The House Husband

I was at the Talking Newspaper today, presenting the Haslemere & Liphook News. I think it went rather well. I had a great team of readers (and my engineer was Malcolm, who sounds and acts like Biggles and was, in fact, in the RAF) and I didn’t make any mistakes.

Actually, if I’m being really honest, I did make a sort of mistake. As we approach the end of a piece we’re reading, we are supposed to raise our hand then drop it to indicate to the next reader that it is their turn to speak. By doing this, the reading can be continuous rather than stopping and starting between each reader. It works well and is simple to do.

It was at the end of What’s On (I think) and I the next reader wasn’t ready (his headphones were round his neck and he’d knocked his microphone). Unfortunately I couldn’t see he wasn’t ready as I was reading the What’s On stuff so, as usual, I just announced his name and hit his mike button. At the same time as I released the button I looked at him.

The poor thing looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. It took him at least 30 seconds to get himself ready to speak and then his mike was wrong so another 30 seconds for that before he was actually reading his next story. Given we measure stories in 90 second slots means he’d almost used up his allotted time!

Of course, that’s not a problem because the engineer will have removed the big pause during editing. The only really problem is that I have to keep an eye on the clock in order to know when to change from one track to the next. It meant I had to add roughly a minute to it each time.

I can just hear my wife laughing at the fact that I was forced to engage in mathematics on the fly but I can assure her, adding a single minute is something even I can do (though I’m not sure about Ben who apparently has worse maths than me). The difficulty is communicating with the engineer, silently, trying to make him realise I’m allowing for the minute. Anyway, it was all fine and the session was actually very enjoyable.

The biggest bonus of the day was missing the rain, which I did three times. I took the dogs for a walk early (before I had to leave) and it started raining as we returned to the front door. Then it poured while I was in the studio recording but stopped by the time I left. And, finally, I was standing in Waitrose waiting to be served when the heavens opened up, drenching about a dozen people wandering passed. Again, it stopped by the time I left the shop.

On the way to the recording, I picked up my new glasses which made an instant difference.

My new Oakley glasses

I think they look pretty cool.

For the last week, I’ve been having a bit of a vision problem. Things in the distance kept going fuzzy. They would remain fuzzy for quite a while and then, inexplicably, they would be clear again. Needless to say, I was concerned. So I booked a visit to the optometrist for today.

Firstly, the woman who used work there has moved on and has been replaced by a guy who looked about 16. Still, he knew what he was doing and tested the right things. And his breath didn’t smell. This is very important in optometrists and dentists, I find. They are always leaning in, quite close, as they change the little lenses and shine that horrid light into your eyes. Bad breath would be totally awful!

Anyway, we went through all the tests. (When he did the puff of air one I said I hated it and he nodded and said “So does everyone.“)

After the barrage of tests he turned to me and said he knew what the problem was. I was thinking all sorts of awful things. He looked deep into my eyes and said “Your vision has improved.”

The reason things were getting out of focus and then getting clear then back again is because when your eyes improve, they try and focus through your glasses and cannot so they settle for a bit of a blur instead. Eventually they drop back to what they were. Sort of like growing into a pair of trousers. but faster.

Anyway, I was obviously very pleased and then had to order a new pair of glasses which I will get by the end of the week. Until then I’ll have to put up with the irritating changes in focus.

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I want to say something about the riots we’re suffering at the moment (as I read they have now spread to Birmingham). The original reason cited for the violence was because a local Tottenham man was shot by police and it was a reaction against that. The family of the man have come out and stated that they in no way condone the rioting, looting, assaults or anything else carried out in his name.

Of course a lot of people are looking to blame someone. I heard on the radio this afternoon that someone was blaming the police. For the riots! Saying the rioters had lost faith in the police and therefore were not to blame. What a lot of rubbish!

It’s like when thieves blame a home owner for tripping over the front doorstep when they leave after robbing them. I know we live in a society of blame but really! If I suddenly go rabid and smash a window of an electronics store and steal everything I can get hold off, how could I possible blame the police?

In these areas of London, gang crime (usually consisting of someone from one gang stabbing and killing someone from another) is mourned and publicly lamented about but no-one riots and loots when that happens. No-one steps forward from these communities and actually cleans up the streets. And there’s a lot more victims of gang knife crime than there are people shot by the police.

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But enough of that…far more interesting is the state of the gladiolus today. A big, flouncy flower has almost completely emerged! And I counted six more spears starting to climb out of the greenery.

Gladiolus - day eight

And, as a special treat, here’s a close up of a couple of the flowers.

Gladiolus close-up

Oh, I almost forgot! The tiny taters were delicious.

Wet all day and miserable which matched the poodles who were also miserable because it meant no walk. It also matched Mirinda who is miserable, having been sick now for over a week. And it matches me because I’m gradually succumbing to a cold…well my nose is stuffed up.

I had an eye test today because my glasses fell into one of my Wellington boots when I was about to put them on. The boots, not the glasses. For some time now, they have been driving me mad. The screw in one arm keeps coming loose and falling off. It’s because I only need them for distance and have to take them off for reading (or texting or using the PC) and I’m not particularly careful about where I put them or how they land. I’ve had the screw replaced a number of times but the arm is now twisted all out of shape and the entire frame is merely balancing on the bridge of my nose, waiting for any old gust of wind to blow them off.

I was standing at the back door. I reached down for my Wellington boot. I looked down at my foot, in order to guide it into the snug fitting boot. My glasses managed to dodge my foot and nestle on the bottom. I just managed to stop my foot in time. I decided things had reached that proverbial pretty pass. I needed new glasses. Yesterday I made an appointment with Valerie and today I went.

The Optometrist is quite close to Starbuck’s which is quite close to Waitrose. There’s a gradually emerging pattern to my shopping, I fear. Anyway, I sat with Valerie as she did the usual “Read the final line” routine and we joked about people losing their glasses. I told her that if Mirinda lost hers, she could use mine but I couldn’t use hers because they are too strong. Valerie thought this was very amusing, saying that women can always use men’s things but it’s not always the same the other way.

We then chatted about work and shopping and my sick wife at home in bed. I told Valerie that I had been sent on an errand for buttons but had refused. Valerie thought this was hilarious. I told her, I’d happily bought the double-sided tape and the A4 spiral bound pad but buttons was just a step too far. Valerie sympathised and wondered where I would buy buttons in Farnham. I immediately said Elphicks.

“Oh, I know where they are, Valerie but I’m not getting them. I refuse,” I said.
“But why,” she asked, all innocent.
“Because there’s thousands of buttons in Elphicks and the chances of me picking the right ones are slim, to say the least.”

She agreed. And there is a Wall of Buttons in Elphicks. I know. Mirinda asked me to buy her a clothes brush in Elphicks and I saw it. I was frightened.

A cause for celebration! Not the soon to arrive 2010. Oh no! I finished my DITA assignment and submitted it tonight! I’m free! Well, until next week, that is.