About a month ago, we went to some friends who have children of similar age to our own. Annabel is in nursery with their youngest and Joseph used to be in the same nursery with their oldest; pretty straightforward stuff so far.
While we were there, they were all playing together before disappearing upstairs to cause mischief. After about 20 minutes of us randomly checking on them, Joseph came downstairs with a toy belonging to his friend; I now know this toy to be a Power Ranger Megazord Transformer.
Naturally, the moment we left their house, Joseph started reminding us how much he loved the toy and could he have one for Christmas? Or his next birthday? Or what about just getting it for him anyway?
The week before, M and I had agreed to buy him something (for what I can’t now remember) and so I set about tracking down this impressive looking figure.
FOUR – ZERO?
Thank heavens for Ebay eh? So I log on, locate what looks like the right one, bid, win, pay and wait.
I can tell by the size of the box that arrives 3 days later that something is not quite right!
I open it and my doubts were well founded; it was most definitely not right, being less than half the size of the required item.
Joseph sees it, his shoulders drop and his eyes fill up.
Hug, don’t worry, I’m on it!
Next day finds me at a massive toy warehouse and I buy the new version of the ranger for the full £40. Surprisingly, spending this amount on a figure doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would when I picture how much he really seemed to want it.
I collect him from school, drive him home and excitedly hand him the bag.
He opens said bag, undoes box, removes figure and, smiling all the time says, “oh look, his arms are different from (friends) one”.
My smile fades. Apparently it shouldn’t be holding a sword! I remove the sword but this is not enough.
I take toy back to store and return to Ebay with Joseph standing by my side to ensure an accurate choice this time around.
The one we settle on is second hand, several years old and (after a 5 day wait for the end of the auction) it still manages to cost me £37.
“Will I get it tomorrow Dad?”
“No. I have asked the man to send it as soon as he can so we have to wait”.
Tuesday; no show.
Thursday; see above.
Friday: a large box arrives in my office.
The bottom line? It’s the right one, he loves it and plays with nothing else for the entire weekend. Money well spent methinks.
In other news and as boring as it is, our garden fence absolutely had to be treated to a coat of something as there’s no way it would have lasted another winter (and I know how I can let a year slip by without achieving anything on the DIY front), so thanks to the beautiful weather on Saturday, out I went and did exactly that.
Good old Ronseal; it does exactly what it says on the tin.
It’s a bloody shame however, that the colour stated on the tin had no bearing whatsoever on its contents, with what I painted on being more of a sickly orange than medium oak! It did dry back to a dark terracotta though, giving the garden a wonderfully Moroccan edge.
The rain on Sunday kept us inside but thanks to a very long and drawn out game of snakes and ladders, four rounds of hangman and the original version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on TV (Gene Wilder was a very funny man, even in 1971), we were cosy rather than trapped.
Oh yes, forgot to mention the burgundy meatballs I made on Saturday night. Very tasty, incredibly rich, and the children enjoyed theirs on Sunday. I also made them spaghetti to have and afterwards I ditched the pasta saucepan in the sink to be left for the next morning.
Now I know some people would ring their local news office claiming to have seen some religious face or religious scripture in the bottom of our saucepan, and I hate to be the one to break it to you but alas, it’s just the mark of the spaghetti.