My Blog Posts

It’s a common theme in my adopted country that Australians quite like gambling. The oft used phrase is that Aussies will bet on two flys crawling up a wall. The culture of punting is certainly prevalent here, but surely even this is taking it too far. Its a story from yesterday’s Sydney Morning Herald about ‘clubs’ building creches so that parents can play bingo and put money into poker machines without having to worry about looking after their children. To quote David Marsh, the general manager of Ingleburn RSL;

We bought the kids a new paddling pool. This one comes complete with its own bouncy castle. Emma provided the balls. Our bathroom provided the rest of the toys. It has seen some serious use this weekend, where spring has finally sprung and the temperature is in the very reasonable low twenties (centigrade). I’m not saying our children are spoiled, but …

The youngest member of the team, Hollywood Todd, is pictured here with his favourite hat and the fishing rod from the worst present ever. Thanks Mr Housewife your contribution has been noted. The boy himself is nearly walking. This is one of the few photos I managed to shoot when he was not either crawling around like a lunatic or standing up and then falling over in rapid succession.

Mark and I decided to go to the Tyrrells wine tasting at the SCG the other week. Sadly it was on a Saturday morning and SWMBO and JFGP had to go to his swimming lesson. So my cunning solution was to take Hollywood with me to charm all comers whilst Mark and I dabbled with some quality vino. It worked like a charm and the boy had a great time crawling around the members bar trying to knock patrons over. The only drawback came when I had to change his nappy and discovered that there isn’t a family room in the members pavilion. I was shocked at the lack of facilities. Shocked I tell you.

When we are young we all have dreams and hopes for what we’re going to be when we grow up. I wanted to be a policeman, the captain of one of Her Majesty’s ships or a formula 1 driver. I sometimes think that growing old is simply the narrowing of the opportunities available to us. Or possibly just the choices we have made changing the nature of the choices we can make. Nowadays I mainly dream of a quiet life, with a seat in the dappled shade a good book and a nice glass of a good, properly chilled, semillon. Tyrrells Vat 1, perhaps.

Oh look, I’ve got my own wikipedia page. Hmmm, I sniff an interloper trying to challenge my position as top Andy Todd on the web. Who is on your wikipedia page?

People, I am excited. In about an hour and a half I’m going to be sitting down in Sydney’s Opera House listening to Ben Folds and the Sydney Symphony work through a sizeable portion of his back catalogue. This will both rock and roll. More later, hopefully. Update: It was fantastic. As close as I get to a religious experience. The 2nd best gig I’ve been to. It is now officially Ben Folds weekend at our house and only his music will be played.

… spring holiday. After the excitement of last week I took a break from my hectic work schedule and booked a little family getaway for next month. We’re off for a three day weekend in Port Stephens. Being a classy family we are going to stay at a caravan park. SWMBO is hoping that it will be a “proper” caravan park, just like they have on the TV. I’m just hoping that the pod of dolphins that the oldest soccer player in town has told me about put in their “guaranteed” appearance at the end of the beach every evening at dusk. Although I think we will cope if they don’t. Luckily, because we’re not going on holiday in the UK, we don’t have to worry about the weather.

And in the period of about three hours my beloved’s return to work came to an abrupt end. Even before it had started. I don’t want to go into details here because it isn’t the right place and because I’m still quite angry. But suffice it to say that turning around at the eleventh hour and fundamentally changing the terms of an employment offer isn’t exactly tennis as far as I’m concerned.

Apart from the obvious things (Marmite, Marks and Spencer undies) there are some things that I just can’t find for sale in Australia. Starting today I’m going to document them here. This will be a very occasional series but let me start with this inaugural list of things you can’t buy in Australia; Streaky bacon. Middle or Back? Certainly. Streaky is not to be found anywhere. Electric lawn mowers. I’ve only got a hankie sized back lawn, I don’t need a 2 stroke petrol mower.

SWMBO is returning to work. From conception to execution has taken no longer than three weeks. When she makes her mind up she doesn’t hang around. It all started innocently enough, one day at work middle-management-Mikey casually (and I thought half jokingly) inquired if Mrs Todd was looking for a job. I replied that she was too busy spending my money to earn any of her own but that I would ask anyway. As an aside I should mention that my corporate masters have me working for a client where Mrs Todd was working when we met (all of nine years ago now). So it’s not like she isn’t known around the office. Sometimes people even have good things to say about her.

I’m not saying that we have bad music in our car (courtesy of Mr Housewife (KRed Parent)) but it is looking increasingly like Olly’s first proper word will be Agadoo. Oh dear. I shall be burning the CD as soon as I can get it out of the car. Its the only possible thing to do.

Today is our fourth wedding anniversary. I am pureeing pumpkins and it’s nine thirty at night. It wasn’t supposed to be like this you know. SWMBO had a table booked at our favourite French restaurant where Wednesday is the one day of the week that they offer bouillabaisse. Which I am rather partial to. Unfortunately the boys have a been a little under the weather this week. The baby has been cutting teeth the size of tombstones which has resulted in sleep deprivation for the last few nights and then this afternoon his big brother went from bad to worse and my lovely wife had to take him to casualty.

Well the phone books I mentioned a couple of days ago have now gone. Shortest bit of cluttering ever in our house. I suspect SWMBO of reading this blog, despite her protestations of never going near the internet.

This one’s especially for the 70’s throwback, but you should all click and have a listen to the master. Its the video for Too Much Saturn by Francis Dunnery;

When we were living in the UK my in-laws ‘won’ a cheap photo shoot with one of those incredibly reasonably priced high street photography chains. They took the opportunity to get some shots of the whole rag tag bunch that makes up the family. My lovely wife went crazy with the cheque book and bought three prints. This was in 2004 mind. Last year, she got them framed and put them away in my ‘office’ with claims that she was too busy to hang them up. Today I finally cracked and put them up on the walls. From go to woe it was a mere two years. The moral of the story being that if something needs to be shifted in our house you could die waiting for SWMBO. Don’t even get me started on the trunk that’s cluttering up my ‘office’ that she hasn’t even opened since 1998.

People of the mother country (I’m looking in particular here at my brother and the 70’s throwback) rejoice. For Mythbusters is coming to a terrestrial TV channel near you in the next day or so. Watch it. You will thank me.

It’s been a while, but the occasion of JFGP’s third birthday and trip to the Zig Zag Railway prompted a flurry of snapping. Rather than link to the odd photo or two I’ve dusted down the photo album section of this site and added a whole new page. Please make your way to A Very Thomas Birthday for some photographs and associated musings. There isn’t a space to comment on the photo album so please feel free to leave compliments on my work right here.

The eldest offspring, usually known as JFGP has started developing what can only be described as personality “quirks”. Here are a selection for your amusement, and for his derision when he finds this entry in about twenty years; Orange is his favourite colour. We are having children’s dinner time as I type this and number 1 son is wearing an orange t-shirt, drinking out of an orange juice cup and his meal consists of fish fingers, spaghetti numbers in tomato sauce and mashed sweet potato. The common theme running through these foods is, of course, that they are coloured orange.

Words reaches my ears (from the producer’s blog nonetheless - he blinded me with science you know) that 1985’s finest album, Steve McQueen by Prefab Sprout is being remastered in preparation for a re-release. I can’t wait, and I suspect the 70’s throwback will be just after me in the queue to get a copy in his sweaty palms. Also in music news, this week I received my tickets to see Ben Folds and the Sydney Symphony in concert at the Opera House. That one will both rock and roll.