Woe is me.

June 09, 2014

Woe is me.

It finally happened. A month was missed. May 2014 will live long in the memory as the month that passed without Nancy’s blog being updated. It was going to happen at some point and at least now the crushing weight of global expectations of fresh content on a monthly basis has been destroyed. This blog has, in certain respects, turned into a paternal Vietnam; entered into with only good intentions but impossible to exit (and no chance of an Oliver Stone trilogy being made about it). It will at some point be put out to pasture but when and how. What would Kissinger do? Will Nancy take on her own blog? Did UKIP really win the European elections? These are all questions for another day but they sit at the back of your narrator’s mind, constantly nibbling away at his psyche. Particularly that last one, it made me question returning to these shores from the relative sanctuary of Croatia.

I was tempted to spank off a last minute entry Saturday evening but after last month’s particularly error strewn entry, I was persuaded to hold back and commit to producing a heart breaking work of staggering Beano-ness. So here goes.

Actually, to fully appreciate the next anecdote I’ll need to put in some cultural groundwork as it is apparent that most of my peers are oblivious to the charms of this particular song as they have the cultural sophistication of Nigel Farage. This is Snooker Loopy. It’s a classic from those authentic cockney poets Chas and Dave and features some of the UK’s finest sporting talents. Now imagine if someone you knew could sing this song. Now imagine if this person was Nancy. Exactly. No need to thank me. Next on my list of songs to teach beast is Gangsta’s Paradise, followed by Bat Out of Hell (both links are worth following, trust me).

As I alluded to above, Nancy has been on holiday to Croatia. And what a ball she had particularly thanks to her Deluxe Animal Ring, which helped her conquer her fear of water and aided her paddling in the Adriatic no end, and her consumption of ice cream in industrial quantities. In fact her ice cream consumption will probably be responsible for a small but noticeable spike in Croatian GDP. The only downside was her weeing herself as we emerged at Stansted to pass through the UK border, which I’ve taken to thinking of as political act signifying her disgust with the UK electorate. On the plus side Maddy was holding her at the time so I was able to laugh more fully than other members of the travelling party. Since we have returned, poor Beasto has been suffering with frightful jet lag, that one hour time difference has bamboozled her body clock so in the past few days she has woken up at ungodly hours and in one insistence started to get dressed for the day whilst shouting at her father about the exact nature of her nappy. Joy unbound.

I’ve included some delightful holiday pictures below to show how utterly ensorcelling Nancy continues to be. This morning she was explaining to Dr. Fairfax and me about the crossword on the table and the building blocks but having registered the blank looks on both our faces she just gave up. What plebs she must think we are not to understand crosswords and building blocks. I can only apologise dearest Nance, you are standing on the shoulders of pygmies.