Cannonball Run Day 1; this day in 1990

Well, we left a tearful family behind at Heathrow at 10.30am and went straight through to customs and passport control, boarding our plane almost immediately.

The 7½ hour flight to New York went pretty smoothly on a 747 (the beef casserole was not too bad). A few beers on board, a few hours sleep and we were ready to land.

New York looked great (from inside the airport!) and it was our first sight of limo's and yellow cabs. We couldn't believe how easy it was getting through passport control and customs. Not one question asked. Phoned home and spoke to Ma, Pa and Paul and let them know everything was ok.

Then a four hour wait for our connecting flight. George and Kim (note: the two South Africans I made the trip with) told me they'd seen Debbie Harry - my idol!!

Ha ha, I said, very funny.

Then another flight of 6½ that went fairly quickly 'cos I slept all the way, even though I'd paid $4 for some headphones to watch the in-flight movie they were showing.

We got to baggage reclaim and who is standing right opposite me?

Debbie Harry!!

Took a quick photo' of her!!

Anyway, we took a van (called a cab here) to San Pedro where we checked in to a youth hostel. Very dodgy. Got in a few hours sleep but not much 'cos the place was a bit iffy!

(confused? click here for an explanation)

“Oh my Gahd! Space aliens!! Don’t eat me! I have a wife & kids; eat THEM!”

Aah yes, of course, the effortlessly quotable Homer Simpson, the funniest of all yellow characters in Springfield. Whenever the kids (mine, not the ones at school) ask me to impersonate Homer, the title of this post is the line I throw at them.

By merely pulling a slightly funny face, I can pretty much nail Mr Simpson first time. Pulling faces is a pre-requisite to nailing any impersonation, come to mention it.

What, you didn’t know?

Well, there you have it, there’s a tip for you; scrunched up face equals success.

Check out any decent impersonator on TV and you’ll see they contort their faces in varying degrees, in order to get the pitch and voice just right of whoever it is they’re taking off.

And although the jokes are way above Annabel’s head and, for the most part, still above Joseph’s, he is starting to ‘get’ some of the humour of the comments, rather than just the slapstick of Homer dropping a hammer on his foot, or his skateboard jump not quite making the other side of the canyon.

(It’s still funny).

Only earlier this week did I realise that the Simpsons currently airing on our (UK) Channel 4 is a brand new series. I joined mes enfants in the TV room to catch Marge reminiscing when she was younger, and how she’d spurned Homer for the advances of a smooth, equal rights and feminist-supporting activist. As the two of them embrace, he comments in disgust on the lighthouse on the beach where they’re standing, explaining to Marge “how it’s phallic shape is penetrating the sky”, and that anything “penis shaped” is designed by men to hold power over women throughout history.

Now, I know there’s nothing wrong with the word penis, but I thought I’d take a look at Joseph and Annabel anyway.

Well, Annabel just returned my look, smiled slightly and then turned back to the TV. At roughly the same time, Joseph burst out laughing, hitting the sofa for added effect and sat back up to watch the television.

I looked back at the screen, wondering if he was laughing at what I thought he was laughing at, when he piped up, “oh, it’s so funny isn’t it Dad? “Peanut shaped”. It doesn’t even look like a peanut!”

Cue my laughter, louder than his was!!

You can pretty much rely on the Simpsons to make you laugh. However, you can guarantee that your children can make you laugh, of that there’s no doubt.

On the Simpsons though, this is their 23rd season, having first aired on our screens way back in 1989, just before Christmas. I never really got into it straight away, until an old friend explained it’s magic.

In fact, this post coincides with something else I wanted to say.

My wife, M, is sure I’m going through some sort of a mid-life crisis. She is of course completely wrong, but I shall humour her here, for your reading pleasure. The thing is, I’m not ageing all that well, that’s the upshot of it.

I’ve discussed hair loss on several occasions and we’ve (well, I’ve) decided, that it’s boring to mention it – I’ve even chastised Chris Evans for banging on about it on his breakfast show). But, for the sake of this post, I must make another quick mention.

So, hair loss?

Well, ok, I s’pose I don’t have much choice, so go on then – hair loss it is, it’s a go-er.

A-hah, but what about wrinkles and crow’s feet – or the nice way of saying it – laughter lines?

You know, I really don’t mind those. When I see them on other people’s faces, I think it gives them character, helps tell a story about that person. Yeah, wrinkles and ‘laughter lines’ are in, good.

Wait for it, wait for it …… bags under your eyes! What about those?

Wha’? Bags?? You’re kidding? Oh, bloody hell, is there nothing I can do about those, other than sleeping with cold sliced salad pieces on my closed eyes at night? The thing is, if I go to sleep on my back, there’s a teensy chance I might snore, thus waking up M, not to mention waking myself up with bloomin’ apnoea or whatever it’s called. Fine, begrudgingly, the bags can stay.

Ok? Is that it? Can I now please slow down the ageing process, please? Thank y …..

Not so fast laddie, not so fast, we’re not done with you yet. Ready?

*deep breath*

Rosacea, heh heh heh ……. checkmate!

Lemme hear y’say it. That’s right ….. ro-zay-sha!

WHAT? Not the …..?

Not when your face flushes and ……?

Not the occasional red nose and cheeks and all that ……?

Ha-HAAAAAH, YES, that’s the one!!! How d’you like THEM apples???!!

Hah, WE WIN, the ageing process wins.

Ageing – 1

Dad – nil.

Get IN, result!

Yeah, they’ve all got me. I’m going down, and going down fast. Not without a fight though, no sir-ee Bob!

So, taking all this into account, I can kinda see why M feels I’m having that crisis she mentioned.

For me though, what I want to write about for the next few months has nothing whatsoever to do with a crisis, mid-life or not.

It was the Simpsons start date that got me thinking. I said I didn’t really get into those genius yellow inhabitants of Springfield until I actually went to America, way back at the end of 1990.

November 6th to be more precise.

And then I was thinking, oh my goodness; that was 21 years ago, I’m forty-two now; my US trip was half my lifetime ago.

Holy cow!

I went up into our attic and had a rummage through our considerable boxes of “stuff” until I found two things.

One – my album of photographs I took in the United States (they were still called photographs then, not digital pics).

Two – the diary I kept during my three-month road trip there, which I called The Cannonball Run (explanations all in good time).

Boy oh boy, reading that diary sure brought back some memories for me. Some good, some a bit cringe making, but it was interesting to see how a twenty-year gap in noting down “stuff” didn’t really change my style of writing; I still write very similar to how I did as a ‘lad’.

(Make of that what you will!!)

So.

Now I’ve brought it all down, what shall I do with it?

Well, M has been on at me for months – nay, years – to sort through the attic, so I thought I would make a start with this item, my USA trip diary. I know, I know, it’s a small start but a start nonetheless.

Now I know it’s a big ask, but if you could humour me for the next 12 or so weeks, I’m going to just copy out what I wrote all that time ago, when I was wrinkle, laughter lines and eye bag free. When my long, thick hair blew all around my face while I stood by a snow covered Grand Canyon to have my photograph taken.

And good grief, didn’t I look young?

(If you’re really unlucky, I may include some photos with me actually in them!)

Flicking through it, there were days that I missed; there’s even a couple of missing weeks – it’s possible I may have been on some kind of bender – so hopefully it’ll be over before it gets too tiresome.

I’ll write truthfully, even if what I’ve written makes me want to curl up and die.

However, if I want to mention something more up to date, more current, more in the here-and-now, I’ll probably just tag it on either at the start of the post or at the end.

In other words, I haven't a clue if it will work or not, but what’s the worst that can happen, eh?

If I’m honest, I seem to be sailing through one of my “busy doing I don’t quite know what” periods right now, but I’m painfully aware that I’m not keeping these pages as updated as I like to.

Am I being lazy?

Possibly, but I’m looking forward to it anyway.

As they say in New Yoik – have a nice day!

"Schooooool's out ..... for, half term .."

Yes indeedy, barely 7 weeks after we start a new school year and another short break rolls around, wooHOO!!!

For anyone who enjoyed the Armstrong and Miller show (BBC1), you'll be familiar with the short "adverts" that ripped the mickey out of being a teacher. If you're not familiar with the show, they went something along the lines of "couldn't find anything better to do, couldn't get a proper job, didn't mind the crap pay but need the long holidays" type of spiel.

Working in education myself, I did wince slightly at them but have to admit to laughing harder than I winced. If I'm totally honest, I was knackered by the end of the first half term and was totally looking forward to the break.

It is highly possible that I've mentioned this in the past, but historically, M and I would use up our 25-30 days annual leave individually of each other, in order to cover off the children's school breaks and holidays. Nowadays, when M takes a day off, or a week off, we're all off together.

Thank you very much, job done.

Anyways, this half term we took ourself off to Winchester for a couple of days. We got a cheap deal in a hotel (hotels never work out for us and yes, a complaints letter has been sent off!) for two nights, the hotel situated right next to Marwell Zoo. I have to big-up this zoo as it is one of the best zoos I've ever been to, if not the best zoo. (I did argue that Longleat was the best ever, but the ever level-headed M reminded me that Longleat is a safari park, not a zoo).

Yes, yes, moving on and next stop after Winchester was Wilton; the royal home to Lord and Lady Parker - you may recall me mentioining them two or three hundred times over the past several years.

Lovely, lovely Wilton, so relaxing, so green, so wonderfully full of long foresty walks.

I reminded them how bonkers they were to have left SW London for the wide open green spaces of Wiltshire and they just hung their heads in shame, clearly too proud to admit that they did indeed make the mistake of their lives!!

Tough luck chaps, you live THERE and we live ..... here, deal with it!!!

Whatever, a smashing half term, rounded off with our ever enjoyable stop at their country pile - fireworks and hot dogs included - and back to London along the beautifully familiar A3 in time for baths and bed, well and truly pooped.

Some pictures for your perusal.

Comments only where needed (click to enlarge).

The Great Screen, some of it original and dating from when the cathedral was first built in 1079 (amazing) but thanks to much of it being destroyed during the Reformation, most of it now dates from the the late 15th century (still pretty darned amazing).

Anthony Gormley's sculpture, entitled Sound II. This 'man' stands alone in the crypt which, during heavy rainfall, completely floods, leaving Mr Sound II up to his knees in water. You can still make out the water lines along the edge of the picture. even though the crypt hasn't flooded for months, such is the time needed to dry out completely.

' couldn't believe my luck. I'm a big Question Time fan (ok, ok, I enjoy hurling insults at politicians from the comfort of my sofa), but admire David Dimbleby and lo and behold, there he is, about to pre-record from the cathedral itself. (I wondered what all those OB rigs were doing outside!)

Arrived at this part of the zoo at 3.25pm. ' cannot BELIEVE we missed the opportunity to hear the Marwell Zoo rhinos talk, dammit!

Pumpkin scoop off (declared a draw)

An extremely rare of the four of us all together in a picture. This was taken at the bonfire and fireworks night, just before we got stuck into our hot-dogs which were delicious thanks.

Possibly even rarer,; this is Lord Parker himself, adopting a rather camp pose it has to be said. He is observing the bonfire caused by his redneck staff having blown up a perfectly good motor car.

Astonishing.

Parker residence.

The end of our lovely walk before setting off for home.

*sigh*

Will it be Ruth? Will it be Harry??

Oh, it was Ruth!

So that’s it then? The end of Spooks as we know it. After 10 brilliant series, Ruth gets ‘done in’ by a young Russian who thought he was Harry’s son.

But wasn’t.

His mother had tricked them all, damn her to hell!!

You see Harry? You see what happens when you’re so loyal, so determined to do the right thing all the time? I knew it was all over when Harry smiled (smiled for crying out loud, he’s never smiled in 9 whole years), at Ruth and agreed to leave MI5 to shack up with her.

Mind you, you’ve got to hand it to Ruth, not only did she have a very lovely-but-slightly-wonky smile, she also seemed to totally forgive Harry for dragging her away from an idyllic life in rural Greece, allowing her hubby to get shot dead into the bargain!!

Yep, she sure was a kind-hearted soul, that’s for sure. Right up to the point where she got killed!

How will it end, what will he do??

I’ll tell you what he’ll do; he’ll pick up the ‘phone and, in his usual gruff tone, bark his name down the ‘phone.

"Hello? This is Harry Pearce". (cue freeze frame, cue black and white overlay and terrific, instantly familiar noise that ended every episode since 2002.

And the brief shot of Tom from series 1 was a touch - of - genius!!!

Anyhoo, obviously I don’t have a picture of Harry, or Ruth for that matter, so I’ll leave you with a rather crap photo I took ages ago of the Spooks building which is, in reality, the (Freemasons) Masonic Lodge, just off Long acre in covent Garden, London (I’m sure I have a better picture of that building somewhere).

And I’ve also provided you with a link (here), just in case you think you’ve got what it takes to fill Harry’s shoes.

Good luch with that!!!

Lemme see, that’s .. 9 .. no .. 10? No, hang on …

Oh, I geddit now. I think the problem arose from not having mentioned it last year, thanks to my being a complete doofus and having hung up my blogging boots for the best part of a year.

What a dope!

It’s not nine, OR ten; it’s actually eleven.

That’s right, eleven years since my rather wonderful wif (we omit the ‘e’ for various reasons which shall remain a mystery to you all), finally decided to cease being a dentist that just was engaged to me, and became a dentist that was married to me.

It’s been a hard slog, no doubt about it. I’ve had to put up with a great deal of ear-bashing, hen-pecking and other negative aspects of which I can’t quite call to mind (but trust me, it’s been hard), although if I’m honest, there have been one or two nicer moments, several ‘lights at the end of the tunnel’, you might say.

And I s’pose, if I were to open up a bit, I’d say that we still get on fairly well, regardless of the fact that she, M, would probably dispute this.

In fact, to make a stand, I deliberately missed our actual anniversary date (the 12th), and have blogged on the 14th, so HAH, who’s in charge now, eh????

I “forgot” our anniversary and there ain’t a thing you can do about it!!!!

And so, in order to keep up the pretence, I’ll end on a positive.

Love? You are lovely, you’re a star, I love you loads. Thank you for being SO lovely!

Ps – picture is not the breakfast I cooked for M. She is highly allergic to eggs so naturally, I bought her a card with eggs on the front. As you do!

"You gotta spot a pattern or two .."

When I was working in town (central London), my lunchtimes more often than not involved a stroll in one of many directions. I always tried to head somewhere new but after seven years, there weren't many different ways to go. Coupled with the fact that you could only set off for half an hour in any direction before you needed to turn back again.

The trick was to look at something familiar through different eyes, and you'd be surprised how much of a difference it made. This is, however, far easier to do than if you are in a car, particularly so if you are the one doing the driving.

For example, the other day, we were all heading out to do some shopping - stay with me, stay with me - and while sat at a red light, we looked at a huge church sat a little way back from the road.

"Why have we never been into that church?" I asked everyone. "That's the sort of medieval church / castle we'd pay to go in and see if we were on a break somewhere. It's got 'middle ages' written all over it".

Joseph and Annabel are currently looking at British history, focussing on the Tudors, so they too were interested.

The light changed to green and we drove off. Whether we'll return to the church I'm not sure. I'll let you know if we do. But it made me think.

Last week, the classes on our top corridor (Years 5 & 6) went to the National Maritime museum in Greenwich, and jolly interesting it was too.

I grew up approximately 2 and a half miles from Greenwich Park and Blackheath and we spent a lot of time there as a family, be it my brother and I cycling around Cowboy Valley, crashing on my skateboard and ending up in hospital thanks to losing rather a lot of facial skin, playing for as long as our folks would allow in the swing park or chasing squirrels and feeding the deer, riding the donkeys or running to the ice cream van - it was (and is) a beautiful place.

However, in all those years, we never once visitied the museum, or the Royal Observatory.

Man, it's where the world's time is calculated from (for now), how did we never go there?

Regardless, last week we went and a very interesting place it is too; the revamped museum at the bottom of the hill, the 28 inch telescope at the top of the hill, the incredible view of central and City of London, the fact that there is that much beautiful green space in the middle of a very busy part of the capital ...... just go and see it. If you're feeling flush, take a trip there on a London Clipper.

It can only add to your exciting and memorable day out.

And then he was 9

"Freshness, originality, treading a new path".

No, not comments from the X-Factor judges (which is where ma famille can be found at this precise moment, waiting on their every comment - sheesh!) but words which I feel are nice generally, especially when you're reading something. Personally, things I've read before leap right off the page at me and let's face it, it's a bit tiresome.

Well, unless it's your favourite favourite book of course, but that's another story.

It is for this reason of 'freshness' that I do my utmost to cover new ground as much as is humanly possible whilst rambling endlessly on these pages (please note, I said "new" ground, not "interesting"!)

There are, however, occasions when I need to 'flick back' through my own pages as a gentle reminder of anniversaries that occur throughout my year, re-read them, try not to copy what I said too closely so as not to annoy. But let's face it, just how different can one wish someone 'happy birthday' without repeating one's self, eh?

It's difficult to believe that this morning at 8.23am this morning, exactly nine years ago, our smashing son was born, albeit 7 weeks early. The builders actually laughed into their tea when I told them he'd arrived, thinking I was joking, even though I was practically purple with rage, screaming at them to get the hell on with it! We had no kitchen, no bathroom and we'd been living in one room which was covered with dust, eating microwave meals for 6 weeks - a really healthy way to live for a heavily pregnant woman!

Regardless of this rude and abrupt introduction to the world, the two weeks in Hotel Incubator and the extra couple of weeks in Chez Intensive Care seemed to do the trick; Joseph has grown into a happy and healthy (and bloody tall) boy, one whom his parents are very proud of.

He is very thoughtful too. Just in case we made a mistake in what present to buy him, he started telling us what box of Star Wars Lego he wanted from about the end of June - that's right, three flippin' months ago - I mean, how many children do you know that are so thoughtful? and not only that, but he very, very kindly did not choose the Death Star as it was "too expensive" at £350. He settled for the At-At Walker, a mere snip at £100. (One hundred pounds for a box of Lego?? Where did that come from???)

Yeah, we're proud of him alright.

Joseph - please stop saying "next year I'm gonna be 10!"

Just enjoy being 9 years old for now. 10 will come around quick enough, you'll see!

Happy birthday Poops - we're glad you enjoyed your day.