HERE’S THE THING...
My one problem during the Olympic Games was parking in London. So I thought, why not stick the car in a long-term car park and cycle? Having toyed with the idea of getting back on a bike for a while, I think those pictures of Bradley Wiggins and his little boy in Paris may have pushed me over the edge.
Cue a visit to the extremely groovy bike shop by the name of Velorution (a neat anagram of revolution, as you’ll have spotted; they also do an equally catchy-titled line of headgear called Nutcases). But on the day in question, I was taking Noah to the Serpentine for a go on the pedalos. And that’s why I didn’t buy a bike. Two pedalling experiences in one day for this ageing and increasingly decrepit DJ may well have put a premature end to our lad-and- dad days for good. I will, though. I feel a return to the bike-buying issue in the very near future.
The problem is, I’ve no idea whether to go retro, nouveau or Wiggo. Bikes are so much cooler nowadays than when I was a kid. There’s so much choice. Even the foldaways are things of beauty to behold. And the other big question is: do I tow my child behind me with one of those precarious-looking articulated trailers, or do I put him in first class in a padded seat behind me? The thought of not being able to see him until I reach my destination fills me with dread. What do other pedalling parents do? Just cross themselves, cycle off — then play Kid Or No Kid when they get to wherever they’re going?
My bathroom scales
don’t work. They never have. They give out a different reading depending on where you put
Cycling convert Chris Evans – who’s stepping into Fiona Looney’s shoes this week – is restyling himself as a dashing dad about town...
them on the floor. Sometimes by as much as 11 stone. This is not ideal. They are a super-posh digital set, the makers of which must surely be aware of their inherent discrepancies and how generally rubbish they are. Why don’t I invest in a new set that might give me an accurate indication of how depressed I need to be?
There’s a new game taking place in our house at the moment. It’s called ‘Trying not to eat anything between five and seven’. But only if you’re an adult, and only if you’re me. Considering I’m only playing against myself, it’s proving incredibly difficult to win. The kids’ night-time routine commences at five when Tash makes Noah’s food, which is a miniature version of what we’re having. The aroma causes desperate hunger pangs to kick in, which I must resist. Snacking would ruin my appetite for dinner, one of the things I most look forward to in my life. Not only that, but it would be disrespectful to Tash, considering the amount of effort she puts into preparing our evening delights. The temptation is not so bad for her, as she eats in the day, whereas I don’t. It also helps that she’s not as much of a gannet as her rather larger-bellied husband. To be honest, it’s almost entirely the batter. Sorry, I meant latter.
It was claimed
recently that you only need five friends in the world — one to turn to for financial advice, one for practical advice, one to tell your problems to, one to get a hug from, and one in the workplace. Well, may I tender that a sixth is required: one who holds ludicrously eccentric and overstated opinions.
I have such a mate, who was over last week for Sunday lunch. He’d recently employed a builder to erect a new structure in his garden.
‘I don’t trust him,’ he said. An expectant hush fell. Why didn’t he trust his builder? ‘Because he drives a Mercedes estate,’ he declared. ‘And I believe all builders should only ever drive Transit vans. The more beaten up, the better.’
A pal of mine
has been asked to be the maid of honour at her best friend’s wedding. And not without its rewards, it would seem. The bride sprung a surprise thank-you gift on her: a week’s cruise for her and her husband. With the newly married couple. On their honeymoon. ‘What do you reckon?’ she asked me gleefully. ‘A week’s cruise around the Greek Islands.’
‘I’m sure it will be heavenly,’ I said. ‘But on their honeymoon? Isn’t that a bit strange?’
‘Oh no, not at all. We’re not the only ones that have been invited. There are three other couples coming along as well…’
I spat my drink out. But on reflection, what the heck? All aboard the Love Boat, everyone. Just mind not to get your room keys mixed up.