First off, for the record, I am missing First-born terribly. I dropped her off at the airport exactly a week ago today, and she won't be back until a week today.
One day she'll read all this stuff. So. I miss you. Lots.
I can't say it to her on the phone, because she's having a whale of a time by the sounds of things. And as I've said before, this is my diary.
But moving on. My father is unsurprisingly pretty unsupportive of the whole self-build thing. He's a very carefull fellow, and I respect him enormously. But in this instance... well... I figure I need to take life by the balls and make something happen.
The Uncle (with whom I've just quaffed far too much beer; starting with Fullers Chiswick and moving unwisely onto Youngs Special) looked at my options:
1) Buy a nastier apartment instead
2) Wait for some land to become available and build a place
3) Say 'fuck it' and move to Europe/Canada and invest in a skiing chalet
4) Buy a boat and live on that
5) Forget buying a house, and buy a ticket to ride on SpaceShip 1
He put his pint glass down. Took my hand. Looked me straight in the eye and said "If you look like you're going to go on that rocket, I'll break your legs"
Thanks. I think.
(for the record, he though buying a boat and dropping out of the rat-race was a better bet)
