Times Like These*

"Dad, eggs just fell out of nowhere," the boy has just shouted to me. Dad goes into kitchen to find four eggs smashed on the floor with boy standing at fridge with fridge door open. "What happened," Dad asks. "They just fell," is the reply. "But what were they doing there? I left them on the table," I say. "Yes, but I put them on top of the fridge," he says. Ahhh, we are getting somewhere now, I'm thinking. "So you didn't put them on top of the fridge properly, then." Amazingly he comes back with: "Yes I did. Will you just clean it up and stop saying stupid things." Huge argument ensued and I did all I could not to kick him up the arse. My boy can be a right fucking wee toe-rag at times.

And back to nice things ... just spent a lovely couple of days with JJ celebrating the fact that we met each other a year ago. Funny how things work out. There we were, flirting with each other at our blogs, fancying each other like made, hoping that the impossible would be possible, her saying that she would like to meet up for a drink, me not taking that rather overt hint, her saying again that she'd like us to meet up, me oblivious again to that rather more than overt hint, she saying "for fuck sake, can't you take a hint" and me going: "Right, so when you say you'd like to meet, then that means that you'd like to meet?" It's been a wonderful year and we shall have many more wonderful years.

Right now, just before I go and give my boy a right fucking kicking, I'm off down the boozer to watch Celtic, captained by ex-Jambo Steven Pressley, take on Hearts. Oh, wonder who will win?

* Foo Fighters