England Expects...

we're watching the England match this evening. we could have watched Casino Royale on DVD, but no, we're in a sado masochistic mood tonight and have elected not to enjoy ourselves.

so we've been trying to work out why England are playing like they are at the moment and one of the things we've come up with is that the players just can't be arsed.

think about it - most of them are in the middle of premiership/FA Cup/european scraps that culminate this coming May. and instead of being allowed to concentrate on the really pressing stuff, they're dragged off to play qualifying matches for a tournament that doesn't start for another 14/15 months. (It's a shame we've not any Arsenal players in the team - its not like they're playing in any cups at the moment).

add into the mix the utter crap they get from the press and fans when they pull on an england shirt and you can't blame them for underperforming.

I don't feel sorry for Steve McLaren - the only thing he's got going for him is that he's not Sven. But I do feel sorry for JT taking on the captain's mantle when England are playing even worse than they did for Turnip Taylor.

That said, Stevie M$$ has just scored, so those rather angry looking fans will hopefully behave themselves on the Ramblas tonight instead of burning the team in effigy. It would be ironic if we got kicked of a tournament rather than being knocked out, as we deserve.

Back

I've been without the internet for almost a fortnight. And the reason why? Well, I don't like to cast aspersions, but rearrange these words into a sentence and you'll get the idea:-

50p in Doug meter put the forgot to

Not much has happened in this time. I've read four books, watched an awful lot of kids' tv and felt a bit cut off.

However, Sam has started walking. I will endeavour to get some pictures of him doing this truly miraculous feat, but at the moment I'm too busy trying to catch him when he realises that he's walking and decides to pitch himself forward at the nearest parent.

The man is Nails I tell you!

And it wasn't just a little filling, it was root canal.....

Maybe he's actually like the Bill Murray character in Little Shop of Horrors who likes the pain of dental treatment.

I had a filling on Tuesday and I had to request all the novocaine they had in the surgery before I'd let the dentist near me with the drill.

Dentists = evil sadists with masks, glasses and a strange lights strapped to their foreheads.

Fantastic Evening

We'd booked a babysitter for Saturday without any real plans for what to do that evening, other than we wanted to go OUT. As Doug had got his new car (a lovely Peugeot 307 SW) on Friday, we decided to find a pub/restaurant somewhere out in the countryside and go for a drive and a meal.

After several tries at finding somewhere that wasn't miles away and looked halfway decent AND had a table available at the right time, we booked a table at the Durham Ox in Crayke.

It was a lovely clear night, so we had a great drive up there. Once we'd got off the A19 to take the road up to Crayke, we said goodbye to streetlights, roadmarkings, pavements and had to rely on headlights and Doug's driving to keep to the road.

Crayke was a beautiful village - absolutely tiny and nestling on the side of a hill. Not a new house in sight, just lots of pretty Georgian terraces and cottages.

We encountered our first difficulties with parking a large estate car instead of a compact runabout, but managed to find a spot on the side of the road - although Dough managed to worry about the car for the whole evening.

The meal was great. Apparently, the pub/restaurant was in the top 6 of The Times' country pubs with food awards and it certainly showed. Certainly the best food we've had since leaving London, although for once Doug managed to order the best main course - Pork Belly with mash and colcannon. It looked fantastic, and my Nidderdale Lamb was scrumptious, but it could have done with a redcurrant sauce for the veggies.

The drive back was beautiful too; there was a lunar eclipse, and it was a clear night, so being away from any light pollution meant we had a wonderful view of it during the drive back home.

The Yips

I've put in for my driving test. Its a while away yet, and no, I'm not going to disclose the exact date. Obviously if I pass (unlikely), you'll hear about it in minute triumphant detail; if I fail, you might not ever hear about it again.

Anyway, on today's lesson Mick (my driving instructor) decided to take me round the same route as another pupil of his who'd passed the test yesterday. He'd sat in the back of the car during test at his pupil's request, so had plenty of time to observe the route taken.

It all went fine to start with - a perfect parallel park to begin with followed by a nice drive down to the centre of York and through to the test centre at Osbaldwick.

And then I got the yips.

Nothing major, just lots of little things that I either failed to do or didn't do correctly and the more I drove, the worse it got. Things that I can do perfectly, like my left reverse and the turn in the road I suddenly became worse than useless at.

But the moment we left the test centre area and headed off back to Acomb, it was back to normal and I started driving nicely again.

Quite a few weeks yet to get this sorted, but I have a feeling that Doug is going to have to take some time off nearer my test so I can get some more hours in. I'm really missing my Friday lesson, and if I don't pass first time I will start to regret offering to give that lesson up.

Ho hum.