Getting Wood!

Trips to the wood yard are always exciting. Firstly we get to make 'Getting wood' gags. I shall never tire of that one; that and the 'pass the ashtray' gag. I have a theory that even the worst joke in the world can become hilariously funny if you tell it often enough. I believe this is excellent training for the next phase of my life as 'Embarrassing Middle-Aged Dad' ; I can hardly wait until Esme is old enough to bring home friends so that I may impress them with my wit and general hip-ness. By then my currently rather tenuous grasp of modern popular culture should match my Grandmother's ability to fly fighter planes and tap-dance. As a child I believed embarrassing parents were the result of cultural ignorance and general 'unhip-ness'. It is only now that I realise that a good percentage of it is the product of a sense of humour hideously warped by countless sleepless nights, over-full nappies and a desire for (largely) harmless revenge.

But I digress. Getting wood. From a wood yard. The stuff of real men. Like lighting barbecues, sharpening knives and mixing cement, and like those things you do it with your head held high and with a John Wayne swagger.

Now I have a dining room full of wood and feel oh-so-pleased with myself!

Hoorah for the simple things in life!

Next weekend I get to indulge myself in the testosterone fuelled 'World Of Powertools'® as I try to carve a brand new bed out of the trimmed down remains of seven trees and a large shrub. Truly then I shall be 'King Of Mens'* and 'Provider To The Family'.

Hmmmm.... Wood......

*A full explanation of this fiercely contested title will come later...