Alex

So, after nearly a year and a half with Di at home, she’s back at work today. Full time. Which means I’m at home with three kids, between one and five years old. Full time. And school holidays just started, so they’re all at home. Eep. Still, so far, so good. A pickier person might

I prefer the word “coagulates”. As demonstrated by this in-car conversation I had with the kids yesterday: Alex: “Zoe, what do you want to be when I grow up?” Zoe: “A My Little Pony” Alex: “Can little girls actually become plastic ponies?” Zoe: “No, Daddy. Don’t be silly. I want to be a real My

How old? Let’s start with “very”. Primarily because I just worked out that my daughter’s primary school teacher was born in 1984. (On the count of three, anyone my age and above can go “aaaargh!” in their heads. All of you wot are younger than me can just sit there silently and wait for us

So now, to compliment the hole in the roof that’s still not fixed in the bedroom, a possum in our roof has kindly come along and scratched a virtually identical hole in the roof of the kitchen. That’s trespassing and causing criminal damage. Given the sharp implements that we saw it poking down through the

(because it just keeps going, and going, and going…) Classically speaking, there are a couple of ways to generate interest in things on the Internet. Pictures of naked ladies apparently do pretty well for whatever reason, as does search engine spamming, or for that matter having your work Dugg, or Slashdotted, or Farked or whatever.

You know how you sometimes get a name pop up in your head, months, or sometimes years after you’ve last talked to that person? It happened to me last night, when for some inexplicable reason, my mind cast itself back to my primary school days, and one of my friends from that era who I