Welcome to my very first blog. Well, hopefully you can read this. With most things concerning the wibbly wobbly web, I’m never sure whether the effort I’m putting in to write this rubbish will ever see the light of day.How did I come to write a blog? Easy. Alpha females.
Several years ago (more than I care to mention), I met a beautiful woman who eventually became my wife. She is known as Lady Barton St Mary, a woman who knows her own mind and unfortunately, my mind too. She has deftly steered me through the ocean of life with gentle commands and knowing looks.
Finally, after many years of freedom and enjoyment, Lady Barton St Mary started to make a ticking noise. Weeks passed before I realised it wasn’t actually a sonically produced phenomenon, but an amazingly strong mental message being beamed into my brain by Lady BSM herself. It was time for children.
So, without having to make too much effort, she managed to convince me that being a fun-loving, free-living individual was not the future but instead was offering me the opportunity to be a responsible, loving father.
I won’t go into details, either you know how children are made or you don’t. Plus the fact my children will probably read this and I don’t want them retching all over the house.
Miss Katherine arrived and having helped to produce a child, I thought, “Job done.” Lady BSM was happy with this arrangement, but 3 years later I started to get those ticking noises in my head again. Cue Master Johnny.
Now as our children grow up, I find that my life is managed by 2 alpha females, since Katherine has managed to turn into her mother.
“You should write a blog,” she said. Whilst I considered the prospect,I could hear her tapping away on the laptop. “Here you go,” she said, “I’ve set up a blog page for you, I think you should start with a quote by Johnny.”
Can’t argue with that, really. No, honestly, you can’t. It’s futile.
I thought I should ask Master Johnny what his opinion was. Now, Master Johnny is a rapidly growing boy man, who can either be found slumped in front of the TV/X-Box or staring into the fridge or larder with a concentration never seen when doing his homework.
“What do you think about me writing a blog, Johnny? Would it be ‘hench?'”
“Dad, you don’t know what ‘hench’ means,” he laughed, “but maybe you should have a go. It’ll keep you out of trouble, man,” he said, though his voice was rather muffled, due to his head being buried in the biscuit barrel.
We have experienced many adventures over the years, finding our niche here in Randall Towers, situated on a hill on the outskirts of the village, which is a beautiful little place. We do our best to mix with the villagers, but they seem rather resentful of our lofty position, even though I do my best to be part of the community and offer work opportunities. How many other 8-year-old kids can be offered the chance to clean a real Victorian chimney for a full £2 payment in this day and age? It’s a great way to study history.
Anyway, suffice to say most of my blogs will probably be concerned with the trials and tribulations of life in general, involving particular village characters and the staff who live below stairs here at Randall Towers. Any questions, please feel free to send them in. If I like them, I may even reply. Those that don’t make the grade will have the ‘virtual’ hounds set on them.