Tuesday, 14 November 2017

After a busy day ...

Dad would say he'd had a “hell of a day”and then recount that all hed eaten was a single sandwich or something just as paltry.

Pic of the day: Here's a rarity: three generations (well, almost) of matriarchs.

Monday, 4 September 2017

Fighting talk and Gold Top

If you offered to take on Dad at a sport (eg tennis) he would often reply "That's fighting talk, that is!" much as I did when Beck challenged me to a game of pickleball on Thursday. Not a specific Dadism, I appreciate, but a phrase he favoured.

Gold Top was, of course, Jersey milk. Dad would often check if the milk was Gold Top especially if Mum served it with a dessert when cream had run out.

Pic of the day: This one's in honour of the recent Issitt Disney wedding. Which niece was the bride, Beck?

Thursday, 24 August 2017

Improve your mind

An expression used by Dad to urge offspring to do something educational rather than trivial, eg read a book. (I found myself saying it when spotting Bertie on his new smartphone.)

Pic of the day: Who can name the venue of this family meal? In the first pic Beck and Martin look enthralled by the occasion ...

Monday, 13 February 2017


I found myself doing a Dad cough this evening: Starting off almost as a low growl before gradually being promoted to a full on bark, often multiple times. Note that Paul has already claimed the admonishment to ones self, to "shut up" after such a cough.  On a related note, also found myself stating how I'd like to "give the chef a wee peck" last night, but predictably this was one of the low hanging fruit that went in the early days, but worth revisiting.

Monday, 9 January 2017

Holiday enquiry

Every account of a holiday would start with the question: “You left the house at what time?” Not, you note: “What time did you leave the house?” I was reminded of the gambit when I quizzed the Poode about Peru.

Pic of the day: We turn back to the hands of time to July 1984 for this one:

Thursday, 20 October 2016

Don’t swear. It’s Sunday

Like the inference that somehow its absolutely fine to blaspheme on all other days of the week.

Pic of the day: Heres Dad selling Ayrshires in December 1984 with, if Im not mistaken, Joe Payne to the left and the clerking Poode to the right.

Monday, 26 September 2016

Tennis again

When a ball landed some distance from Dad and particularly in an inaccessible place he would point at it even though its position was obvious, open his eyes widely and nod to communicate the need for his opponent to pick up the ball. I've been doing this in the garden with Bertie lately.

Pic of the day: Another one from the bureau files and what a rarity in that it shows Dad with all four of us together. Great shot.