Today is my birthday. So, before I continue with my blog, I am going to give you all a few moments to stop reading and sing me Happy Birthday.
Come on. It doesn’t matter where you are. You may be in the office, on the bus or the local library, don’t be ashamed – be loud and be proud. You may get a few odd looks and an uptight librarian may even ask you to leave, but ignore them. Let the haters hate.
If you are at home, you could even take this opportunity to fight coronavirus and save a life! It is said that to wash your hands thoroughly, you should sing the ‘HB’ song, whilst scrubbing with soap and water.
Presumably, this is to ensure that you clean yourself for an adequate length of time and not to scare off any nasty microbes, which may be lurking under your fingernails, by subjecting them to an awful singing voice.
Have you all finished singing? Good. I’ll continue.
Incidentally, if any of you would like to send me a gift, I am able to receive money through PayPal and Amazon vouchers via email. Failing that, just leave me a new gaming laptop on the doorstep of my house. Ta.
For those nosey enough to want to know my age, but without the stalker mindset required to look up historical blog posts, I am 38 today. I think…
I say this, because only last week Claire and I were discussing age. It was then that I announced I was 38, and 39 on my next birthday (today).
My wife correctly pointed out my mistake. I felt rather chuffed. It was if I had been given a gift. An extra year to live and an another 365 days to keep the title ‘OAP’ at bay – although if my employer was to offer me early retirement tomorrow, I would snap their arm off. Assuming that they would continue to pay my mortgage!
I suppose at my time of life, there is no real need to know your age, so you just forget! If you do need to reveal how old you are, companies only appear to be interested in your date of birth.
When you are a very young child, you know your age to the nearest fraction and do not hold back in telling the world and his wife.
Teacher: “How old are you, Timmy?”
Pupil #1: “I’m aged five and a half, Miss”
Teacher: “and you, Jenny?”
Pupil #2: “I am aged four and seven eigths”
Teacher: “What about you, Rob?”
Pupil #3 “Forty six and three quarters, Miss
Sound familiar?
Then when you are a teenager, the importance of age returns. You can’t rent this video until you’re 15. No lottery tickets until your 16th birthday. Learn to drive at 17. Get drunk at 18. Go to prison for drink driving at 19.
These are the important numbers followed by law-abiding young men and women. Naughty teenagers must also be aware of them, in order to know what DOB to put on their fake ID.
I suppose the next group of people, for which age becomes an issue, is the older generation. Those approaching the time in their life when they can apply for a bus pass or attend ‘Silver Screen’ mornings in the local cinema – a 1950s movie, alongside a cup of tea and biscuits. That does actually sound rather pleasant – am I 38 or 78?
You will see from another blog post that my amazing wife has been preparing for my birthday for the last two days.
I think she’s caught a baking bug!
This year, Claire and I are officially celebrating my big day tomorrow. It’s not that we have a strange, gothic desire to have a birthday on Friday 13th.
My other half is off to Cheltenham Festival today. Don’t worry, I haven’t become a ‘Turf Accountant Widow’. Claire and her parents attend the event once a year on the Thursday. It just so happens that this time, the Thursday falls on 12th March. It all seems fair enough to me.
Once upon a time, birthdays used to be massive for me, as they are for most kids. Along with Christmas, it was the only time in which you could get something expensive, that you would be unable to get at any other time of year. Unless you’re a spoilt, rich child.
I remember my birthday in 1993. I was 11. The Sega Megadrive was the must have console with everyone in school – even the teachers!
I wanted one more than anything in the world. I sold my inferior Sega Master System to raise money. This was then given to my parents to part fund my dream games machine.
Forcing their then ten-year-old son to sell his video games in the TradeIt newspaper may sound a tad cruel by my parents. Before you judge, you must remember that this was the 1990s, and the Megadrive cost £200! It wasn’t like this current generation of children, where every kid has an iPhone, iPad and PS4 Pro.
Finally a rant. A shame to leave this post on a slightly sour note, but there you go…
I have an issue with Royal Mail. Yesterday, I received, what I believe to be, a birthday card in the post. I haven’t opened it yet, because as I have already said, I am not celebrating my birthday until Friday.
The card turned up in a bag with a message of apology from Royal Mail. The birthday card envelope had been torn open!
I am sure that those defending Her Majesty’s Postal Service will argue that the envelope became torn by accident in the delivery process.
I smell bullshit…
It’s a coincidence how none of my bank statements, hospital letters and invitations to join Virgin Media never get damaged in the post. Maybe that is because, unlike with birthday cards, money is never included in correspondence from my bank manager, doctor or Richard Branson.
I’m not suggesting anything of value was included in my card, but the scumbag who opened it on my behalf didn’t know that!
I know ‘theft’ is a big accusation to make and there is no way anyone can prove that a crime did take place. I just hope that if there is a bad apple in the Royal Mail workforce, that they are caught red-handed and dealt with accordingly. Locked in a cell with a real life Hannibal Lecter would be rather fitting.
My gorgeous wife kindly took it upon herself to bake me a cake for my birthday.
While I must commend Claire on her baking skills, she could do with improving her handling of eggs!
Thankfully, she is also good at cleaning! Rather her than me.
Still, it was worth it in the end…
March 11th 2020 will forever go down in history as one of the most important dates in the history of Bath City Football Club.
This afternoon, representatives from the club met with the Bath & North East Somerset Planning Committee, to put forward their plans to redevelop the Twerton Park football ground, as well as the neighbouring high street.
Following lengthy negotiations, the planning committee made the decision to reject the proposals put before them.
This is naturally a massive blow for many connected with the football club, not least all the individuals who worked tirelessly, for over two years, planning what looked like a project not just beneficial to fans of Bath City, but residents of Twerton, Bath and beyond.
Today’s meeting was streamed live over the internet, so I was able to hear arguments for and against the redevelopment.
Personally, I want the best for Bath City Football Club and know how important the redevelopment was to its longterm future.
There were aspects of the plans that I did not like – most notably, the use of an artificial football pitch, instead of grass. I am aware that many other supporters shared this particular view.
Despite feeling strongly against football being played on any surface that isn’t grass, I was prepared to accept the major change if it was to allow Bath City to develop competitively.
Many of the other concerns relate to the student accommodation and the impact it would have on the local area.
I do not know if student accommodation was included in the plans as a means of funding the redevelopment. If this was the case, I can see why the decision was made to do so.
If the project could have been executed without catering for an ever-growing student population, I believe that would have been wise.
I am also no hypocrite and know that thousands of Bath citizens are concerned about the number of students in the city. It is no surprise that many residents of Twerton were concerned about introducing more students, right onto their doorstep.
I live in Lower Weston. A delightful area of Bath. I have fields behind my house. How would I feel if a block of student flats were built close to my home? I would be devastated.
I can therefore understand the reasons why there have been worries from those whose homes are in Twerton.
It would be wrong of me to think differently and I am certainly not one of those people with the mentality of “I’m all for it, but not in my back yard!”.
I didn’t want to post my thoughts anywhere before today’s decision had been made, for fear that my views may jeopardise the outcome – despite it being unlikely that anyone would read them.
I am also aware that students were not the only concern raised today and am certainly in no position to say whether or not the plans would have been approved without their controversial inclusion.
As a City fan, I hope and pray that another solution can be found, which will secure Bath City’s future for generations.
Where the club go from here, I do not know. It would certainly be unfair if I was to speculate on what Bath City will do next.
The official Bath City website did publish a statement prior to the redevelopment meeting, including what would happen should the plans be rejected…
Risk Bath City leaving the city and leaving Twerton and the stadium site to an uncertain future, without the positive influences of the Club – there is no guarantee we can try again
To me, this doesn’t sound good news at all, and there could be worrying times ahead at Twerton Park.
Finally, as a City fan, I would like to thank every single person involved in preparing and presenting the redevelopment plans. Thousands of hours of work must have gone into the project and it is a massive shame that an agreement with the planning committee could not be reached.
Hopefully next time, we’ll have some better news.
Who else has seen that television advert for Amazon Alexa?
Let me jog your memory…
Those of you who have already seen it on television, will have probably noticed a major difference with this version…
The woman’s American! Originally, I thought this was a dubbed version of the UK advert, but considering it appeared on YouTube almost a year old, it looks like us Brits have the edited one.
Sorry. It was the only version I could find online. Forgive me.
Accent dubbing is not what brought me to blog about this advert – or should that be ‘commercial’?
I have to take issue with a few factors…
Mother wakes up. Her daughter is outside kicking a football against the side of the house. It’s twenty to five in the bloody morning!
THIS IS NO TIME FOR A HUMAN TO BE AWAKE.
I pity their poor neighbours. They will have all been woken up in the middle of the night by some Lucy Bronze wannabe, kicking her ball against the side of the house.
The mother is just as bad. A good parent would be demanding her stroppy teenage daughter “pack it in”, stop throwing a hissy fit and come inside at once. Stop disturbing the entire street!
But no, the daft cow only turns on the garden security light, causing an illumination so bright that it can be seen from outer space.
TUT, TUT, TUT…
THAT LIGHT YOU SEE IS FROM THE SOCCER MOM’S BACK GARDEN.
I think that as viewers, we are encouraged to believe that this is a heartwarming story, of a mother’s support for her soccer-crazed daughter, trying to be the best, in a sport still dominated by nasty, sexist men… or something like that.
In her quest to help her daughter, what’s the mother going to ask Alexa to do next? Play Lose Yourself, by Eminem at full volume, just because footballers would listen to it before a match in 2004? If they don’t already, that’ll be one way to ensure the entire street hates her.
I have some annoying neighbours myself. The lady who has recently moved in next door is renovating the entire property. Given the amount of time the builders are taking and the noise generated, it would have been quicker and easier had the entire house been demolished and rebuilt.
YOU SEE WHAT I’VE GOT TO LIVE NEXT DOOR TO?
Then there is the strange man down the road. I’ve mentioned him on here before. He puts his shit-filled nappies in our bin and blocks our driveway, with one of his numerous vehicles. He also has a yappy pug dog.
Despite living in such close proximity to these undesirable individuals, it is far preferable to that of being a neighbour of this ‘soccer mom’ and her teenage brat.
NOBODY LIKES A DIVA!
I think we can all agree that the daughter is a moody moo. Fancy returning home, ignoring your family and slamming doors.
Although totally unacceptable from the girl, most of the blame for her ill-behaviour should fall at the feet of the mother. The woman is so lazy. She can’t even be bothered to look at the clock to check the time – instead, opting to ask a machine.
It’s no surprise to me that the girl had to attend football practice on her own. Amazon are yet to develop a version of Alexa, capable of accompanying children to sporting events and there was little chance of this bone-idle parent getting off her arse and making the effort.
To conclude, I think we can all agree that if you own an Alexa device, it makes you an inconsiderate neighbour and a pretty bad parent.
Organisers of the Cheltenham Festival must be worried. The coronavirus is said to affect horses.
Already a Shetland Pony is infected. It is said to be in a stable condition and just a little hoarse.
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
