Not being allowed to do dangerous things

In which I have people looking out for me to not do anything stupid.

I’m going to be doing a parachute jump!

There are fewer phrases I am likely to say than this, with possibly the exception of “I’m going to space”. I’ve been banned from doing cool, I mean stupidly dangerous, stuff in my life because death.

There is every chance that if I do something life limiting or threatening then my major concern will not be broken bones but the disapproval of my family. I have a ban on anything that involves falling.

So to try anything extraordinary I need to be surrounded by strangers.

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The sun shines from my bum

In which I let the light erupt from my rear.

I should sue my parent’s for lost earnings, I had a normal upbringing with no drama or familial strife. How was I to become a famous artist with no tragic backstory, how could I be a contestant on a TV pop series if I wasn’t able to ‘do it for me Nan who lost an arm in a combine harvester accident’?

So every Sunday dinner is eaten in a fairly serene manner, the only thing to be shocked about is my chair at the table.

My seat at my parent’s dinner table is different to everyone else’s. It has faded over time and the cushion looks like it has been bleached. There is also a small burn mark right in the it has been bleached. There is also a small burn mark right in the centre.

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Moving from New York to Coventry

In which I wish I could sleep in the city that never does.

In the beginning we weren’t going to be here, I should have been writing this on a keyboard without a £ symbol and having to work out the date in the wrong format. When Me and Mrs G first started a’courting we planned to live in New York.

As I now sit opposite an industrial estate in the Midlands and not gazing on the Brooklyn Bridge (like we could afford those rents) it is evident that plan failed. Still even if we can’t live in New York part of my heart is there already.

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Can we all get along?

In which the easiest way to get on with your family is to realise you don’t have to.

It is a cliché but it really it is true you can’t choose your family. I’m pretty happy with the lot I got so I’m not about to go and get rid of them anytime soon. The real question is whether the feeling is mutual.

This is why family is more important than friends, you can be close to a number of people who don’t really share the same interests but you still keep going back to them. You may choose your friends on what they do or say, but family exists on different bonds.

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Grandparent’s Day

In which every day should be Grandparent’s Day.

I’m finding it hard to sit at a computer tonight as my eyes and nose are streaming from hayfever. Added to the warm temperatures, and the British home not being built to deal with anything above temperate, I have barely slept all week. This is where the sympathy should end, unless you feel bad that I was kept up by the hour long thunderstorm last night, because I didn’t have to get up to look after a child this morning.

That’s because The Feliciraptor was sleeping over at Grandma-G’s.

One of the perks of the job seems to be that your parents who just a short while ago were helping you out of the door now welcome your own offspring with open arms. I think it’s mostly because they know they can give them back, but we are lucky that we can have some weekends and nights to ourselves because people are willing to take a baby of our hands for a night.
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