Diazepam and Grace Jones

Modern life here on the hillside is probably much the same with your average urban late 40 something’s (me not The Woodcutters Wife). Family time at the library this morning, home for lunch before Beth goes out to assist with fine dining at the local boutique hotel that is her second job, leaving me to hold the fort. I manage to clean the bathrooms, wash up and clean the sink do the ironing and possibly feed the kids if haven’t killed them already.

Whilst being the very first to admit my failing to be the best dad in the world, it wasn’t the best of days, but then my weaning off the nicotine gum proves to be more painful than the giving up itself; I once met a man on the beach in North Wales and asked him how long had he been chewing the nicotine gum: 27 years he replied.

Call me old fashioned, behind the curve, not down with the kids, but I do remember helping out more with the chores when I was their age, perhaps not as much as I say that I did, but at least more than they do. I guess that what I forget is that they have no point of comparison, where I have the wisdom or experience that is there to be shared, I try and reason with the nine year old, enlisting Beth’s back up saying: believe us, we have a hundred years experience between us, my maths having as many holes as my reasoning.

We all survived and even the dogs, but not the cats, were fed when Beth reappeared after feeding the five thousand, enabling me to retire to put my feet up, settle down with my pain killers and Grace Jones, while the world slowly continues around me, blissfully unaware as to whether anyone else reads my meandering thoughts or is this a purely self indulgent act, until I get some sort of counter, I have no idea whether there is actually anyone out there reading this blog.

Although I did this week meet a new customer and I noted he was the proud owner of a Friskrs x27 splitting axe. As I fondled it gently, I commented that it had not seen much use and asked if it had been bought as a present, as indeed mine had been. No, he replied, I bought it on your recommendation in the Living Woods article [see below]. So there is someone out there, somewhat reminds me of when John Peel would talk avidly about his other listener, I was clearly the main listener but acknowledged that there was at least another out there, somehow adding more value or meaning if there is an audience of more than one.