The Dark Side Of The Family

L goes to work early and leaves me with Doggo. He's very lively, socks everywhere. Not my socks thankfully this time. I don't mind him having my socks but he doesn't keep them together. I keep ending up with odd socks.

I'm driving, so I leave just before 8.00 and arrive at work just after 20 past, no traffic again.

L is convinced that Daughter is crossing over to the dark side of the family where my genes reside, with jokes like this old chestnut (see here). She keeps pulling them off the internet, just like you would a piece of school homework.

L says her head is spinning but I'm not sure if this is because of work, she's had problems with belligerent old men and part time staff, or Daughter's jokes. I’m tempted to tell Daughter to keep sending them because if L needs de-stressing again, I’m her man. Always up for a challenge and I'm quite taken with her de-stressing technique.

Daughter jokes now start arriving in my inbox, some of them are actually quite funny, apart from the 'geeky' computer ones she seems to think are appropriate for me.

Son has left the house again, to meet a friend in town. I thought perhaps he'd got a hot date and asked L whether she could smell any after-shave on him. Sadly not, must be gaming related then.

Pub. Giant Yorkshire and Irish stew. Beer from a new brewery in Burton, that I can't recall. My memory really is going, must be my age.

L has booked a step class, except it's not a step class because the teacher is injured, so she's told it's going to be ordinary aerobics instead. In the end she decides not to bother and says she's going to run with the hairball instead. That'll be stressful too, particularly as she's not speaking to him. I'm not sure there's going to be enough red wine in the house. Luckily I did put an order in for some more last night but it won't arrive for a day or two. Unfortunately Wiggle don't do wine.

My squash opponent says he feels worse than normal, his partner has kindly given him her cold. He reckons he might fall asleep on the court, which might give me a chance. As it happens it appears to be me that's asleep, in fact I'm not sure what planet I'm on for the first two games. My legs are stiff but I don't try and move them. I keep missing the ball and when I do connect with it, it goes in the wrong direction. I get slaughtered and go 2-0 down. At which point he seems to drop his guard, my game suddenly comes together and I come roaring back to 2-2. Having peaked I then lose a tight decider. We play two more games, it finishes up 4-3 to him.

Oldershaws beer in the pub. See I remembered that one. Rather nice too. Then Belgian Porter and something that resembles a sherry at home. We go to bed and in the words of Daughters joke,

'Lost at squash. Gutted. Got a shag though.'