Homeward bound.

Oh the joy of international flights. Like picking dates from a bowl, you know it is only a matter of time before you get a bad one! No matter whom you choose to fly with and at what class, you know a stinker is only just around the corner.

I feel - with some justification - that I had got mine out of the way last year. I had the one where the last 30 minutes were spent covered in Silas’ pooh and who can forget the one where were we sat on the plane for 6 hours before taking off, with a tourettes suffering girl behind me telling anyone that would listen that all Indian’s stink, I was a fat bastard and the flight attendant, “needed to shut his mouth because everyone on the plane knows he is just a shit stabber”!

It was knowing I had got these recent horrors under my belt that I felt rather smug and pleased with myself as I headed to IGI for my latest flight back to 'Blighty'. This time it was going to be plain sailing. No baby crawling all over me, no pooh, no delays and no hastle. Just myself, Rafa and 2 Virgin Upper class seats, Nine and a half hours uninterrupted cartoons for Rafa and nine and half hours uninterrupted wine and cheese for me.

How wrong could I be?

The 4 week winter seems to have run its course in Delhi and as we headed to the airport it was shorts and sunglasses weather. Unfortunately the Delhi airport authorities opinion differed. Still believing the Indian myth that anything below 20 degrees is likely to cause hypothermia, they have the heating in the airport cranked up to 11! This, one assumes, is just to show off the fact they do actually have heating that works. When they get a chance to prove it, boy are they going to.

By the time I was through check in I was sweating spinal fluid. I looked like an extra in Ice Cold in Alice and felt a little faint. Rafa’s cheeks looked like 2 pieces of rare beef and all around me people were wilting. The fact that I was marched past the hoards of sweaty travelers to the front of the queue at emigration added to my scarlet complexion.

Safely through the proletariat, we made it to the sanctuary of the lounge. At last, a sit down in the a/c and a cold beer to re-hydrate. No such luck, the lounge was hotter than the seventh level of hell and completely packed while the beer was warm!

Due to fog and numerous cancelled flights Delhi airport was in meltdown. There were too many people, little organization and a huge amount of impatience. It was while queuing to get through security I finally blew!

I exploded! The recipients of my spleen venting were two Indian gentlemen who decided that unlike the rest of us, they were special and really didn’t have to queue. Cutting through the ropes to a position several in front of me, tipped me over the edge and turned me into Basil Fawlty.

Expletives tumbled forth in a spitting torrent of rage. ‘How dare you’, ‘who do you think you are’ and ‘you pair of ignorant rude tossers, get to the back of the queue’ were of the more printable. I was so angry I was actually shaking and more than happy to take him and his several mates on. Sensing my rage and seeing a 6’6” gorah foaming at the mouth and shaking with rage was enough to do the trick.

Tails between their legs and with a little goading from their friends who clearly didn’t want to be seen to be condoning such behaviour, they shuffled to the back of the queue. A small round of applause ensued from my fellow passengers and for a brief second I felt quite proud of myself. The peoples champion, the defender of all that is civilized and righteous, the……… father of a 4 year old who’s just completely lost the plot in front of him and now feels slightly embarrassed!

Having got my Basil out the way we headed for the plane and found that due to the lack of quality at security the Captain had ordered everyone to be searched again! Eventually we took off 2 hours late and my run of bad flights continued. When will it end? Not on the return leg that is for sure. That was spent wandering around the plane trying not to wake people up with a wide awake baby. Oh the joys of parenting!

It was all worth it in the end though. Catching up with the conde's was as much fun as ever and my super-mum now has less than a week till her treatment ends. It seems to have gone by so fast and it will be such a relief when it is finally over. My moaning about flights sometimes needs to be put into perspective I think!

Come back 'A' all is forgiven!

I have had a surreal look into what my life would be like without 'A' this weekend and have to say it was not pretty! Becoming a lad for the weekend always seems quite an exciting prospect but invariably ends in tears!

Late nights, alcoholic poisoning, fast food, golf and football should be Nirvana but the reality is usually a little different.'A' left on Thursday and when I picked Rafa up from school, all was well. We decided we were going to have a lads weekend and lots of fun but within an hour rattling around the house Rafa said "I miss my mummy". I had to agree!

There was a slight whiff of 'single parent' about the whole thing. I felt like 'A' had dropped Rafa round for a weekend of McDonald's and cartoons, while she was off for the weekend with her new beau and it really disturbed me.

I had the glory of a full on lads weekend to look forward to though, so I got all negative thoughts from my head and started getting ready for the perfect lads itinerary. Friday night - boys night out. Saturday - kids party with bar followed by football on the box and another party in the evening. Sunday - Golf followed by more drinking and football.

Does it get any better? Now excited and having stopped pretending 'A' had left me I headed out on Friday and had a top night. Arriving home very late I staggered to bed anticipating a really bad hangover. I wasn't disappointed, it was teenager in its proportions but I had parties, football and drink to get through so decided to man up and bring it on.

Saturday passed with similar consequences. A full on boozy day culminating in me very nearly spewing in the back of the car of new friends who very kindly offered me a lift home! It was Sunday am at 7.30 when Rafa woke up that the full horror of my single life hit home. With head pounding and nausea welling I had an "It's a wonderful life" style moment were the spectre of some bloated alcoholic spirit, showed me the error of my ways. With golf, more booze and football still to come I doubted whether I could do it.

I am crap at being a single lad again. Long gone are the days of wonderful lost weekends spent gambling, drinking, clubbing and pulling with no consequences and no hangovers. Now the hangovers hurt but they seem even worse without 'A' around. Maybe it is just that we have had so many together over the years I got used to having her here when I was rough, more likely, I am just getting old!

I headed for golf with my tail between my legs and a belly full of Ronald McDonald's hangover elixir and managed to work it all off in the sunshine. It was a tonic, and I even managed to brave a few beers but I knew I was going back to an empty house which caused that empty feeling in the pit of the stomach to return.

From now on I think I am going to limit my laddish activities to 24 hours. Being married with kids is a good thing, it keeps you honest and on the straight and narrow. A weekend partying is just too long these days and 3 day hangovers are no fun. If you are reading this 'A' and not shacked up with a new pair of tights already, Please don't ever leave me. The only good to come of it would be McDonald's, Kingfisher and Gordon's share prices soaring.In the mean time I would give myself 6 months!

I am now de-toxing all week and jumping on the wagon, no doubt just till my return to blighty. Once there, temptation of good red wine and being reunited with my drinking partner, means I can forget everything I have just written and revel in the glory of a stinking hangover, knowing 'A' will feel the same.

See you Saturday 'A' I have missed you loads!

Cohandi!

Many thanks to my old mate Steve Downing for his contribution to the beard debate. This is his Ghandi/Conde contribution. Please check out his web-site at www.mendhamcreative.com There aint nothing that boy can't do with a Mac and a load of spare time!!

To beard, or not to beard, that is the question?

In these dark troubled times, I thought it was time to stop the dumbing down and start making the Indianhousehusband more highbrow. Away with the banalities of nappy changing and school runs, be gone tales of Delhi madness and drunken wives. It is time to start addressing some of the big issues currently circulating the world.

Global warming, melting polar caps, world financial meltdown, natural disasters and Sir John Chilcotts official inquiry into the Iraq invasion.I thought long and hard about discussing potential safety risks at the world cup in light of the recent horror in Angola, the assassination attempt of Captain Moussa Dadis Camara, leader of Guinea's military junta and the argument for cancelling third world debt.

All subjects that are indeed worthy of intelligent, lively debate yet paling into insignificance when the real big talking point is should I or shouldn't I have a beard?

Please feel free to vent your spleen, proffer your opinion or remain completely apathetic to the subject but please never let it be said that I am trivial!

Gis-a-job, a-can-do-dat.

The Indianhousehusband is looking like he could be out of a job! As of 2010, I am under notice that my position is going to be made redundant and I am seeking gameful employment as of today.

It is about time. I am afraid my 'maternity leave' has run its course and I am ready to start taxing my brain again in ways other than school runs and nappy changes. I am sharpening my cv and dusting down the suit ready to do battle with the other one hundred million in India looking for work!

With Rafa in school and Silas starting nursery I feel now is a good time to get back in the market and work out what I am going to do for the rest of my life. I have the full backing of 'A' who bought me a lovely alarm clock for Xmas. When I asked why I need an alarm clock she replied "Because you are getting a job in the new year", always the last to know in this house!

2009 was such a peculiar year for me. I had the ying: excitement and joy of moving to Delhi and spending some time with my beautiful boys. Mixed with the yang: The terrible news of my mums cancer. Fortunately, mum is on the mend and ready to come out and visit us and we can forget all about the bad times of 09 and get ready for a great 2010.

Christmas was terrific,despite missing family and friends we had a great day. Christmas eve was spent on a crazy dash around Delhi's various markets looking for sprouts! We eventually found them which gave us good reason to get the hoarded imported wine open and start the celebrations. After finally opening the last presents at about 7pm we got the kids to bed before collapsing ourselves not long after in a state of exhaustion.

On the 29th we flew down to Kovalam for some much needed r&r. We met up with friends of ours Sophia (or on-fire as she was christened by Rafa) and Peter. A better pair we couldn't have spent time with. While Peter and I got on with some serious Kingfisher annihilation the girls theorised about every single couple we saw and discussed what they would be buying in M&S food hall if they were at home! Once they had got their head's around the fact they couldn't get pain-au-chocolat and skinny latte's every morning things progressed quite nicely.

What is it with women? Why do they have to have a theory on people they have never met?

While sipping the first cold Kingfisher of the day my peace was constantly interrupted with "Definitely second marriage" or "I can't work those lot out at all" or "Must be a Thai bride job surely". I pointed out to 'A' that there was a good chance people were looking at us and saying "Can't work out what that skinny bird is doing with the hairy beer bellied bloke" but she shrugged it off with a lowering of the chin, a raising of the eyebrows and a vigorous shake of the head,(think Brucie having an asthma attack)! I carried on sipping my beer and reading my book only to be told 5 minutes later I am not as much fun as Sophia.

Apparently, when 'A' pulls the 'Brucie' face it means: don't look now but behind us is something you need to look at. Amanda knows not to actually say the words "Don't look now but...." because I just look immediately, thus spoiling her fun (I seem to remember an incident in Vietnam involving Swedish blonde twenty something girls kissing behind me, come on, who wouldn't look?). It spoils her fun because it is much better if I don't look. Miss it and she can spend the next 2 hours telling me she can't believe I missed it!

Only women understand the subtle eye and head movements used in bars and restaurants to point out something to be looked at surreptitiously, so when Sophia wasn't there I was useless,how was I supposed to join in? I have testicles!

I am useless at gossip, I have no ability to guess a woman's age by the bikini she wears or tell if someone is a single parent by what their child is wearing!More to the point I have no interest. I asked 'A' if I was really so boring to talk to that it was more fun guessing where random strangers come from and if they were on honeymoon and she replied without a seconds hesitation: Yes!

Am I alone here, or do other men find they spend large chunks of their holiday repeating themselves continually because their wife is actually straining every fibre of her body to hear what the German couple behind are talking about? It didn't help that she had an ear full of water and was completely mutton for 5 days and insisted on sitting with her good ear to the tables around us rather than towards me.

Despite all this it was a terrific way to spend new year, Rafa learnt how to surf, 'A' got a tan (thank the lord) and Silas ate his own body weight in sand. I just basked in the glow of my terrific family for a week and realised just how lucky we are. My mission now before next holiday is to learn the subtle art of female speculation on others and perfect my 'Brucie', obviously in-between trying to get a job.

Help!

Like cricket but different.

While London was snowed in the week before Christmas, I was invited to play a game of cricket. A week before Christmas and playing cricket? It couldn't have felt more wrong yet Toby and Jamie the co-organisers managed to rally up "eighteen once a decade'rs and 4 virtual professionals" for a game of 20/20 in aid of Save the Children and Child In Need Institute(CINI) at the British school in Delhi.

Being the altruistic fella that I am, I accepted with gusto and immediately began to talk up my ability. It was after being dispatched to Sarogini Nagar market several times to pick up cricket whites, I realised my inclusion had more to do with having time on my hands than genuine cricketing ability!

With temperatures in the high 20's and the feel of a summers day adding to the strangeness of it all, we gathered and in true tradition of the playground Toby and Jamie were elected as team captains and had one pick each until the unfortunate last man standing. His name will be protected to hide his shame but he was close to manning the bouncy castle for the day!

The CINI team (Jamie's) won the toss and elected to bat first a decision that looked to have backfired as they were quickly reduced to 18-4. With talk in the field being of "early lunch and a few beers" and "possibly letting them bat twice,maybe 3 times" confidence was high. Unfortunately the confidence was Misplaced!

A partnership between Glen and Nigel was beautifully crafted to take the score to 84-4 before compulsory retirement (at 30) was enforced. With Fergus dispatched back to the pavilion (bouncy castle) considerably quicker than the ball that got him out, confidence was once again high in the Save the Children camp. Then came Jamie.

Now Jamie had claimed to be "reasonably handy with the bat", but a long time ago. As it turned out, he was more than "a bit handy". Having taken out the windows of a neighbouring hospital not to mention the windows of several cars innocently driving along the adjacent road with mighty sixes, he was forced to retire on thirty for health and safety reasons. He was allowed back in after the fall of the last three wickets (Trevor and James respectively making double figures) to add a further 11 and help his team to a tally of 175.

The only incredible thing from a bowling point of view -apart from Tom Le Quesne taking 3 wickets in one over to polish off the tail- was that we nearly outscored Jamie in extras! With Toby considering replacing me for the bouncy castle mid way through my second over things were at a real low and it was eventually only the umpires generosity that kept the score below 200!

The less said about the batting from Toby's Save the Children team the better. All out for a paltry 86, the second law of the playground was invoked and we all batted again to get through the twenty overs, reaching a rather pathetic 146. Credit through gritted teeth to Jon who bowled a spell of devastating three-bounce-daisy cutters to remove our top order - including me for the days only duck - and a spell of 3-0-1-11 from Richard 'me a swan's wily leg spin.

Worth a mention was a quite brilliant reverse sweep for 4 from Toby (who also ended with a credible 32 from 2 innings and produced a cat like performance behind the stumps),a dashing 14 from Adam Leetham and knocks of nineteen from Gary and sixteen from Jono creeping into the realms of respectable. Run outs were too many to mention as we collectively realised getting between the wicket wasn't as easy as it was at school and that though great fun, bi-monthly would appear to be plenty!

Revenge will be sweet if the re-match happens in February, most of us may well have recovered by then.