put that aside. So, the best course of action for me today was to knock out as many of my remaining miles as I could.

I had to go into work and be there at about 10:45. I had hoped to leave at around 08:30 but lost a bit of time to having a row with Sal and teaching AJ how to identify a tiger moth. I left a little after 09:00 with the plan being to run to the city and then sort of run around it for as long as I could. Curiously enough I enjoyed myself and I think it was because I was feeling ordinary; it added a new, if unwanted, dimension to a run that was in effect simply grinding out miles over roads I have run many times before. I got to the bridge in about average time, so I was not slower than usual. I plodded the bridge and then decided to loop around the city without crossing tracks. It was a grind; the legs were simply turning over and the biggest challenge was trying to second guess the movements of the bus loads of tourists around Farm Cove. The only clue I had was that they would definitely not be moving in the direction they were looking. In the end I added a few little bits here and there and clicked over 20km, leaving myself 5 for tomorrow and Monday. If I'd had a little more time I probably would have knocked the lot out so that tomorrow I could run to the end of the garden and on Monday run to the pub.

I can hear a fat lady warming her vocal chords.

boys don't cry

padre
Originally uploaded by Auswomble

I was born on January 23rd 1970 in St. George's Hospital, Hyde Park Corner. The building is still there; it is called Lanesborough House and is now the Lanesborough Hotel. I went back when a good friend had his wedding there. St George's hospital moved to Tooting in the early 80s. It was there that my mum died. Anyway, I was born in a northern hemisphere winter. My folks lived in a hotel basement when I was born and very soon afterwards we moved into a terrace-come-bedsit in Lambeth, on Hayford Avenue. I don't remember much about it. I have a few snapshot memories. Mum doing some ironing, the shared toilet and bathroom in the downstairs hallway. I remember a petrol station nearby, and a pet shop that had a talking mynah bird. That's about it. When Darren was born we moved to Morden. Dad had been a physical training instructor (PTI) and a parachute jump instructor (PJI) in the RAF. He had an accident with an ejector seat that ended his military career. The treatment that may or may not have saved his life nearly killed him. We lived on his pension and gambling winnings. We didn't have much money but I didn't know that, I was happy enough. It is mostly other people that look on ans say "oh that must have been awful." Er, no. Later in life my folks told me that the low point was when they had only a packet of fruit pastels to eat - for two days. I don't remember them ever complaining about their lot, and if I stop to think about it I am fucking ashamed of the moaning I sometimes do. Good job I don't think about it that much.

At around the time Darren was born we moved to Morden, into a house that was part of The Haig Homes, set aside for disabled ex-servicemen. Dad had a dangerous job, he knew the risks. There were no big payouts and dad was not the sort of person who would have even thought like that. The world was different 40years ago. We continued on his pension, but the rent on the house was relatively low. Mum and dad lived there until they died, mum first in 1994 aged 46 and dad in 2008 aged 73.

A brief aside into morbid maths. Mum and dad both died of cancer, albeit different flavours, so I guess you'd say natural causes. Add their ages and divide by two. That gives you a rounded up 60. Split that into three for young, middle aged and old. I'm 41. In our family that's old. Ho-hum.

Anyway, back to Morden. The house had an open coal fire and we had a coal bunker in the back garden. I'd fill the coal scuttle, sometimes having to dig the snow out of the way. Rare, but it happened. I will never taste better toast than the toast we would do over the coals of that fire. The coal fire was the only heating in the house. There was no double glazing. In winter the condensation on the inside of the windows would sometimes freeze. I don't remember ever feeling cold in that house, despite the fact that it was obviously freezing in my bedroom. This probably explains my disregard of people who like to say "it was freezing last night!" when it was ten degrees. Eventually we got both central heating and double glazing.

Fast forward a few years. In winter I would walk across the top of frozen lakes near my grandparents house. I took Darren along; what parents today would let their kids go and walk by, themselves, over frozen lakes? This was in Surrey, not Canada. You'd tentatively check the ice and then go. Pretty sure that I'd have died if I fell through. How times change. I'd go fishing throughout the winter and when I was in my mid-teens. I'd head out by myself for a day or two. I had a German army sniper's sleeping bag. It had a waterproof cover and was quilted. It had arms and a zip across the middle that you could poke your legs through; if you needed a piss you could wander off while wearing the sleeping bag. I'd turn the hood sideways so only my nose poked out through one of the ear-holes. My nose would get cold but I don't remember being too cold. I'd sometimes wake with frost on the bag.

What has this got to do with running? Well, not much. But I'm getting sick to death of banging on about how fucking hot and humid it is and how I'm sweating my arse off, day in, day out. So I thought I'd paint a picture of my formative years, the years that got me used to the cold. That's probably nonsense, and I'm probably just a sweaty bastard, but I figure this is a better read than the running stuff. I ran to work today and I'll do a stock run at lunchtime. I'll total 16km and I'll sweat a lot. Janathon duties complete. Now where was I?

When I get cold my fingers and toes go yellow. I think I inherited my dad's piss-poor circulation. As the blood comes back to them they go pink and blotchy and they sting. It looks a bit odd. The other thing that happens is my little fingers stick out from the other three. If I flex my hand normally I can flare all my fingers or keep them all together or do the Spock thing, splitting my four fingers down the middle. What I cannot do is separate just my little finger from the other three. Until my hands are cold. And then I can't avoid it. I know when I'm cold.

Behold the rambling, epic blog post!

Back to my early days. As well as sleeping in a freezing cold (literally) house and walking over frozen lakes I'd also have beef dripping on bread (white bread, of course) or treacle, or golden syrup. Sometimes I'd have white bread, butter and white sugar sarnies for breakfast. Always four slices. I'd not encourage AJ to have the same diet, but it probably wouldn't do her too much harm. Worrying about it, not moving enough and listening too closely to nutritionists are far more harmful. Before you get the wrong idea, there was plenty of good, solid meat-spuds-veg and mum made the most awesome bread pudding. We ate well and I moved a lot. And being cold is great for burning calories. Not sure where this is going, might need to change tack.

Dad taught me to swim from the side of the pool taught me how to ride a bike without riding one himself. His back was pretty well screwed and he was in constant pain. Sometimes he'd have to walk with a stick, or sleep on a board after he had a bad turn. Mostly he was OK and just put up with the pain. He wasn't a fan of pain killers. We'd go fishing together. I wish I'd treasured that more at the time, but you don't think like that when you're just a kid. Sometimes mum would come along too. She didn't fish, she'd sit there with us. I remember one night when the two of them huddled under a small umbrella, in the dark, in the rain. I fell asleep on my flashy-comfy-fishing-chair-come-bed. Will I do the equivalent for AJ? Will Sal? I hope so.

Bringing it back to running, just a bit. My first marathon was Paris in 2005. I remember being in a lot of pain at 23miles. I cursed myself, dug in and finished in tears. I gave dad my medal after engraving it with "For my dad, my inspiration." That choked the old bastard up a bit! With his PTI background I'd go to him for advice on exercising. Technique and tips, stretches and strenghtening; he knew his stuff. Whenever I am struggling on a run I think of dad. Did it yesterday and that was on my mind today. That's where this post has come from.

In 2008 I had to go back to the UK to see the old man for the last time. I got him into St Raphael's Hospice. He had helped raise funds for the building of St Raph's after mum died. Dad, Darren and I were together, for a while. The old man was still sharp enough at the end to berate me for getting a bet wrong when I popped over the road to the bookies for him. I did a little running while I was back in London in 2007. I was training for the Six Foot Track, which I completed in March that year. I finished that one in a world of pain too, but I belted the end and remember saying to myself over and again "this one's for you dad." Silly, eh? Looking back I think the relative rest I took in the UK was a good thing, helped me get over any niggles before the big day. Helping me out, right up until the end, if you'll allow me to indulge in just a little sentimental nonsense. It is almost guaranteed that on a long run, if I start to struggle, I start to think about the old man.

Well OK, that was a snapshot of me and my dad, from the day I was born until the day he died. Thinking about the old man is almost guaranteed to get me teary, hence the title. And now, just to make abso-fucking-lutely sure I upset myself.

He would have been an awesome grandfather.

And now, to lighten the mood, The Cure, Boys Don't Cry

mad dogs and englishmen

2nd birthday
Originally uploaded by Auswomble

Should have done more (well, some) stretching yesterday and felt a bit tight today. AJ woke for milk at about 4:30 and then came out into the lounge room where she crashed out on her new foam sofa-bed-thing and so, at 5:30 I left her to sleep and headed out with the dogs around 15kg lighter than I am used to, but glad of the rest if not so chuffed at the lack of having my little mate along for the ride. As it happens AJ woke at 6 and Sal got her changed quick-smart, threw her in the car and met us up at the dog park for another family outing. Nice way to start to day.

Sal had made a cake for AJ to have with her mates at daycare today, a belated birthday sugar-rush now she is back to her old self. So, after a "you're invited" prod that a better father would probably not need, I knew I needed to be at daycare at three. So it was a midday run today.

Knee had a bit of a pull, left toe a bit skanky and blistered, temperature 29 degrees and humidity around 60% which, according to the humidex adds up to 36.7 degrees. In the shade. Clear blue skies, so it was a lovely day for the beach where you could spend most of the time in the water. Running, meh, not so great. Not too bad though; I picked a standard foreshore loop and towards the end decided to add a bit to get to 10km. It's a mental thing, and I may struggle a bit for miles this week. Didn't I say that last week? Whatever.

Back to the office for a while and then up to see the lady blow out her candles, blow her kazoo and be pretty much the only kid to eat no cake. Her loss; it was a nice cake. Sal, having also left early, wanted to do some shopping and needed a hand that a better husband would have noticed without the need for another prod. She is, after all, 5months. I had been toying with the idea of running back home form daycare but the blister was pissing me off so helping with the shopping was a no brainer, I didn't put up any resistance and yes, I am that selfish.

the not-quite-so-loneliness of the relatively-short-distance runner

Did the maths yesterday and came up with a plan that involved getting the bus to work today and running only at lunchtime. Hang on though, after walking the dogs first thing I was nicely warmed up, and a run straight to work without any kinks was a relatively easy 7.5km. I figure I should take the easy miles when they're available and then resist the urge to vote "bugger it, I'm done for the day" at lunchtime. So I ran in. Last night when playing with AJ I was bouncing her up and down as she sat on my shins, balancing against back against my feet. At 13kg she is not exactly a dainty thing. She decided to jump up and down a couple of times and rammed my left heal into the floor and pointed my toes. Playtime over. I think that was on my mind a little this morning when I woke up and as I walked the dogs. My left shin felt a bit tight, sort of splinty, despite sleeping with it elevated. Well, falling asleep with it elevated, it probabaly fell off the cushion as soon as I nodded off. After walking a km it felt fine for the rest of the walk. But, as I set off running I once again thought the left felt a bit weird (overuse injury ahoy?) but by the bridge at abround 4km it was my right foot that felt a bit strange and the left leg was fine. I self diagnosed it as all-in-the-mind. Sweaty as ever, I made it to work with another 7.5km under my belt, leaving not too much to do at lunchtime to keep my average up.


See the activity on RunSaturday

Type:	Run - General
Duration:	0:46:23
Distance:	5.28 mi

As lunchtime approached three colleagues started talking about a lunchtime run so I decided to gatecrash their party, figuring they would run slower than I would which would be a very good thing for me. Don't get me wrong, the land speed record is in no danger from me, but I probably overdo it a bit and should get used to having the odd slower trot. Maybe I need to dig out the heart rate monitor, a great tool for keeping to a particular plan. So we set off and I relaised why I usually run alone. The pace was, well, slow. But, after a while and having a bit of a chat I started to think less about the pace and just got on with it. We started with a shortened version of one of my foreshore runs, doubling back at the opera house and heading over the top of Circular Quay. When the guys decided to head straight back to the office I left them to make sure I did 7km. I figured I'd do that easily and decided to put in 8.5km which got me to 16km for the day. That leaves me only 8km tomorrow to reach 10miles per day for the fortnight, which is handy as AJ has croup and I may well need to take the day off work to spend with her. Spending the day - her 2nd birthday - with AJ would be cool, croup not so cool.

Another thought occurs to me; this was a split training day, and I feel fine. Which is nice.

horny horn shark

I was fortunate enough to see some shark mating activity yesterday morning as I snorkelled over the rocks and sand weed just off of Shelly Beach in Sydney. I'll get to that in a bit.

Yesterday was the first family expedition to the beach. After boob and food for Alex we loaded the motor and headed for Manly, where we could get coffee and breakfast for ourselves and then head for the sand before the crowds arrived, which most assuredly they would with the temperature on its way to 31degrees.

Luck was with us; in fact, lady luck was smiling all day long. Weird; my luck is typically average. We found a superb free and unrestricted parking spot within an easy stroll of town and the water. Then we picked a random cafe that, despite looking a little poncy served suitably caf style fare. Well, it did to us, maybe the chef was hungover and didn't give a shit. Sal's pancake and my omelet seemed to have been slung on their respective plates. Some folks may give a toss, but we are not those folks and the nosh was top notch and the coffee on the good side of acceptable. Fed and watered we headed for the sand.

We got a good position in a shrinking patch of shade and were setup in next to no time. The Cancer Council beach shelter popped up and was staked out, towels were laid out and we settled in for the ten minutes of relaxation we were permitted before AJ's next feed. Being essentially boobless I was essentially useless, so I pulled on a rash shirt - I mean, how cold could the water be? - grabbed a mask and snorkel and with my temporary free-pass headed off to the water.

As it happens the water can still be really rather cold. But hey, I'd be able to warm myself once I came back out, and I didn't want to look too soft. A quick spit in my mask, dipped my head under water, sluiced the mask out and headed out towards the rocks. Maybe I should not have shaved into near extinction what little hair I have on my head; a small ice-cream headache started, but it passed and as I started to see a few fish all thoughts of being cold started to fade.

A quick aside. I can understand how easy it must be to drown. You lose heat rapidly when immersed in water, and most of us think the best way to stay warm is to move. Only it isn't. It fools you into thinking you are staying warm while actually you get cooler. And more tired. And if you do that while in water you can easily end up cold, numb, confused and exhausted. Not a great combination. I digress.

Almost as soon as I got to the rocks I say a Port Jackson shark, maybe 3ft long. I stopped to watch her (more of that later) and quickly realised how little natural buoyancy my legs have when not in a wetsuit. I ducked down the 10ft to get a slightly closer look. She had a mark near her dorsal fin that looked as if she'd been bitten; I didn't think too much of it. She started to swim off and I followed, on the surface. I followed her across the bay, looking every so often to make sure I'd not get run over by a kayak or surf-ski. We swam right across the bay ending up so close to the rock wall that with my mask half in and half out of the water I could see the shark over the weed below and walkers on the path above. Very cool indeed.

She started to swim in circles over the weed, moving quite lazily and in a manner that suggested she wasn't too pissed off with my company. After a few circles a smaller PJ came up out of the weed and started to follow her. He (more of that in a bit) looked like a kid following mum, if I may anthropomorphosize a bit. It was quite cute, especially in the very clear water. What was a little less cute was when he sped up a little, bit down just behind her dorsal fin and dragged her into the weed. She didn't seem to struggle that much, maybe a bit exhausted after the swim over the bay. But after a short while she shook him free and swam off. He stayed nearby, just ender me in about 4ft of water, which was a little too close to my feet than I was comfortable with, despite knowing them to be harmless. Hmmm. I headed back to shore, starting to feel a little chilled.

Right, I'm off home in a couple of minutes. A brief websearch has convinced me the activity I saw was not one shark attacking another, but rather a horny little bloke - he was only around 2ft - trying his luck with a larger lady. Good on him, that's what I say.

can I have the mash instead of chips?

Any day AJ smiles at me. In fact, any day I see AJ happy. That's father's day. First sunday in Spetember? Rather arbitrary if you ask me. Fathers' day was a concept started by church folk that was widely ridiculed until some bright sparks discovered you could make money from it. It is now one of those Hallmark Holidays that, you guessed it, this grumpy old bastard has little time for. Part of my problem is the social pressure to buy shit that isn't needed and hand it over wrapped in paper that would be better put to use, or rather left as trees. Same for cards.

Of course if AJ, when old enough, decides to get me something for Fathers' Day I will be delighted and touched and a little embarrassed. I will try to explain that she really need not have gone out of her way because the calendar has a couple of little words in one box out of 365. If she feels like getting me or Sal or anyone else something then she should, regardless of the date and double-regardless of peer, advertising or any other pressure.

My second problem with these "some-role-or-other" days is implied in the name "such-and-such day". What about the remaining three hundred and sixty something days? Are they not for that person? Who are they for? One for dad, one for mum, the rest to oil the wheels of industry? Well quite frankly bollocks to that. If AJ wants to do something special for me on May 17th who am I to stand in her way? One day get-out-of-jail-free-for-being-a-prick-on-every-other-day is hardly balancing the books.

I can sense an a counter argument heading my way, so I'll try and head it off. But, the case for the defence goes, we are all so busy these days that it is easy to forget and it is therefore nice to have a day set aside to remind us we should say thanks to dad. Or mum. Or a secretary. Hm, not really. The issue, you see, is not a need for a special day in order to continue living hectic, forget each other lives. We need to sort our lives and our priorities out and not forget about being nice to one another. All the time. Don't outsource your obligation to be nice to a corporation that, in excahnge for your money, will remind you to make dad a cup of tea in the morning. One morning.

One more thing. By funneling everyone into restaurants and pubs for lunch on that one day we reduce variety and quality of service on that day. We went to the Clovelly Hotel for lunch - for the record it was Sal and Mara who were treating their Dad Mike, though Mike being Mike he ended up paying. We all had the schnitzel. On (almost) any other day you can get the chips swapped for mash; but not on fathers' day. Too busy in the kitchen. Hold on a moment; today is fathers' day, a day dedicated to each father, a day on which fathers can be spoilt. Therefore, if dad wants mashed potato he should be allowed to have mashed potato. One fucking day of the year! Just one! I demand mash for my dad! Sorry, we're too busy, but if you'd like to come on any other day of the year (ok, with the exception of Mothers'day etc.) we would be only too happy to replace your chips with mash. That is assuming you managed to get a table. It was rather busy yesterday and some people were turned away when, on other weekends, they would not have been turned away, and they could have had their schnitzel served with mash.

All that said, we had a table with an ocean view, there was no set menu - don't get me started on special-day-set-menus - but full choice from the normal menu and Sal had not, on behalf of AJ, got me a card, present or wotnot. We had a lovely lunch (I ordered the chips, Sal and Mara wanted mash) and a thoroughly pleasant time was had by one and all. Alex was on great form, cuteness cranked through the roof and I, of course, pretty much kept my thoughts to myself. No one likes a non-conformist. Bad for business.

One last thing. Sal bought AJ the hat she is wearing in that picture as a Fathers' day present. I have a similar hat that I found in the Harbour, that has been chewed by Rowlf and is my (current) favourite hat. Now dad and daughter have matching hats, though AJ's gumming of the peak of hers has not had quite the same impact as Rowlf's gnashing of the peak of mine.

let me try that again

Being stupid, I am persevering with firefox.

So, after Sal and AJ were settled into their morning routine I headed out. The route is fairly straightforward. About a km to Saddleback Mountain road which leads to Saddleback Mountain. The run is quite challenging. I manged to run to the gate 400m from the top, 7.5km into the run. I walked to the top, had a breather on the lookout platforms and then headed for the bush track that runs off the back of the mountain. I ran the track - bloody steep, through a nice bit of remnant rainforest, until I met the Hoddle track. I was feeling somewhat isolated up there on my tod, so when the GPS clicked over 10km I turned for home, back the way I'd come.

The run was lovely. Yellow tail black cockatoo, eastern rozella, pheasants and a wallaby. Well, I think it was a wallaby; either that of a cougar or small bear or an enormous dog. I drove Sal up the hill later that afternoon and we saw a snake on the road. Not sure what type, but probably deadly. Cows and horses as well, what with the road going through farmland. The view from the hill is spectacular. Not sure how much of the NSW coast you see from the mountain; shitloads though. You will have to take my word for all of that, or go google, because I was running and didn't take a camera.

Scores on the doors; 48mins to the top, 26mins mincing about at the top and 38mins back down again.Sweaty. I was back at around 09:00am to find the rest of the household just getting ready for the day and Jo rustling up breakfast. After a little mix-up in which I managed to eat Sal's breakfast, leaving her, as she put it, "fucking starving" we headed down to Kiama where there was an easter fare of sorts and the kids went on an easter egg hunt and had their faces painted and Sal, eventually, had a Red Rooster Chicken roll.

It was a nice enough (I'm sure I posted about my view on the word "nice") and I'm sure I'll get more used to these bimbling mornings as AJ gets older and mobile. As an aside...while on the waterfront I took six shots that I hought I may be able to stitch together somehow...and lo, today I downloaded Autopano for free and produced the picture above. Neat huh? You can see the full size on flickr.

The afternoon was a tad weird. Jo was working, Sal was tired, AJ sleeps in the afternoon, DJ and Jo's kids Wil and Abi were tired and so was DJ. So, Jo at work, everyone asleep. In fact the only person awake at home was me having run 20 bastard kilometres before breakfast. I made the best of it and sat watching the ocean and drinking DJs beer. Nice. And the evening didn't get a whole lot more exciting...with the exception of young Will throwing up pretty much everything he'd ever eaten over DJ. DJ proceeded to go somewhat green, while Will bounced back almost immediately. Lovely dinner, glas of wine and the day petered out. AJ, of course, was simply cute until she went to sleep for another 12 hours.

Right, nearly bedtime, so I'll leave Sunday until later.

kid costs

Next Tuesday is Melbourne Cup day. The race that stops a nation will stop me from working, as well as pretty well every other employee of my company. My firm, who pride themselves on how well they treat their staff, will spend tens of thousands of dollars on a venue overlooking Sydney's Darling Harbour and an endless supply of booze that will, knowing the way some of our consultants get on it, not be served particularly responsibly. So the cost to the company is the actual expense, the lost productivity of the day and the inevitable drop in productivity on a very foggy next day.

But let's not take anything away from them, it is good to work for a company that does so much for its staff.

Hold on though. When Sal drops the bump in January I will have been with the company for twenty two months. As that is under two years I am entitled to one week of paternity leave.

...before I go on...although I am using my own circumstances as an example they are typical of the absolutely fucking outrageous lack of regard our western world has for new parents vis a vis screwing their pound of flesh from you...ahem...

One week. I can, of course, take my annual leave. And, had I been there for two years I would be entitled to up to 52 weeks of "extended paternity leave" with six of those weeks of, less any "normal" paternity leave already taken, at half pay. And that is very generous.

This is one of my favourite bits. Extended Paternity Leave is intended for those fathers who intend to be the primary care giver. It should not be taken when the mother is on maternity leave. Well thanks for that.

I wasn't intending to spend more than a week with my wife and new child anyway.

Yes I know my employer isn't a charity and they have an interest in me being at work blah blah blah. But come on, what sort of a world have we created for ourselves? Birth rates dropping in the western world...is it any wonder when we've pissed away all but the very bare bones of support for new families? And what sort of world are we creating where we force families into (in)effective one parent units for the first year, until mum goes back to work and we outsource the bringing up of our kids to hired strangers?

Go on then, "well you chose to have a kid..."