This blog was called “Turning the Pedals” for a while, and the name befits this week rather well. At the beginning of the week we were holed up at my parents house in Cornwall, hiding from the world for a few days - it seems like a distant memory now.
Work has been… eventful. Because I’m not working on a long term project at the moment, I’m being thrown others scraps - it’s the worst situation to find yourself in, because you don’t arrive with any past knowledge of the project, the programming, the hurdles already crossed, the reason things were done a particular way - the history, basically. It dilutes your contribution enormously. The other problem with being the “journeyman” for a while is you become fair game for any and all bits and pieces that need to be done yesterday.
Enough about work.
At home the children are still on their Easter holiday - they go back to school on Tuesday. W has an in-set day tomorrow (she’s “the lady in the office” at one of the local primary schools), so I’ve arranged to work from home for the day. Quite how I’m going to get anything done while the children run riot is anybody’s guess - I’ll have to set some ground rules for the day, I suppose; perhaps rules about the number of times they knock on the front door before I go absolutely ape shit with them.
The weekend has been pretty good actually. I didn’t get anything at all done yesterday; the entire day somehow got swallowed up with tidying up, grocery shopping, cooking meals, and so on.
I did find time in the morning to fetch the various retro games machines down from the loft - resulting in the girls now having a NES, SNES, and Megadrive wired up and ready to go in the playroom. I need to find some more games from EBay (and a better condition SNES would be good too). We still have a Sega Saturn, Dreamcast, and N64 in boxes. I still regret selling the XBox and PS2 a couple of years ago, but we really needed the money at the time. I’m guessing a lot of the retro games machines are appreciating in value now.
Today is Sunday. I was up at 7 to watch the Formula One from China - one of the few races the BBC are showing this year. We can’t afford pay-per-view, so it was a rare treat. The children arrived downstairs during the race, and busied themselves with making their own breakfast (we try to promote them doing everything for themselves if we possibly can - it’s sometimes a shock when we find their friends can’t do the most simple things, like making a bowl of cereals, let alone porridge, or a cup of tea).
Suddenly there was a huge crash in the kitchen. The kind of crash that tells you something hard just hit the tiled floor and exploded. I appeared in the doorway and discovered the newly crowned Miss Seven stood tearfully by the dishwasher with pieces of breakfast bowl shattered around her feet.
“It so slippery Dad! I so sorry!”
She looked like she was about to burst into tears.
“It’s ok - it’s only a bowl - here - have this one…”
It took her a few minutes to calm down, but a few mouthfulls of cheerios, and she seemed happy enough. Accidents happen…