The title here is supposed to reflect my Monday, Today. Monday mornings are, as well as being a notoriously bad start to the week, the day I look after TheO, exclusively! This is a day when 'mummy' is unavailable, I have to fend for myself and pretend I'm in charge. This occurs every Monday from 9am till 2pm. Here's a run down.

9am The household awakes. It's another glorious day. I can't however go outside into the sun as I have major sunburn from a boat-trip where, as usual, I refused to wear a shirt or sun tan lotion. I now don't run, I scuttle! First thing to get done is a scuttle to the Bank. 10 minute job, I grab TheO and little else.

10am Arrive bank to encounter long queue. Wait with TheO straining. I sniff and and the straining becomes clear. I have no nappy, no wet one no change of clothes and no chance! I ask and am directed to the loo where the men's is engaged, the ladies vacant. I do the necessary and in the process, a bank porcelain fixture disintegrates with my elbow, Theo bawls and I look nervous. I remain calm and escape.

11am I get home to change the little lad. The transition in-between nappies during the change is a crucial and dangerous period. Another game of Russian Roulette. Today, however, the chamber is full and I take the full blast. Luckily I was always good at catch. ahem!

12 noon London Zoo, ok perhaps not that bad, but it's at this time that TheO can be at his most, er, inventive! Today is Carrot and one of his favourite. As the car goes into the garage, Theo grabs his spoon, which for some reason has the elasticity and power of a Roman Trebuchet, thus re-decorating the white walls with slight swathes of orange. Nice

1 pm Why didn't I try this earlier. A gift from a wonderful Aunt of Theo's has really turned out trumps. Working on the same principle as the Trebuchet spoon, TheO can be engaged for many hours in his bouncer. Normally I put on some music for him to Jump to like House of Pain, Kriss Kross. Whatever. My shift is over, and I'm done for THIS Monday. Bob Geldof, eat your heart out!



Content for while, Kriss Kross will make ya...

The seven month stage is quickly crawling up on us, a trick that TheO has started to develop too. Not only has he mastered the acts of 'pushing up', 'rolling over' and 'sitting up' but has now taken to moving himself around the flat, unaided and to our surprise. I am just waiting to open a high cupboard and suffer a cardiac arrest as the little lad pops his head out, grinning. The good lady has instructed me to run along to the stationary shop and purchase 300 meters of bubble wrap and a pair of scissors with rounded ends that are, infact, impossible to cut anything with.

My normal rant concerning Maltese culture took a swing this week. Outside a Chinese Restaurant was a large blackboard sign saying “Open for Lunch” It was 1.pm, on a Thursday, lunchtime in my world, yet there was a sign on the door saying closed. The place was deserted. Confucius says 'Fine words and an insinuating appearance are seldom associated with true virtue' How true.



A not very busy lunchtime restaurant

Last Sunday I took some pictures of the rapidly changing 'baby' to prove that I did infact, once have one. With my rich photographic past, I again pulled out the sheepskin rug and played 'Russian Roulette' with the nappy. It could have got very messy. The boy performed and the rug is now with the dry cleaners, ahem!



TheO at just a snip off seven months, but with rounded scissors...

It may just be me, but I think that this heat makes Maltese market traders go deaf. I took the good lady and the boy to the world famous Marsaxlokk Fish Market, where I eyed a mean green metal Bar-B-Q. Great, I thought anticipating a summer full of beach Bar-B-Q's loud music and ice cold beer's. 'Does it come in a box?' I stupidly ask, 'wha' was the immediate reply from the bloke with a roll up and a face like rollmop, 'Does it come in a box?' I said again... anyway, it went a bit like this:

Me; 'Does it come in a box?'
Market Trader: 'wha?',
Me; 'The Bar-B-Q, does it come in a box?'
Market Trader: 'wha?',
Me; 'Does it come in a box?'
Market Trader: 'wha?',
Me; 'The Bar-B-Q, does it come in a box?'
Other Market Trader: 'wha?',
Me; 'this thing, does it come in a box?'
Market Trader: 'wha?',
Me; 'Does it come in a box?'
Other Market Trader: 'wha?',
Me; 'DOES IT COME IN A BOX?'
Other Market Trader: 'wha?',
Me; 'Does the friggin Bar-B-Q come in a box?'
Market Trader: 'wha?',
Me; 'AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGG'
Other Market Trader: 'wha?',

(Continue for two hours...)

I am still using disposable Bar-B-Q's from the petrol station.

This month saw yet another birthday pass, mine. The wife decided to take TheO & I to the Malta 'Splash n Fun Park' to enjoy the fine weather. We spent several hours looking for parking and then just over a tenner to get in for a mad scramble to find an umbrella and sun-beds. What fun. I really needed that splash now. The afternoon laugh kicked off when a plastic bag containing TheO's dinner went missing. It contained his bottle, bib, spoon and liquidized carrot. I complained to the management and it was left to Mister Clean, the cleaning contractors to find. Mister Clean spent many hours in the heat searching the large rubbish skip for an over zealous workers error, until, in my bag, I spotted... best walk away from these difficult situations eh!



TheO looking for his dinner, nothing to chew on here...

TheO has a cold. It's the middle of summer and he develops the typically British symptoms of a sore throat, sneezing, and a cough. The big plans for his 6 month photograph have been dashed on a sea of mucus with a strong south westerly spray. The root of his influenza lies with his mother, of course.

Despite this all this, the little chap remains in high spirits, perhaps it's the Benlyin! No matter, we have just started to venture out of the house again where we are set upon by purveyors of time share contracts. 'hello' they say, 'are you English?' No matter what you say, it will not dampen their persistence. I have taken to drinking large quantities of TheO's Benolin and sounding Greek, it seems to work, and I breathe so much easier.

TheO seems to be expanding in all directions. His weight is up, his height is up and he now he sits up (see below!) The good lady has taken to turning the flat into a nursery, I am now injuring myself on baby toys, a whole new world of 'maimings' await me!!



Not sneezing so much, but still sniffing.

TheO sits, but not in his car seat and not on the balcony... but at six months!!

'It seems to be getting hotter, even hotter than it was yesterday!' I am starting to say this to myself on a daily basis now. The air conditioning in the car has still to be fixed and i've lost my sense of humour. Franco, the AC man who is attempting to fix it, just shrugs his shoulders at me, I turn away as a full face 'ha' has now started to get me down.

Last weekend we had a 'family' holiday to Sicily where you can buy Heinz Ketchup without a problem. The good lady and I had been married 5 years on the 9th June and TheO shared the same same day with his 5th month birthday, strange coincidence! We did some driving around and TheO managed to visit all the major sights without any 'Etna' like explosions, except at the expected hours of course. We also experienced the rain here, it's torrential and unrelenting. It does not however create any caution when driving a car.



So safe and sound back in Malta where everyone is an England fan. The World Cup kicked off, and with each England game, there was a serious case of ' Carcading' This involves the intelligentsia of Malta driving worse than normal through busy small streets with horns on and the Union Jack blowing (I thought England was playing?) TheO just takes it all in his stride. During the Sweeden game, a Maltese/ England fan evacuated his air horn, unlike his daddy, TheO just smiled. How patient.



A patient TheO at 5 months, exploding only after mealtimes..



A local fan, in a Lorry, driving through busy streets with his horn blowing. Safe!