I'm A Stain

I picked up a pair of jeans yesterday morning that I had worn the day before.

I intended to wear them that day.

It wasn't until I was buttoning them up that I found the crotch displaying both tomato sauce and poop.

Tomato sauce mine. Poop not mine.

The joys of fatherhood.

Gone But Never Forgotten

Mrs Wife's uncle died today after a lengthy illness.

Although I'd only known him a few years, I'll miss him greatly. He was one of the kindest, most generous, friendliest and funniest people I've ever met.

Every minute spent in his company, even the hungover ones, is one that I'll treasure, and the world is a considerably poorer place today than yesterday.

Gone but never forgotten.

British Bunnies

More shameless plugging in this post - Mrs Wife has launched her own business.

British Bunnies (http://www.britishbunnies.co.uk/) caters for all your rabbit needs, with advice on your lagomorph's diet, health, training and welfare. It also has a directory of rabbit holiday accommodation and a fantastic forum to discuss all things bunny-related.

Gone But Not Forgotten

My granny died early this morning after a long series of illnesses.

If I'm honest, it's a blessing of sorts, as age and illness had slowly and cumulatively stripped her of everything that made her my granny - her memories, her personality, her mobility and, in the end, everything bar her body's refusal to finally surrender.

At the moment, it's hard to put those memories to the side, but I'd much rather remember her for the wonderful woman she was.

She was a woman who loved unconditionally, who was singularly devoted to her husband, children and grandchildren and a woman to whom there was no greater pleasure than spending time surrounded by her loved ones.

I may be biased, but I have never met a better cook, and I would give almost anything to taste her steak pie and roast tatties again.

My memories are all over the place at the moment, but all of them are happy. Images of the whole family clustered around the kitchen table playing Monopoly, my granny always insisting on being the iron; her singing along to Radio 2, always out of tune and always a bar behind the recorded version; roaring with laughter at Some Like It Hot despite having seen it hundreds of times.

I could go on like this forever, but I won't. I'll just sit here with my memories of a wonderful woman.

Home, Home On The Range

Mrs Wife and I have just returned from a hectic few days in London. We had originally booked the trip to see Michael Jackson at the O2, which had been scheduled for Wednesday, but as we'd bought and paid for flights and hotel, we decided to have the holiday anyway.

And, in the space of five days in the capital, we:

• Went to the Comedy Store's improv night, where we were entertained by the hilarious talents of Josie Lawrence, Andy Smart, Lee Simpson, Suki Webster, Richard Vranch and Stephen Frost.
• Dined at the Hard Rock Cafe with Baby Brother and his girlfriend (who had been due to see Jacko's concert with us).
• Visited the Tower of London, Tower Bridge, the London Tombs, St Paul's Cathedral, Covent Garden and Camden Market.
• Took a cruise along the Thames from Westminster to Greenwich.
• Saw Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart (or Gandalf and Jean Luc Picard or Magneto and Professor Xavier depending on your own personal geek persuasion) in Waiting For Godot at the Theatre Royal.
• Attended, at Mrs Wife's request, We Will Rock You, which wasn't as bad as I had thought it might be.
• Avoided a Biblical downpour by spending £27(!) on cinema tickets for Transformers 2. Which seemed almost identical to the first one, but with more gratuitous shots of Megan Fox's cleavage - ie it was pretty darn good.
• Met up with Mrs Wife's cousin and a friend of mine from my university days that I haven't seen in more than seven years for a boozy afternoon in Theatreland.

All in all, a pretty productive, if tiring, five days.

Exhumed

Yesterday morning, I aided Mither in clearing out her attic ahead of her forthcoming house move.

As I've mentioned in the past, my grandparents bought the house in 1963. What I haven't mentioned is that my Grampa was a hoarder - if he thought that something might prove interesting or useful in the future, he kept it.

A garage and garden shed full of 'useful' knick knacks have already been emptied. But it was the loft that was always likely to be the greatest challenge, for it was here that he squirreled stuff away, items that have been up in the rafters for 40 years or more.

And so it proved. Amongst the items we removed from the loft were an archaic set of wooden golf clubs, an eight-track tape player, 78rpm records, a projector screen, one headlight for an unknown vehicle, a tent, my Mither's dollys (Mither will turn 46 this year), 12 unopened bottles of wine, six dozen unused glasses too small to drink anything but neat spirits, a Dumbarton tourist brochure from the late 1960s, a 1978 World Cup commemorative edition of the Radio Times and a wooden crate bearing the legend "Corned Mutton - Product of Argentina".

That is merely a brief cross section of the 50 years of detrritus we removed from the loft yesterday. Also included amongst this interesting stuff were random pieces of copper pipe, assorted pieces of wood and boxes of tiles, some of them broken.

Some of the loot we removed from the loft has been retained, but most of it has now been discarded.

If there's an after life, I'm pretty sure that my Grampa is having a good laugh at us spending three days digging through the assembled flotsam and jetsam from three or four generations of my family.

Who Answers?

I'm still alive and still on holiday, which I hope will explain, if not excuse, the lack of postage here at this far-flung outpost of the worldwide interweb.

Visits to the central belt, visits to Dungroanin' by Mrs Wife's faither and mither, two games of football and repairs to a car have limited the free time available to yours' truly, but I'll be back soon, promise....

Anyway, to pass some time, here's a good reason why Lego is STILL the coolest toy in the world:

American (Steak) Pie

Those of you familiar with Eric's writings will be aware of his love of food.

And it seems that the Straight White Chef is now turning his hand to steak pie, as revered by all true Scots as being amongst the king of foods.

Ever since I can remember, steak pie has been amongst my favourite dishes. There may not be many Michelin-rated restaurants with steak pie on their menus, but it really is the ultimate in simple, hearty, filling fare.

My maternal grandmother made the best steak pie I've ever tasted, always served with perfectly-roasted potatoes and vegetables. She may not be a professional chef, but I'd have taken her steak pie over any meal in any restaurant in the world. Ideally, her steak pie would be followed by a tray of her rock cakes and some of her home-made toffee as well.

I've yet to hear whether Eric's filo-topped effort was a dish fit for a king or a dish fit for the bin. But throwing mushrooms into the gravy? That's just WRONG.....

Eight Things About Me

As seen over at Blog d'Elisson and at Blissful Bedlam - Eight Random Facts About Me.

The useless knowledge is listed below, but first we'd better keep things proper by explaining the rools:

Write a post enumerating eight facts/habits about yourself. Include the rules at the beginning of the post.

Tag eight people, posting their names and links to their sites. (I'm not going to do that - if anyone wants to play, feel free. If you don't, don't.)

Leave comments at the sites you’ve tagged, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

So here we go - eight things you didn't need (or want) to know about me:

1. I've never had an operation under general anaesthetic. In fact, I can count my hospital visits on the fingers of one hand: the first was to get a piece of grit removed from my eye as a teenager, the second was to see how badly I'd damaged my ankle playing football (it turned out to be a strained ligament), the third was to see whether I'd broken my nose playing football (notice a theme here? I hadn't, just burst it open quite spectacularly), the fourth was to see if I'd broken my ribs playing football (I hadn't, they were just bruised) and the fifth was when I had my toenail removed by a doctor who gave me a single local anaesthetic injection. Please note that I was touching wood and crossing my fingers whilst I wrote that answer.

2. The longest I've lived in one house is seven years, when my parents and I (and for three of those years Baby Brother) lived in a small cottage in the countryside near Montrose. I took a drive down there on the way home from work a couple of weeks ago and it hasn't changed at all in the intervening 20 years.

3. The most keepie-uppies I have ever done with a football without it bouncing on the ground is 120. At the end of the session, my legs were exhausted and I'd moved about 10 metres in the time it took, which was probably about five minutes. So I can't begin to fathom how Martinho Eduardo Orige managed to keep a ball in the air for 19-and-a-half hours.

4. I've visited seven of the eight Australian States and Territories, including the Australian Capital Territory and Tasmania. Mrs Wife (then known as Miss Girlfriend) and I didn't make it to the Northern Territory because of an unfortunate incident with an exploding car engine that cost us $2,500 to fix.

5. I can lick my nose and wiggle my ears. But not at the same time.

6. Whilst at university I worked as a security guard, a kitchen porter and as a journalist for a Premier League football team.

7. My favourite alcoholic drink is Cointreau, lime and lemonade. Which is probably the least masculine drink that one can order at any bar in Scotland.

8. I'm allergic to cats and have a phobia of birds. Apart from that, I like animals.

The Best Laid Plans

It's strange how some of the best times you can have are completely unplanned.

Mrs Wife and I originally intended that yesterday evening would involve nothing more than an evening on the sofa watching a Spiderman double bill on DVD.

But instead, Baby Brother paid a visit and we ended up heading out in Montrose for a tour of the pubs and an impromptu house party in town.

This was followed by a viewing of American History X that ended for me at 4am this morning.

Rising at noon today was perfect timing for settling down to watch Everton v Man Utd on Sky Sports, when our original plan had been to go shopping in Dundee.

I'm all for this free-flowing life, where each day is tackled on its own merits and where we go where we please and do what we want.

If only it could continue indefinitely.

The Interview

In what will be a brief interlude in the (thankfully) short series entitled "What Groanin' Jock Did On Holiday", I'm going to take part in a meme that I first encountered over at Ole Blue The Heretic's blog.

Basically, it takes the form of an interview, with the last person on the chain picking five questions. So, here are Ole Blue's questions and my answers:

1. If you could control your destiny, what would your destiny be? To live a long(ish) life in good health with my family and good friends and that, when the end comes, that it be quick and painless.

2. What is it about your life that you love? Living happily with my wife in our wonderful house and knowing how lucky I am to live where I do and in the style that I do.

3. What experience made you most humble? Travelling around South East Asia made me realise just how well off we are in the west. In Vietnam, we met children and made their day by stopping to talk to them and play football with them. In Thailand, we spent a few days trekking through the jungle north of Chiang Mai, where girls are expected to be pregnant with their second child by the time they are 17. It made me realise that, in comparison, we were just spoilt rich kids unwilling to grow up, having a great time touring countries far less wealthy than our own.

4. Where do you wish you could be right now? I'm tempted to say in bed, as it's only 8.15am and I'm in the office and still feeling the strain after playing football last night. But in the grander scheme of things, the one place I've visited that I love most is New York City, and more specifically Central Park. If I could pick somewhere I haven't been, I'd be tempted to say Tokyo.

5. If you were a child again what would you want to do the most? Enjoy the freedom of the summer holidays - a seemingly unfillable seven-week period that can be devoted almost entirely to playing football.

If anyone would like to be interviwed, here's how to keep the meme going:

Leave me a comment saying "Interview me." I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions. You will update your weblog with the answers to the questions, and let me know that you answered. If you don't have a blog, but would still like to play, I can send you the questions, and you can answer them in the comments. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Well Well Well

As the sun was beating down last Wednesday and Mrs Wife's parents were visiting Dungroanin' for the first time, it seemed like a good idea to take a walk up Glenesk to the Queen's Well.

It was a wonderful drive up the Glen, where my family lived for five of my teenage years, with the unseasonably warm sunshine allowing the scenery to look its best.

Upon arrival at Invermark, at the top of Glenesk, we decided to head straight for the Queen's Well, which is roughly 2.5 miles from the car park.

The only problem was that I was a tad hazy on the direction to take, as I hadn't visited the well since I was at primary school, and that wasn't yesterday.

So, our little party, accompanied by the in-laws' Scotty dog Islay, set out past Invermark Castle. Which, after five minutes of walking, I was fairly sure was the wrong path. Nevertheless, we kept on going, eventually arriving at the head of Loch Lee with its now dilapidated cemetery.

Having caught our breath and taken in the view, we returned to Invermark, having taken around an hour for the round trip.

Then, having found the correct path towards the Queen's Well, we set off again.

They say that only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun - well, we're all Scottish, but we certainly felt the heat as we continued ever onwards towards the Queen's Well - never quite sure that we were on the right road this second time around, as you can't see the well until you are less than half a mile from it.

But eventually, hot and weary, we reached our goal. The Queen's Well was built to commemorate a visit by Queen Victoria in 1861, the year of Prince Albert's death. Apparently the Queen stopped at the well for a drink, which she reportedly found "most refreshing", and a 6m high stone crown was erected in her honour.

So, after spending about 10 minutes taking photos of the well, we headed back to the car, having hiked 7 miles in the baking heat.

Which I think more than compensates for the fact that I didn't play football at all last week.

As you can see from the photograph on the right, neither me nor Mrs Wife died during the lengthy walk - in fact, I would say that we look quite perky for having undertaken such a lengthy walk in the sun.

Islay struggled a bit more though - it must be tough being a foot high and having a thick black coat in that heat.

Resurrected as Rex

If the Hindus have got things right and reincarnation exists, I'm coming back as a well-loved family dog.

(I don't really think that the Hindus ARE right, but hey, it's as believable as any of the other religions doing the rounds, so lets just suspend our individual beliefs for the duration of this post.)

Mrs Wife and I have just spent the weekend with her parents and their 18-month old Scotty dog.

It seems to me that if you have the great fortune to live your life as a well-loved family dog, things are pretty good most of the time. You get fed a couple of times a day, have fresh water whenever you want and are free to lie in front of the fire throughout your waking hours.

People will quite happily throw a ball for you to chase, and you can think of no greater entertainment than running after it for hours on end. Learning a small 'trick' like standing on your hind legs is a sure-fire way of winning plaudits from your audience.

In short, dogs have it pretty good. Which is why, if the Hindus ARE right, I'll happily be reborn as a canine companion to any family good enough to have me.

And if none of the religions have it quite right, and the universe is run by an all-seeing individual called Jim, hopefully he will see to it that my wish is granted.

What a panic's in thy breastie

After a busy couple of days visiting relatives in Angus, and another mammoth journey, I'm back in less than sunny Argyll.

The most interesting visit of my time at home was when I went up to visit my Granny. She was looking at a photograph of her grandmother, taken she was 94.

This got us talking about our family history - a discussion which culminated with Granny telling me that her grandmother, and therefore both us, was related to Robert Burns.

Now, whether this is true or not, I don't know. But it is very intriguing.

The idea of being related to the most famous Scotsman EVER (I imagine some will make a case for Sean Connery or Billy Connolly, but until there is a Connery Day or I attend a Connolly Supper, it's Burns) is very exciting.

I have severe doubts as to whether Granny's claim is true, but I can't let it pass.

So, the next time I'm back home, sheand I are going to sit down and work on the family tree, Burns and all.

I shall report back.....