Catching tennis balls

Found myself with Aidan this afternoon in Dukes Ave garden with a tennis ball and racket and started to play catch.  It recalled those endless summers evenings when we all used to stand at intervals in the back garden and Dad would punt ball after ball for us all to catch.  No matter how weak or errant our throws back to him, he always seemed to get it back with out having to move.

Biscuits

Dad's penchant for a weak joke was revived earlier today when Beck offered me a chocolate digestive biscuit and I corrected her that it was a chocolate "suggestive" - this was a standing joke with the lady in the Market Cafe who loyally laughed every time - I think she must have been a few sandwiches short of a full picnic...

The phantom arm

John and I sat down to look at this blog and as we squeezed up in front of the screen I just silently and creepily put my arm around Nonny's shoulders, which we realised was a Dadism!

Dad look-a-like in the Dales

I think this blog is moribund. Oh, well. I'll carry on posting from time to time. Here's a pic of Bertie on a walk in the Yorks Dales yesterday. Doesn't he look like Dad? Especially his eyes and thin smile. Similarities to Uncle Andrew too. Very Kirkwoodian, anyway. [Click on the pic to view at full size].

The Aldbourne Avenue Event, June 1977

Does anyone remember much about this? Been thinking back to it what with all the diamond jubilee stuff coming up.

I think that the 'event' may have been a treasure hunt. Beck, John and I somehow ended up finding someone's lost dog [not part of the hunt] and thereby dubbed ourselves [in a silly voice, said in unison]: "The dog finders!" My diary [pocket format only at the time, unfortunately] says that there was a bike race and swimming. I also recall that we befriended Karen Done and her family during the festivities and build-up.

Funny to think that our kids are roughly the same ages now as we were when.

And another Christmas Dadism

"Well, it's been a lovely Christmas" said in an attempt to try and close off the frantic pressie opening and general excitement and opening the door to having a post dinner nap. I found myself saying this on Sunday to no avail...

Two from Christmas

1. When returning to the house on Christmas Eve afternoon Dad would ask, before locking the door: "Anyone going out to midnight mass?"

2. When opening the door [only partially] to a fully anticipated guest [eg Mum at Naworth on Christmas Eve]: "No milk today, thank you".