You know you live in a small town when..

The front page of the sports section is taken up with a one third page spread of very grey haired people playing croquet. (Headline - 'The Croquet Crew').

I should clip the main picture - a couple of elderly gentlemen, giving each other the high five over what must have been an exceptional play. I find such showboating in sports just deplorable. What's next ? Tossing their mallets in the air ?

It frequently amazes me that there are enough people to buy a copy to make a paper worthwhile, but they do. How else would you know when to attend the next Baked Bean Supper, or Senior's Bingo Night ?

Paint a mile

You never really consider how big something is until you have to paint it.

After spending much time and effort trying to save my porch, I came to the realization that it was just a pile of sawdust and rot held together by caulk and paint. Within a day, it was relocated into the dumpster (a Skip for those English readers).

Now I'm faced with the depressing task of rebuilding the thing, and all before the winter - which in these parts is only a short 2 months from now.

First on the agenda is a new floor. Being someone who likes to do things right the first time, I'm going with the same material that was used originally. A bit pricey, true, but worth it. It's recommended that you put two coats of base and one finish coat on all sides of the boards, and I have 1300 feet of them. So, by my shaky math that is 7200 feet of painting, or 1.36 miles.

This could take a while.

Lady Katrina

When I lived in England, I never really appreciated the scale of weather. This probably had something to do with the fact that it’s an island, and it rains all the time so you get used to the same sort of stuff (it really doesn’t, by the way, but all Americans think it does - just like London is still foggy).

Here in the US, since weather systems can simultaneously affect both ends of the country, you really have to marvel at the power of it all.

I feel badly for the folks down in the Gulf states, since they’re on the real ‘sharp’ end of bad weather. It’s also raining here, thousands of miles away and all from the SAME storm (I live in the small red circle in the top right). Incredible.

You can call him Al

I have an elderly neighbor - I think he's somewhere in his 80's, though exactly where in the decade I couldn't say. He is something of a spectator.

For the purposes of this post, we'll call him 'Al' *.

Al's wife, whom we shall call 'Dorothy' most definitely wears the trousers in their relationship. The most common phrase to pass Al's lips would be 'Yes, Dear' - usually in response to some command issued with megaphone like volume from their back door. Al is usually hiding in his barn pretending to 'work' on something or other.

The first year of renovations, most of the work was done on the back of the house. Al and Dorothy's elevated deck is at a convenient height and doubles as an observation platform for our entire back garden. I'd be out there banging and sweating away, and Al would pull up a deck chair, orient it for the best possible view and sit happily as if watching his favorite TV show.

Things have come a long way since then, and work has moved to a less convenient location (for Al anyway). I've also come to the conclusion that just about any distraction for Al will be better than being driven to it by his wife, and I'm happy to provide one.

I'll often be beavering away when, out of the corner of my eye, I'll detect a slight movement and Al will have silently arrived to check out my progress. It can be a bit disconcerting when you're up a ladder, or turn around without expecting it.

By general agreement, though, Al has gone from spectator to 'Consulting Engineer'. He keeps up morale with light hearted chit chat, dispenses the latest village gossip and provides historical facts about the residents of my house during the civil war (OK, maybe that's a tiny exaggeration). In any case, he's a part of the team.

Eventually, Dorothy will realize that Al's 'missing' and will come to track him down ('I hope he's not being a bother') and Al will trudge obediently back to his house ('Coming Dear'), until the next time he manages to slip away.

* This is in fact his real name, and his wife really is called Dorothy. Don't tell them I told you...

Sunflower

It still amazes me how something this large and beautiful grows from something so small. My daughter and I planted these back in the spring, and now they're taller than me.

If you've ever taken the time to really look at a sunflower - the inside part - it's just such a work of art.

Amazing.

I don't know why they stare....

They say a picture's worth a thousand words .

I've been a little occupied lately on a small home improvement project. It's one of those things where you start off thinking it'll just be a few bits of trim here and there, and end up ripping off half the porch.

The sidewalk runs right in front of this picture, and every passer by has some cheery 'Oooh, looks like you've got your hands full' type comment. You think ? I was just going to slap some paint on it and call it a day.

T-I-R-E-D

I keep wondering when, exactly, I'll feel like people do in TV commercials. You know - boundless energy and 'joie de vivre' exhibited by people in car ads and the like.

I know I'm not getting any younger, but given enough sleep, diet and regular exercise I keep hoping to wake up one morning and spring out of bed, full of beans for the day ahead. Currently, it seems that I'm only marginally less tired when leaving my slumber than I was when I conked out on the sofa at the end of the previous day's toil.

Is there a vitamin supplement that I'm missing ? Not enough fiber in the diet ? Some magic mattress ? Any suggestions considered (even yoga).

One day - when the kids have flown the nest and the endless list of jobs around the house is reduced from 'Dead Sea Scrolls' length to something that'll fit on a single sheet of paper - I'll be relaxed, rested and full of energy.

For the next 16 years, I'll just have to be knackered.

It's too bad I'm not Irish

Other than the ability to consume large amounts of Guinness with little ill effect, the quality I most wish I possessed from Irish ancestry would be that of digging.

I'm not being racist or anything, far from it, in fact. Much of America (and England for that matter) was built on the backs of hard working Irish laborers who could have probably dug the Chunnel if someone had put them up to it.

I have moved on to the next rung of the interminable project list, to 'The Porch'. It has been on the list for several seasons. I mean *list* as in Tower of Pisa list. The winters in Vermont can be hard on old buildings, and the last few have all but squashed one side of our aging porch. It has sagged badly. It's been one of those things that I have really wanted to get on with, but I've never quite had the time. Now it's getting urgent. Winter will be here in a jiffy , and it won't be able to take the snow.

So, out with the 5 ton jacks, the bracing and the demolition tools and forward I go into unexplored territory under the porch. I'm not easily scared by a little bit of rot or a complete lack of foundations. Anything can be fixed with enough tools.

Surprisingly expediently, I now have 5 new foundation piers sunk 4 feet into the ground, and the whole porch above is floating, seemingly unsupported, on a collection of jacks and beams.

No small bit of digging, that. Hence I wish I had a little more Irish in me, so my back wouldn't ache quite so much today. Still, each pint of Guinness makes me a little more Irish, right ?

Thunder, lightning.

Once a month the Smalltown Fire Department meets and carries out some kind of training drill, so that our skills are kept fresh and honed like a razor.

So it is that I find myself sitting on top of a fire truck, on top of a hill, packing wet hose, in a thunderstorm. I'm not generally one of those people who runs for cover and hides in the basement when faced with millions of volts of electricity and loud noises - but I'll admit that it was a tad disconcerting.

Nonetheless, I made it safe and well to the bar and polished off a couple of Guinnesses in celebration.

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In other news, number one daughter has made the transition to a diaperless night. This, as any parent knows is a period fraught with worry over midnight bed wettings, but more than this it marks a happy move forward to a time when diapers are a thing of the past. Oh, happy day !

Just call me dusty

I saw. I cut. I sand. I nail. I screw. I saw some more. Repeat. You get the idea.

I live in a whirlwind of sawdust, toolbelt bulging and power tools whining. I AM Home Improvement Man. Grrrr.

Oddly, it seems that although I am busy as a beaver and more handy than Andy from dusk 'til dawn, I still feel unproductive. Either I'm a perfectionist (quite possible), really shit at this stuff (don't think so, but then I'm bragging) or everything just takes a really long time. Five days of working, working, working.

I thought I'd have tons of time. I made long lists of things, just like Greavsie, and was prepared for a reveal to rival Changing Rooms or Extreme Makeover Home Edition when the missus returns.

It'll be more likely that she'll smile sweetly and mumble something along the lines of 'that's really nice dear', while thinking 'that's ALL you did in 5 days ?'.

Better get back to work. I hope my neighbors don't mind the nailgun at this time of night.

Ah, the sweet smell of Freedom

I am alone.

Not completely alone in the cosmic sense, but enough for some good long silence.

The wife and kids have gone South to her Dad's for a week ! I get to stay in the house by myself ! Don't get me wrong - I love her and the little buggers, but as all parents will attest, a week at home by yourself is better than a week in the Caribbean with a horny supermodel (OK, maybe not but it's close).

The DOWNSIDE is that I have a list as long as your arm of 'projects' that should show some progress by weeks end. Still, I can't complain. This is my chance to rebel ! I can leave my dirty laundry on the floor, not pick up my wet towels, leave the toilet seat up (though it may have to go down for #2's), have TWO beers with dinner (which, of course ,will be microwaved and unhealthy), stay up late, get up late, blog all night (ok, not that one) and watch anything I want on TV.

I'll be working my butt off and will be worn out every evening which cuts down on the carousing somewhat, but I'll do my best. Wish me luck !

Flagging

One of the things you'll notice about living in the US, is that people are much more attached to their flags. I can't remember anyone I knew growing up in England that flew the Union Jack. You'd see it on bunting, and boxer shorts and even carried by some streaker at a Test Match, but not often on an actual pole.

I personally think this is an oversight, and I can think of no better time to show your colors than right NOW. With no disrespect to my 'host' nation, I removed the 'Stars and Stripes', folded them neatly and raised the good old Union Jack on my modest little porch flagpole.

After 9/11, stores sold out of American flags, and flying ours seemed like such a statement. When you think about it, many have died defending our right to raise our colors and declare our freedom each and every day. Shouldn't we use it ?

I'd like to start a movement to Fly The Flag. Maybe JonnyB can write a song for this cause, too. While we're at it, let's sing the National Anthem, too.

Wet T-Shirt (followup post)

See ? You mock the weather forecast, and it comes true. Maybe that's what Native Americans did with Rain Dancing. It was all a big mocking thing. Then, just to show you who's boss, it rains.

Now I have a wet T-Shirt. There was a 60% chance of that.

The Whether here is just awful

What IS it with the weather ? More particularly, weather forecasters.

I choose to read my weather from the U.S Government's own web site which is, I like to tell myself, the thinking man's weather site. No ads for allergy medication, timeshares or mortgage refinancing. No pop ups for Pest Control, or Dell Computer. Not too much in the way of reliable weather forecasting, either.

For the last 5 days or so, we've had a 60% chance of 'severe thunderstorms' featuring 'heavy rain, hail and damaging winds'. It has rained barely more than a drop. I'd like to know the psuedo scientific means behind the '60%'. Do they think it's slightly better than 50/50, so 60 is about right. Are there dice involved ? A magic 8 ball ?

I think it's worse when it's shitty hot with no end in sight. At this point, you want the weather people to just MAKE it get cooler. Don't they have some giant satellite thingy that can do that ? What do we spend all of our tax dollars on, anyway ?

But still, you'd think with their orbiting weather platforms, doppler radar, computer simulations, global weather models etc. etc. that they could predict, with somewhat more than 60% certainty that it will rain TODAY. Not tomorrow, or next week, just today. That's all I ask. Don't give me false hope.

Meanwhile, we suffer in misery and I await the approach of a particularly hazardous storm from the east. I'm riding the odds, though.

I left my car windows open.

Feeling Exposed

It's not normally what you expect in the locker room at the sports center.

The back pack was ticking.

I don't mean a tiny, barely audible little tick, I mean a big loud 'LISTEN TO ME' tick.

It certainly got my attention.

Now, I don't live in a Town that you'd consider a target for anything, except maybe the occasional random nutter amped up on Budweiser, so rationally I told myself that it couldn't be a danger.

But still, we live in a different world now. We have a new 'normal'. I asked the front desk person to check it out. He listened, too, and agreed that it was a bit suspicious but thought that he knew whose backpack it was. We pondered what could possibly be the source of such a noise, and gave the bag a good hard stare. Neither one of us wanted to open it.

He went off to find the possible culprit, leaving me alone with the ticking bag.

Somehow, standing NAKED next to a potential explosive device is even worse than being fully clothed. More exposed, so to speak. Quite irrational, really. What's a pair of trousers and a t-shirt going to do anyway ? Deflect the blast ?

Eventually, the sheepish owner returned, and retrieved his WALKMAN (remember tape players anyone ?) that was clicking (or ticking) because it got stuck or had two buttons pressed down in his bag or something. Idiot. BUY AN IPOD !

So, that was my little bit of excitement yesterday. We live in a world where just about anywhere is an imaginable target, and it doesn't seem to matter anymore that you live far from the madding crowd.

Gone, but not forgotten

Being an Englishman abroad, one becomes disconnected from the everyday of life 'back home'. What has been nice about Blogland has been the ability to take a peek into the lives of those who, had my life taken a different road, would have been me. I have been able to see and hear about the little things that normally have slipped through the cracks of my memories. In some ways, it's allowed me to identify more with a place I haven't called home in over a decade.

Yesterday's horrific events made me very angry, but also very proud of England. Her unshakable resolve and stoic attitude to adversity, and the compassion of Her people.

I lived about 40 miles outside of New York City on 9/11. Far enough away that I went there only when I had to, but close enough that we could see the smoke down the Long Island Sound. The sense of fear, though, was palpable for days after the attacks. It took a while to feel like you weren't walking around in a fog.

In this case, I'm very far away and can see and hear only what is on TV. My family lives far from London, in Suffolk. I feel it somehow more deeply - while it is equally as tragic and incomparably horrifc - because it was an attack on what I hold deep down in my heart to be 'home'.

God Bless all who perished yesterday, their families and loved ones. God Bless all the people who have the courage to stand up against the dark tide of Evil. God Bless Great Britain.

Well done, London.

Jolly well done to Lord Coe, Becks and Blair for bringing home the bacon. Makes me proud that the Olympics will be coming to Old London Town. There's a big tent that didn't get much use during the millenium that might be of some use.

Of course, I'd like to think that Chirac being a smug bugger about French food and French contributions to Europe had something to do with France getting passed over. There's nothing better than getting one over on our cousins across the channel.

I'm going to suggest - put it out there, if you will - that someone consider bidding to host the Tour De France. I mean, the French have had it for a bloody long time and now it's someone else's turn. How about Poland ? Sweden ? Bulgaria ? Plenty of nations in Europe with lots of old buildings, good wine and bicycles. In the spirit of goodwill, maybe it's time for the Tour D'Iraq ?

Independence

For those non-US readers, yesterday was Independence Day here in the US. As I'm sure you all know, it's when they celebrate kicking us (the British) out all those years ago. Kind of like how we celebrate the burning of Catholics on Guy Fawkes' Day. Lots of barbecues, fireworks and red white and blue.

I must confess though, that it's a little bit better than Bonfire Night because it happens in JULY and not in NOVEMBER. Shorts and t-shirts are the suggested party wear, as opposed to several jumpers and a hat.

Another common tradition is the 4th of July race. Our town has a 7.2 miler, and I'm pleased to say that despite a chronic lack of training, I managed to complete it in a semi-decent time. Yeah me ! Starting the day out that way assuages some of the guilt felt later when downing several burgers and quantities of beer. My daughter (4) completed her first kid's fun run today. She got a medal, a flag AND a ribbon. Way to go !

I sometimes wonder what the world would be like now if the UK was still the pre-eminent super power and not the US. Sometimes it boggles my mind that our Empire ever grew so big. How on earth did we do it ? For those interested in the last remnants of this straggly collection of colonies, check out Simon Winchester's book 'Outposts'. It details some of the last Crown Colonies that can still be called that in this day and age. Who knew ? Rule Britannia !

Living dangerously

Don't ever think too hard about who has been there before you. It does you no good.

I walked out of the shower, towelling off, and sat down to check my email in my birthday suit. As I sat in the hotel chair, the thought struck me - how many OTHER people have done the same thing ? For that matter, what manner of OTHER things have those people done in this room ?

Of course, in a world populated by playboy bunnies and swimsuit models, this thought could have some appeal. In the context of my hotel room, my mind flashed back to some of the less desirable patrons that I'd seen at check-in. I could envision the room fluorescing under Grissom's magic blue light,

I'm not generally someone who gives a lot of thought to things like this. I don't paper my toilet seat to avoid contracting some nasty disease. I go way longer than the 5 second rule permits, and *gasp* I don't wash my hand every time I touch a door knob. For some reason, the slight stickness of the fabric on the chair gave me pause for concern this time.

I stood up.

Quickly.

Ah, kids.

I love my kids. I do.

Being a Dad can be so conflicting sometimes. On the one hand, you want to savour every last little nanosecond of your childs fascinating development from birth to adulthood. On the other hand, you just want them to GROW UP.

I get a trifle put out when people tell me that 'Oh, just you wait - it doesn't get any easier when they get older'. You've got to be f@$#ing kidding me. Don't get me wrong - I understand that preteens and teenagers can be a bit testy, but compared to a 2 and 4 year old ?

I'm clinging to the belief that there will come a time (soon, please Lord) that my kids can communicate without screaming, stay out of each others stuff, sleep later than we do, perform all of their own toilet duties, eat without throwing the food or screaming, listen to reasoned argument and so many more.

Don't you ever wish that kids came with a 'pause' button ?