David Fitzgerald: Mid-life crisis brings out the baboon
SO as I was saying a couple of years ago… actually hang on, what was I saying?
It has been so long since I put pen to paper and exposed my mid life crisis ramblings that I must admit I have come through that period and am out the other side.
What is that called, the bit after ‘mid life’ crisis? It’s that period where all music is too loud, the television is too quiet and the word mild goes before everything in your life, such as beer, curry and indigestion but strangely not wind.
Odd things happen in your mid life!
BUY ONE GET ONE FREE - Medium Cod, Chips & Mushy Peas at...View details
Simply Purchase a Medium Cod, Chips and Mushy Peas and receive another portion for FREE.
Sustainable Cod, Fresh Cut Chips & Proper Mushy Peas.
Visit Our Website for more information and offers
Terms: Offer valid only with this Voucher, 1 voucher Per Customer. Not for use with any other offer, Not transferable to other menu items
Contact: 01752 421044
Valid until: Thursday, June 27 2013
Apparently I now own an iPhone, whatever that is and have made calls on it, sent emails and photographed my ear on several occasions.
It has a compass, a calculator and plays music….but what is an app?
Is it like a nap only shorter!
I enjoy naps, especially after a mild curry and during X Factor.
Speaking of telly, I was watching the BBC last week and there was a report on apes having mid life crisis or is it crisi?
I have yet to see the baboons at Paignton Zoo wandering around with a fur comb-over, a pony tail and a much younger ‘mail order’ macaque, but you do see the human male of the species with mid life baboon tendencies.
With jeans so tight you have to walk on all fours to relieve the pain, hair sprouting from every orifice and constantly sucking back fresh fruit, macrobiotic yoghurt and wheat germ, they can easily be mistaken for some aging primate.
They go out in gangs on the Barbican, especially at Christmas wearing council road cones, sitting on the bonnet of cars trying to peel off windscreen wipers, whooping to each other, should they get lost and then end up huddling and grooming one another in The Dolphin.
The enemy, the good lady wife, is still with me as is dear Ratboy, the son and heir.
He is now 18 and has totally lost the power of speech which we think is an allergic reaction to the overuse of hair gel.
And we are going through that difficult period of regression with him.
He gave up his dummy when he was about three but has now taken to carrying a ketchup bottle as a replacement. He even sleeps with it! He has also taken to using the enemy’s hair dryer for long periods in his bedroom, partially to style the puddle of hair gel on his head and partially to reheat the slices of pizza left on the bedroom floor.
Last week we sat down and tried to work out if we could roast a chicken in the same manner.
We decided that it wouldn’t really work but you could warm a pot noodle with his GHDs.
Right, that’s it from me for this week.
I’m off to try and use Plymouth’s new part time ship canal and main drain for Plymstock. Or Gydnia Way as it is called on the maps.