Da Krens

My first blog of 2013 a few weeks ago became nearly my last. It sounds dramatic but I really haven't had the time and honestly, I'm losing the motivation. Much like a pigeon whose given up pooping on heads and MS Dhoni on test matches. Since I joined the gym and try to make it there on most days after Heidi's back, I just don't have the energy to write any sense. Not that I was writing much sense before but you get my drift.

The other reason for my lack of eagerness to pen down my feelings are my old university buddies who I caught up with last weekend in London. There are 2 kind of good mates. Those who motivate you. And those who take the mickey. 'The Kreny Crew', as we oddly called ourselves, are the latter. The origination of the name is lost in the filthy student pubs of Manchester and more specifically the walls of those pubs where we stood lined up ready to chat up any female who mistakenly walked past. And more specifically get verbally slapped by them. Those of us who were brave enough to attempt were brutally ripped apart by clinically delivered cusses. So I was prepared to be subjected to some ridicule when we met for the most English of meals...a curry. Luckily it took some time for me to readjust to their individually unique/strange accents of Wolverhampton, East London and Burnley so if there were some jokes at my expense initially, they went over my head. We had a great laugh reminiscing about those good old days and the highlight was when one of the fellas turned up in the same pale blue turtleneck he was so proud of a decade ago. Going by the record number of rejections we had collectively accumulated back then, I would never have imagined that we would somehow persuade a few fine specimens to marry us let alone bear our children. We counted 11 offsprings between us and I'm fairly confident we were correct. Not taking any names but our palest crew member was also the most....persistent. He was on such a roll once that he used the same chat up line on the same girl....in the same night. We have even been guilty of pissing off the ladies...at the library. One other thing I remember from that get together. The auntyji sitting next to us had brought her own McDonald's take away. The curry house was in Slough. Need I say more.

I can't understand why there are so many Barney haters in the world. Of all the things you can hate these days, why this poor purple creature? Guns, racism, pollution, loud motor cycles, loud children on trains, Ian Bell, Que cutters, Ian Bell....all understandable. But not Barney! People are so dedicated to the cause that there are entire websites bad mouthing B. While I won't be lining up to burn effigies of him, I do find him disturbingly alluring. There, I've said.

Tino went to a play gym today. Tino is now traumatized. This particular one didn't allow parents to stay there so I had to leave him there. He was happy enough when I left. And the friendly French speaking lady spoke some English. What she lacked was some common sense. I got a frantic call from another woman who didn't speak English half an hour later. Since my phone never rings these days, I mean never, I rushed up to the play gym to find Tino terrified and bawling. Turns out she had popped out to run some errands and didn't bother telling Tino she was going to be away. Her replacement aunty didn't speak English and poor Tino was clueless and very very scared.

Tino & Miro are playing together a lot these days. It's an eye watering sight. But it always ends in massive fight. That too, is an eye watering sight. If I see them quietly playing together, I soak it all in and ready myself for the big outburst. I have almost nailed the countdown to the screaming. It stands at 5 minute 35 seconds. It's amazing how accurate Miro is in irritating his big brother.

Below a picture of the crew in Finland some 10 years ago at our wedding. And a few from last weekend. Haven't really aged, have we?


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