A Senior moment to remember

Well, that WAS a weekend.  And more.

My dad turned 80 on Saturday, so we arranged a party for him at Mary Pat's Bar in his - and my - native Macosquin, just outside Coleraine.  To add to the surprise, it took place on Friday evening 

That's Lizzie, the lady of the manor, carrying his cake.  And what an incredible job she did. 

Friends and family came in droves. 

Here's grandson Nathan and granddaughter Katie.

And my oldest friend, Drew Hutchinson (aka DJ Steady), held the whole thing together brilliantly between tunes.  And beers.

After staying up to 4.30am to see in his birthday, my dad and I headed off to The Showgrounds on Saturday to see the in-form Bannsiders' latest footballing triumph.  

And then it was off to the Railway Arms for drinks - word spread fast and the birthday boy barely put his hand in his pocket.

We also had the chance to wish the staff well as they headed off for another Pub of the Year awards ceremony.  Needless to say, Team Clare won again.

But, as much as he sought to avoid being the centre of attention, the weekend was all about Barry White Senior.

It was very good to be part of it.

Bird brain

Jamie's developed something of a love for and expertise in birds of prey.  So, yesterday, we all traipsed off to the York Bird of Prey Centre so he could continue his education.

That's a big owl you can see him holding above.  (You can't fool me).

Here he is with a Harris Hawk.

The next bird even bowed down to him.

Unfortunately this one didn't.

Bit that didn't put Charlotte off, who had to have a go too.

Here she is with Oliver.

You can see Vanessa looking jealous behind.

So she got involved as well.

What a strange-looking bird.  And here she is holding one.

And of course I had a go.  His name's Shadow.  He's a golden eagle.  I think he was showing off.  

Sadly we weren't allowed to hold the one that looked like Cyndi Lauper.

But we'll be back.  Time after time.      

Them's the breaks

Just over three months ago, I wrote here about our mid-summer trip to CarFest North, including my ill-advised plummet into a pool of foam.

I thought it was a deep pool.  But it wasn't.  It only had a "depth" of three inches.  So I bounced on landing.  Hard.

In the picture above, taken immediately afterwards, you can see me holding my left arm a little awkwardly.  I was in a lot of pain but thought a shake and a rub would do the trick.  After a few weeks of little change, it dawned on me that these remedies might not be enough.

So I went to see the doctor.  She thought I'd probably damaged a tendon so booked me in for a scan.

I had that today and it didn't take long to confirm that there was indeed tendon damage.

What came as more of a shock was the discovery that the arm is also fractured.

Oh joy.

I was sent for a series of x-rays and am due back with my doctor in two weeks to learn my fate. Surgery seems to be the only option.      

But after trying to sleep with a broken arm for the past 14 and a bit weeks, I'm hoping to remain as hard as nails for just a little while longer..............SOB!!!!!

Pet hates

We have a pending rodent problem in our house.  Yes, Jamie wants to get a pet.

He's asked for one before and we responded first by changing the subject and, when that didn't work, by warning that all animals have rabies and bite.

But he's learnt a lot about animals since then and has seen through our dastardly plan.

Indeed, he's become something of a wildlife enthusiastic/expert.

Plus, it's perhaps a bit harsh to tell your 8-year-old animal-loving son that he can't have a pet until he leaves home in around 30 years' time.

But what pet should he go for?  So I asked him tonight.

In an ideal world he said he'd like a bearded dragon.  Just like this one.

Yup, it's a lizard. And that is never, ever going to happen.

"Right then," he said, "what about a squirrel monkey?"

Like this one.

"I'm not sure you're allowed to have one of those in your bedroom," I replied.

"OK.  Pygmy goat?"

"No."

"In the garden?"

"Still no."

"Feral fox?"

"No."

"Sugar glider?"

"No."

"Pot bellied pig?"

"Don't be silly."

"Serval cat?"

"Wise up."

"Tarantula?"

"As if. And it's not even an animal. It's a..........tarantula. "

"Hyena?"

"Do you see me laughing?"

"Polar bear?"

"It's time for bed."

"Good night."

We'll talk again tomorrow.

Attack of the baboons

 

Have you ever seen a (real) baboon do karaoke?  No?  Me neither, although you could be forgiven for mistaking what you can see above as exactly that.

It is a baboon, yes. But instead of holding a microphone, our furry friend has our windscreen wiper in its hands.

Clearer?  And here's some final confirmation in case any scepticism remains.

Our fault really as the signs did warn that our car may be in danger.

We were at Knowsley Safari Park on a half-term weekend away.  And driving through the baboon enclosure was a must do for those of us without flash cars.

To be fair, some of our hairy acquaintances were cute, such as this baby one hugging its mummy.

Before it went and spoilt everything by nibbling on her big red bum.

Animal.

There were other fun sights too.

Yes!

Come on!

And even this zebra.

That was our Sunday entertainment. On Saturday, we went to Crosby beach to see a display of 100 naked iron statues of the same man (who made them).

I say 100 but one was missing, enabling Jamie to climb onto the empty plinth and pretend to be it.

I can't tell the difference.

Then it was on to sunny(ish) Southport for some traditional seaside resort activities.

It was the Hall of (Cracked) Mirrors first.

  

Ho ho.

Then the hobby horses.

You'll note that Jamie's mount was called "Girlie" which didn't please him when later pointed out.

It was fish and chips next.

Obviously.  Followed by ice cream.

Definitely.

And then we locked him and her in an overhead cage.

It's nice to get a break.

So that was our weekend away.

And for baboon diehards amongst you, I have a special bonus offering which - if you have three minutes spare - you might want to watch.

I'll relive it one day, just as soon as my psychiatrist has signed me off. 

Live on stage - two nights only

I haven't posted here for a while because I had nothing to tell you.

But I went out on Thursday and Friday nights - yes, two in a row - which must surely be worthy of comment.

First up, Jamie treated me to the Jean-Michel Jarre concert in Leeds.

Well I say that. I paid, obviously.  And he didn't really know who Jean-Michel Jarre was, other than the fact that he plays space tunes.  And he only really went because he got to stay up late.  But let me have my moment.

As luck would have it, he loved every second. Quite right too. I mean, look!

Keep looking.

Look a bit more.

That's supposed to be the Pet Shop Boys. Just a couple more.

That's his Laser Harp.

And they're big skulls.  Impressed.  Yes, so was I. And so was Jamie.

Job done.

Last night was an entirely different affair.

Vanessa and I joined some very special friends at a comedy night at Guiseley Theatre.

Big crowd, lots of fun, what's not to like?

Until the headline act arrived on stage.

He's a Canadian gentleman. I didn't catch his name.  And he started off well.

That was before he covered me in toilet roll.

Still, it could've been worse.

And then it was.

That's a fag he's shoving in my mouth.

He later tried to remove it with a whip.  Then he gave me the chance to do the same with him.

So, joint losers then.

I'll settle for that.