Accidental House Life

Another interview, another thanks but no thanks. Another day of application form filling followed by another morning lost to an interview to which the answer was a predictable "no". I know I'm not the only one in this boat but I do feel as though I'm sailing this one on my own. Don't get me wrong, the wonderful wife is very supportive, says all the right things and puts no pressure at all on my job hunting activities, but this is beginning to get to me. What makes this one worse is I didn't even want this job. Yep, you read that right, I applied for a job I knew I didn't want. I went to an interview for a job I didn't want, and you know what? If they had offered me the job I would have still said yes. This is the stage, after nearly 2 years of job hunting, that I am at. The confidence is gone. No longer am I looking at positions I think I can do, that work for the family and provide enough income to be viable, no longer am I reaching for that role th

On the dining room door at the Castle is a league table. On that league table (carefully constructed with points awarded through a highly complex mathematical formula) are the results of our family games nights (and days). Now this may make some of you scratch your heads. "Aren't his kids 6 and 8? Why would you need a league table? Doesn't he let his kids win ?" Dear reader, at the Castle, we all play to win. I may have mentioned in previous musings that in my youth I was quite sporty, so my competitive streak stretches back many, many decades. But being British, it is a British competitive streak. I know in recent times that winning has become a bit of a habit for all teams British (even Football if you ignore the actual England Team), but it is a pretty recent phenomenon and for old folks like me it takes a bit of getting used to. No, I was raised the old fashioned British way. You remember, the "it's taking part that counts, winning isn't everythi

Without going into detail children did not arrive easily to the Castle, so we are eternally grateful for our two amazing little people that now control every aspect of our lives (no really, we are). It's never too difficult to remember the times where laughter is the over-riding sound within the home and every day something new happens which stops me in my tracks. However, kids are kids. Not every moment is filled with sweetness and light, not everyday makes my heart burst with pride and not everyday has this writer reaching for the keyboard wanting to share with the world the wonder of being a stay at home parent. There are some days that end in a Y. Case in point. Eldest child wishes to go to a sleepover. No problem there you may think. Unfortunately the eldest child sometimes has an issue with attitude (8 going on 14) which sometimes results in child number 2 having some very difficult times. Now don't get me wrong, I was the youngest, I know how it goes. Unfortunately

As the dweller in a relatively modest home, one of the biggest issues I face on a daily basis is space. Or, more accurately, the lack of it. Cast your mind back to when you first viewed the home in which you're living. That first tentative viewing after scouring the internet (or papers, if you're my age) for hours and hours. That breath of excitement when you found the one you thought you could call home. Bet you thought it was huge didn't you? Not once did you think you'd fill it. "16 cupboards in a kitchen, who on earth needs 16 cupboards?"" Look, there's space under the stairs, oh, let's put our bikes there". "Have you seen the size of the spare room? Let's turn it into an office". All of these sentences, and many more, were said upon first entering the Castle as we marvelled at how we were moving up in the world. Then a very annoying thing happened. My children started growing. No warning, no "please Dad, I'm ju

After time you realise that being a stay at home parent is your job. It's not well paid (0 hours contact and below minimum wage), the hours are long, the holidays are like working double shifts and, as previous posts have shown, your health suffers. But the perks are good (unlimited beverages and food), your employer loves you and the rewards, though few and far between, can be priceless. It's on certain mornings, the "clockwork" mornings, that you find yourself smiling. Before my accidental house life I had worked all my life. Even during college and university days I held a part time job (the later turning into a full time job hence the lack of a degree) but I struggle to recall ever being so settled in the workplace. Yes the hours are long, but I enjoy the setting and can take my breaks when I want to, and yes it can be repetitive, but you know what, I eat food and wear clothes too, just crack on. But a weird realisation hit me the other day, I've designated

The back is fixed, hooray. Well nearly. All physio is done, my leg is no longer numb and I can bend over without pain ( I still groan though, I'm 45). So back to normality. Normality for a stay at home parent, as regulars know, means housework, school runs, breakfasts, lunches and dinners, clothes washing and generally drinking as many cups of tea as the day will allow. But what I have discovered, and has been backed up by my ever tightening trousers, is that my regular routine must include exercise. This, in a round about way, brings me onto todays topic. Physical education, as we are constantly told by the press, is of upmost importance, not just for this generation but for all generations. We are told and advised by our oh so svelte press and politicians that we are an obese nation waiting for a giant heart attack to happen.  About 2.1 billion people – nearly 30% of the population of the planet – are overweight or obese, raising the risk of diabetes, heart disease and cancers.

Many moons ago, when I was a healthy young lad (don't laugh, I used to be) I, like many others, took great enjoyment out of sport. Whether it be football, rugby, cricket or basketball (told you, well healthy) many a day and evening was passed in the resplendent nature of physical activity. Hours would fly by, fun would be had and never the next day did it hurt getting out of bed. As the years pass you cut down the number of sports played, in some cases added new, more sedate, activities (golf anyone, again don't laugh it's a sport!) but still the joy of playing never dwindled. Then, out of nowhere, middle age arrives. 11 aside sports are replaced by 6 aside and touch only replaces the full on brutality you were used to. But still, a high enough level of enjoyment is achieved to make the next morning pains seem worthwhile. Then a few more years pass and you know what? Not worth it anymore. The get together with friends is enjoyable, but do you really need to see them EVERY

As the season is about to be upon us it's time for the festive Dad's night out, a joyous occasion rarely remembered but always enjoyed. Being the stay at home dad that I am, generally the organising duties fall to me, as access to large numbers of parents is always to be had in the playground during drop off and pick up time. All sounding good so far. But here's the snag. Although I write a blog, I am close to being a technophobe. I have a smart phone which I use about 3% of its actual capabilities (phone calls, texting and Candy Crush, obviously), I own a tablet (books, youtube and Candy Crush) and have daily access to a lovely state of the art laptop (blogging, youtube and some game involving sweets). I can't do spreadsheets, I didn't even realise I used Word until the wonderful wife asked what I thought I was writing on? and don't even get me started on social media. Again, I know it's strange for a blogger, but I don't get it. Twitter, Facebook, Wh

Many apologies for the wait between posts, unfortunately I slipped a disc in my lower back and, well, lets just say ouch! Back to the real world. I hope everyone had a lovely Halloween (hate it), for all the Brits enjoy Bonfire night (hate it) and, thanks to all the shops, lets enjoy the countdown to Christmas (wait for it....LOVE IT). No seriously, without doubt my favourite time of the year. What's not to love? Ignore the commercial pressures, make it about family and friends, enjoy the food and drink, get giddy at the first snowflake and just go for it. Now, dear reader, this was not always the case. I, along with millions of others, used to have to work over Christmas, including Christmas day. Now I didn't actually mind that. Sure I used to miss out on some nights out, but on the whole working over the Christmas period was quite enjoyable. I did miss having a slap up dinner with loved ones, but when you're youngish and single you can take that hit so long as you are