I imagine that lots of parents go through a phase like this. And I also imagine that it's not a phase.
You see, the thing is that I keep trying to work out ways in which I can stay alive longer. I never used to give it a second thought. I've never worried that much about death, seeing as it's going to appear at some point, whatever I do.
But the arrival of Ruby has made me think that I should do everything I can to make sure that I'm around for as much of her life as possible. She seems to be a bright, funny, interesting young person, and I'm dead set on making sure that she has a great life, experiences as many things as she wants to, satisfies her curiosity. Everything. I want to see what she gets up to.
And so the more I sit around on my fat arse and do nothing, the less fit I become and the less chance I have of making it to 118, which I figure is a good age to aim for, as Ruby will be about 85 by then, and will have done lots already.
Of course, this doesn't mean the end of beer and pizza and lying about. But it does mean that I'm going to worry less about everything, take it easy, lead a stress-free life and generally calm it all down a bit. I heard an old man (100+) on the radio the other day and he said the reason he'd lived so long was that he never worried about stuff.
So here's to not worrying.
Year 3 at TED for me.
Illness takes on a whole new meaning when you all get ill. And that's kind of what's happened round at ours recently. Wife has been ill, baby has been ill and I've been looking after them, which has made me knackered, and so I'm getting ill too.
Babies being ill is weird too. They can't tell you they're ill, and so you get in a mad panic if anything is even slightly not right. It means you're constantly in a heightened state of sensitivity and over-worry, which can't be healthy.
So there's only way to get better, and that's to pack up and head for the country. A drizzle filled, grey London is no place in which to shake a bug. We're off to the Malvern hills - wife and baby tomorrow and me on Friday - for a few days of R&R, fresh air and staring at fires. We should also get a chance to use this brand new gizmo.
Can't wait.
I don't think I'm along in having the ability to stare at fires for a long time. There's nothing that quite so hypnotises me as lying outdoors, close to a proper fire, maybe a couple of glasses of something down. The fire should be of a modest size; not some huge leaping bonfire. A campfire is what we're after.
After looking through some old pictures to stick at the top of this blog, I found one of a campfire from our annual boys camping trip to Yorkshire. I remember that fire particularly well - its trance-inducing powers made me go nodding off into a parallel realm, only to be revived by a tingling sensation in my feet.
Yes, my boots were a bit too close to the fire. Another minute and I reckon could have burned them right off. As it was, the glue that bound the soles to the uppers was weakened by the heat. The boots had to go in the bin.
It was worth it. It was a great fire. And the boots were a bit rubbish.
I've been meaning to Vox for a while now. I don't know if I have enough stuff with which to fill a whole regular typepad blog and a Vox blog too. But maybe I'll hit upon a new seam of interestingness. For the moment I'll keep popping over here whenever the mood takes me.
And it also means I can communicate with the wife, as she has a secret Vox blog (shhh, don't tell anyone).
Maybe I'll just post pictures on mine. Less of these pesky words. Let's see.
I had a little local difficulty on my typepad blog so I'm going to move all my personal stuff over here - arthur and anne, what we did on our holidays, pictures of trees, hotel television, all that stuff. For a bit anyway. See how it feels. Vox allows me to sit different levels of privacy for the content I post so I can be confident of who's reading what. So if you want to hear about my tedious adventures (ie read anything other than this post) you might need to join Vox and let me know you're in the neighbourhood. If you want all that brands and planning stuff, that's going to stay over at russelldavies.typepad.com
To be honest I'm not exactly sure how vox works, so we'll find out together.
