Month: June 2020

As of tomorrow I am starting on a pretty much open ended vacation, there are a few “issues” with the visa processing system right now and so this backlog means that I am officially a tourist in Florida and so I can’t work. We aren’t sure how long this is going to last but it is going to be at least a month. A month off in Florida, during summer, sounds pretty good right?

My plans are pretty simple, play as much golf as I can, bit of swimming, few nights out on the beer, get up at 10am most days, just relax really.

My plans and reality are so far from aligned it is ridiculous.

I am currently sitting in the front room while Harriet has some nondescript cartoon on and is singing a song about “flossing her butt”, Laura is planning a photo competition for the kids to keep them occupied and Fred, well I haven’t seen Fred since February. Entertaining the kids has now become everyone’s full time job.

This past Sunday I was trying to find a way to hit some golf balls on the sly. I didn’t want to straight up ask Laura if I could sneak out for 4 hours for the second time in 3 days, because frankly I am neither a masochist nor an idiot, but I had been in the house for 36 hours straight. I had the bright idea that I would take Fred and the girls. Fred could bring his clubs that haven’t been used since his birthday in 2018 and Laura and Harriet could drive the buggy around and have some fun in the sun.

Turns out I am both a masochist and an idiot.

We loaded up the truck and headed over to the golf course, it was about 3.30pm. As we sat our asses down on the black leather interior of the truck it became clear that it was hot. So hot that I couldn’t touch the steering wheel and that Laura still has burns on the top of her legs 2 days later. Air con on full blast, the car cooled down just as we pulled in to the golf course.

Fred and I got out and went in to pay. Finally some good news! We could play, and it was free for Fred. Bad news though it was another $25 for Laura to have a cart to drive round in, plus about $14 in soft drinks to get us round. Second problem, we had to wait 45 minutes to tee off. I found Laura a cart in the shade, sat her there with Harriet and the literally covered in sunscreen Fred and I went for a little practice putt.

Fred is a fairly talented sportsman. He is pretty good at football (soccer), very good at cricket, has a great arm and decent hand eye coordination. He has the touch however, of a rapist.

For those who don’t play golf, or whose only experience of golf is mini golf, putting is difficult. you cant just wander up there and spank it. You have to judge pace and break and angles. Fred’s first putt was 6 feet, just a gentle tap Son, run it up there. It is no exaggeration to say Fred hit this putt 40 yards. It didn’t get much better over the next 40 minutes.

Time to tee off and Laura made her way up to the tee in her golf cart. I could see she wasn’t too happy with this particular life choice as her face was beetroot red and sweaty. Some comment about why these carts don’t have air con and that we were “gonna need more drink” followed, but I blocked them out. Top tier sportsmen can’t allow outside distractions.

The first hole went surprisingly well for me. Good drive, nice chip, two putts and a par. Fred teed off about 100 yards from the green. I gave him a par based on the fact it was a par 12, I just didn’t want to steal any enthusiasm from the already not exactly positive group.

Second hole, just as I start to swing the club back Harriet shouts something. Fortunately it didn’t effect my shot, but me then asking them to be quiet when I was swinging was a big mistake. The game for the others from that point on was to try and put me off as much as possible, whilst giving Fred nothing but encouragement despite his club throwing temper.

This continues for another few holes, surprisingly though I am putting together a very nice round. All pars, a couple of bogey’s and I am really getting a good score going. I am a pretty average golfer, I used to be OK when I was younger, but I just got taller and fatter and not any better, then over the years the fatness and tallness became a bit of a hindrance. At the moment I am about a 19 handicap, good enough to not embarrass myself but not good enough to beat anyone. Over 9 holes I shoot between 44 and 48 shots. I haven’t shot less than 40 for more than 20 years, it is a goal I have to do it again. I watch YouTube videos for hours about course management and chipping because I really want to do it. Don’t forget this it’s important.

By the 5th hole things are really going well. The constant shouting on my backswing has stopped, I am scoring well, even Fred is getting it together, perhaps this wasn’t the absolute abomination of an idea it appeared. As I chipped and putted my way to a 4 on the 5th I noticed Fred was a bit down, he had completely turned from being happy to sad in an instant. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong so I sent him to his mum and I took Harriet to the next hole. Got up on the tee, smashed my drive and they still weren’t there.

Eventually they turned up and explained Fred had left one of his clubs 3 holes back and could I go back and get it. I’ve done this before, it’s no big deal, but Fred was devastated and it signaled the end of his round. He didn’t want to play anymore and I had a half mile drive back to pick up a Top Flite kids sand wedge.

Fast Forward to the 8th hole. I have hit 31 shots so far, I need two pars to break the mythical 40. I know I can do it because I played the same course two days previous and shot a birdie on the 9th. Just have to relax hit a good tee shot and I can do it.

It’s a par 3, 175 yards. Just a gentle 5 iron. I’ve got this. Silence everywhere, even the birds stopped tweeting, not a breath of wind. I line it up, swing the club smoothly back, get to the top of my backswing and Laura at the top of her lungs shouts “BOTTOM OF THE 9TH!”

I’m in front of my kids, I can’t say or do what I actually want to at this point. I watch my ball sail into a bunker at the side of the green and smash my club into the ground in frustration. Don’t worry though Dave, you can still do this. one more good shot out of the bunker salvage a 4 and then just do the same as you did Friday, you can do this.

My positive mental attitude restored I did just that. Made a 4 and walked back to the cart knowing all I have to do is repeat what I did just two days earlier. Just one more good hole and I’ve done it.

As I got back in the cart Laura asked me what the time was. I told her it was 6.40pm. Apparently she had put dinner in the oven and we had to get back ASAP to get it out before it was burned and we had to leave immediately. I didn’t get to play the 9th hole. So another life goal down the drain this week.

It was a pretty quiet journey home, except for Laura moaning about her burnt legs and telling me that whilst she had a good time maybe next time I just take Fred.

Don’t worry Laura, next time I’m taking none of you.

It’s been a tough week in the Shroder house this week, well I say the house, mainly just me. I caught strep in the middle of the biggest surge of COVID cases the world has ever seen. As I sit here and write this I just read that Florida had nearly 10,000 cases today. That’s quite a lot and while we don’t have elderly relatives here and are in the main fairly healthy it’s still just starting to get a little worrying.

But anyway, Strep is like Allergies, something that doesn’t exist in England. Never ever have I heard of anyone in England having Strep throat in 35 years. I think it is tonsillitis, but I can’t be 100% sure. Well it hit me hard, fever, couldn’t swallow, could barely move but I’m a fighter, I don’t let it get the better of me. 2 days in bed and I am right as rain. I’m a bit like the Lance Armstrong of Strep, not that I am a life ruining drug cheat, just that I am a survivor.

Laura was a fantastic nurse, a role she is not naturally suited to but performed incredibly nonetheless. She brought me regular drinks, both hot and cold, forced medicine down my throat and took control of my recovery. This has meant though that she is now in full nurse mode and can’t get out of it. I have (very well controlled) diabetes, not Type 1 diabetes, the type you can feel sorry for, I have fat mans diabetes. I got diagnosed with it at 30 which I think must be some sort of record, but at 30 I weighed in at a trim and ready 308 lbs, just a tiny bit overweight for a 6 foot 3 man.

I’m not 308 lbs anymore and I am in whats called remission, so I don’t take any medication, I just don’t drink full fat coke, which is punishment enough. I do though need to have regular blood tests and I am due one. Since the switch to “Nurse Laura” this blood test has become the most important thing in our lives. I’ve been putting it off to be honest, been busy and dying of a throat infection, that and I didn’t fancy wading through a sea of Covidiots to get this done. That answer was not enough though and Laura has taken to sending me pictures of infected diabetic feet at regular intervals followed by the words “I’m not pushing you around in a wheelchair” so I caved in and got the paperwork on my way home from golf today, if I get Covid from going to get this blood test I am not to blame.

One positive thing though is that the blood test takes place at the same place I have to go to give a sample to prove that my vasectomy worked, so as she is forcing me to go I expect, no demand, some help with that

Anyway, the time spent in bed suffering meant I had chance to think and bizarrely I couldn’t stop thinking about another time I was in pain, about a year or so ago.

I used to smoke and I obviously could not smoke in the house, I mean I’m not an animal, so I went out into our very small back yard at the time. I didn’t really even like smoking that much, I only took up to get an extra five minutes an hour off work and an extra five minutes an hour out of the bear pit that is our house when the kids aren’t listening and then I went through my usual routine. Flicked through Facebook, made my way through my 15th heater of the day and wandered back inside.

I got back in the house and needed the bathroom, which was on the way to the living room so I went inside. My zip was undone, which is not unusual to be honest and is vastly more common than being done up properly. I went to get myself arranged correctly to finish the procedure.

What was odd though was there was this searing pain, like I’d got myself caught in the open zipper, and the pain just got worse and worse. That and my bollocks were buzzing like a housewives toy drawer.

I yanked my shorts and boxers down, screaming in agony. I actually thought I had been bitten by a spider and called for my own personal Florence Nightingale. By the time Laura made her way to me I had pulled something out of right testicle but it was still throbbing. There I was standing there stark bollock naked from the waist down tears in my eye with Laura just laughing at me. It was the most intense pain I’d ever felt.

Laura figured it out eventually, a bee had somehow got in to my open fly while I was out smoking and then just as I was about to shake hands with the unemployed stung me literally in the right plum. Whilst with hindsight I applaud her for working it out so quickly under such stressful circumstances, She could have been a bit quicker in realizing that the sting was still firing venom into me with horrendous rhythm, each pulse making me clinch and want to vomit with equal ferocity.

We ran upstairs as Laura’s new occupation of professional testicologist was not over and nor was my suffering. Pain is one thing, I can cope with pain, shame and embarrassment not so much. Laura spent the next 10 minutes, tweezers in hand as slowly and delicately as possible plucking a bee sting out of the most tender area imaginable

After about 45 minutes the pain died down, the swelling didn’t though and I really wish the bee had died for something worthwhile and got the frank rather than the beans.

Ultimately, where I am meandering to with this is I know pain. In the last year I’ve had both strep and a bee sting to the nuts. So I don’t want to be hearing from Laura about childbirth and how much it hurt. Try running naked through the house in tears while the kids watch their mother attack you with tweezers. That’s real pain, for everyone involved. If I had any respect in this house I lost it that day.

We are trying to grow the blog again, so any comments, likes, shares are greatly appreciated, you can follow us on twitter @Tshroders for real time updates usually on things that wouldn’t warrant a full post. For example my last tweets involved me hiding in the bathroom because Laura wanted advice on birthday presents for her friend.

Florida people, stay safe, British people, get your arses back to work, you’ve had 3 months off now, lazy bastards.

I am posting this from a hotel at Universal Studios, where I’ve had an awesome Fathers Day weekend. I am very lucky to be able to celebrate here and it was so much fun. I have taken a load of video footage and it will make our first You Tube video.

Apologies upfront to any people who read this who are American, this blog is largely about a person who is famous in the UK, but to the best of my knowledge has not yet “cracked” the US. So if you don’t know who this person is I have added a picture below for you to take a look of

There is a stand up comedian in the UK called Jason Manford. It is very unlikely that he would ever read this post, so I feel happy to describe him in some detail. Jason Manford is pretty funny, his stand up is good and he is rightly very popular. At a guess I would say he is mid to late 30’s, has a beard, maybe a few pounds over the “ideal” weight of a man his height. In a world of Rocks, Vin Diesels, Brad Pitts and Leonardo Di Caprios, Jason Manford is Laura’s housewives crush. This in itself is quite strange and shows the difference between men and women. I don’t know of a man who has ever been madly infatuated with a female celebrity who is funny, but average looking.

Were he not famous in the UK, he could walk down any street and not turn any heads. I don’t think even he would say he was anything other than averagely attractive. Just a normal man who tells funny stories, mainly about his family.. Writing it out like that makes me think he just got there before me..

All of that being said, Laura is absolutely infatuated by this man. Stalker level infatuation. Not a day goes past when I don’t get told what Jason Manford is doing or has done. Recently apparently, he took a job as delivery driver for a grocery store in the UK. This information is of absolutely zero interest or use to me whatsoever, yet we managed a 25 minute conversation on what a good man he was for doing a days work. The irony is not lost on me that Laura prevented me doing a days work by telling me the story.

The Masked Singer was on in the UK recently, not the (vastly superior) US version, but a version with UK celebrities. On one of the first episodes a hedgehog came out and sang Black Magic by Little Mix. Before the hedgehog opened his mouth Laura exclaimed that it was Jason Manford under the suit, because she could “smell” him. Yes, smell him, through the TV.

She qualified that a bit more by saying she knew how he walked, I’m guessing one foot in front of the other like everyone else, but apparently unbeknown to me Laura has studied the way this man walks, in an 85lb Hedgehog costume as well. We had to watch that show from start to finish every week as the hedgehog kept getting through, knocking out actual Grammy winning singers until the final when he lost to ginger one from Girls Aloud and Laura could gloat that she “called it from the start” and “when you know you know”

Little sidebar here, I have to run anything I write about Laura past her before I publish it, I read what I had so far and she stopped me several times. Firstly to tell me that he was actually 39 and secondly because Harriet was crying because she had eaten all the M&M ice creams and she couldn’t have another one. It is 9.45am. She also mentioned that she quite fancied James Corden as well, this worried me, at least Manford is funny.

I am 100% certain that if Laura had a bucket list, meeting or seeing Jason Manford would be on it, it would be the pinnacle of her life, besting our wedding day, the birth of either of our children, or any other future event. She would die happy if she ever managed to actually meet him. I on the other hand could take or leave it, it would have no effect on my life in any way.

I know seeing this celebrity would have no impact on my life with 100% certainty because it has already happened.

The last time I was back in the UK was Christmas 2018, the company I worked for are headquartered in the North West of England and every year they hold their annual awards. In 2018 it was in an old manor house in England. The sort of place that they could film Downtown Abbey at, beautiful to look at but in December so cold we could have stored all the M&M ice creams Harriet has destroyed this week without any appliances.

These particular awards were very special as they were the companies 40th anniversary. The organization’s great and good from all over the globe were there, including one of the guys who started it in his garage or something. It never ceases to amaze me the number of businesses started in peoples garages. I’ve got 4 bikes, 2 trash cans, a set of golf clubs and some boxes in mine, I couldn’t start a small fire let alone Microsoft.

We were all sitting there awkwardly separated from anyone we knew or worked with, fortunately I landed a table with 80% British lads and it was a free bar, so we just smashed through shots while the boring speeches about what a rags to riches story the company was went on and on. Then at some point during the seventeenth retelling of how we “lead the way in Oil and Gas staffing” and my 7th Jaegerbomb some music played and lights flashed.

Out strolls this roughly 6 foot tall, bearded, heavy set man, dressed in a suit that makes it quite clear he isn’t as woefully underpaid as the rest of us in the room. I was pretty close to the stage, (everyone was to be honest, there were no more than 200 people there) and it became clear to me quickly through the haze of two day drinking, 3 hours sleep and my £59 Marks & Spencer Tuxedo that the man on stage was quite a bit funnier than our CEO. Something else clicked when the first 15 minutes of him speaking was just making jokes at the expense of the company.

I had missed the announcement of who was coming onstage because I was busy convincing the rest of the table that if we didn’t empty the free bar we had failed, but it was housewives favorite Jason Manford on stage. A man who has sold out Wembley Arena, A man who has multiple best selling DVD’s (do they still sell DVD’s?) is on stage no more than 20 feet from me.

I’m a thoughtful man, I thought that if I could text Laura and tell her she would be excited. I know she loves this guy, I know she would want to know that he was here, in fact I am surprised she didn’t know before me. She clearly has some sort of covert access to his diary, she knows what he does every bloody day. So I sent a text telling her and immediately she replied that she didn’t believe me. I followed it up with pictures and a video.

Instead of the delight and wonder I was expecting, I just got a barrage of abuse back. Apparently it wasn’t fair, I didn’t even like him that much, it was all my fault because I had made her give up her job and if she still worked she might have had Jason Manford present her awards. this despite the fact her previous company had about 15 employees.

The set finished, 3/4 of the room weren’t from the UK so whilst it went pretty well a lot of people didn’t quite get all of the jokes and I started to think how I hadn’t had a pay rise in 4 years, but we can pay for millionaire comedian Jason Manford to hand out some bits of glass to people for an hour. So whilst Laura thinks this guy is the greatest thing ever I have a couple of beefs with him.

Firstly, I can’t get a two seater car now because we have two kids, I am sure both were conceived after Laura watched his DVD.

Secondly, I can’t go a day without hearing about what he has done. Apparently he does a daily quiz now and we should do it.

Thirdly, my wife hates me because I accidentally saw him live

And finally I worked four years without a pay rise and all that money went on him

Still at least he isn’t James Corden. That guy really is a prick

As I write this I am just starting my lunch break. It’s been a morning.

Laura has started walking with her friend during lock down. She wakes up at about 5.30am, turns on every light in the house, has a 20 minute chat with Alexa and then slams all the doors on her way out. It is a very relaxing and pleasant way to start my day, which should by rights start two hours later with a relaxing cup of tea and a shower.

One of the side effects of this admirable fitness challenge is that by 8.30pm she is sound asleep on the sofa, head nodding along as I sit through the 9th episode of Schitts Creek that night as it is the only thing we can agree on to watch.

The morning walk usually is between 4 and 6 miles and takes about 90 minutes. 90 minutes just Laura and her friend, talking about life and all it’s quirks. I don’t think I have spoken to one person for 90 uninterrupted minutes in my life, let alone 6 times a week. I often wonder what they have to talk about for that long and assume it is about what a great husband I am as that is the only topic that could sustain 9 hours of conversation a week. Most people would have nothing else to say to each other after that, not these two. Laura gets in puts together 4 completely different breakfasts and then calls this friend for another 2 hours. Also their conversations aren’t really conversations. They kind of talk over each other, each getting louder and louder as the minutes pass.

Today though they took a break from this new venture and there was no walk. I thought this would mean we would get a slower paced start to the day, some peace in the house as I started my work day. I was clearly wrong.

It started OK actually, Laura is up at 7am which is a lay in for her now, making just enough noise to wake up Harriet who took it as a sign she could run in my bedroom and elbow drop me in the nuts. I got all set up for work, ready to go and Laura started breakfast, a picture of domestic bliss.

8.55am hits and the morning took a turn for the worse. As the clock on the microwave hit 8.55am Laura’s phone went off, I know this not because she has an annoying message tone, but because I looked up to see her pick up her phone and then at the top of her lungs shout ‘SSSHHHHHIIIIITTTTTT!!!!!!”

Summer Camps are hard to come by at the moment, something to do with CHII-NAA and WOOO-HAAAN, so we have improvised a bit and made some other plans. Freddie’s teacher has a son of a similar age and he was getting some one on one Football (Soccer) coaching today. They kindly invited Fred along and this was arranged weeks ago. I know it was arranged weeks ago because we had to pay cash and cash is not a concept in this house. The money had been sitting in Laura’s saving pot for at least a month. Well today was the day of the coaching and despite having a charming Cavalier King Charles themed calendar, multiple iPhones, no less than 6 Alexa’s and an iWatch all of which able to record the date and time we are doing things, nobody had made any note that today was the day. Oh and it started at 9am.

With only one adult dressed in anything it fell on me to get Fred out of his pit, dressed, in his football gear, sunscreen on water bottle ready and over to the park in 5 minutes. This happened whilst Laura did what I like to call ‘faffing’. Faffing is panicking, shouting, generally achieving nothing at all, but ensuring everyone else is laser focused. As I chuck on Fred’s kit, get his boots on and cover him in sunscreen Laura throws the cash at me like I’m working the champagne room at Rachel’s, Orlando’s premium Gentlemen’s club and almost certainly Harriet’s future workplace.

Fortunately it is only a couple of minutes walk from our house to the park and I managed to get Fred there just 5 minutes late and I get back in to my house at 9.10am pleased that the fire has been put out and I can crack on. Still in her pajamas, Laura’s next 5 minutes were spent explaining to me how it was my fault and that she couldn’t be responsible for everything.

We agreed that it was my fault and off she went for a shower, somehow this was managed while being on the phone to her friend who she would have been walking with. Now I know iPhones are water resistant now, but surely I can’t be the only one who thinks being on the phone in the shower is odd. I don’t really get the logistics of it but each to their own, if she’s chatting on the phone I am not at fault for anything. As long as she could pick Fred up at 10 I was good, I had a lot to do.

Fortunately for me she did manage to do that and brought Fred home from training Now Fred has done no physical activity for weeks, he uses his hoverboard to go from his bedroom to the fridge, that is the grueling level of cardiovascular work out that he has been putting himself through. Well at 10.10am this morning the poor kid fell through the door like one of those people you see getting carried over the line in a marathon. He fell on to the sofa, right in my eye line, face as red as his hair, full of lactic acid and regrets. Some discussion followed about him going in the shower and he actually agreed and started to literally strip off there and then. The next 15 minutes of my life involved a sweaty 9 year old sitting stark bollock naked on my sofa trying to “get the energy together” for a shower.

Still he did it and I will likely not see him again today as he retreats back to starting his Fortnite clan, a venture which currently stands at 2 members with others slated to try out in August. I hope the entry requirements are low.

Next up Harriet, her turn to go in the shower, or bath, or shower, or bath, the argument between the women of the house on that could only be rivaled by the Brexit negotiations. Each back and forward becoming more and more urgent as Laura needed to get to the grocery store. Tears followed, some shouting, a couple of “it’s not fair”s (and that was just Laura) and by 11.15am some semblance of normality was back. Laura was on the phone, Harriet was knee deep in her latest Nickelodeon show and Fred was shut away in his virtual world, spending real money on clothes for a computer character.

Time for some peace? Not by a long shot

Before going to the shop Laura checked her bank account, there was some sort of administrative cock up that cost her $19. That $19 might as well have been $19m. Heads were going to roll, people needed firing, that bank was “No use to her anymore”. We settled on a strongly worded email followed by confirmation that this $19 wouldn’t immediately impact her during her fight with ‘The Man’ to get it back. This however as it often does snowballed into a forensic examination on whether or not her credit card had been paid, if so what account from and then somehow into purchasing new swimming goggles for Harriet. I kind of zoned out during this, the faffing was at peak level, no real input from me was going to help other than confirming everything had been paid and finding $89 left over from our weekend gambling trip which I just gave to her. After 11 years of marriage I have learnt that many of the crises which cause Laura’s mad panic can be resolved by me just handing over cash. The $89 was quite literally every penny I had in the house.

Finally, finally, it was time for Laura to go and get the shopping, finally I would get some peace. As the door closed behind her I let out a sigh of relief, I could feel my blood pressure returning to its normal, only slightly higher than the average man’s level. I even reclined my seat a little to get into peak email writing position. By the time I got there Laura was back, literally 15 seconds after shutting the door.

Picture the scene, she runs over to me, screeching, “Check my neck! I’ve been stung by something”. I took a cursory look, mainly because since my eye surgery I cannot see anything up close, it’s pointless. There was a freckle, which I am assuming has been there longer than 15 seconds and that is about it. So I went with my fall back in times like this, told her to put some Sudocreme on it. That answer has saved me more times than I care to remember. Really I just wanted to be left the hell alone.

It’s at this point I saw my second semi naked body of the day as Laura ripped off her T-Shirt and found an ant. She called it a “Big bastard ant” but I think it was a pretty standard sized ant. The process of elimination led very quickly to the ant being the culprit.

What followed was a scene I have only witnessed watching uprisings in Iraq on TV. Laura stood their boobs swinging in the breeze, flip flop in hand, shouting things I couldn’t understand, while she brutalized this ant to death with her shoe. The picture of her half naked, angrily waving a rubber flip flop is one that will live with me forever.

Eventually after the aggressive retribution of justice on this ant Laura left, giving me some quiet. Normally a trip to the grocery store takes 2 hours. I started writing this blog when she left. She was back by the time I finished it. I have wasted that 45 minutes of peace on lunch and writing this. Right now, I am so jealous of that ant.

Florida has basically given up with Corona now. Our Governor opened up the state a couple of weeks ago, cases are up, nobody gives a shit. Restaurants are filling up, Bars and Pubs are getting busy, Universal Studios is ramping back up and apart from the crippling fear I have every time I leave the house, it’s almost as if nothing has happened.

One of the things that opened up recently is the Victory Casino Cruise ship. This is some sort of World War II era ship, with the interior ripped out, replaced with some slot machines from 1987, two craps tables, 6 blackjack tables and the worst restaurant in the world. This historical relic docks at Port Canaveral, about 45 minutes away from our house and sails exactly 3 miles off the US coast where it drops anchor and sits for 5 hours in international waters, so that it can avoid all laws.

It doesn’t move the entire time, so you don’t actually go anywhere, the bathrooms are rank and usually full of vomit. Entertainment is limited to what looks like Bob Marley’s Grandfather on the steel drums playing Bryan Adams songs and (in a sweeping generalization) the people onboard look like they are only on there to pass the day before they go back to their cardboard boxes under the freeway.

With all of those things put together, you are probably not picturing a fun day, however, it is amazing!

This past weekend after God only knows how many consecutive days without going out without the kids Laura and I with another couple took the plunge and jumped in to our Uber driver Kelvin’s 2006 Toyota Highlander, with our McDonald’s cups filled with beer and Malibu and headed east to the port.

COVID-19 or not, Laura and I never get to go out together much. With no family here finding people to look after Fred and H can sometimes be tricky and adds some cost to us having regular date nights, so when we do get the chance to go out without them we take it with both hands.

One of the things I didn’t mention about the boat is that for the entire duration you are in international waters the good people at Victory give you unlimited free alcohol.

We pulled up at the port after a short journey and obviously Laura needed the bathroom. So after the very thorough temperature check and putting on our Chinese face masks (I’m sure this whole thing is just some con job from the Chinese mask manufacturers trying to pump their stock price) I raced to stand outside the ladies, a place I spend 75% of my time anytime we go anywhere. We went through airport level security and made our way on to the good ship Victory.

As you board the boat a group of people desperately trying to give a shit clap and cheer you on, making you feel like royalty. Not tier 1 royalty like Prince William and Kate, more your Princess Michael of Kent unrecognized royalty. The kind that could be a minor royal or might be a geography teacher. On you get and the fun begins.

Deck 4 or “The Dophin Deck” is where our fun begins. This is the outdoor bar, a place where masks just like inhibitions are optional. We made our way up there for a drink and to look out over the stunning views of …… a working cargo port. It was here that I noticed a man pressure washing the dockside and wondered if there was a more pointless job in existence.

Now what I was most impressed with about Deck 4 was that at 10.30am there was a woman, mid 40’s dressed in a baseball T-Shirt and Daisy Duke style jean cut offs. That in itself is not impressive, in fact it basically describes a lot of Florida women, what was impressive was at 10.30am before we had even raised anchor she couldn’t stand she was so drunk. She was so drunk that she must have started drinking before 7am. We spoke with her, she claimed she just “hadn’t got her sea legs”, we hadn’t moved yet.

After a couple of pleasant drinks, a nice little boat ride out to sea and a chat with some of the patrons the gambling tables opened. Deck 4 cleared faster than the ballroom when the Titanic went down and we were left to enjoy the dulcet sounds of Summer of 69 on the steel drums on our own.

The free drinks are inside, on the gambling floor. The second you go back inside you have to put your mask back on, the petri dish of novel coronavirus, social distancing all but a distant memory. People huddled round the craps table cramped in like an Indian train.

You don’t have to be actually gambling, but you have to at least make it look like you might. It also helps if you tip, I have learned that if you tip $5 with the first drink you don’t have to look far for the next 15. I may have occasionally frequented the odd casino during my life and the free drinks have often been weak as piss. Victory go the opposite way, 85% alcohol, 15% mixer..

This worked out great for me! Apart from the fact that it took at least 4 before I could drink them easily. Laura managed to keep it together and not get absolutely slaughtered and by 3.30pm we were back on the Dolphin Deck getting crazily sunburned sitting round a table drinking cocktails with the Orlando Gay Poker society.

Kelvin was back waiting for us outside for his off the books Uber journey and we staggered in a bit worse for wear. Somehow I managed to order $80 worth of Chick-fil-a halfway home which was waiting on the doorstep when we got back at 5.30.

After an unholy amount of chicken burger and waffle fries washed down with another Busch Lite at 7pm I was ready to keep the party going, I just needed to sit down for 5 minutes.

I woke up at 11.30 on the sofa. I’m so old…

For the uninitiated there are a couple of things you need to know about Central Florida. Firstly, it used to be all swamp. I don’t mean a bit damp, I mean 100% swamp. I am pretty certain that if it didn’t rain here for 15 years I would still squelch as I walked across the fairway playing golf.

The fact it used to be all swamp means that if your life depended on it and you were being attacked by one of the 13 foot long gators you have displaced by living here, you absolutely could not get a signal on your phone. Unless this attack happened to take place directly in or outside of a Starbucks and you could use their WIFI you couldn’t even text someone to help you.

Where I am from in the UK there is a “Secret Nuclear Bunker” you can visit, it is underground, made of 3 feet thick steel and was designed to keep out fallout from a nuclear bomb in London. I got a better signal from the bowels of this not so secret bunker than I do sitting in my house.

The second thing you need to know is that it rains, a lot. In the UK I used to think that if you looked out of your window on any given day of the year it could be any season. Low cloud, grey, not too hot, not too cold. You would get two weeks where it felt like you lived on the surface of the sun, two weeks where it might snow and you would love that for 20 minutes, then it would be brown slush for the next 13 days. In Florida it is fairly similar, if by similar I mean completely opposite.

When I get up and look out the window, every single day, without fail, it is glorious. April, sunny, June, sunny, December, sunny. That is at 7am. 7am in central Florida is why you move here. It’s warm, you can sit outside, it is perfect. Then by 12 midday you cannot breathe because it is so humid and hot. Any kind of manual work is not happening and I’ve turned in to this moist blob sitting in my chair moaning that the air con can’t be working.

After that you get the storm. From April to September, every single day at 3pm. From 3pm to about 5pm, it is like the end of the world. No matter where you live within about a 100 mile radius of my house your life is in danger if you put your head out of the window. When I first got here the storm would coincide with me leaving work. For the first year I honestly googled videos of cars getting struck by lightning to see if it could happen, looking for tips to survive. During these storms enough water comes down to flood my home town three times over. When I drove a mustang on slick tires, getting struck by lightning was the least of my worries really, keeping it on the road was like doing P90X.

The storm eventually ends, all my electrical appliances are in tact and not blown up by the power surge, and then we’re back to normal. 20 minutes after the rain stops you wouldn’t know it had happened. It goes from looking like Bangladesh when the Ganges floods every single bloody year, to just a normal street. It’s so weird.

Anyway, because it is so hot a lot of people here have swimming pools. We’re poor, so we don’t. What we have is an enormous 12 foot wide, 3 foot deep paddling pool. Something that once Corona is over the people who run our Homeowners Association will no doubt fine me for. (On a side note those people are ruthless)

I bought this right at the start of the lockdown for what I thought was a very reasonable $160. The good people at Amazon delivered it the day after I ordered it and 22 hours after I clicked it was set up in our back yard. A very cost effective solution to getting the kids out of the house, cooling off and having some fun while we can’t go anywhere. I was very pleased with myself.

I was wrong.

12 weeks we’ve had that pool, so far the $160 I spent has more than doubled. According to the boss we need chlorine tablets, new filters, a cover, pool toys, some thing to float around checking the “levels”. Not one person in this house, me included knows what the ph value of swimming pool water should be. I’m guessing 7, but that is a massive shot in the dark. What I do know is the second I walk out of my back door the smell of bleach is like Bourbon St at 6am.

There was talk of getting a heater! It’s 95 degrees ever day! I’m not heating that thing. I’m pretty certain that the piss I have first thing in the morning could fill that pool up, there’s not enough water to heat. As I type this Laura is changing the filter. I know this because the person I have seen most over the last 11 weeks was here this morning. Bob the Amazon delivery guy, dropping off another pool related purchase.

I also know this because at the weekend, someone who shall remain nameless opened up the mechanical filter to see if it needed changing and basically emptied the pool all over my patio.

All this is good though, if the kids are in it every day, getting away from their tablets and Xbox, blowing off some steam, getting some fresh air, enjoying how fortunate they are that their Dad works hard to get them a pool and that they live somewhere they can go swimming any day of the year. I’d love to jump in, but I am still not able to after surgery.

12 weeks ago I bought this thing…. Today was the 6th time anyone has been in it, I am 99% certain Harriet only goes in it when Laura tells her she needs a shower. She is very much like her Dad who only took 4 pairs of underwear to Ibiza when he was 17 because “I’ll wear them in the pool it will be fine”

The pool has gone the way of Fred’s golf clubs (birthday 2019), Harriet’s guitar (no particular reason just wanted it 3 weeks ago), my truck (March 2018) and Laura’s bread maker (I can’t even remember when). The novelty has completely worn off and it just sits there, the water perfectly warm, still and fantastically chlorinated.

Like most people I know, I am not an essential worker. In fact I’m barely essential in my own home, the only time anyone in this house thinks I am essential is when they want something and typically that something is not free.

That has meant that since the beginning of March I have been working from home and this corresponded with me having an operation and being bed ridden. First off the operation. I somehow managed to detach my retina and this meant that after the pretty nasty operation to reattach it I had a gas bubble put in my eye. For the first three days I had to lay face down for 45 minutes of every single hour of those 3 days. I’ve led a sheltered life and been lucky that I’ve not ever really been stuck in bed, especially not face down. It was hell on earth.

After the first day I tried to set up some sort of mirror based solution to allow me to at least watch TV. Unless you’ve ever tried to watch TV in a mirror for 15 hours straight then you have no idea how annoying this is. So I then graduated to a mattress on the floor, my head dangling over the end, watching 1990’s WWF matches on my iPhone. After those three days there is nothing I cannot tell you now about the life and career of both The “Macho Man” Randy Savage or The Ultimate Warrior. I stand by my comments to Laura that it was time well spent.

Finally I was able to sit up and do some work, dressed in my own non work clothes and with my eye taped up I looked like some sort really shitty hobo pirate, my hair already due a cut and my old man reading glasses not fitting over my bad eye at all but the worst was over and I was able to get going.

I have worked in an office for nearly 20 years, in those 20 years I have worked from home maybe 3 times. I was always jealous of people who got to roll out of bed 15 minutes before logging on in their underwear, bashing out a few emails from their back yard, TV on in the background, no commute. Those people had the dream life to me as I was up at 5am and cramming onto a packed train or busy freeway. I am about 11 weeks in now and I’ve learnt some things,

1.) I need to redecorate this house

We bought a house in September, after 5 years living in the US (Yes it has been that long!) we finally took the plunge and bought our own home. I loved it, I was proud we managed it and we thought it was beautifully decorated. One of the main reasons we bought this particular house was because we would not need to paint anything or get anything fixed. Well I have spent 9 hours a day 5 days a week sat in one room, looking at one wall. When I log off at the end of the day I sit in the same seat in the same room every night, looking at the same wall with the TV on.

I have redecorated this house in my mind about 300 times since lockdown. It feels like I’ve lived here 10 years. I hate every color in every room now and I am colorblind. The only room I am not completely fed up with is Fred’s and that’s because the noise that comes from his room during his Fortnite battles scares the living shit out of me so I don’t go in there

2.) I have slowly grown to absolutely hate Zoom/Facetime/Teams

When you live 4,000 miles from where you grew up video conferencing is vital. It’s how we keep in touch with family, it’s how we share news, it’s how the kids Grandparents get to see them. Let’s be honest though, it’s shit isn’t it?

“Can you hear me?”, “You’re cutting out”, “You’re on mute”, “Can you turn the phone round, I can’t see you”. Video conference bingo, the game where absolutely nobody wins. Lockdown has been many peoples first experience with this. We’ve been doing it week in week out for FIVE YEARS! It’s got old for the rest of you in 10 weeks. We do our calls back home on a Sunday, or as I like to call it technology groundhog day. Approximately 500 times we have made these calls home, you would think we would be over the technology teething problems by now.

Also, I’m gonna call it here. I’ve done a lot of virtual happy hours, quizzes, drinks etc. They are a means to an end. At first I was all in, lets do it it will be fun I thought, and it was. We’ve been able to go outside for 5 weeks now, why are we still doing it?? I can now go to the pub. Have a shower, get changed into something other than shorts and flip flops, go to a social gathering and have a drink. Why am I sitting on my couch, drinking 15 cans of Busch Lite with 10 other people staring at their screen talking over each other? In the UK the smoking ban was the death of the pub, virtual drinks are not compounding that death. Not one human ever by choice said “Let’s all sit in our own houses and drink our own drinks and pretend it’s the best thing ever”

3.) Boredom is the biggest killer

In Florida we had distance learning, the kids at home on laptops on yet another Zoom call, doing show and tell or long division or some other activity where the poor teacher is having my problems from the last point magnified 100 times. So fairly regularly, I would be in the office working away, Fred would be diligently working out some 4 digit multiplication question and Harriet would be showing her class her new guitar. Everyone of us busy in our own way…….. Except Laura.

Laura has the boredom threshold of someone with ADHD on ecstasy. During this 2 hour window she literally just paced from room to room, appearing on all of our calls. I was asked 9 times in two hours if I wanted a tea. I actually had 3. She asked me one time 3 minutes after dropping one off.

I’m no better. During the 6th week of lockdown I hadn’t left the neighborhood for the entire time. I had had no face to face interaction with anybody other than my family. I needed to get out of the house. I was so bored I booked a Coronavirus test, despite having no symptoms and no possible way I could have caught it, just so I could see some different people. It was really uncomfortable, I didn’t even leave the car and I had literally zero conversation with anyone during the whole process. I maintain it was a good use of my time.

4.) I probably drink just a little too much

I’m gonna put this out there, probably oversharing but who cares. I do not drink alcohol to “just have a couple”. I don’t understand people who get home from work poor a glass of wine and that’s it. I really do not get it. I love beer, but even I am not going to say it is the greatest tasting drink on earth because if it was, then I would drink non alcoholic beer all day.

I drink to get drunk. I am also a larger man and have been blessed with an ability to drink beyond the majority of people. Not everyone, I am not Andre the Giant (second WWF reference in one post) but quite a lot

So when I sit down and crack open a delicious, refreshing Busch Lite I am making a commitment. I am not having one, or two, or three, I am having at least 12. This is why generally I don’t drink at home. I am your stereotypical UK binge drinker. Monday through Thursday sober as a judge. Friday through Sunday, all bets are off.

Only during the lockdown, it’s slipped a little. 24 cans cost $14, they sell them at the gas (petrol) station. Every 3 days I am buying 24 cans. I am not drinking every day. Thursday is the new Friday in my house. A few beers and some guy DJing from his garage on You Tube, by 10.30 I’m hammered and fighting my way through beer cans and empty solo cups. It’s like a frat house.

5.) Time is a completely made up constraint

I think it’s Wednesday, someone told me it was June, but if I am honest it could be any day of any month. I’m still indoors, despite being able to go wherever the hell I want. I’m still sat here in shorts and t-shirt. I did manage to shower this morning, although I can’t swear I have managed that every single day. I know it was Monday recently because Laura did curry, we have had curry on Monday since 2009.

Curry night is the only way I am able to judge time right now. It’s the only constant. If I am eating curry it is definitely Monday, outside of that I really don’t know.

I’m thinking about going to the pub tonight because it feels like Friday, but something tells me it’s not.

All in all the lockdown has been decent, there have been more good times than bad and I’ve seen lots of Harriet. I’ve not seen Fred, I’ve lost him to the world of Xbox now. We are lucky to live somewhere where the kids can jump in our redneck overground pool every day and I can get Chick-fil-a delivered 6 days a week. That being said, I’ve had enough. There hasn’t been a case of COVID in our zip code for 6 weeks, I want to go out. I think I actually miss working in an office……

So on a different note, I haven’t blogged for a long time. 2 years. I am looking to do it differently this time. Harriet wants a You Tube channel, so we are going to film stuff. Just when we go places that might be fun. I will post the links here and share it all around. We can’t get a proper web address until we hit 100 subscribers and I can’t believe 100 people want to watch Laura scream at the kids running round Universal Studios.

Stay safe everyone!

The Shroders in Florida, we’ve been quiet here for a while haven’t we.

Well I am bringing this back, but slightly differently this time. Along with the blog, I am going to launch a You Tube channel, so people can watch some of the things we get up to as well as read about it.

It has been two years since I last blogged properly and lots have things have changed. We bought a house, I have visited 28 states, the kids have turned in to moody teens despite being only 9 and 7.

Laura has basically become American, she uses zee instead of zed now, measures ingredients in cups not grams, and spends 90% of her time in yoga pants.

I’ve continued to collect old man illnesses, from skin cancer to cataracts, sleep apnea to a detached retina. I am only just 40. I will outlive you all!

In between illnesses, shopping for “active wear” and trying to get Fred out of his room and off of Fortnite we have had lots of adventures and I will start posting about them all again soon.

The You Tube Channel is registered and videos will start soon, but until I get 100 subscribers I can’t register TheShrodersinFlorida with a proper address, so when I add a video, please do subscribe!

Looking forward to sharing all the things we are doing, the people we meet and the places we go.