The Ladyfriend is a Great Aunt! Angela had the wee baby Oliver on Saturday and we now have an excuse to buy Subbuteo players, scalectrix and go on trips to the Natural History Muesum and look at the Dinosaurs....some time yet ofcourse, but it doesn't hurt to prepare.

To celebrate, the Ladyfriend and I went to the Royal Standard of England for dinner last night. It was fab, it's the oldest inn in England (but don't they all say that?)It's riddled with woodworm and ghosts and I love it. We had the lamb.

When we got home we stank of smoke. Not the ciggy stuff but the chimney stuff!

I've been a bit slack with my updates lately. I've had lots of pressing matters what with the looming redundancy. I'm taking stock and all that and wondering which direction to take my life in. I've toyed with escaping to the far east but decided Norfolk wasn't all that interesting, not to mention flat.

I'm taking the Ladyfriend off to Italy for a treat, which will be nice. I'll bring back a nice slab of parmigiano in my Samsonite and a few jars of sundried this and that. But other than that I have no great plans.

The Ladyfriend and I are both on tent hooks waiting for the baby to arrive. Angela, The Ladyfriend's niece, is heavy with child. She normally weighs as much as the Christmas Edition of the Radio Times and is feeling the strain of an overdue baby. We can only circle like sharks waiting to swoop with teddies, cigars and "coochy coos."

Had luncheon today in Kentucky Fried Chicken. Young Matthew Z is leaving us and to celebrate we got our chops around Colonel Sanders. Whilst there I had a blast with the past. Julie of Julie and Norman was there with her young children! I worked with Julie in McDonalds in my youth. Aaah, those lost months flipping burgers were perhaps not the happiest of my life but they were exceptional fun.
On our way there I had a bit of de ja vu, I wonder if that was the fates blurring the edges of my past with that of my future - Matthew leaving it, bumping into Julie - weird. Perhaps not.

I've been gripped watching the Winter Olympics, especially that poor Chinese bird falling flat on her, well, you know in the ice skating. I was saying to the Ladyfriend how refreshing it is to have something on the telly that doesn't involve celebrities prancing about, house renovation or the contents of fat people's stools. Infact, I was waiting for a number to flash up on the screen with "Which couple would you like to see win the Gold Medal? Ring this premium rate number NOW"

I have news, I am not to be left on the shelf afterall! I can raid my bottom drawer, I am to marry! I won't be living over the brush for much longer. The ladyfriend's got whiff of my redundancy package and she's not letting go.

I did not mean for the last post to sound so down in the dumps. I'm not in the slightest. It was my intention to end it on a high note but I was being hurried along by a pal at work so I had to press "send". I am jolly buoyant about the whole affair.

On Friday I had a whale of a time with the ladies at the races, the dog races that is. It was Rachel's birthday (top) and Kelly Young (left) Lofty (open mothed) the Ladyfriend (blue scarf) and me (special needs hat) lived it up down the track. It was a rollercoaster ride of emotion as the patter of tiny feet kicked sand in our faces and lined our pockets. We inted to do the Bingo next.

Had a eureka moment in the bath this morning. A couple of weeks ago I made the mistake of saying out loud that I was "Happy". The Ladyfriend said "now you've gone and done it" And she was right. I am now feeling the cold blade of redundancy about my throat.

It's not a terrible thing, there a far nastier states to find yourself in. But I have realised that life is not about striving to find happiness because it's not something that you can keep. Happiness is like cupped hands of seawater which dribbles between your fingers until it is gone. No, strive to find unhappiness and you'll be laughing till the day you die.

Ooooh what a bitch. I've never warmed to the fat tongued lisping cow and I'm very rarely wrong. Look what's she's written here. May she never work in daytime tv again. Mind you, what does she actually do? I've only ever caught rare appearances with her surrounded by the debris of people's homes. Oh well, she's in for the high jump now, think Donna Summer and double it.

Walked by the office where once a picture of the Queen adorned the tea room, it's been changed to one of those peculiar shots of a city skyline, possibly American, at night with offices lit up. What kind of impression is that supposed to make? What kind of spirit is that supposed to stir as a worker stirs his sugar? Pride? Adoration? I don't think so. Shame on them.

I see no one has splashed out on a Figaro for me. Do you think I was too grabby?