Apologies to our neighbours who had to listen to ‘Eye of the Tiger’ on a loop. Also you probably heard our kids roaring ‘Ooh Ah Up The Ra’ more than once. I don’t know where they got that from
This has been a mixed week. The Easter holidays were a drag and my first attempt at sourdough mocked me from the minute I took its sorry ass out of the oven.
On the plus side, my wife unearthed a new talent and the kids have joined the IRA.
We’re on the one road:
The kids went plain bonkers this week thanks to surplus Easter Eggs and all-day sunshine. It would have been unbearable if it wasn’t for Trampoline Discos. All you need is a trampoline, a blue-tooth speaker and two kids with a terrible taste in music.
So, apologies to our neighbours who had to listen to ‘Eye of the Tiger’ on a loop. Also, you probably heard our kids roaring ‘Ooh Aah Up The Ra’ more than once. I don’t know where they got that from, but we’re not actually sitting in our back garden wearing balaclavas. Happy to clear that up.
I can’t get into telly. Tiger King is awful — if I ever want some daft American to wreck my faith in humanity, I’ll just check what Donald Trump is saying on Twitter. We tried to get back into Ozark but it’s just the same five or six people trying to con each other.
My friend told me he re-watched the first two series of The Sopranos — I’m afraid to go there in case I wreck the memories. Same goes for The Wire, and anyway, the big drug they were selling in series four was called Pandemic.
The only thing I’m binge-watching this week is videos on how to make sourdough from scratch. It might have been a good idea to do this before making my first loaf last week, because that ended up like a metaphor for erectile dysfunction.
My yeast starter was a non-starter and the thing never rose an inch. I’m now following a recipe from some baker in Cornwall, because I have this notion that they know their bread over there. So far so good, in that the starter is starting to smell like gym socks.
People are mocking the sourdough craze, but I get it. Instead of worrying about bad microbes floating around the world, use some good microbes in a yeast starter to make your own bread. What’s not to like here?
My wife and I came to the same conclusion after the Easter break — it’s much easier with just one of us looking after them. (And it’s much easier when you’re not the one doing the looking after.)
Parenting during lockdown is non-stop decision making. What will we do next, will I give them a second chocolate egg for a bit of peace, will they tell my wife that I gave them a second chocolate egg for a bit of peace, will that get me into trouble?
This is exhausting enough as it is — during the Easter break it involved the two of us confined to the house, trying to make a decision every five minutes. That’s no joke. So, here’s hoping we can actually leave the house for our summer holidays.
Last week, I just about thought we might get away to France in early July for those holidays. This week, I’ve given up.
My wife decided to cut my hair on Monday. She didn’t say as much, but my guess is that she isn’t attracted to wolfmen. So, she spent two hours snipping away with a semi-blunt scissors (ouch) and a nit-comb (ouch, ouch.) It was her first time cutting hair.
Honestly, you wouldn’t know it by looking at the end result. It’s a proper bazzer. All that hair off my head is literally a weight off my mind. (It might have been beginner’s luck, so if Stephen from Tom Winter’s Barbers is reading this, I’ll hopefully be in to you soon for the next one.) For now, it’s great to know that my wife is good at everything.
The whole thing felt like a proper trip to the hairdressers, except neither of us asked, ‘Are you going anywhere nice on your holidays?’ Because we’re probably not.