In with Flynn

There are three problems with me writing a blog:

1. I lack basic grammar skills
2. I'm on Day 5 of a vain attempt to quit smoking and I'm starting to hallucinate.
3. The Barista in Costa keeps giving me the 'You've finished your coffee now fuck off'' look.

Despite those obstacles I'm going to press on because if I stop typing I think about cigarettes.

Mmm...cigarettes.

Lovely, lovely cigarettes.

I've quit because I don't want my son to grow up with a dead father which is as dull a reason to chuck the fags as it gets. I could die tomorrow of a massive brain aneurysm or the Barista might lose her temper and stab me in the face with a muffin knife. Hell, I'll probably get lung cancer anyway but I figure it's best to give myself a fighting chance. It's a universally known fact that smoking makes you look cool but an Iron lung is a bit last season and I don't fancy being strapped to one for the rest of my life. After only 5 days I can breath better, I smell better, I've saved £25. It's a win, win situation.

My Son Flynn is 8 Months old and my  Partner has had to return to work or face financial ruin so I am now the chief in charge of childcare.

It is hard, brain melting work. I never had an excess of intelligence to begin but after a week and a half I am having problems forming complex sentences. There just isn't that much to do. I don't drive (which is ridiculous) and the activities available for a parent and child around these parts are minimal. So far I've been to a playgroup at a Methodist church which wasn't bad, but I was the only father in the room.  I also had a large spot on my forehead so I wore a bank robbers woollen hat throughout the session to hide my grotesque outbreak. I must have looked like a potential rapist at best and at worse, some overweight unemployed bum who was lingering around until he was due to sign-on at the dole office.

Last Wednesday I ambled along to another playgroup at a pub which wasn't open so I ended up going for a walk which was a hellish mistake. Not only did Flynn befoul his nappy when we were caught in a baby changing no man's land but I had made a poor underwear choice that caused considerable chafing.
Fortunately I have created a child who possesses a smile that instantly lifts the spirits and even though the poor sod is currently in the process of having several sharp teeth rip through his gums, he's still a pleasant and exceptionally charming little boy.

I do worry about fucking him up. He's probably better off at Nursery playing with other kids but we'll see how it goes. If he starts to get bored and unhappy then I'll go rob a post office or something to pay for this childcare.

Anyway. That will do for now.