Almost Home Alone - 6 days to go

In six days time my beloved departs these beautiful, sunny shores to head to Ol' Blightey. Covering thousands of miles in an aeroplane to visit loved ones, pubs and shopping malls in a drastic bid to boost the UK economy.

This will be a test of the highest endurance, not only for her and our credit card but for me also.

Gulp.

What those Japanese boys go through on Clive James is nothing compared to what I have in store.
I am to be left to "look after the kids", all three of them. Oh, and the cat. But he doesn't count, not only because he's got no testicles but because he belongs to Katy.

My main responsibilities appear to be keeping the kids fully entertained whilst attempting to work at the same time, not burning the house down, making sure no-one dies (not sure if the cat is included in this claws, I mean clause. I certainly hope not as I don't rate his life expectancy too highly, especially if I catch him eating my sandwiches again), figure out how to use the washer and drier, do the ironing, painting, "sort the plumbers", make all the dinners, clear the vegetable patch and plant a new one.

To add to it all, I've got a hospital appointment. Guess what about? Oh, yes the big V. The big Vasectomeno. My three chums and furry friend will no doubt be accompanying me. They should just look at it as spending quality time with daddy...and the surgeon.

"So why are you having your nuts snipped, dad?", I can imagine William asking brightly.

I will ignore him, and looking to the surgeon, say in a most witty manner, and with a very deep voice, "I think that's self-explanatory."

They will also be coming with me to an open night at Law School in rush hour central Sydney as I enrol in a course for next year. This will no doubt be an inspiration for their future education. See, all good daddy initiatives.


Anyway, there's six days to go, so I'm not too worried at this stage, although other people seem to be concerned.

Take Tom's day care helper at his nursery, who can hardly speak a word of English - no doubt she thinks the same of me.

"Ah so, ah Tom ah say that the Jenny go to the England."

"Aye, she is. That'll be nice for her. Have a break, you know?"

"Eh scoozing me for the asking but who ah looking after the kids?"

"Me."

"Oh. That leally tellible. Tom will be velly wollied. I no think it good idea."

"Eh. What do you mean? I'm the daddy."

"Yes. That what we all wollied about."

"What do you mean, we?"

I look around at the other listening helpers, all of whom nod their heads in agreement.

I brushed these negative thoughts and people aside, grabbed wee Tom and rushed him home.

"Don't you worry about the silly ladies, son. Daddy will do a good job."

"Will you do football with me?"

"Yes. Of course I will. See, Mummy is rubbish at football."

"She kicks it much harder than you."

Hmmm.

Then there was the boss this morning.

"G'day Ally, is Jenny back yet?"

"Back? She's not left yet!"

He turned milky white and stretched to smooth his hair. Remembering he was baldier than Telly Savalas, he diverted his hand midway, shuffled his nose about and rearranged his trousers instead.

"Who's helping with the kids?"

"Just me."

"You?!!!"

"Err, Yes. I've looked after them on my own loads of times in the UK - only for a couple of days at a time but it's the same principle. Might bring them into the office some day - you can see them all."

With that, he shuffled slowly but steadily backwards, looking hard at my eyes, much like a hunter when a lion is about to decapitate him, grinning, saying "that'd be terrific." Then safely making it through the door, turned swiftly to his right and scampered off to safety.

As I say, I'm not worried. I'm more than capable.

Anyway, there's a whole 6 days to go and that's loads of time.

It is, isn't it?