Kirk Douglas, Eat Your Heart Out!

One of the features of the last week off work has been my son's imagination. For days on end now we have had to play "Lazy Town". I will not bore you with what Lazy Town is - just follow the link if you are interested, but my son always has to be the hero - Sportacus. If I deign to call him anything else, he shouts "no, I'm Sportacus", which inevitably leads my wife or myself to retort "No, I'm Sportacus, and so's my wife/husband". This rather confused cinematic family in-joke has become one of those amusing but tiresome anecdotes that one will save up to embarrass one's children in future years (especially in front of prospective girlfriends).

So, here we are in 2007, back at work (with the epic daily commute), and spending every second or third evening up in the very confined space that we laughingly call our loft trying to arrange plastic sheeting and ice cream tubs to catch the leaks in (what several roofers have now informed is called) our central gully gutter. And my lunchtimes at work chasing up said roofers to come and give us a quote to fix the leaks. Ah, the joys of home ownership.

In between whiles I am running around after my son who still insists on being addressed as the hero of the earlier mentioned Icelandic pre-school TV phenomenon, and who insists that I am "Robby Rotten" - the arch nemesis of Sportacus (funny how in our version, Robby Rotten is the one who cuddles Sportacus downstairs after a bath, reads the bed time story and gets the night time cup of milk - rather than trying to turn Sportacus into a gibbering slob as happens in the TV version!).

Ah, the joys of family life - leaky roofs and Sportacus! Welcome 2007.