Another year, another set of resolutions, another increasingly rare blog post. Not only do I have to get back to scribbling some blog posts, I have a bunch of other things that I’m committed to doing in 2015. Following the usual principle, I figure if I write them down, it will shame me into doing them….
1. Sleep
I’m frequently torn when it comes to sleep. That generally sounds a little bizarre but I’m caught between enjoying being awake that much but knowing I should really get more sleep. 2015 is the year of more sleep.
2. My mum
A kick ass trip with my mum somewhere this year. Last year I took my dad to Brazil for the World Cup to watch his beloved Brazil team get whipped by Germany (sorry Dad!), I’ll somehow find a way to match that with my mum this year. Suggestions welcome!
3. Running
Ok, well we’ll start with a half – Larry Budd, you and I are on! Expect some Runkeeper movement! Consider it in the diary. I won’t make the silly promise of the Vegas marathon in November again, but it’s on the tentative list if Leeds goes well #justsayin
4. Charity
Twelve months ago, I was on the receiving end of an impromptu New Year’s Eve shave, kindly administered by my remarkably tipsy (read: hammered) cousin Kev. The generosity did not end there. The family threw some cash into a hat to go to charity. I’ve still got that money sat at home and have done nothing with it. So this year, for any longish runs I manage to get my butt in gear for, I’ll fundraise for Ehlers-Danlos – a syndrome that has affected folks in the fam.
5. Cut the Carbon
So I may have been singularly responsible for the world’s carbon footprint last year. Time to cut that down and enjoy a bit more of the UK and North!
6. Blog more
The statistics do not lie and if I look at the right side of this page, it’s steadily gone from 75 blog posts in 2010, to 30 in 2011, 24 in 2012, 7 in 2013 and finally 5 piffling blog posts in 2014. I’m a disgrace. I’m aiming for at least one per month to get back up to 12 for 2015.
7. Take my own advice
Funny how most of us are geniuses when we offer others advice. It’s generally solid advice and it’s generally what others would say to you. Yet somehow, we decide to completely ignore it instead of applying it to ourselves! No excuses Roberto, listen to your own advice!
Happy New One folks!
Showing posts with label mum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mum. Show all posts
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
The Subtle Differences in Life
When I was at school, I favoured English Literature over Language. I had reasonable writing skills which enabled me to blag things if I didn't know the answer or pad something out around an argument but hitting the required word count. When I was at University, that did not work. Studying English Lit meant a lot of reading, no blagging, no padding. I was exposed. So I went down the Language route, and my analytical skills developed.
I chose English because I was reasonably good at writing in particular, but also because I didn't really know what I wanted to do and it was a solid route to keep my options open along with my languages. I also harboured vague desires to become a teacher and subsequently a journalist, but that didn't last too long. It did however give me solid foundations for my professional career, which I think was the right call. It also gave me a decent understanding of grammar - needless to say I'll be proofreading this blog several times.
I saw one of these humorous posts on Facebook a couple of days ago which highlighted the importance of grammar to our everyday lives. It read:
Knowing your shit and Knowing you're shit.....the difference grammar can make!
There's a pretty fundamental difference between the two, but an easy mistake to make. I am actually typing this blog on my blackberry....and I am avoiding the sms language. Unfortunately, as useful as texting, bbm, What's App, and MSN are, they do butcher the English language and we probably do make more grammatical mistakes for that reason. I never thought I would see the day when my mum would LOL at me!
As useful and as efficient as they are, it is so easy to create misunderstandings. How often have you questioned the tone of such a message which would be far clearer if somebody had told you on the phone? It happens all the time. And different people use grammar in different ways. If my girl messages me with a full stop (a ‘period’ to my North American friends) rather than an exclamation mark, I can tell the tone is perhaps a little downbeat or more serious. If a Rob Lockhart uses an exclamation mark, then either the world is about to end, or the Toronto Maple Leafs have just won a Stanley Cup. Needless to say that neither are likely.
Emails. Are you the kind of person who starts an email with Hello/Hi or Dear or do you just go straight in with the name? Personally, I find it a little impersonal at times without receiving the greeting, but you can meet that person and they can be as pleasant as anything. I had several emails with our company accountant last week and she started every email with ‘Hi Rob’ – even though we were speaking all day long via phone and email…..never once did she leave out the greeting which impressed me.
Understanding the small and subtle differences that your punctuation and grammar can have on the tone of what you and other people scribble is key to avoiding misunderstandings. Remember that next time you receive a message saying ‘U no u r shit’….that extra space between the u and the r is likely to be a heavy-thumbed mistake.
I chose English because I was reasonably good at writing in particular, but also because I didn't really know what I wanted to do and it was a solid route to keep my options open along with my languages. I also harboured vague desires to become a teacher and subsequently a journalist, but that didn't last too long. It did however give me solid foundations for my professional career, which I think was the right call. It also gave me a decent understanding of grammar - needless to say I'll be proofreading this blog several times.
I saw one of these humorous posts on Facebook a couple of days ago which highlighted the importance of grammar to our everyday lives. It read:
Knowing your shit and Knowing you're shit.....the difference grammar can make!
There's a pretty fundamental difference between the two, but an easy mistake to make. I am actually typing this blog on my blackberry....and I am avoiding the sms language. Unfortunately, as useful as texting, bbm, What's App, and MSN are, they do butcher the English language and we probably do make more grammatical mistakes for that reason. I never thought I would see the day when my mum would LOL at me!
As useful and as efficient as they are, it is so easy to create misunderstandings. How often have you questioned the tone of such a message which would be far clearer if somebody had told you on the phone? It happens all the time. And different people use grammar in different ways. If my girl messages me with a full stop (a ‘period’ to my North American friends) rather than an exclamation mark, I can tell the tone is perhaps a little downbeat or more serious. If a Rob Lockhart uses an exclamation mark, then either the world is about to end, or the Toronto Maple Leafs have just won a Stanley Cup. Needless to say that neither are likely.
Emails. Are you the kind of person who starts an email with Hello/Hi or Dear or do you just go straight in with the name? Personally, I find it a little impersonal at times without receiving the greeting, but you can meet that person and they can be as pleasant as anything. I had several emails with our company accountant last week and she started every email with ‘Hi Rob’ – even though we were speaking all day long via phone and email…..never once did she leave out the greeting which impressed me.
Understanding the small and subtle differences that your punctuation and grammar can have on the tone of what you and other people scribble is key to avoiding misunderstandings. Remember that next time you receive a message saying ‘U no u r shit’….that extra space between the u and the r is likely to be a heavy-thumbed mistake.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
The Last Supper
There comes a moment in everybody’s life when you realise it may well be the last opportunity you have to do something you have always wanted to or something you just love to do. For some, that moment may be death. For others, that may well be your stag do. Some people may actually believe they are the same thing, but there is a subtle difference....you can die more than once on your stag do.
Thankfully, I made it through the rain to coin a famous song. Starting at 4pm on Friday and finishing at 6pm on Sunday, I survived the weekend in my home town of Leeds. There was a bit of pain involved, and a serious lack of sleep, but sleep is overrated. And so are headaches allegedly.
People asked me if I was nervous and I genuinely was not. I have an excellent best man, and he planned a fabulous weekend with just the right mix of everything – rugby, football, golf, drinking, eating and a comedy Red Bull Flugtag. It certainly did cross my mind as I flew to Leeds on Thursday that I should appreciate a comfortable bed, normal clothes and good food however.
I prepared for the weekend on Thursday with the delights of my mum’s cooking. With my impending deaths on her mind, Mum wanted to cook me a good meal and I went for my all-time favourite last supper – Roast Beef, Yorkshire Puddings, Potatoes, Vegetables and Gravy. Hit the spot as always.
There are a number of moments where I am satisfied enough that if I am going to be struck by lightning any second, then so be it. Mum’s dinner is one, Everton scoring a last minute goal to win a key game is another, and a particular cuddle with my girl where our bodies just fit perfectly into each other’s arms is the other. I guess death and stag dos help remind us what are the key things in life and what they mean to us.
What I realised more than anything however is what a great group of family and friends I can count on. Leeds may not have been the first choice for many, but they braved the miserable weather and some incredibly rough women to spend a special weekend with me. Some dragged themselves across Leeds, some drove across the UK, and others flew in from other countries to be there and for that I am extremely grateful. I have hinted once or twice before that I am not always the most eloquent when I have to verbally speak about feelings but I hope that all the gentlemen who attended the weekend feel that I reciprocate the efforts that they put into our friendships. And even if it was just the anticipation of my impending deaths that enticed them to be there – the fact that I had had my favourite last supper ensured I was calm and prepared for what was to come.
Thankfully, I made it through the rain to coin a famous song. Starting at 4pm on Friday and finishing at 6pm on Sunday, I survived the weekend in my home town of Leeds. There was a bit of pain involved, and a serious lack of sleep, but sleep is overrated. And so are headaches allegedly.
People asked me if I was nervous and I genuinely was not. I have an excellent best man, and he planned a fabulous weekend with just the right mix of everything – rugby, football, golf, drinking, eating and a comedy Red Bull Flugtag. It certainly did cross my mind as I flew to Leeds on Thursday that I should appreciate a comfortable bed, normal clothes and good food however.
I prepared for the weekend on Thursday with the delights of my mum’s cooking. With my impending deaths on her mind, Mum wanted to cook me a good meal and I went for my all-time favourite last supper – Roast Beef, Yorkshire Puddings, Potatoes, Vegetables and Gravy. Hit the spot as always.
There are a number of moments where I am satisfied enough that if I am going to be struck by lightning any second, then so be it. Mum’s dinner is one, Everton scoring a last minute goal to win a key game is another, and a particular cuddle with my girl where our bodies just fit perfectly into each other’s arms is the other. I guess death and stag dos help remind us what are the key things in life and what they mean to us.
What I realised more than anything however is what a great group of family and friends I can count on. Leeds may not have been the first choice for many, but they braved the miserable weather and some incredibly rough women to spend a special weekend with me. Some dragged themselves across Leeds, some drove across the UK, and others flew in from other countries to be there and for that I am extremely grateful. I have hinted once or twice before that I am not always the most eloquent when I have to verbally speak about feelings but I hope that all the gentlemen who attended the weekend feel that I reciprocate the efforts that they put into our friendships. And even if it was just the anticipation of my impending deaths that enticed them to be there – the fact that I had had my favourite last supper ensured I was calm and prepared for what was to come.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
A Hairy Situation
Two of the most important ladies in my life have a major conflict. You always hope that your mum and wifey-to-be will get along, but sometimes there are pretty major obstacles that get in the way of a harmonious relationship. For almost six years, this has been a major obstacle, and leading up to our big day, it could be even more contentious. So I have decided to end the debate here and now.
Some people like facial hair and others do not. It makes a difference I guess if you have to come into contact with it. Thankfully HJ loves it and has never complained even when I have gone for the Stanley Cup Play-Off style beard.
Mum however has not been Bearded Bobby’s biggest fan. Anything longer than a millimetre and Mum’s fading eyes miraculously spark into action even on the webcam, and a new shaving kit is ordered. When I make it back to Leeds and there is a welcome home kiss or a farewell kiss on my departure, I’m forced to pucker my lips out as far as possible to avoid any major bristly contact.
So you can see my dilemma and there is a compromise to be reached. I can hereby confirm that there will be facial hair on August 4th, albeit a shadow, nothing too bristly, but enough. Nothing too outrageous, but I am calling it now.
Shaving and trimming can be a pain sometimes, but I much prefer the facial hair to baby face. I remember being 13-years-old and sprouting my first little fury moustache, and finally plucking the courage to shave it off one day under the supervision of my dad and sister. They were ever so forthcoming in their help and advice, and suggested the use of after shave immediately after. So kind and thoughtful as they are.
Back at school, I was one of the most developed in a hairyfying sense. Nothing too monkey like, but I was one of the youngest to have hairs on my legs (apart from one unfortunate girl), and rather than revel in my maturity and masculinity, I always found it a little embarrassing. As soon as school broke up for summer back in 1994, I sat in the bath and impulsively decided to shave my legs. I thought it may make me look slicker, maybe run a little faster on the football pitch. And if I looked like a complete fool, I had six weeks to grow something back. Nobody warned me of the science behind shaving and that it tends to grow back faster.
I guess most kids go through this kind of stuff. The irony is that we are often desperate to get rid of it when we are younger and we are desperately clinging on to it when we grow older. Having a hair-challenged dad, I have asked two hairdressers in the last couple of years as to whether they think I will lose mine, and both have said not. Thankfully, I followed Dad’s advice for the aftershave, but got mum’s genes there.
So as I am reaching my prime, I am aiming for a happy medium and going for just a little facial hair, nothing drastic and nothing that will cause any facial rashes to any unsuspecting wife, mum, sister, auntie etc. But I’m calling it, so do not be surprised on August 4th. Hopefully the ladies will resolve their major differences and we will all live happily ever after.
Some people like facial hair and others do not. It makes a difference I guess if you have to come into contact with it. Thankfully HJ loves it and has never complained even when I have gone for the Stanley Cup Play-Off style beard.
Mum however has not been Bearded Bobby’s biggest fan. Anything longer than a millimetre and Mum’s fading eyes miraculously spark into action even on the webcam, and a new shaving kit is ordered. When I make it back to Leeds and there is a welcome home kiss or a farewell kiss on my departure, I’m forced to pucker my lips out as far as possible to avoid any major bristly contact.
So you can see my dilemma and there is a compromise to be reached. I can hereby confirm that there will be facial hair on August 4th, albeit a shadow, nothing too bristly, but enough. Nothing too outrageous, but I am calling it now.
Shaving and trimming can be a pain sometimes, but I much prefer the facial hair to baby face. I remember being 13-years-old and sprouting my first little fury moustache, and finally plucking the courage to shave it off one day under the supervision of my dad and sister. They were ever so forthcoming in their help and advice, and suggested the use of after shave immediately after. So kind and thoughtful as they are.
Back at school, I was one of the most developed in a hairyfying sense. Nothing too monkey like, but I was one of the youngest to have hairs on my legs (apart from one unfortunate girl), and rather than revel in my maturity and masculinity, I always found it a little embarrassing. As soon as school broke up for summer back in 1994, I sat in the bath and impulsively decided to shave my legs. I thought it may make me look slicker, maybe run a little faster on the football pitch. And if I looked like a complete fool, I had six weeks to grow something back. Nobody warned me of the science behind shaving and that it tends to grow back faster.
I guess most kids go through this kind of stuff. The irony is that we are often desperate to get rid of it when we are younger and we are desperately clinging on to it when we grow older. Having a hair-challenged dad, I have asked two hairdressers in the last couple of years as to whether they think I will lose mine, and both have said not. Thankfully, I followed Dad’s advice for the aftershave, but got mum’s genes there.
So as I am reaching my prime, I am aiming for a happy medium and going for just a little facial hair, nothing drastic and nothing that will cause any facial rashes to any unsuspecting wife, mum, sister, auntie etc. But I’m calling it, so do not be surprised on August 4th. Hopefully the ladies will resolve their major differences and we will all live happily ever after.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
A Bug's Life
This week I seem to have had more random thoughts then ever. There’s no particular reason for it, it just happens I guess. Anyhow…I’m going to share them, so here goes.
Receiving a personal letter or card in the post is an amazing feeling. They are so rare these days, you know that when you do get one, somebody has taken time, care and effort out of their day to post that little treat for you. We have received a couple recently and it made our day, and it is something we should do more often. Unfortunately, most of the mail we receive these days are bills. I guess that is what happens when you grow up.
Weddings are expensive. I cannot deny that. It has crossed my mind more than once to change the industry I work in based on that alone. Making decisions on colours, styles, and meals is not easy at all. I am actually enjoying it though and while this may be the most daft and naïve comment I have ever made, I do not think it will be too difficult to organise. Don’t get me wrong, I know there is plenty of work to be done, but I’m just excited and enjoying it so far. We’re still waiting for some major hiccup, but we’ll deal with it and move on!
I have decided that the only reason people mock my musical taste is because they are envious – it is the only conclusion I can reach given how common it is discussed here in Lausanne and potential further afield.
Coming from a recent trip to Ikea, I have to admit that I cannot think of a similar kind of store where you can, spend time and money, and come home wondering why you ever picked up that piece of junk in the first place. It’s not expensive so you think you have a bargain, but it is never going to work in your home. There is probably 95% of the stuff they sell that I do not really like, but my blue Ikea bag seems to be full every time. They must be doing something right.
Speaking of Ikea and all things household, I can recall my mum saying to me when I was at university that I would have to get a good job just to pay for all the builders, plumbers, plasterers, electricians to come and do work in my home when I eventually got my own place....so useless was I at anything DIY. Well mum, times are changing….I’ve been doing all kinds of DIY things recently and I’ll show you when you come to visit. Just don’t touch any sockets, or anything electrical for that matter.
I was contacted this week by a journalist from the Wall Street Journal – I posted the article on my wall. It was an interesting read having been part of both the betting industry and Brentford myself. I did not actually speak to the lady, but I thought it was well written. I do have a hard time trusting some journalists and I would have refused to speak about the matter regardless. That said, I thought the article was well written by Hannah Karp and I suspect that would not have been the case if it had been a story in England where a huge slant would have been put on it no doubt.
Receiving a personal letter or card in the post is an amazing feeling. They are so rare these days, you know that when you do get one, somebody has taken time, care and effort out of their day to post that little treat for you. We have received a couple recently and it made our day, and it is something we should do more often. Unfortunately, most of the mail we receive these days are bills. I guess that is what happens when you grow up.
Weddings are expensive. I cannot deny that. It has crossed my mind more than once to change the industry I work in based on that alone. Making decisions on colours, styles, and meals is not easy at all. I am actually enjoying it though and while this may be the most daft and naïve comment I have ever made, I do not think it will be too difficult to organise. Don’t get me wrong, I know there is plenty of work to be done, but I’m just excited and enjoying it so far. We’re still waiting for some major hiccup, but we’ll deal with it and move on!
I have decided that the only reason people mock my musical taste is because they are envious – it is the only conclusion I can reach given how common it is discussed here in Lausanne and potential further afield.
Coming from a recent trip to Ikea, I have to admit that I cannot think of a similar kind of store where you can, spend time and money, and come home wondering why you ever picked up that piece of junk in the first place. It’s not expensive so you think you have a bargain, but it is never going to work in your home. There is probably 95% of the stuff they sell that I do not really like, but my blue Ikea bag seems to be full every time. They must be doing something right.
Speaking of Ikea and all things household, I can recall my mum saying to me when I was at university that I would have to get a good job just to pay for all the builders, plumbers, plasterers, electricians to come and do work in my home when I eventually got my own place....so useless was I at anything DIY. Well mum, times are changing….I’ve been doing all kinds of DIY things recently and I’ll show you when you come to visit. Just don’t touch any sockets, or anything electrical for that matter.
I was contacted this week by a journalist from the Wall Street Journal – I posted the article on my wall. It was an interesting read having been part of both the betting industry and Brentford myself. I did not actually speak to the lady, but I thought it was well written. I do have a hard time trusting some journalists and I would have refused to speak about the matter regardless. That said, I thought the article was well written by Hannah Karp and I suspect that would not have been the case if it had been a story in England where a huge slant would have been put on it no doubt.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
