A significant day
Last Saturday (July 2) was a very significant day.
It was the exact midpoint of the year. 182 days down, 182 to go. Or to put it another way, we’re over the hump and it’s all downhill from here.
Saturday was also the day Karen reached the midpoint of her pregnancy. 20 weeks down and 20 to go. Or to put it another way, we’re seeing a bump and it’s all uphill from here.
According to the pregnancy website we’ve been consulting, our baby is now the size of a plantain. I don’t even know what a plantain is. I’m thinking we should maybe stop referencing this website.
Speaking of the size of things, Karen’s bump has started to get significantly bigger these past few days. She’s now worried that she’ll be the size of a house by the time the next 20 weeks are over.
I hate to be pernickety but houses come in a variety of sizes. And because she’ll be getting wider rather than taller then technically she’ll be more of a bungalow than a house.
I haven’t mentioned this to her because I don’t want to end up in that proverbial house us blokes fear the most - the doghouse.
To sleep, perchance to dream
On Monday at dinner time I ventured to the park for a spot of sunbathing. It was a glorious day and the park was a hive of activity.
I sat on the grass and ate my lunch whilst reading a book. I think it may have been the first time I’d worn my sunglasses this year. All was sunny and well.
And then I realised I was in a position to carry out a longtime fantasy of mine. Don’t be getting carried away - I’m not Billie Piper, this isn’t The Secret Diary Of A Call Girl.
My fantasy is pretty innocent. I’ve always wanted to go to sleep during work time. I don’t mean when you nod off temporarily during a Powerpoint presentation. I’m taking about a full-on, lie-down snooze.
Some may argue dinner break isn’t part of work time, but they’re wrong, and that’s that.
I need at least 15 minutes to enter the Land of Nod and it always helps if I’m listening to music. I selected The Kinks Ultimate Collection, inserted my earphones and lay down on the grass using my book as a pillow.
I’d left myself a good 40 minutes to fulfil my fantasy, but as you’ve probably guessed all was not straightforward.
As drowsiness took hold, my mind started to wander. I could hear the bark of a dog and I imagined the same animal coming over to lick my face or mark its territory on my shoes. Knowing my luck it was the same dog that gave my beachtowel ‘the sprinkler treatment’ in Portrush in the summer of 2002.
I heard children’s laughter and pictured a young urchin kicking a football high into the air to eventually come to land with a direct hit on my unmentionables.
I opened my eyes and saw a bird swooping above me. I recalled the time myself and Karen got ‘bombed’ by a pigeon in New York and feared that lightning may strike twice.
I was wide awake. I looked around me and realised all was calm. There were no dogs or birds in sight and the children were all at least 30 feet away.
I calmed my concerns and tried again for 40 winks. Ray Davies was singing about lazing on a sunny afternoon. I couldn’t have asked for a better soundtrack to my snooze.
No sooner had I closed my eyes than the dog started barking again and I could have sworn either a bird or a ball whooshed past my head.
“If you can’t sleep, why don’t you count sheep?” said a wise and distinguished voice in my head.
“As if the dogs, birds and children aren’t bad enough - don’t tell me there’s sheep here as well,” I replied.
Sleep deprived, I picked up my things and left the park.
The answer to last week’s teaser was: the divorced couple can’t get married to each other because they are mother and son.
Here’s one for you to solve this week: One morning a petrol station attendant ran into the office the moment his boss arrived and told him that the previous evening he had dreamt that one of the pumps had been leaking, causing a huge explosion. His boss was skeptical, but when he checked the pump in question, he indeed found a potentially disastrous leak. He switched off the pump and then sacked the attendant. Why?