I reckon this is the way forward - very shallow water in an open air pool, close to home and no annoying changing rooms at the end - just a Bob tent for shelter when you want it.
Not entirely sure it's any good when it comes to diving practice, however.....
Monday, 25 May 2009
Thursday, 21 May 2009
A Wii bit energetic
We've invested in a Nintendo Wii, having really liked the idea of them for ages. It was a very good deal that persuaded us in the end, however, and once home, it was thankfully very easy to sort out. Number One Son has even given it a name - Doris Wii. Needless to say, it's a big hit! In more ways than one - here's Mike "boxing"....
Tuesday, 19 May 2009
Gallant losers
WBA's season 08/09 - RIPThe Rhodes household went very quiet on Sunday afternoon, once we discovered that the mighty West Bromwich Albion had lost to Liverpool and thus been relegated back to the Championship. Now, in fairness, this is a biannual occurrence to which we're well used at the moment. The Baggies regularly bounce up and down from the Premiership so it's not altogether surprising.
However, what has made me proud to be a second-hand West Brom fan is how sporting the crowd were during the match and the team and manager have been afterwards. The crowd knew that they were likely to go down this weekend, what with playing against some of the best players in the world an' all, but they sang their hearts out for the whole 90 minutes and clapped the manager as he and the players did a lap of (dis)honour. No calls for Mowbray's head. No vast scenes of huge grief. Just, according to various reports, including Midlands Today (so it must be true), a plan for every WBA fan at the Blackburn match this weekend to wear a Tony Mowbray mask, to show their support.
I think a few other football clubs could learn from the sporting attitude of the Albion fans, even if they've nothing to learn from the fairly rubbish performance of the team! A few MPs could learn something, too, I reckon. You know - fair play and no witch hunt, etc etc...
Monday, 11 May 2009
Making music
It's all about the music here at the moment.
Number one son has successfully charmed the brass teacher at school and is going to start his much longed-for trombone lessons this week. Doesn't sound much but this is at least 2 years earlier than the school normally puts children forward to learn an instrument. Credit to them for supporting what could have been misinterpreted as pushy parents and letting him try!
Number 2 son did some charming of his own on Saturday afternoon as he donned a miniature band uniform and joined Mike on stage for the first half of a band concert at the Central Hall. he did amazingly well and was quiet and still while the band played. He only conducted once! Once we arrived back from the party the oldest had been to, he joined us, but not before many an old lady had winked at him and told him that he was a "bobby dazzler".
I sang in a concert on Saturday night, in memory of a lovely man's late wife. The lovely man in question is Harold Rich who is a musician of real experience and skill. He worked at the BBC for many, many years and was musical director for Pebble Mill at One (for those of you too young to remember, this was a kind of forerunner to Richard and Judy, just at lunchtime and on BBC for a very long time).
He's the kind of person that is so unassuming that you forget the kind of life he's led. I sat deep in conversation with him one day and (being the wrong side of extremely old) he couldn't remember the name of the person he'd accompanied on a particular song. He kept going over and over, trying to remember, and kept saying that he was a "Spanish chap". I could only think of one and, jokingly, asked if he meant Jose Carreras. He did. I shut up.
The concert on Saturday was in memory of Joyce who died a little while ago. She was also a very lovely person. My one abiding memory was the first time I ever met either of them. I turned up at their house to rehearse for a concert and, not having been able to find a babysitter, had a very small boy in tow. Joyce played and played with my little chap while I sang and was so charming and generous about it. A lovely lady. The concert was a great tribute and as there was literally standing room only left, a good deal of money was raised for charity too. That's a good way to spend an evening.....
Number one son has successfully charmed the brass teacher at school and is going to start his much longed-for trombone lessons this week. Doesn't sound much but this is at least 2 years earlier than the school normally puts children forward to learn an instrument. Credit to them for supporting what could have been misinterpreted as pushy parents and letting him try!
Number 2 son did some charming of his own on Saturday afternoon as he donned a miniature band uniform and joined Mike on stage for the first half of a band concert at the Central Hall. he did amazingly well and was quiet and still while the band played. He only conducted once! Once we arrived back from the party the oldest had been to, he joined us, but not before many an old lady had winked at him and told him that he was a "bobby dazzler".
I sang in a concert on Saturday night, in memory of a lovely man's late wife. The lovely man in question is Harold Rich who is a musician of real experience and skill. He worked at the BBC for many, many years and was musical director for Pebble Mill at One (for those of you too young to remember, this was a kind of forerunner to Richard and Judy, just at lunchtime and on BBC for a very long time).
He's the kind of person that is so unassuming that you forget the kind of life he's led. I sat deep in conversation with him one day and (being the wrong side of extremely old) he couldn't remember the name of the person he'd accompanied on a particular song. He kept going over and over, trying to remember, and kept saying that he was a "Spanish chap". I could only think of one and, jokingly, asked if he meant Jose Carreras. He did. I shut up.
The concert on Saturday was in memory of Joyce who died a little while ago. She was also a very lovely person. My one abiding memory was the first time I ever met either of them. I turned up at their house to rehearse for a concert and, not having been able to find a babysitter, had a very small boy in tow. Joyce played and played with my little chap while I sang and was so charming and generous about it. A lovely lady. The concert was a great tribute and as there was literally standing room only left, a good deal of money was raised for charity too. That's a good way to spend an evening.....
Rules are made to be broken
I have this very important golden rule: Never go to more than one vehicle rally in one 12 month period. This is important because I wouldn't want Mike to start thinking that I've been sucked in to vehicles like I got drawn into football and I certainly wouldn't want him to get the impression that this is a normal occupation for a Sunday afternoon.
However, I now have to confess that I have attended 2 rallies in 8 days. The first was in Brighton (see last post) and yesterday's was the Sandwell Rally. This is usually my one annual foray in to the dark world of vintage vehicles and I am happy to admit that I enjoy it. This is mainly because we get to go in my father-in-law's old Austin A40 Somerset and I can go to sleep in the back if I get too bored through the afternoon. There are other draws, however - not least of which is watching the boys trying to con their way behind as many steering wheels as possible. One way or another, the Sandwell Rally has found itself marked on my diary as well as the family calendar every year.
What I hadn't thought about was all these exotic rallies that we are now planning for - Brighton looks like it will happen again next year (although, strictly speaking, I probably won't look at the vehicles - I intend to sample Brighton's retail and seaside possibilities instead) and Fleetwood's coming up in July. If it weren't for the seaside, then I wouldn't dream of going but I can feel myself wavering....
Frankly, I'm worried about myself but I will be strong. I will stand up for the rights of those of us who think that a vehicle is just a handy box to get from A to B a bit quicker and don't care who made what, when and why. I will maintain my long-held and often-voiced opinion that a grown man probably shouldn't be playing with a steering wheel, saying "brrmmm brrmmm". And I will forever continue the battle cry that they're not models - they're toy cars.
Whilst I do that, however, I will be acknowledging that I'm swimming against the tide in my household. My 2 year old can name nearly every lorry make as we go past them on the motorway. We bred petrolheads. Here's a small selection of the modes of transport they conned their way onto yesterday.....
And in the famous Grandad's Jalopy:
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Catching up on the celebrations
It's been an all-action kind of a week this week and so I'm catching up on what I haven't posted!
My mother-in-law turned 60 last week and so we celebrated in style - from me and my sister-in-law taking her for a spa day on her actual birthday (and supported Further Education at the same time - would highly recommend it), to organising a surprise gathering of closest family and friends for a meal on Saturday night. All lovely and she seemed to have a great time.
Number one son then went off for a long-promised stay at Graham and Helen's for a couple of nights and was spoilt rotten! An amazing amount of chocolate has found its way in to our house, after they went to Cadbury World and a (seemingly inept) juggler managed to catch number one on the nose. Clearly my boy has heard that "where there's blame, there's a claim" but, true to form, he chose to claim the extra chocolate they offered him by way of an apology, rather than contacting his solicitor!
We, on the other hand, went down to Brighton on Sunday for the end of the Historic Commercial Vehicle Society's London to Brighton run. Now, I'm not a huge vehicle fan, but just very occasionally a rally like this comes along that sounds more interesting than others. Usually because it's somewhere nice.... It was a good day and many, many pictures of old lorries were taken by Mike and his dad. Number 2 son had a great time - a large collection of lorries and buses being his idea of heaven - and even managed to blag his way in to the driving seat of a bus, using his tried and tested unfeasibly cute routine.
I have to say that I often (and, may I say, justifiably) accuse my husband of being very, very sad to chase old lorries and buses and models of old lorries and buses all over the country. However, this kind of event restores my faith in my choice of mate. After all, he could end up looking like the several blokes we saw wearing bus uniforms, with the remains of several weeks of dinner down them, or the young chap who'd spent all day keeping a steam engine going and who was going to need several baths to scrape the goo off. I like to think that I rescued him from these fates but I think that, despite his obsession, he's actually a fairly mild case compared to some of the seriously odd people in that world. I left Brighton that evening, counting my blessings.....
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