2010 has been a savage year on the synapses thus far. Perhaps no more than usual, but still it occasionally feels like surviving until another birthday comes to pass maybe more of a struggle than it should be.
Anyhoo, in a vain attempt to be civilised, I spent last weekend volunteering (Have I ever mentioned my tireless charity work? zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...) and then watching my pa drive a formula 3 car round the track at Silverstone as part of a lovely xmas gift organised by my sister on the Sunday. The volunteering ting went smoothly despite a thick lagery hangover. This was shaken off by chasing a small 13 year old lad on a bike around Victoria Park followed by assisting with a nappy change. Standard.
The second part went mildly awry as sleep never really materialised on Saturday evening. One thing basically led to another with the only stolen winks of kip taking place on the tube as a I sailed past my station and ended up 12 stops further down the line than planned. Whoops? Cue being 45 minutes late, cue sweats, cue a Macdonald's Big Mac meal being the only thing between me and madness.
The birthday gift goes down
Man up big poppa!
A natural athlete highly attuned to the intricacies of the road
After a couple of confessions, the day went off relatively smooth - Pops went round the track at a leisurely pace while we cheered him on and I beggared about in the midst of the family bosom. I think they're used to it....
However, the final song in the boozer we were drinking in on the previous eve was this little ripper. It has vague connotations of being to do with mortality, which in these times of fast living could be quite pertinent. Or maybe not. Whatevs, it's a big little tune.
1 comment:
Standard confusion. Volunteering / community service. Natch.
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