The Last Time

Since I started up my blog, I’ve had several offers from people wanting to write an article as they “see my blog as the perfect place” and as we “share the same values” and my blog is “so fantastic blah blah blah”.

I say it like that, because I learned pretty quickly that this was just people trying to get links to other websites in order to boost SEO and all that jazz. There’s a proper word for it and what they do…being dicks…no, that’s not it. I don’t remember to be honest, but I can spot them a mile a way now. I was pretty chuffed when I got the first offer though. Until I smartened up to what they were trying to do.

Anyway, so everything on my Blog is something I’ve written. But last week, I read a friend of mines’ Facebook status (or is it called a post now?) and was really moved by what she wrote.

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Tempus Fugit

Tempus Fugit! My God does it Fugit?! Apologies for any proper Latin speakers out there. Here we are, on Friday 13th, and Pippa is now just over 13 months old! Yes, that does make me one of those parent w***ers who proclaims their baby’s age by months and not years.

27 year old me wants to give 39 year old me a slap across the chops and tell him “she’s ONE damnit!”. But now I totally get it.

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Dream Feed

If you’d asked me a year ago what a dream feed was, I’d probably reminisce about the secret midnight feasts we’d have growing up. There’d be quavers, custard creams, breadsticks and anything else we could sneak out of the kitchen. Actually, thinking back, perhaps we should have opted for some quieter snacks. No wonder we got caught all the time! Although that’s probably also due to the fact that our midnight feasts were in fact at about 10pm when our parents were still awake, because let’s be honest, midnight was far too late!

Anyway, that went on a bit long. I’ve forgotten why I’m even here. Oh yes. The dream feed. Here’s what it’s really about.

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The Joy’s of Hereditary Hair Loss

I remember when I was a young lad, I used to make fun at my Dads hair loss. It felt like everyone made fun of bald people back then. No, not bold people, bald people. You know. Those fellas with the sunroof on top. Those follicaly challenged folk.

Back then, having a fully shaved meant you were a bit of a thug. That was the association with it. Many a Grandma crossed the road when approached by a youth with a shaved head. Maybe that’s why for years men would cling onto that nasty bit of hair around the side and to the back. As that centre parting grew bigger and wider, still those tufty bits remained. Even Prince William for far too long clung on to what he had left until he welcomed the wonders of a set of clippers into his life. I don’t imagine he’s one for DIY grooming though. He probably has someone for that. And to clean up the mess afterwards!

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Baby Names

There is no process that myself and Jen have been through together, that has been as drawn out as much as compiling a list of potential names for our baby.

Car journey’s, pre-cinema drinks, weekend coffee & cake rituals, sitting on the toilet, these have all now been dedicated to time spent scrolling the internet for lists of potential names. If we’ve got time to drive, drink, eat and shit, then we’ve got time to look at some more names!

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