I Am The Inspector Man And I Know A Lot About Matches.
So, as I mentioned in my previous entry, my family and I have been driving around the Midlands and East Anglia! On our travels, we saw road signs pointing to places called 'Dullingham', 'Dickleburgh', 'Stonetime', 'Six Mile Bottom' and 'Swaffham Bulbeck'. Also, the following took place. Principal players are my mum, my dad, and Joseph and Fred*, my two younger brothers.
- During a discussion about Inception with some childhood friends we hadn't seen for about twelve years:
Friend: (to Joseph, regarding a hypothetical Inception-related situation) Our dreams could be linked, and I could meet people from your past and you could meet people from my past--
Dad: Oh, God, it's fucking Facebook.
- My dad thinks that David Beckham should succeed Elizabeth II as the head of state. He made more points than one would have expected him to have in favour of this idea, but sadly I have forgotten them, save for 'he behaves himself'.
- On our first night in the hotel, my mum and I were in one room, my dad in another, my brothers in the third. Fred knocked on our door at eleven in the evening.
Fred: I just need to get something.
I assumed that he'd left some clothes in the suitcase, but no; he proceeded to steal all of our complimentary tea. It transpired later that he had already lost everything of his to Joseph in poker, including his side of the bed, and had taken our tea to bet against him. And lost.
- At one point, we drove up to a tourable house, then decided not to wait for it to open and drove away. My dad was extremely pleased to have saved money by not paying the entrance fee.
Dad: (to Mum) Do you remember when we took the children to a hotel and they kept saying 'This must be better than two stars; it's got a carpet'? I thought 'fantastic; we've raised them with low expectations'.
Mum: [family friend] said it was lovely to take them out because they were so grateful for everything.
Joseph: That's how I'm going to raise my children.
Dad: Low expectations? It wasn't that hard.
- In Cambridge, we visited Trinity College. It cost one pound per guest but was free to members of the university.
Joseph got in by saying 'I go to St John's', which was not technically untrue but, as he goes to St John's in Oxford, not entirely honest either. Shame on you, Joseph.
- Joseph mentioned an advertisement he had seen that apparently said, absurdly, 'You wouldn't brush your teeth without a toothbrush; why treat your skin differently?'
Dad: You wouldn't brush your teeth without a toothbrush, so why wipe your arse without an arsebrush?
- At one point we saw a merry-go-round populated entirely by middle-aged men. It was perplexing.
- My dad derided keeping a glass of water at one's bedside as 'poncey'. After some interrogation, we established that his definition of 'ponce' was essentially 'anyone who does anything that makes life easier but is not actually essential to survival'.
We have not allowed him to live this down. When he opens the window to demist the car:
Dad: The reason I have to open the window is--
Fred: You're a ponce? 'Oh, I have to see through my windscreen.'
At meals:
Dad: Can you pass the gravy?
Riona: 'Ooh, I have to moisten my food before I can eat it.' Ponce.
(It is apparently all right to take aspirin if you have a headache, but only if nobody knows about it.)
- Dad also insisted that words were better than art or music at conveying emotions because they were more precise. This is a debatable point, but one not helped by his illustrative attempt to describe the hypothetical experience of having his toenails pulled out:
Dad: I'm having my toenails pulled out, ow ow ow.
Joseph: Those aren't words.
Dad: Okay. I'm having my toenails pulled out. It's very painful.
Mum: What sort of pain is it?
Dad: It is a pain that is both sharp and pully.
(pause)
Dad: I've precisionised it.
- We ended up singing many variations on a children's song called 'Baby Bumblebee' (there are many versions on YouTube, but this is my favourite). The original goes thus:
I'm bringing home a baby bumblebee
Won't my mummy be so proud of me?
I'm bringing home a baby bumblebee
Ow! It stung me!
My favourite of the revisions was by Fred, sung in a terrible 'oi'm a farrrmer' accent:
I got a combine harvester for free
You can certainly have the key
I got a combine harvester for free
Ow! It combine harvested me!
My brothers also sang an updated version of the American folk song 'This Land Is Your Land' to Dad whenever he was particularly insistent on getting his way:
This land is your land; this land is your land;
This land is your land; this land is your land;
This land is your land; this land is your land;
This land was made for you.
This land was made for you.
What budding lyricists we are.
- At one point, Mum got fed up with people making negative comments during the car journeys and decided to propose a game.
Mum: From now on, I suggest nobody open their mouths unless it's to say something positive.
Fred: Shut up, Mum.
Joseph: Yeah, you're so annoying.
Dad: I'll play.
Mum: You won't be able to. (claps her hands over her mouth)
Later, Mum amended the rules of the game to allow positively-phrased constructive criticism, resulting in:
Joseph: (playing on a Gameboy) Dad, you might be improved by smelling better.
Fred: Joe, you might want to kill Mario less.
Joseph: I think you mean 'make him live more'.
We are possibly not very good at this game.
So that was our holiday!
I love my ridiculous family. It's always nice to spend time with them. I'm really pleased that, even though the youngest of us is now sixteen, we're still taking the occasional holiday as a whole.
* Some of you will be aware that Fred asked me a while ago to stop referring to him by name in my entries, but I've acquired his permission for this.
- During a discussion about Inception with some childhood friends we hadn't seen for about twelve years:
Friend: (to Joseph, regarding a hypothetical Inception-related situation) Our dreams could be linked, and I could meet people from your past and you could meet people from my past--
Dad: Oh, God, it's fucking Facebook.
- My dad thinks that David Beckham should succeed Elizabeth II as the head of state. He made more points than one would have expected him to have in favour of this idea, but sadly I have forgotten them, save for 'he behaves himself'.
- On our first night in the hotel, my mum and I were in one room, my dad in another, my brothers in the third. Fred knocked on our door at eleven in the evening.
Fred: I just need to get something.
I assumed that he'd left some clothes in the suitcase, but no; he proceeded to steal all of our complimentary tea. It transpired later that he had already lost everything of his to Joseph in poker, including his side of the bed, and had taken our tea to bet against him. And lost.
- At one point, we drove up to a tourable house, then decided not to wait for it to open and drove away. My dad was extremely pleased to have saved money by not paying the entrance fee.
Dad: (to Mum) Do you remember when we took the children to a hotel and they kept saying 'This must be better than two stars; it's got a carpet'? I thought 'fantastic; we've raised them with low expectations'.
Mum: [family friend] said it was lovely to take them out because they were so grateful for everything.
Joseph: That's how I'm going to raise my children.
Dad: Low expectations? It wasn't that hard.
- In Cambridge, we visited Trinity College. It cost one pound per guest but was free to members of the university.
Joseph got in by saying 'I go to St John's', which was not technically untrue but, as he goes to St John's in Oxford, not entirely honest either. Shame on you, Joseph.
- Joseph mentioned an advertisement he had seen that apparently said, absurdly, 'You wouldn't brush your teeth without a toothbrush; why treat your skin differently?'
Dad: You wouldn't brush your teeth without a toothbrush, so why wipe your arse without an arsebrush?
- At one point we saw a merry-go-round populated entirely by middle-aged men. It was perplexing.
- My dad derided keeping a glass of water at one's bedside as 'poncey'. After some interrogation, we established that his definition of 'ponce' was essentially 'anyone who does anything that makes life easier but is not actually essential to survival'.
We have not allowed him to live this down. When he opens the window to demist the car:
Dad: The reason I have to open the window is--
Fred: You're a ponce? 'Oh, I have to see through my windscreen.'
At meals:
Dad: Can you pass the gravy?
Riona: 'Ooh, I have to moisten my food before I can eat it.' Ponce.
(It is apparently all right to take aspirin if you have a headache, but only if nobody knows about it.)
- Dad also insisted that words were better than art or music at conveying emotions because they were more precise. This is a debatable point, but one not helped by his illustrative attempt to describe the hypothetical experience of having his toenails pulled out:
Dad: I'm having my toenails pulled out, ow ow ow.
Joseph: Those aren't words.
Dad: Okay. I'm having my toenails pulled out. It's very painful.
Mum: What sort of pain is it?
Dad: It is a pain that is both sharp and pully.
(pause)
Dad: I've precisionised it.
- We ended up singing many variations on a children's song called 'Baby Bumblebee' (there are many versions on YouTube, but this is my favourite). The original goes thus:
I'm bringing home a baby bumblebee
Won't my mummy be so proud of me?
I'm bringing home a baby bumblebee
Ow! It stung me!
My favourite of the revisions was by Fred, sung in a terrible 'oi'm a farrrmer' accent:
I got a combine harvester for free
You can certainly have the key
I got a combine harvester for free
Ow! It combine harvested me!
My brothers also sang an updated version of the American folk song 'This Land Is Your Land' to Dad whenever he was particularly insistent on getting his way:
This land is your land; this land is your land;
This land is your land; this land is your land;
This land is your land; this land is your land;
This land was made for you.
This land was made for you.
What budding lyricists we are.
- At one point, Mum got fed up with people making negative comments during the car journeys and decided to propose a game.
Mum: From now on, I suggest nobody open their mouths unless it's to say something positive.
Fred: Shut up, Mum.
Joseph: Yeah, you're so annoying.
Dad: I'll play.
Mum: You won't be able to. (claps her hands over her mouth)
Later, Mum amended the rules of the game to allow positively-phrased constructive criticism, resulting in:
Joseph: (playing on a Gameboy) Dad, you might be improved by smelling better.
Fred: Joe, you might want to kill Mario less.
Joseph: I think you mean 'make him live more'.
We are possibly not very good at this game.
So that was our holiday!
I love my ridiculous family. It's always nice to spend time with them. I'm really pleased that, even though the youngest of us is now sixteen, we're still taking the occasional holiday as a whole.
* Some of you will be aware that Fred asked me a while ago to stop referring to him by name in my entries, but I've acquired his permission for this.