Peak oil obsession has spilled over into recreational activities. While some have been learning to fly / ride motorbikes, this summer's frosties activities have been biking and sailing. And, indeed, biking to sailing. Just as well.
It's been a mellow summer, including lots of hanging out in the 'hood. Denver was boosted in so many ways by the nth coming of Sean & Kelly, this time with a flangetta.
Preparation for the Big Event continues, albeit somewhat soporifically. Literally. Sleep is a key ingredient in the run-up to sleeplessness. In addition, new feathers are being added to the nest in a (probably) vain attempt to mitigate the chaos that is to come; patio for the hammock, flat screen over a fireplace, expanded baby room. Living in cheapo Denver has its bennies when it comes to procreation.
A by-product of the nesting thing is the desire to travel less, so this summer is shaping up to be a record low for carbon use. Just as well given that the drawbridge is rising for airline travel. All those fears from a few years ago seem to be coming true. Which is why the time has arrived for sailing lessons. Originally anticipated for wintering in the Virgin Islands, it may now be the transportation means for getting back to Europe.
Stag/Bachelor/Bucks parties have never been my cuppa, primarily because of an aversion to blowing cash on strippers. Lately this stag-aversion seems to be increasing with age. Nor am I alone in this -- most recently a best man remarked that he would like to organize more of a Hen/bachelorette style of party. They just seem more civilized affairs aimed at enjoying & luxuriating, rather than trying to drown oneself in an endless sea of booze. I have no problem with getting wasted, but it's the grim, forced fashion in which the stag party is geared up to that end. Stag events have been, like me, getting old.
To this end, I must thank JB for establishing a new, more enjoyable version of the event -- the stagcathlon. Two teams compete in a clutch of games ranging from the traditional (boat race, go-karting) to the amusing (tricycle race / space hopper race, as below) to the sublime (William Tell). This also has the side-effect of fostering cameraderie between all the stag's accomplices before the wedding. It also results in Clinton-Obama style needs for recounts and argument about who has won a particular event. What could be better?
So Kudos to Hez for organizing Bob's stag do bachelor party, in Oxford, under the same rules. My favourite line of the night was not from a mirror but from Hez exclaiming what remarkable cakes this pub had. Yum.
Pre-wedding a crack team of cream-tea consumers went down to Bath to suss out the nearly-Roman baths. The ceremony was in Hunters Inn, on the edge of Exmoor. Not too many places on earth are muchcosier. Quick snap of the Bobca walk.
Best Manage
Wednesday, 16 April 2008
Free Huey
Back in the day, I used to show anyone my thoughts on marriage the 4 weddings & a funeral video. Hell, I even bought the dang thing, it's sitting here now alongside Snowriders2 & the Empire Strikes Back. Apart from the wonderfully gratuitous opening swearing scene (amusingly cut short by Christian dogooders at BlockBuster) the moral of the tale seemed to be that weddings were bobbins. The protagonist narrowly avoids his own wedding, and then ends up happily ever after without so much as a civil ceremony, or so i surmised by the syrupy flash-forward ending. Or so I thought. Another interpretation could be that had the Huey character not had a wedding, there would be no jilting and he would still be with the duck woman. Ergo, weddings are still important.
Any road up, another year, another clutch of weddings. Kicking off with JB "I'll never marry" Hartley and the Sooz. Best manly duties were dispatched at the amusing jb bachelor party. Special thanks to Pete Batty for the loan of his downtown condo for the curry/karaoke, and to Davis for providing endless chuckles at the tricycle race. Final results were, sadly: Team UK 4, Team RestOfTheWorld 5. A decathlon is really 10 events so we should probably call it a draw...
The wedding itself was the time-honoured tradition of dragging scores of people thousands of miles away from home -- a destination wedding in deepest Meheeco / Tulum. The nuptials went down as smoothly as could be for that part of the world.
Life will scarcely change later this summer with the arrival of the first US-born Penn offspring -- yes, kt is up the duff. After humming and haahing for literally minutes about the matter, and without knowing the gender of the aforementioned nipper, I have arrived at a name which will suit either sex: Frosties Penn. Yes, perhaps some of the kids at school may ask why he/she is named after a UK cereal but what doesn't kill can only make stronger. Er...
Pregnant life has continued to be low-key island time. in search of whales & the like, getting personal with flash (the green surfboard) and blow-hole hunts.
Right, back to bed to enjoy the last months of sleep/calm.
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