The two Ronnies
I play football most Sunday mornings with a group of lads from the greater Belfast area.
Not the most punchy intro I’ve ever penned to my weekly column, but bear with me, it gets better.
This tale begins with a man called Ronnie Cartwright, who frequently plays in the same Sunday kickabout as me. Like myself, Ronnie is bald and proud. Unlike myself, Ronnie is a talented musician, playing guitar in a band called The Vals.
Ronnie is the first to admit that he isn’t as blessed as some in the skills department, but he makes up for it by playing with his heart on his sleeve. Excuse the terrible cliche, but at the end of the day, it’s impossible not to use terrible cliches when writing about football.
The other week I’d put in a pretty good performance during our Sunday match and as we walked off the pitch one of the other players said to me, “Great game today, Ronnie.”
Much laughter ensued when I pointed out the case of mistaken identity and the fact Ronnie wasn’t even playing that day.
When I told Ronnie about the incident the following week, he too laughed at the mix up. “All they see is bald,” was Ronnie’s quote.
Fast forward to Saturday night, and I am at a concert, queuing at the bar for drinks.
When I finally get served the barmaid goes off to fetch the drinks and I watch as she proceeds to bring the pint of Magner’s and bottle of Bud I’d ordered to a guy standing about six places to my right at the bar.
It won’t surprise you to learn that the gentleman who received my drinks was bald.
At least when it came to the mix up over me and Ronnie, we are both of similar age and build. The man at the bar was about 20 years my senior and the width of a rake. Ronnie’s words echoed in my head, “All they see is bald”.
When the barmaid realised the error of her ways she redistributed the drinks then walked off in fits of laughter. I laughed uproariously too, though I couldn’t help but think of the uproar of a different nature that could have arisen if the mix up had been over two members of a racial minority rather than two bald men.
My story has one final twist. The morning after the gig I was back playing football again. After the game Ronnie gave me a lift home. I was nervous about going home as I was in the bad books with Karen, having stayed out to the wee, small hours after the concert. I knew that the day ahead was going to be a difficult one and at some point I was going to be hauled over the coals.
That’s when I came up with the most devilish of plans. Instead of going into the house to face the music myself, I talked Ronnie into taking my place. The plan was he would give me a call to swap back when either a) things had cooled down and I’d been forgiven or b) Karen had cottoned on to the fact that Ronnie was an imposter.
I’m still waiting for the call.
Lucy recently got her first taste of solid foods. The first mouthful of food she got was last Friday when Karen and myself spoonfed her mushed up banana. Or so I was led to believe.
Less than 15 minutes after feeding her the banana she produced a number two. That’s right, Yer Man is talking about poo again, so if you’re of a weak disposition, stop reading now.
The consistency of Lucy’s waste was a lot more viscous than usual and, most alarmingly, it had little black threadlike bits in it.
A quick Google search told me that black threads in a baby’s poo were indicative of a diet rich in banana.
But she’d only just had the banana, so how could it have passed through her so rapidly?
It was at this point, my wife crumbled and confessed her guilt. She’d fed Lucy a bit of banana the day before the first ‘official’ feed.
I took great pleasure lauding over the fact I’d caught my wife out using a CSI-style technique.
Since then Lucy has continued to feed on bananas, pears, carrots and baby rice while her dad has had to make his own tea.
The answer to last week’s teaser was: one man gets £3 and the other gets £5 based on the amount of water they provided (1500ml and 2500ml)
Here’s this week’s teaser: A friend came to stay over with me recently. I knocked on his door one morning and asked him a question. He said ‘Yes’, so I knew he was lying. What was my question?