Is it? Surely it is? It must be..

.. YES IT IS. I have lowered my Personal Yard Arm and Autumnal sunshine is peaking over the top of it. Therefore I pronounce this time Beer O’Clock, and God Bless all who drink in her.

It’s been that kind of week. I missed out on the best night ride of the season because my less than trusty car was leaking. At work, I seem to occupy a position at the epicentre of ‘other peoples screw ups” which has done bad things to my patience, temper and inbox. I overslept one day, so over compensated waking up on the hour, every hour ever since, so increasing my grumpy co-efficient to a value similar to the loses on wall street.

And around me things have been whirling in an orbit of wrongness. The dog has Shrapnel-Poo(tm) after stealing a full bag of cashew nuts – now every time he shits, it’s making a sound like small arms fire. I’m sure the Kennel Club are secretly watching and he’ll soon be taken in care. The house remains unchanged, as does my enthusiasm for painting 11 doors and a million walls.

One child has decided she wants to be a professional footballer (until yesterday and now it’s Netball that offers her future employment), the other is having a massive sulk for some terrible slight such as receiving 1 gram less desert than her sister. I expect her to exact terrible retribution for this sometime later in life, and so have vowed never to own a rabbit. Aside from getting noticeably bigger and eating anything that.. no sorry just anything, Murphy appears to be the world’s first hydrophobic Labrador. Show him some lovely clean lake to swim in, and he’ll show you his award winning ‘arse glued to ground and DONT PUT ME IN THERE face

On the upside “Windsock Child” has now decided she loves bikes again. Obviously hers is now too small, and she has been experimenting riding her mums’. It’s fair to say that one parent thinks that’s bloody great and is already investigating something blue, 26inch wheeled and suspension fangled for Christmas, while the other has received the news with slightly less glee.

And the weather looks great which means BBQ, bikes and – predictably – beer. I’ve given up with the biking spreadsheet this year, but on examining the gut/trouser interface, a lack of commuting and a refusal to ride in the pissing rain may be a vector for some early onset porkiness.

And as a mature man with a good handle on health matters, family responsibilities and vocational issues, the way forward is obvious.


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