Bowch's Blog

Spam is always a pain in the neck for blogs. Even though I've only made 14 entries, including this one, my comment count, is almost 700, of which only 6 are genuine. The rest have been spam comments I've deleted.

Anyway, I've got a few spam blockers in place that don't seem to help much; especially since I'm having to moderate a lot of the spam comments myself. Tonight, I've added Googles Recaptcha to the mix, and hopefully that'll help!

US release date of July 10th 2015

With both kids out yesterday, Beck and I took the opportunity to watch some movies:

World War Z, Dog Soldiers and I Am Legend.

3 cracking movies.

Kids are out again this afternoon. so we might watch something else!

One cold and bitter Thursday in Munich, Germany,
Eight great football stalwarts conceded victory,
Eight men will never play again who met destruction there,
The flowers of English football, the flowers of Manchester
Matt Busby’s boys were flying, returning from Belgrade,
This great United family, all masters of their trade,
The pilot of the aircraft, the skipper Captain Thain,
Three times they tried to take off and twice turned back again.
The third time down the runaway disaster followed close,
There was slush upon that runaway and the aircraft never rose,
It ploughed into the marshy ground, it broke, it overturned.
And eight of the team were killed as the blazing wreckage burned.
Roger Byrne and Tommy Taylor who were capped for England’s side.
And Ireland’s Billy Whelan and England’s Geoff Bent died,
Mark Jones and Eddie Colman, and David Pegg also,
They all lost their lives as it ploughed on through the snow.
Big Duncan he went too, with an injury to his brain,
And Ireland’s brave Jack Blanchflower will never play again,
The great Matt Busby lay there, the father of his team
Three long months passed by before he saw his team again.
The trainer, coach and secretary, and a member of the crew,
Also eight sporting journalists who with United flew,
and one of them Big Swifty, who we will ne’er forget,
the finest English ‘keeper that ever graced the net.
Oh, England’s finest football team its record truly great,
its proud successes mocked by a cruel turn of fate.
Eight men will never play again, who met destruction there,
the flowers of English football, the flowers of Manchester

One of the films I've been wanting to see since I first heard about it was the Stephen Hawking biopic 'The Theory of Everything' starring Eddie Redmayne and Felicity Jones. It's based on Jane Hawking's book 'Travelling to Infinity, My Life with Stephen' and charts their first meeting at a party in 1963, their life together, Hawking's deteriorating health as a result of his illness, and their subsequent separation in 1990.

It's unsurprising, at least in my opinion, that it it has been nominated for Oscars as Best Picture, Best Actor for Redmayne, Best Actress for Jones, Best Adapted Screenplay for McCarten, and Best Original Score for Jóhann Jóhannsson. It was also nominated for ten BAFTAs. It has already won Golden Globe awards for Motion Picture Drama, for Eddie Redmayne as Best Actor and for Jóhann Jóhannsson with Best Original Score.

I would highly recommend the film.

Well, I'm feeling better; more or less. The wife, however, is entering a third week of feeling like crap; she has a rather vicious throat infection, which has blocked one of her eustachian tubes and caused her some balance issues. She's on a course of antibiotics, and we're hoping she'll start feeling better soon; especially, since she wants to enjoy her pregnancy.

Apparently, I'm a grumpy bastard when I'm ill... according to my wife, anyway! Although, she did say that to put things into context, I rarely get ill; well, ill enough to incapacitate me.

I've been ill pretty much all week and it got to the stage where I went to bed at 6:30pm on Wednesday, finished work early on Thursday and went to bed at 1pm and spent all of Friday in bed. I'm still not feeling great, but I am better than I was. Hopefully, taking things easy today and tomorrow will have me back on my feet fully by time work comes around on Monday morning.

I was in Windermere at Beck's parents on New Year's Day, and the weather was atrocious. Driving back, there was a significant amount of standing water. The first one I hit was virtually invisible; it was very dark and unlit, and looked just like normal tarmac. Anyway, it did enough damage to the car that it's gone for repairs.

A Peugeot 107 is significantly smaller than a Vauxhall Zafira; although, there's a surprising amount of room inside.

My wife just got the result of her pregnancy test. She's about 3 weeks pregnant! I'm going to be a father...