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Really trying to appreciate the things in life that we’re going to lose (ah but think of all that we are about to gain: dirty nappies, sleepless nights, constant worry and fear). We had a rare Sunday lie-in today and I suspect this will be the last one we might have. I always seem to wake up early these days, and I did today, but somehow got back to sleep and didn’t make breakfast until about 11am. I brought it up to bed safely. If tipping a tray of porridge and liquid over yourself teaches you anything it is to take care on the stairs. Pour porridge over my own head once, fool on me, pour porridge over my own head twice, double fool me.
Catie has been a phenomenon all the way through the pregnancy, but especially impressive in this latter part, working hard on her writing to get all her projects finished. If the baby had any sense of timing it would have arrived this afternoon just as Catie sent off her final remarks about her fourth book. But we’re still waiting.
Today we both took it easy, although thanks to my new exercise bike and BBC iPlayer I was able to do a Pointless workout on a Sunday without leaving my house. I love the future. I also was on call to make cups of tea and make dinner. I must confess I am rather enjoying being a house husband. I am getting very little proper work done and although I have a couple of ideas gently percolating haven’t done much more than my blogs, podcasts and Metro columns in recent months. But making breakfast and dinner feels like much more of an achievement (on the rare occasions I can get it up the stairs). I am never going to be the best or most successful comedian in the world. But I reckon I could be the best ever dad. Mainly because most of the other dads are rubbish. And it looks really easy. Admittedly it’s mainly easy because the baby is inside my wife at the moment, but let’s not split hairs. If any of this seemed real then maybe I’d be a bit more concerned. But my wife has been pregnant forever and I see no reason that that should stop.
I am laughing at that idiot 30-something Richard Herring who worked so hard for nobody and in the process managed to set me up with most of a house and a slightly precarious financial security. I can just sit back and enjoy my family and cats, while he sits in his attic, crying and alone. What a prick! It’s like stealing candy from a baby. I don’t know if I will ever go back to working as hard as even the 2014 Richard Herring did, though I admire him at least because of his reckless attitude to money. He worked hard and paid handsomely for the privilege and didn’t even achieve critical success. That’s the kind of anti-capitalist attitude that I will only be able to admire once I have a human to care for.
Perhaps we didn’t make the most of our possible last Sunday alone. We watched Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines this evening, which amazingly I had never seen before. As you can imagine it didn’t totally delight me, either in time travel logic terms or action to dialogue ratio. Really fellas, it’s not the car chases and the smashing stuff that is interesting about this story. Where’s the joy in seeing two pretty much indestructible Terminators pummelling each other, when we already know it’s going to take something pretty special to stop them. Oh look she went through a wall. I wonder if she’s dead. Oh no, because she survived that explosion and also we’re only 15 minutes into the film so I expect she’ll be all right.
It’s a female Terminator in this one, which is not all that much of a twist. Apart from her making her boobs bigger in order to momentarily bamboozle a police officer (who she presumably just punches in anyway - did they not know that boobs were sexy in the future?), it doesn’t really make much odds that the killing machine is female (though I wonder if there were lots of idiot men at the time complaining that the Terminator has to be male and getting in a tizzy or were they too busy wanking off?). The Terminator successfully changes the future by killing at least three of John Connor’s future lieutenants and thus surely making enough huge alterations to the time-line, but no one mentions that. Or indeed bothers to explain what’s going on for ages, preferring to just see what happens if loads of vehicles smash into each other. Someone needs to remake this franchise for intellectuals. Or the kind of intellectuals who find most intellectual stuff too taxing and want to watch time travelling cyborgs. I guess we’ll have to watch the fourth installment too now. But the good news is I have bought Terminator 3 (as it wasn’t on Netflix or Amazon and I don’t approve of stealing - apart from non-brand pick and mix) so I can watch it any time I like. I have a feeling I won’t watch it again.
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