Electric car

We’ve, and it truly is we’ve, recently been sent a ride-on jeep for review by rideoncarsforkids.co.uk

I remember having an electric bike when I was a young child, and even I can recall how rubbish the batteries were, and my mother having to drag it from however close it got back to home.

Big heavy thing that it was.

This jeep, despite its physical size, is superior, as the batteries seem much more powerful, and lighter, I suppose 30 years of development have helped.

It was relatively easy to put together, the instructions were clear as well as hilariously badly written.

The images provided are unambiguous, and easy to follow, but the written instructions are only really good for entertainment purposes.

when not using, please cut off power, all switch press to ‘stop’ or ‘imprison’

Shame I couldn't find the ‘imprison’ feature.

while charging, must far leave flammable articles, prevent fire from occurrin

Excellent stuff.

But that’s enough of that, I’ll let you have a gander at how my son got on, with his first go, and what good use he put it to, in the first iMovie I have ever put together.

Springwatch

You can shove Chris Packham right up your badgers sett.

I actually think he did a really good job last year as the wanker anchor on Springwatch, replacing nature programme colossus, and Alan Partridge's best showbiz mate, Bill Oddie, at late notice.

Regardless, we love Springwatch in this house.

It is almost certainly the best programme, or series of programmes on British television.

For those who haven't seen it, it is essentially a wonderful mix of live, and very recent filming, following a team of incredible passionate nature experts, taking us through the developments in wildlife as the spring season evolves, right before our very eyes.

You really do see the beauty of nature as it develops, but you are not spared the brutality of the food chain, as they film different species, that are in the same food chain, they literally eat each other, very poignant stuff I find. None of the glossy, it's-all-going-to-turn-out-well-in-the-end shit, that TV constantly churns out.

This is real.

And we love it, but I've already typed that.

The discovery of a bird's nest in our expertly assembled log store, got me proper excited, and quickly checking when Springwatch starts again this year.

I discovered it starts on the 31st of May and runs nightly for three straight weeks.

As sad as it is, I actually made a 'woohoo' noise, normal only reserved for times of huge sweet discovery, when I saw that this year the programme will be screened in High Definition.

My parents generously bought me a HD Freeview box for my birthday, and the prospect of seeing Great Tits, in HD quality is something I am already drooling over. But that's enough about the World Cup, I was typing about Springwatch.

I am really hoping that our bird's nest is soon occupied, and that we get some great footage ourselves of eggs hatching, perhaps hatchlings being fed regurgitated worms by their parents.

Lovely stuff.

And if I do get some, I may well get the boy to anchor our own version of Springwatch.

It would be awesome.

Better than this anyway.



But if I don't manage it, you should really follow the Springwatch team, you can even do so on Twitter.

Inadvertent genius

This should have been my last post, a post that ended up being about how I consider myself a confident dad.

But I actually intended on writing about my failings, or more accurately, things I am unable to easily, and efficiently complete without the aid of another person.

My late wife was my tag team partner for such tasks, and there were certain things that were totally her domain, such as packing and the whole present buying-wrapping-delivering-on-time process.

I found, and increasingly find, those two little things really difficult and annoying. The annoyance almost certainly down to the frustration borne by my ineptness. And perhaps, in part, due to the fact that I physically feel her absence a little more at such times.

They are things I can do, they just seem to take monstrous effort, like, for instance, my packing for our Hadrian's Wall walk, whilst not started, has been at the planning stage since last summer.

I actually jotted down an outline packing plan, on the back of my excellent summer holiday spreadsheet, that was unwittingly being dictated by Sir Dan Hughes (who incidentally has taken delivery of our Buffs and t-shirts, that are now available for purchase).

And I shall probably still take too much or too little, cursing myself for the majority of the walk for my glaring omissions or excess baggage.

Samantha would have taken care of all that shit, barking the odd instruction, but it was very much accepted that she was infinitely more able than me with such things, and I simply would not worry about them.

She was also the keen shopper, fashion in particular. The extent of my clothes buying had only just evolved passed circling stuff in my mom's Littlewoods catalogue when we got together. And although I actually had some clothes of minor fashionable value, this was completely down to luck, and the fact that I stick with things so long, they have to be in vogue at some point.

It never really got to the point of my wife buying my clothes for me, but she would take me shopping to get stuff, and offer advice, encouraging me to try things on, I would normally walk right past.

My sister has now been forcedly appointed my personal shopper.

She was again my unpaid assistant recently, when I discovered that losing three stones, or about 20% of your body weight, means your clothes don't fit so good.

Our couple of days out shopping, were actually great fun for me, but of immense frustration and annoyance for my sibling, as she discovered just how useless and aloof I can be when buying clothes.

I actually walked off mid-sentence from several shop assistants, that virtually, to a person, consistently give me a look that says; 'we are concerned for your mental health'.

So, when I was in Topman last week, intending to buy another pair of jeans, quickly exhausting the good nature of the shop assistant, well 'do you need any help?' is a very leading question, I needed to put in a call to my sister to check I was not buying something I already had.

Her response, in very serious tone to my jeans related inquiry was; “You've gone shopping, ON YOUR OWN?”

Which indeed I had.

But as I suspected the call was worth making, as I was about to re-buy a pair of indigo blue jeans, that not a few days before I had been directed to by my assistant.

So, guided by cellular communication I ended up buying a pair of grey jeans, as there was 'a gap in my wardrobe' for some.

I purchased without trying them on, basically as I couldn't be arsed, and no one was there to nag me into a curtain shrouded cupboard.

Yet, when I did get into them a few days later, I discovered something of wonderment.

Elastane.

Everything should be 1% elastane.

The world would be a better place.

Being a confident dad

Since becoming a widower the realisation that I relied on my wife for many things became clear.

I type clear, but they didn’t from the very outset, things were understandably misty, and many of the tasks that I required immense assistance with, weren’t even entertained as I came to terms with our new future.

Strangely parenting was not an issue, sure I hadn’t taken my son to all the playgroups that my wife had enrolled at, but they were more a task of knowing time and place to turn up.

When Max was born I was determined to be a confident parent, he was my responsibility – as much as his mom’s – and as such I wanted to be at least competent at every single aspect of caring for a baby, and child.

We had gone to four anti-natal classes together, which were interesting, and I asked plenty of stupid questions, but that was the extent of my parenting preparation.

But I was determined to learn on the job, right from the very beginning.

After we had all bonded as a new unit, with Max making his breastfeeding debut, I was charged with the task of dressing him for the first time.

This was the exact point at which I was introduced to the various baby items we had been out and purchased. And for the record, it took me a while to find a baby vest, as no ‘vest’ I have ever seen, or owned, covers your arsehole and genitals too. Baby leotard would be more accurate.

However, by this point we were joined by grandmothers, and my clumsy clambering for the right equipment enticed them right into taking-over-mode.

And when I asked for help identifying the right things, or how best to get them on, I got the ‘come hear/subtle attempt to takeover’ shit.

To which they got a firm “No, answer my question or clear off, I didn’t ask you to find/take over did I?”

Which is as polite as I get to a fuck off.

At this point I looked up to my wife who gave me her eversobeautiful that-told-them/I’m-glad-you-are-on-my-team/I-love-you look.

It was a good precedent to set, and I would advise any new father to get stuck in, and do similar, never will there be a better, and more justified opportunity to tell mothers, and mother-in-laws, to go fuck themselves.

It was something I had to re-enforce, even at times with my late wife. I actively encouraged her to leave me with our child as I find my confidence only grows with competence and experience.

Plus I actually enjoyed being with him, however unrewarding it is in the first few months of parenthood.

Conversely I am not afraid of asking for, and am grateful for, help, or a break, and I feel that all parents, wherever possible, should get time for themselves, as long as they realise that they never fully relinquish responsibility for their own.

Dulcet tones

I have made my podcast debut this week, and even though I am an idiot, I had the good sense not to dirty my blog with it.

That, and not knowing how to embed an mp3, I know how to embed very little actually, hence the world and its daughters can sleep very soundly.

Anyhow, if you want to hear me getting consistently insulted, listen to me use my new catchphrase 'attention to detail', and make wildly inaccurate accusations about volcanoes, be enlightened as to how bestiality is 'merely' a technique of effective obedience training, and finally, find out how I got on trying to steal a wife, then head on over to Lee and Dan's Midnight Movie Club and press play, or download the podcast.

Apparently we were discussing various movies that went up against each other, with very similar plots, at about the same time.

I did get one compliment, that I managed to reign in the obnoxious, which I must correct if I am ever to be involved with another broadcast.