Cocky Philistine and Steady Eddy

We’re now at the end of a week where I have been home helping ensure that everything is in order ahead of Sandie starting work again in Pau. Even apart from the fact that Sandie claimed not to be tired for about half a day this week (throughout the week it was me ensuring siesta time was carefully protected as stirring babes were whisked away before they turned into bawling brats), I can also safely say that we have made significant progress and that our flat in the grounds of the stud farm is now beginning to feel like a real home.

I am particularly proud of my new office space with its high speed internet connection, quiet reading area and gentle vanilla aroma that wafts around the place. I even managed to get my brand spanking new HP printer working tonight so I am feeling particularly chuffed (not yet on wireless – that will have to wait until one of my brothers visits). In keeping with my limited but effective “Steady Eddy Northern Grit” style, I tediously following the instructions booklet step by step (maybe that’s also in part the effect of a week of IKEA furniture). I had decided very early on that I was not going to be beaten by this particular piece of technology. The fact that I can even get double sided, four-pages-to-a-sheet print outs means I will be going to bed tonight a very smug man indeed (note that the fact that headers, footers, and page numbers are not printed is definitely not a reason for rain on this particular parade).

One other thing I was particularly proud of was Maxime’s bedroom – even before 9AM this morning I had stuck 10 big numbers on his bedroom wall in a very artistic fashion. (I have to confess that, for a 2 year old, he does seem to be pretty good with counting – clearly something that comes from his mother who never travels anywhere without her trusty calculator). However I was particularly annoyed when I walked into his bedroom at 5PM to see all of them, bar the number four, either rolled up in a sticky ball or stuck somewhere on his bed. He’s clearly either destined to drop out of school by the age of eight, or trying to tell me that my pathetic stickers were clearly not stretching enough for him. After ringing the shop to confirm they didn’t have an algebraic or standard deviation version, I painstakingly unpicked the sticky mess that was his bed and stuck them back on his wall with a fierce warning that I wouldn’t accept any such low brow behaviour in the future. As he stood before me half naked, a slipper missing and an inquisitive look on his face, holding his blue elephant by the trunk upside down, I concluded that he had probably got the message thus physical violence was avoided. I think we’re now both ready for a naughty Saturday tomorrow.