It's been a busy month - with mad dashings all over the country and overseas. My planning has been ambitious - resulting in early morning darts at 5am and arrivals back home at midnight. Weary but happy to sink a glass of red wine and kiss the kids goodnight.
This month I was particularly proud of my ability to change a car tyre under pressure. Ten minutes til my conf call and I manage to wrestle the rusted hulk off the car and replace it with the old faithful in the boot. There's a girl in the car park at the office on her mobile phone chatting away as I frantically spin the nuts off and jack the car up (not in that order). For the first few minutes I make a vague attempt to hitch my trousers back up as I bend down and kick the wheel brace repeatedly (the nuts take a while before they budge!). Thinking - "I must save her embarrassment and my dignity".
But eventually the builders butt is out and I don't care. There something strangely liberating about the air whistling between the crack as you carry out dirty, man's work. I would ask that this line is never quoted back to me out of context to wheel changes. Or I guess - it might sound a bit weird. Either way - I was so proud of my wheel changing achievement that I took a picture. Genius! Pure genius. My wife just thinks this further confirms how utterly stupid I am.
Later that week we head off to the Levellers on a Friday night. I meet up with my mate Tree and we reminisce about old times. At one point during "One Way" a few drops of something splash into our pints from the ceiling.
"Ahhh - it's ok Tree - it's just sweat."
The sweat of two thousand crusties jumping up and down until even the ceiling needs to cool down and dump a fine drizzle of rain down on us.
Behind me there's a man wearing a 1993 Levellers t-shirt and waving his walking stick in the air like a crazy man. Elsewhere there are savvy looking kids with dreadlocked, slightly balding dads pogo-ing on the spot and at one point in the night a truly humongous Sumo Sized bloke pogo's through the crowd towards Tree. He has launched his t-shirt in a fit of delirium and is wobbling along to the Riverboat Song with arms flapping wildly in the air and naked belly undulating to the rhythm. At a certain frequency his belly will never be able to stop moving. This is a worry. The worlds first perpetual motion machine locked within a fat scary b*stard. He has seven or eight breasts and at one point I lose line of sight with Tree and fear the worst.
"Man down! Man down! For God Sakes Tree get out of there!"
Tree emerges from the otherside - intact. I look at the missus - Sarah is worried that she has drunk man's sweat in her pint. We swap to red bulls and coke.
At some point in the month I'm in Switzerland. Switzerland is great. I buy a miniature alpine horn for the kids and instantly regret it. Apline horns make a really painful noise when the kids blow it at 6 in the morning. Think VuvuZella - but worse. Pray the world cup never makes it to the Alps!
I buy Sarah a lovely well-thought-out present (a pair of comedy Oven gloves with a Swiss woman in traditional Alpine dress on the front). I have excelled myself - this almost beats my "Steve Irwin - Crikey! Australia Zoo" tea towel I got her on my way back from Brisbane and my "Cowgirls know how to do it Houston style" oven mitt from last year.
Sarah takes it well - I have set a tradition now. Comedy kitchen utensils for my wife. And she was hoping for jewellery and stuff! (Ok - so I get some of that too - or I'd be dead by now!).
Yesterday is a turning point in my life as I accept that my time as the dominant alpha male is over. I must hand over family responsibility to my son. For he now has the dominance within the pride. It goes like this.
"Daddy - I can be Bowser cos he is my favourite and you can be Yoshi".
"Ok - let's go. Hang on a minute - Fintan - why am I in twelth. What's going on here."
"Daddy - it's ok. You're just a bit slow. It's ok though."
"Right - final lap - you're going down now son...here I come...!"
I pray for a lightning bolt or a mushroom but get a sodding green turtle shell. Fintan is in eighth and somehow I am in eleventh. This isn't supposed to happen. Initially I am laughing - thinking - I've been here before - messing about - the tortoise and the hare and all that. But this time the hare has left his sleep for too long. By the time I realise the real danger of losing to my five year old son - it's probably too late.
I'm catching him - I overtake (this is only 100cc by the way - not even 150CC!)and then he mags me - lightning strike and I am splatted and out for the count. Finishing ninth to his eight.
For me - this is a big moment. I am proud of him but he doesn't seem to realise the magnitude of genuinely beating his (slightly inebbriated) dad at Mario kart Wii.
"It's okay daddy - it's the taking part that counts," he tells me - quoting the kids from his after school club. I pray the world will eat me up. Truly a new low has been reached. I lamely defend myself.
"150CC Mushroom Cup - SNES - no-one could beat me Fintan. Serious. It's true. Back in 1994 - I was a legend!"
"Daddy - have you ever played Rainbow Road? I'm very good at that."
"Rainbow Road - I nailed that!...."
Time moves on and I remain planted in it - back in 1994.
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