Day-glo rhino hunting, Pink Floyd reggae dub drum n bass mash ups and gorilla beatings...

Friday night and we are headed over the border. Into darkest North Wales. Wrexham. I've seen it on Sky tv late at night on "Binge drinkers go crazy". It usually involves really angry women fighting in the street and blokes lying in their own vomit (after fighting in the street). And now I was headed into this warzone. I had visions of Ross Kemp running past me in a flak jacket and blue helmet with a camera crew bolting along behind him. But I'm glad to report - I was utterly wrong. Ok - there was a sixty year old woman at the pub having a full-on shouting match with her hubbie with one boob hanging out (neither appeared to notice). And there were about a million twelve years olds poppin' wheellies on their mopeds outside Maccy D's. But...that's par for the course on a Friday night anywhere in the UK these days.

The authorities must have been spraying some form of happy gas in the streets of Wrexham town this Friday night cos by the time we got to the gig at central station there was nothing but happy people all about us. Alternatively - this might have had something to do with the Rasta / Dub gig we were headed to. I managed to convince my wife, friends and sister-in-law (my brother-in-law was already a convert) that listening to a live version of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon reintrepeted as a Dub Drum 'n Bass Rasta wig-out was a great idea. And how right I was.

It's the most electic crowd I've seen at a gig for years. Some sort of strange hybrid of a million random gigs. There was the loved-up bloke who spent the first ten minutes hugging everyone (until the bouncer removed him from the venue whilst employing the innovative "deadly hand on throat vice grip" technique), the gang of about thirty ageing Trainspotters (who suddenly turned into gyrating legends once the music kicked in), the white guy at the bar wearing the fake rasta hat with fake dreadlocks (I'm still not sure if that's liable to get you a kicking or respect for paying homage to the band) and then the random mix of students and spritely youngsters like my good self. Either way - the Easy Star All Stars nailed it - horn sections, an MC who blew the crowd away and some serious grooves. Quality. Pure Quality. And on the way back - we had Queen's Flash Gordon blasting from the car whilst we did our very best "Gordon's Alive?!" Brian Blessed impressions and Wayne's World head bobbing. A truly great night.

Which leads me to Saturday night. Putting Declan to bed is always rather interesting. He's like a male silverback gorilla in heat. Usually he beats me senseless with his hands whilst I pretend to be asleep (thus convincing him that yes - what a good idea - maybe I shall fall asleep myself). Eventually I always have to defend myself and open my eyes to see where the next attack is coming from. And that's when he starts to giggle inanely and pretend snore. This goes on for many hours. He thinks it's a hoot. After days of hand pummelling - I start to feel sorry for female gorilla's.

So Sunday morning and Declan wakes in prime assault mode. The alpha male gorilla is ready to play. I am groggy and tired and the only thing keeping me going is the prospect of Match of the Day coming on in an hour (yep - 8am for all those who don't get out of bed until midday...or "lucky bastards" as I choose to call them).

He begins by smacking me in the head with a replica of the space shuttle Atlantis. And then progresses to a giant red fire engine. Fintan meanwhile is now sitting on the couch on a multi coloured chair he has placed on the couch - oh - with a giant yellow JCB digger truck balanced on top of the chair as well. The digger truck is making "beep beep" reverse noises. The red fire engine is telling me "nee naw nee naw - great fires of London...Fireman Sam to the rescue!" and the space shuttle is jammed on it's launch mode (imagine a really annoying roaring jet engine placed next to your skull). So things are pretty calm and relaxed. I take a foam sword to the nuts during the Wolves Stoke highlights (great goal from Wolves by the way) and I am immobilised for five minutes. Fintan places a blue blanket over me and rubs my leg sympathetically. He comes back with a yellow foam shield and recommends I use this to defend myself. I watch the rest of match of the day from behing a blanket and foam shield. It is safer this way.

And then we head into town with Glenn and Deborah and the kids and sit by the riverside eating ice cream and listening to the sweet summer jazz being played on the bandstand. It's like a scene from Trumpton. It is perfect and wonderful. Later we hunt for giant perspex rhino's and play hide and seek in the park and ride the toy train. And I wonder if Glenn and I could stop the train if we stood in front of it and really braced ourselves. Deborah and my wife advise against so we'll never know. And now - now it is time for bed. If only I could convince the kids!