The F Bomb

As I sit here enjoying a Dutch beer, purchased in a Spanish bar and now being drank in the South Cheshire countryside I have time to contemplate on last week’s highlights.

Ranking near the top would have been the free case of beer from my dad, I say free but it was an opportunistic steal following the haul he brought back from a recent trip to the family villa. None the less it’s free so all is good.

Last week we spent every day as a family of five, visiting the Zoo and enjoying family days out, I would have had an easier ride in work but as always I ‘was taking one for the team’.

A low point was another letter from my dear friends at HMRC, someone somewhere really fucking hates me and with each year that passes they hit me with a tax bill. Wholly unsure how this can happen, I am not self-employed and HMRC are fully aware of my earnings each year but someone some fuckwit manages to make a mistake which I am expected to pay for each year.

I don’t expect much sympathy as earning a six figure salary must be wonderful but then I have the ‘wallet destroyers’ aka the TWINS and their pimp Ted (the older brother) to support, feed and clothe.

As parents we have focused our attention on keeping our children safe, in our household my wife and I have obviously forgotten just how quickly they learn.

During a game of garden bowls where I was taking no prisoners and using the uneven surface to my advantage the score was Daddy 6 and Teddy 0, at this point Teddy turned to me, with a sad look in his face, what came out of his mouth next will stay with me forever………….

“ahhhhhhhh fucking hell Daddy, you’ve won again”

I shit you not, I was initially shocked, but then proud, the context of the word was correct, yes, disappointing but used in the correct way, emphasising his upset and disgust that a 38 year old man was kicking a 4 year olds arse.

In any relationship you should never apportion blame, but lets look at the facts, my wife is his full time career, previously in work she answered to the name Ramsey, after Gordon Ramsey and trust me it had fuck all to do with her cooking skills.

We have to change the way we embrace with each other and certainly the language we use, it has been reported that on average we swear 80 times a day, even my dad managed to tick 2 of those 80 off his list on Saturday whilst in the car with both myself and the Asbo 4 year old.

Hopefully the naughty step (with WIFI) and the look of disgust in my eyes has sealed the message and this, I hope will be the last we hear of it.