Wahoo!

In an effort to work off the festive excess I took the children to Wahoo! - an indoor waterpark here in Bahrain. Most people don't realise the Middle East can get very cold in winter. (Today it has dropped below 20, and I'm wearing a long sleeved t-shirt). Wahoo! is built on the top of a shopping centre so my princess left me in charge while she checked out the winter sales. There were allot of lone dads in the water with their kids and I'm happy to report there were fatter dads than me!

Fire!!!

So there I was sitting with Euan on the porch, drinking beer, talking rugby. My princess and Euan's wife were at church, nine lessons and carols, be back in an hour. Euan's two kids and my four were bouncing on the beds, upstairs.
All was at peace in the world.
Until my princess came home and said, "What's that burning smell?"
"Those cheap and nasty Christmas lights I told you not to buy," I said.
"But the house in on fire!" she shouted.
It was then I realised the fuzzy glow of festive feeling and warmth surrounding me was actually a fog of acrid smoke, and it was belching out of the house.
In plunges the princess to rescue the children. Euan's wife drops her hymn book and plunges inside to help her...
So, it turns out one of the bouncing children, I think it might have been Rex, pulled off his t-shirt and threw it with wild abandon over a standard lamp. And the bulb was so hot it ignited the t-shirt...
All I can say is thank God it was only nine lessons and carols. Our house would have been burnt to the ground and the children dead of smoke inhalation had my princess and Euan's wife stayed longer at church for communion and confession.

Court

When I was growing up in Liverpool we had a joke:
Q: What do you call a Scouser in a suit?
A: The defendant
Today I was the man in the suit. I was in a Small Claims Court, in rural Northern Ireland, bringing the case of the faded kitchen blinds to the attention of the local magistrate.
There are seven blinds in our farmhouse kitchen, and they cost an arm and a leg. When they started to fade, after a year, my princess took them back to the fancy place where she bought them; she was expecting the shop to replace the faded fabric...
But the owner of the shop refused to accept any responsiblity for the fading of the blinds. She said my princess had 'misused' them and that's why they'd started to fade.
She asked a solicitor for advice - who seemed defeated from the outset. He said, "It's not really that much money! It's not like it's a 10,000 pound leather sofa set that's faded..."
My princess is an emotional woman, especially when she thinks she's being cheated and patronised. It was decided I would take over the case, and she would take deep calming breaths.
Today the magistrate looked at my faded blinds. The shop repeated its intransigent stance that the blinds had been misused.
The magistrate said, "But the blinds are faded. Anyone can see that."
He awarded in my favour. The shop is going to replace the faded fabric.

Peace Process

I'm in Northern Ireland on business and it hasn't stopped raining since I arrived. The rain seems to be coming up from the ground as well as down from the sky. My feet are soaking and I'm chilled to the bone. I have theory - correct me if I'm wrong - that it's this bloody awful weather which makes everybody so sour and inflexible in Northern Ireland. It is my humble opinion that the peace process would have been much faster coming if the sun shone every day.

You Can't Fix Stupid

Mouthy Kids

It was the Abu Dhabi Mini's Rugby Tournament this week. We took a team of 15 boys. 10 dads travelled; we had one and a half boys to look after each. My extra half a boy was more trouble than my whole one son. To start with he said, "You're that rubbish coach from last year." Then he kept wandering off, and hiding from me. He wouldn't eat the food the rest of the boys were eating. He was interested in playing rugby for about two minutes.
I fail to understand why he came with us. He certainly spoiled my weekend, and I don't think he had much fun either.

Silver Lining

Now I'm installed in Head Office formal office hours have resumed. Which includes an hour off for lunch! Head office is five minutes drive from my house, and my princess works from home...
What is it about a lunchtime cuddle that sets a man up for the rest of the day?

MASH

Nine months ago I was working on a billion $ construction project. We had 3,750 field operatives and 200 members of staff.
Then we hit the iceberg – contract terminated!
We moved off site and took what valuables we could salvage to sell - the mechanical plant, plywood and small tools. We found the cheapest place to work from. It was the local Junk Yard.
At first it was abhorrent to me to be working in such a place. I could not bear the smell of burning tyres or the smell of the untreated sewage water used as a dust suppressant.
Today I received my call to go and work in Head Office. Suddenly I realised I've become fond of the Junk Yard. I will miss it terribly. This place has a unique feel to it. My faithful side kick is in tears (Photo Attached)
I feel like the surgeons from MASH (The Movie) heading back home after completing their tour. When they get to the camp prior to shipping they have no insignia, they are unshaven, they urinate on the front lawn.
I am also unshaven and I think I might have forgotten how to use a flushing toilet!

Birthday Party

Rex was nine and had a party at home for all the boys in his class. I, of course volunteered to help out with my whistle - I consider myself quite the expert now after coaching mini rugby. I thought to keep it simple - football and Dial a Pizza - my princess baked a cake.
Except I'd forgotten one universal truth - that all boys are not created equal. One did not want to play football. He said, "I'm not a sporty kind of guy. I prefer to watch the television."
Another one walked our dog all afternoon.
And as for the rest - one arrived with an arsenal of guns and ran around shooting the footballers, so two footballers grabbed the (plastic) cricket stumps to use as weapons against him. Before long it was a full blown war - I blew and blew on my whistle but nobody was listening to me.
And they ate all the pizza before I got even one slice of it.

Small Mercies

They say accidents always happen when the dad's in charge. Today Rex played in his first rugby match and got kicked in the head only once. "Tis only a scratch, son," I told him when the side of his face swole up. "We'll pack it with ice before we go home and your mother kicks up a fuss."
My mate's son was not so lucky. While Stan was in charge at home the cub fell backwards through a plate glass door and cut himself to ribbons. The blood was pumping out of him. Stan thought he was going to bleed to death. He wrapped him in a blanket and raced with him to the hospital.
He's alive, thanks God, but has 300 stitches.
I can't even start to imagine what Stan's wife said to him. If she's speaking at all.

Pushy Parent

For my sins I coach Junior Rugby. I blow a whistle and teach the Under 8's how to throw and catch, and we play touch. In all the years I've been coaching I've always felt faintly irritated with super-enthusiastic dads, standing on the side lines, shouting impossible instructions to their sons. I have always had to bite my tongue to stop shouting, "If you want to play rugby, the training session for the Golden Oldies is Tuesday night..."
This year my son Rex moved up into a contact game and I've turned into the sort of parent I hate. In fact I'm worse than the average dad - today Rex was playing scrum half and I actually went on to the pitch to tell him he was standing in the wrong place; I told him to move to the base of the scrum.
They say, don't they, that it's your own bad habits that you cannot tolerate in other people.

Crash

So it wasn't as dramatic as this, but I had a car accident this morning. I was slowing up, approaching the red traffic lights on a six lane highway and a bloke in a hurry rammed into the back of me. Then he jumped out of his car and shouted, "I'm late for a meeting."
"Listen mate," says I, "You've hit my car. You're going nowhere," for in Bahrain it's the law that you've got to wait for the traffic police when you have an accident.
Bloke was not impressed. He said, "But the accident was your fault, not mine. Everyone knows in this country we do not stop for red lights."
This is, of course, the reason the law insists we remain at the scene of an accident until the Traffic Police arrive.

Hair Cut

Today I would like to eulogise on the joys of getting a haircut in the Middle East. I'm a man of a certain age, a short back and sides sort of man, and my hair is pretty grey - and I want to keep it that way! Yet I find this impossible to explain to the pretty young girls at the regular hairdressers - they keep showing me photos of male models' hair, blokes young enough to be my children, and trying to persuade me to try a little hairdye.
In the Indian barber shop nobody speaks any English. When it's my turn in the chair the barber keeps cutting till I shout "Stop". Then he gives me a shave and a head massage - sounds kinky but it's very relaxing. I pay the princely sum of a couple of dollars. I am a very satisfied customer.

Steak

Here's something I don't understand. Why do supermarkets sell bright red steak? It costs a fortune, it's tough, and it sticks between your teeth. If you can get it swallowed at all, you're in serious danger of choking!

I searched the meat counters yesterday for mature and tender steak - steak and salad is one of the few tasty pleasures I'm allowed on my diet -and every single bit of it was a dazzling red. I was almost in despair till I stopped at the Reduced to Clear fridge - and found a perfect ribeye, half price and matured to dark muddy brown.

It melted in my mouth when I ate it.

Buffet

Last week I did all the family cooking when my princess was away. I made porridge and soup and stews and casseroles. And finally I understood why the princess is so slender - when you stand cooking over a hot stove every day, breathing in cooking smells, you've no interest in eating afterwards...
So now I've dropped to 95Kg and we went out for brunch to celebrate.
What a mistake to choose a buffet! All the food choices went to my head! There was a big breakfast fry up, but also meat and two veg, or curry and rice, or cold meat and salad. There was bread and butter pudding, and a cheese board, and tea and buns.
I felt my forehead break out in sweat. My breathing seemed to get shallow.
"Steady on!" said my princess. "Remember the rules in the diet book. About eating only protein and ..."
But I couldn't really hear her, I was too busy piling up food on my plate: pork sausages, steak and kidney pie, mashed potato, roast potatoes, gravy. And a helping of tikka masala on the side. She watched me from the omelette station. I saw her shaking her head. I noticed she was thinnest person at the buffet. And the only person asking for omelette.

She's Back

My princess is home again. Hurrah! Normal service to resume as soon as the ringing leaves my ears.

Stress

They say stress can work in two ways - you get fat or you get thin. Comfort eat, or can't swallow. I think I know already what's going to happen to me. My princess has gone away on business, leaving me in charge of the house, four kids and a dog. I've just taken her to the airport. I won't see her again for a week. I notice she's forgotten her phone, I wonder did she do that on purpose?

Alternative Ways to Keep Fit #2

Why are these little girls so much better at egg and spoon race than me?

Alternative Ways to Keep Fit

I am well again! And 4Kg lighter, but would not recommend vomiting, diarrhea, and dehydration as a means of losing weight.

Instead I would urge all fat builders to come live with my princess. Nothing smutty, no touching, just follow her round for a couple of days. And try to keep up. (I watched her from the safe haven of my sick bed).

She's self employed and works from home - her office is at the top of the house. It's 44 stairs, and she's up and down them at least once every half hour to answer the door, or the phone, to cook lunch and dinner and check what's cooking.

Also, she walks the dog, chases the children, rides a horse, wrestles with laundry, scrubs the bathroom, makes beds, brushes and mops, every single day. Yes, every single day! I feel tired just thinking about it.

She said, "Are you well enough to cut the grass? Or will I do that too?"

Full of ?

I am not a well man. I spent most of last night on the toilet. In a clammy sweat with stomach cramps. And the rest. I blame the organic brown basmati rice my princess gave me for dinner, with her famous lamb and butter beans casserole. Usually I eat the casserole with a big chunk of crusty white bread, and wash it down with a pint, but the diet book says white bread makes you fat and extra fibre is good for you. I'm not disputing the benefits of fibre - but maybe I had too much, too soon, for all night I thought I was dying.
My princess was unsympathetic.
"People pay good money for colonic irrigation," she told me.

Thanks God

I've read a bit more of my diet book - and I quote:
Here are a few examples of items you can buy for your snack box at the office -
Dry sausage (aka boerwors).
Hurrah!

Dine Out and Lose Weight

Many thanks to the lovely Kate who has recommended this book. I've had a read and, by the cringe, did you know that 'one does not put on weight by eating too much, but by eating badly'?
All my bad eating habits (boerwors and white bread sandwiches, washed down with pints of beer) have wrecked my pancreas which is now belching out far too much insulin, like a car with a faulty exhaust.
The extra insulin goes mad digesting the fat in my diet, as well as the carbohydrate, and storing it in my 40" spare tyre.
Hey presto - one fat builder!
So what I've got to do is renovate my pancreas by re-educating my taste buds.
No more white bread sandwiches and butter. No more beer.
It doesn't say any thing about boerwors, but I'm sure it's no more boerwors too.
For the time being.

Maturity

I have come to terms with the fact I weigh 100Kg. And my waist is no longer 33".
Bloke in the gentleman's outfitter's shop said "40" sir", and I didn't argue with him. I tried on the pair of trousers he handed me. The curious thing is - I look thinner already, and in better shape wearing trousers that fit.
My princess has offered to cut out the label saying 40" wide and sew in one saying 33" - she thinks it will improve my mood, but now my tummy is no longer painfully squashed, I'm in a better mood already.

100kg

I told a little white lie when I wrote about my first trip to the gym. I said I weighed myself and nobody laughed. This is not true. What happened was I weighed myself, and I was so shocked by how much I weighed I started to laugh. Maniacally. For it was obviously some sort of joke. There was no way I weighed 100 Kg. The machine was broken, no doubt about it.
Except there is no doubt about it. I've now weighed myself on two different machines and I'm still weighing 100 Kg.

Gym

Today I joined the gym. It was all right. There were other fat blokes in there too. A couple were even fatter than me. Everybody was sweating. No one was making eye contact. I weighed myself on the scales, and nobody laughed.
I took it easy for it's been a while - rowed for 20 minutes, ran on the treadmill for 10.
Then I weighed myself again. Still weighed the same.

Broken Man

I am a broken man. Running around in 40 degrees, in a skin tight rugby jersey, carrying an extra couple of stone - what was I thinking? I could have had a heart attack, or a stroke. So exhausted after the game I couldn't even face a beer. Woke up in the middle of the night with cramp in my leg. Woke up this morning with gout in my foot.
If I was horse they'd shoot me.
I'm going to have to get fit in an air conditioned environment. I'm going to have to join a gym.

Rugby

Just off to play a game of rugby. Has this rugby jersey shrunk? I'm sure it fitted the last time I wore it.

Fruit and Veg

What I ate today:

Cup of tea, milk, no sugar.

Another cup of tea, milk powder, no sugar.

2 cheese sandwiches made with crusty white bread, 4 sticks of dry wors

1 Litre of lemonade, chunky Kit Kat, packet of roast almonds

Cup of coffee

Another cup of coffee

4 more sticks of dry wors

2 beef sandwiches made with the rest of the crusty white bread. (And salted butter of course)

I think I'm supposed to be eating five portions of fruit and veg daily. Does the lemonade count as a portion of lemons? My princess has made a curry with lamb and plums and coriander. Will the plums in the curry count as another portion when I eat a plate of it with her?

We're thinking of opening a bottle of wine - will the grapes that made the wine count for another portion?

Then I've not done too badly to day. 3 portions of fruit and veg.

Falling off the Wagon

Is it possible I could have fallen off the wagon already, without ever really getting on? Wynand invited me over for a couple of beers and a braai. His friend had brought homemade boerwors...
I stayed for longer than planned, ate more meat than planned, drank more beers than planned.
I walked home.
Could that count as exercise?

A New Broom

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Today I have decided. To get fit and go on a diet. I feel really good about making this decision. Taking charge of my life and all that. Today's task is to eat up all the biscuits in the cupboard, and the chocolate bars in the fridge, and the packet of sweets in the car.
Feeling great about my decision already. Maybe a bit sick from all that chocolate. My princess says she's proud of me, and no thanks she doesn't want a sweetie, she's sweet enough already.