Excuses

July has been a quiet month.

For writing at least.

Life however, has been hectic.

Yes there has been the rollercoaster that was the Euros, although the fairground ride crashed a little earlier than the final for me, when the Welsh eleven suddenly looked down and realised how high they were and crashed out in the quarter finals.

And then England.

It’s a good job I’m not a football fan is all I can say.

So there is the British and Irish Lions tour, if eight cobbled together matches can be called a tour. When I started watching Lions tours they were three months long and comprised twenty four games. Now that’s a tour.

Away from the ‘when I were a lad’ appreciation society moments however, real ‘real things’ were happening. My daughter finished her degree and got a 2:1, well done her, and we moved her out of her Uni house, having to fit around various Covid scares (without fruition I am pleased to say).

Her graduation ceremony has been on/off ever since, depending on the balance of rising Covid case numbers versus ‘we need the cash’ cries from Rishi et al. Currently the University says it is on so we are having the travel, who is going to attend – only two allowed, what to wear, debates.

She is currently working in a (probably) interim job in the nearest town and as public transport is patchy at best and she does not yet drive (lessons underway) I am spending a fair amount of time in unsocial hours taxi work.

Meanwhile my son continues his home education and time zone shifting – he appears to be running on something approximating US Central Time at the moment and that is time consuming for me, whatever zone I am in.

The local child catcher (actually a very charming and helpful Elective Home Education official bearing no resemblance whatsoever to the stereotypical wannabe Education Welfare Gauleiter from a neighbouring Authority who threatened everyone he met with legal action) has called, and ensured that I have not buried my son in an unauthorised planning development on the premises (not sure which is the greater sin in the local authority’s eyes, breach of planning regulations or murder).

Ah yes – the PS5!

How could I forget the great triumph?

Well it was at the end of June rather than in July but for these purposes it counts.

The great quest continued after my cri de coeur in the last post, and at stupid o’clock BST one morning I managed to download an android phone emulating app and snag an Argos middle of the night drop and defeat the security on my account which didn’t want me to spend 450 quid on a gaming console in the middle of the night at my age (trust me I didn’t want to either but that, apparently, is what being a father is all about). It popped up on ‘collect’ rather than deliver but given the speed with which these things sell out I said sod it and pressed on. The next afternoon, and only fifteen miles away, we collected the gleaming cup that was the PS5.

Personally, having watched it in action, I couldn’t tell the difference from the PS4, but hey that’s me and rampant consumer capitalism for you.

So:

Grail: tick

Golden Fleece: Next maybe?

(racking my brains for other legendary quests to add in here, I innocently searched online using a well known Internet Search Engine, which shall remain nameless, but Google it if you are interested). Any combination of ‘Mythic’, ‘Legendary’, ‘Quest’, ‘Grail’ yielded millions of hits, all of them about ******* online games of various types. Thousands of years of western, nay, world culture wiped out in the stroke of a trivial gaming obsession signifying nothing. There is an irony here whose true import currently defeats me.

I have the urge to go and write something profound and very pretentious.

I may lie down and weep.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.