1 DAY , 2 FLIGHTS , 5 SHIT EXCUSES

07.55: Shit Excuse No. 1

The pilot’s taking on that smug 'aren’t I a star' tone of voice because he’s flown us to Stansted airport ten minutes quicker than he had to. You hear it first somewhere over Norfolk when he says "Cabin Crew prepare the cabin for arrival," with a slight lilt and rising intonation that actually says 'this really is a piece of piss you know.' By the time he orders the crew to "disarm doors for arrival” the smugness has blossomed into a full blown 'God, I’m good at this. Sometimes I surprise even myself.' 

But his next announcement is a little less triumphal. It transpires that, although he’s really rather fine, some of the people with whom he is forced to associate have failed to live up to his standards. Big time. The ground crew have been taken totally by surprise by his over performance, and are still trying to find a set of steps to get us off. So, through no fault of his own, we’re stuck, and the extra time generated by his flying prowess gradually wastes away as we stand in a line waiting with our coats on. All of which prompts a number of questions:

#KILLFATHERSDAY

I'm watching my children perform a touching and entirely spontaneous act of love and admiration for their mother, presenting her with an assortment of thoughtful gifts and cards. Only they didn’t buy them, I did. And I’m watching them through the sites of a sniper rifle trained at their pretty little heads, which was the only way I could persuade them to take five minutes out of their terribly busy schedules to do something for someone else for a change.

My wife expertly feigns both surprise and delight, pretending not to notice the little red dot that darts back and forth between their foreheads.  She comments on the fine workmanship of the hastily thrown together card they made him make in art class - probably at gunpoint too. Afterwards the cards, flowers and chocolates are arranged in a fetching display on the mantlepiece, where they remain as a tribute to the fact that we have once again negotiated our way through the emotional minefield that is Mother’s Day.

CAR TROUBLE

I’m having car troubles. Not the mechanical variety - I wish!  No, it’s much more complicated than that. More of a relationship thing. I’ll try and explain.

It’s a nice car, blue and quite attractive. You could call it a head turner - the women-folk definitely go for it. And I loved it too to begin with. It was like no other car I’d ever had. Great personality, great fun. And reliable too - or so I thought. But I guess the signs were there at the very beginning. I just chose to ignore them.