Author Archives: jon

Raichou

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Which, apparently means “arriving in Japan”. And that is what we shall be doing. Sometime.

Working for a travel agents, Jo found out about an industry competition she could enter to win two tickets to one of many global destinations. The competition involved getting in the top eight high-scores of a tetris-style game involving aeroplane seats.

Well, in a drunken stupor, I managed to rank joint seventh.

Whilst a certain amount of skill and persistence helped, because the awarded score was time-based over four levels, the wine I’d consumed decreased my levels of stress, and I obviously entered some kind of Zen zone.

So today Jo got notification that we had won, and Japan is the destination that both of us have wanted to go to since we moved away from France.

Showing Imagination

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This week Freya has started showing obvious signs of creating and using something imaginary.

One of her favourite cuddly-toys, a chicken from Harrods, is given food which is stored at a particular place on one of the walls in Freya’s bedroom. It’s always taken from the same place, and, what is perhaps as interesting, is held firmly in Freya’s hand(s) until she reaches the chicken to feed it.

What Babies Look Like In My Eyes

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I took Freya to church today, to a weekly (non-religious) sing-song that is organised by Jesus or someone. It was only when I had sat down and let Freya wander around with the other small children that I realised something: watching small babies interact is like watching a very cute zombie film.

Whether they are crawling, ambling or walking, with arms outstretched after anything that moves/gives stability, there is more than a passing resemblence to a “Day of The Dead”, without the rotting flesh and bitten off limbs.

I told this little gem to one of the mothers there, a French woman, and only received a titter for what I thought was worth a more audible response. This does nothing for my recent discovery.

Perhaps her Frenchness is to blame, and not my humour.

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A Funny Thing

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I’ve made the decision that I’m actually not that funny. Notice that it’s a decision and not a realisation: that I came to a while ago.

It has taken a while for me to actually come to terms with such a devastating fact, but It’s a certainty I’m not alone in this admission. There must be millions of people who are funnier in their heads than in stark reality.

It’s not that I think I lack a sense of humour. I can be quite witty when cornered, and many of my friends (whose humour I appreciate lots) laugh at my comments. I just think that the biggest problem is style-based. I use puns/double entendres/play-on-words, which by their very nature are normally rubbish, on a regular basis befit of an Englishman. Such is my lot in life, and it is both a blessing and a curse (the inherent humour more than my nationality.)
I shall take a leaf out of the Borg’s book and assimilate some new styles, though I have my suspiscions that this tactic will not yield results. I mean, the Borg (or should that be The Borg) have taken over many, many civilizations. Even within one little sub-culture there must be loads of people who are really witty, and yet the Borg are never, ever funny. Never.

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Sensible Parents We Are

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We took Freya to a dietitian last week. Not because we had to, but simply to put our minds at rest that we are not missing something in her vegan diet.

It’s easy to assume one has the necessary knowledge, having been vegan for a good 20 years, but even with the help of relevant books and info from the net it’s perfectly possible to have missed something, especially when Freya is going through a “not so interested in food” period.

As it turns out, the dietitian thought we were doing fine, and probably giving our child better nutrition than the majority of meat-eaters. I wasn’t so surpised to here that; just in oils alone, Freya gets a daily intake of linseed (good for omega 3) and rapeseed oil, as well as olive oil and veggie maragarine.

Just to double check, I took Freya to get weighed and measured recently, fearing that she may not have put on too much since her last visit, only to find out that she is completely average. One of the few times I’ll be glad to her that kind of statement about my daughter.