Two of a kind

Not to be outdone by the boy doing his homework (actually I think he's just chatting on line to his friends) in his new helmet (see my last entry), I have decided to type this update whilst wearing my new helmet. It's carbon fibre...and dead sexy, and has a thing inside to cover my nose so it doesn't steam up when I have the visor down. Most importantly though it has a five star rating, which is (evidently) two more than my previous 'lid'. So on the off chance I fall off the sofa this evening (and because I've got man flu, I could collapse at any moment) I am twice as likely to survive.



Boys. They never grow up.

Danger, danger!

Homework has become a hazardous undertaking in our house, hence the boy decided on appropriate wear to finish off the maths on Sunday night. Nothing whatsoever to do with either the snow gently falling outside, or that this was a Sunday morning purchase, ready for our trip in ten days time!

And of course going out on Monday morning was equally hazardous. At least in a fashion sense. So the designer coat was entirely appropriate for spending all day romping in the snow with a dozen friends. Only marginal contrition upon his return swathed in a soggy lump of wool. But thank heavens he wore his ski goggles...the happy police would be pleased.



I wish I had the same sense of excitement that a thirteen year old has!

Petards'n'pants

"Son, can you get my washing out of my washing basket, bring it down and we'll pop it in the machine with yours"

"Sure Dad, no problem"

Wow...haven't I done well to train him up to domestic bliss, I think.

"Dad, I don't mean to be critical or anything, but there are six pairs of my underpants in YOUR washing basket. You told me not to wear your pants, aren't you being a bit hypocritical?"

"Those are the pants that you leave crumpled up on the floor beside the shower every morning, and never pick up. Even when I tell you to. Even when I leave them in a pile outside your bedroom door."

"Oh, right"