A Footballing First

Well, it took a while, but yesterday, Rowan became the first Wallace boy to accompany me to a football match. Rowan and I were the 2 in the 912 who went along to watch the Championship (first division to you and me) relegation battle between Alloa and St. Mirren at a blustery Indodrill Stadium in Alloa. With both teams having replaced their managers within the previous week after poor seasons to date, the game was never going to be a classic, but a goal in each half from the Buddies sealed the points.

Rowan has shown a modest interest in the sport this past year, mostly because his classmates play and talk about it all the time. To his credit, he was patient throughout a moderate match played on artificial turf but notably didn't cheer when the first goal went in and contrived to miss the second goal as he'd gone off to the toilet! Still, he was happy with his square sausage on a roll and a few fruit polos. It reminded me of my first match back on a sunny August afternoon in 1972, again following St. Mirren's relegation from the top flight, when I sat on the grass bank at the top of the Caledonian St End of what was then the vast, crumbling oval of Love St, the Buddies' erstwhile home. That day St. Mirren ran out 5-1 winners over Brechin City and my induction into a life of supporting also-rans was complete. Time will tell if Rowan repeats his trip to see another match with me, but it was good to have his company yesterday. Maybe Santa will bring him a pair of football boots after all.

St.Mirren debut

It's almost two seasons since the doors closed on Love Street, St.Mirren's home for a major part of its 134 year existence. I've seen little on either the playing side or, from televised games, the new stadium, to entice me to a match since, but Lesley has been getting increasingly keen. St.Mirren have spent yet another season at the wrong end of the SPL so I took Lesley through to the "relegation six-pointer" against bottom club Hamilton.

We almost didn;t make it. The traffic jam that is the M8, especially with roadworks and Rangers at home, was tedious. I parked in Albion Road next to the rather forlorn, derelict Love St. The turnstiles are still there but beyond there are just mounds of overgrown rubble on which the terraces and, later, stands used to surround one of the bext playing surfaces in Scotland. We had to belt along to the new ground, Lesley having to jog alongside me to keep up. We picked up our tickets and got in with a minute to spare.

New St.Mirren Park is very much a kit stadium with concrete terraces on to which are bolted plastic chairs. At least there was a decent crowd in (still less than 5,000) to watch the game. Lesley and I were at the front, near the dug-outs (and actually appeared once or twice on the match highlights). Hamilton were the better team and scored a great opener before half time. In the second half St.Mirren rallied briefly to score an equalising header then got a fairly soft penalty, with Hamilton having a man sent off as a result. When Michael Higdon drilled in his hat-trick with a great finish, it was all over. The Buddies dominated for ten minutes and won 3-1 to go 9 points clear of Hamilton.

Lesley was delighted to see a victory in her first live match and joined me, 5-1 v Brechin in August 1972, and Sharon, 8-0 v Clyebank in March 2000, still the biggest win I've seen, in that regard. We had a wee tour of the old haunts around Glenburn before taking the circuitous route around the south of Glasgow rather than put up with the M8 nonsense again.

My day wasn't over, however, as Sharon had been hard at work preparing the Pampered Chef Trip Achievers' dinner which we were hosting in the evening. Around 20 people were there for drinks and a spread laid on by my talented wife. We had a busy but enjoyable evening with quite a few empty bottles of wine ending up in the recycling bin. I sometimes wonder what the boys make of it all. There was never the level of socialising in the Wallace house when I was little that the boys must consider as the norm today, even though they, remarkably, sleep through it all ince they've seen and heard everyone come in and made an occasional appearance. It's easier for us to entertain at home, due to a lack of babysitters, although we don't mind getting invitations!

A Sunday afternoon in the park

Sharon was away once more, doing a show, so after dropping Finn off at a birthday party at Time Twisters.I took the remainder to the park in Corstorphone village. It was a proto-spring day, the sort that has you imagining the buds will soon be on the trees and there will be a bit of warmth in the sun. We took a variety of balls: a heavy football, a light football and a small basketball. Balls seem to have been accumulating in the house over the winter. Perhaps the boys will take to playing with them rather than focusing on the DSi, the Wii, the laptop or computer and anything else which can provide them with some form of electronic game entertainment, such as mobile phones, Sharon's iPhone or even the iPod.

Having got them outside they had a great time kicking the balls down a slope at me and having me kick them back at them, effectively playing football dodge the ball. Angus inadvertantly wandered into the line of fire on one occasion. It takes more than a ball in the mush to stop our sturdy boy however. Rowan was next to be felled by a blow from the heavy ball that skipped up and hit him full in the face. Despite his initial wailings he too recovered quickly, mainly because he decided, mid-howl, that he needed a wee. I had a great time kicking the ball about with them (fortunately Sean wasn't hit, else we would likely have had to retire home) and it really took me back 35 years to Sunday afternoons playing football "up the park" at the top of Raasay Drive, the ground soft but not muddy, diving about in games filled with boyish emotions and occasional flashes of skill and wandering back down for tea as it started to get dark, dirty and full of fresh air.

Our lads do live in a technological age but Sharon and I do our best to get them out in the air. They enjoy it once they are out, but getting them over the threshold can be a devil of a job. To witness Angus running about the playpark and climbing a nine-foot high slide on his own, in short sleeves, in February, and having Rowan remonstrating with me because he was so involved in one of his imaginary games (usually based on Lego Batman or Battles or some other DS game) and didn't want to leave to pick up Finn, shows that they can have great fun that isn't dependent on staring intently at a games screen.

Scunnered

St. Mirren 0 Rangers 1. Were we robbed? No. Did we get stuffed? No. Did we play well? Yes. Did decisions go against us? Certainly not. The fact remains that, despite dominating the CIS League Cup Final against Rangers for long periods, including the whole of the first half when it was eleven versus eleven, we only forced one (albeit excellent) save that I can recall and clipped the top of the bar with a long range effort. As the second half began and Rangers were handicapped with first one then a second sending-off, St. Mirren ran out of steam and ideas while Rangers were galvinised into (rearguard) action. Miller's headed goal on the counter-attack was a sucker punch but not entirely unexpected to a long-suffering Buddies fan like me. We haven't scored in our last four games, won once (the semi-final) in our last 14 and only scoerd five goals in that time.

For me, the result of the final embodied everything that is historically wrong with Scottish football. A provincial team like St. Mirren, which is now in the black following the sale of Love St, even when they played well, even when they had numerical advantage, just did not have the quality to defeat an institution like Rangers. Rangers, and Celtic, both heavily in debt in their quest to perpetuate the dominance of the Old Firm in Scottish domestic football, have always been able to attract the best of a fairly poor selection of homegrown and foreign players prepared to ply their trade in the footballing backwater of Scotland. It really does make it boring for the rest of us.

Sour grapes? Maybe. Disappointed? Yes. But just how special is Ranger's 26th League Cup win? I was explaining to Finn as we went over his Personal Learning Plan yesterday that goals (in the sense of something you are trying to achieve) had to be something that weren't readily achievable; that you had to work hard to get there so that you felt really good when you managed it. Setting a goal of eating two pieces of fruit every day would be too easy, especially for Finn. So I suggested his new goal (after managing to swim underwater without goggles) should be to climb one of the Pentland Hills. The Rangers players who secured the win yesterday obviously worked hard to do so, but for a club where success is expected, for the club to win yet another League Cup can't mean that much to them.

Semi-final success

"Mummy or Daddy!" is generally the first phrase shouted in our house of a morning. When this is followed by "I've had a wee accident!" then it's not a great start to the day. By and large one of us is awake already, in the room with Angus trying to shush him, when Rowan yells his morning pronouncements. Chances are he hears Angus crying, wakes up, then disregards the fact that his clock only says 6. Latterly his explanantion is "I'm just pretending it's wake-up time." Cute as that may be, we ain't buying it, especially when Finn and Sean decide to "just pretend" too.

Angus's sleeping is slowly improving, with him often going past 0615 before he wakes. He has had some terrible morning nappies recently, which may be waking him up (although he isn't happy when he wakes up on his tummy as he gets stuck) and which we hope are teething nappies. Still no sign of any teeth breaking through though as he approaches the eight month mark. He's getting quite mobile with his caterpillar crawling and hauled himself up on Finn's bed the other morning, tried to take a sideways step then collapsed. I had to lower his cot base at the weekend but I'm not sure it's low enough.

It was freezing at the weekend. With Sharon down in Castle Douglas on Saturday, I took the four lads out to Beecraigs Park but we did well to last an hour (especially with Sean falling twice and screaming the place down) as I fed Angus in his buggy and started to painfully lose feeling in my fingers. The boys were treaetd to a Greggs lunch in the car in Linlithgow then a wander round the Hopetoun House Garden Centre where discs of ice frozen on top of water features were of most interest. On Sunday I went with Sean, Finn and Rowan to climb Blackford Hill which they did very well, especially the littlest 'un. After a hot chocolate in Victor Hugo's which prompted Sean into further dramatics - "I'm going to be sick!" - we went to the East Meadows playpark. Things were going fine until the cold suddenly penetrated Rowan's defences leading to his obligatory dissolution into tears and trauma.

Sharon and I had a curious night out on Saturday, dining at the 110 Restaurant in the casino at Fountain Park which had all the charm of an airport departure lounge. The meal was decent enough but I suspect, given the subsequent bowel problems I've had this week, that I was "glutenized." We were then stuck in second row seats in the cineam, craning our necks to view the appropriately named "Up In The Air." We enjoyed it.

The cold weather resulted in a surprise return of the snow and ice. This didn't stop Rowan going to get his prescription for his glasses, nor did it stop St. Mirren reaching their first final in 23 years as they defeated Hearts 1-0 in the League Cup semi-final. When we won the Cup in 1987 we beat Hearts in the semi-final too. This time we'll have to overcome Rangers in the final. Straightforward enough?

Limping over the finish line

As Sharon gets closer to her due date, so the days seem to roll by more slowly. She is in a lot of pain with SPD to the extent that managing the stairs is now a once-a-day activity, ideally avoided at all costs. Being on her feet, sitting down, even lying down: nothing seems to provide much relief. After a coffee at the Gyle last Thursday she rose to go and could barely walk with the pain. Not that the boys are being particularly understanding. Huffing and puffing, rolling their eyes and being downright defiant is the norm with occasional bursts of helping Sharon by picking up things and doing jobs the exception.

Susan and Dermot have beaten us to the drop, as it were, with the arrival of their fourth (a second boy) on Saturday 23rd. Congratulations! Shauna was born four days after Sean so we will have managed eight children between us in just over 6.5 years.

Yesterday was a real sunny summer's day so I took the boys to Saughton Park for a play and a picnic. I went last weekend with Rowan and Finn and discovered the gardens properly for the first time. Sadly, this week, all the tulips had been removed - I think it is more of a spring garden - but we sat in a real sun-trap to have our soup and sandwiches. Sharon joined us eventually, after meeting Corinna for a coffee in town. Once home, the boys had more of a runaround in the garden while I weeded the beds and cut the grass.

Sharon isn't the only one limping over the finishing line. St.Mirren avoided relegation by 2 goals on Saturday, losing to Hamilton 1-0. If we'd lost 3-0 they'd have gone down instead of Inverness who lost 1-0 at home to Falkirk. A very poor finish to the season saw Saints lose to 4 of the 5 teams in the bottom half, with only the victory over Falkirk last week keeping them up. There's always next season. Competitively, Standard Life's cricket season is almost over too. We've lost our first three games, heavily, and are now out of two of the three competitions in which we play. My enthusiasm for playing is at a low ebb!

Sharon and I had a rare evening out on Saturday, dining with the Munros at Howies in Bruntsfield. The food was fine, if a bit safe in its flavours, more like good home-cooked food, but we enjoyed gettnig out for chat and a drink.

There was one in the bed

It was strange last night, putting one small boy to bed and tucking one small boy in later in the evening. This morning we were able to waken up in our own time and I was able to go upstairs to get the small boy out of his bed. Rowan is very good at staying in bed until someone goes to get him, although when that someone is Sean or Finn he usually goes from 0 to 90 in no time and is soon shouting his way around the house. Last night Finn went away for his first sleepover, to Zoe's house. Sean was on his third and last night of a second caravan holiday with the Patersons, down at Melrose this time. So we only had Rowan to feed, change and put to bed. He's enough of a handful on his own anyway!

Sean sounds very grown up when he phones home. He and Ross were doing laps of the campsite on their bikes, motivated by money to try removing their stabilisers. In the event, they came home with one stabiliser each. They visited Floors Castle where Sean really liked filling in the quiz as they went round and went for a walk yesterday despite the heavy showers. The boys ended up with chocolate and strawberry ice-creams. he has thoroughly enjoyed his two caravan holidays and is asking if we can go on one sometime. I'm not sure if Sharon and I are up to the thought of four children in a confined space!

Without Sean, Finn and Rowan tend to be a bit rudderless. I took them to see Lesley and Stuart on Saturday then on to Beecraigs Park where we went for a walk in the woods, following the blue trail. Rowan did well to walk the 1.25 miles, only complaining towards the end after Finn had bumped him to the ground and left him with dirty wet knees. They had a good play in the playpark then we drove home, them asleep and me silently cheering St.Mirren's 2-0 victory over Falkirk which lifted them off the bottom of the league and more or less assured their survival this season. On Monday, Rowan, Finn and I went to Ratho on a fruitless trip to the soft play. It was too busy, so we looked in Tiso, had lunch and came home via Sainsburys and IKEA. Zoe came round and that was Finn happy again. Zoe even came to watch him do his swimming lesson. Sharon said they were funny, waving to each other. Finn is now at Zoe's swimming lesson, no doubt looking to pass on some tips as he closes in on the last couple of stickers that would earn him his yellow hat.

I started the annual hedge-trimming today, doing the front and driveway hedges. I didn't cut the cable this time (it gets shorter ever year): today's feature mishap was standing on the cable as I lifted up the trimmer, thereby pulling the wires out of the connector. Just about every time I use that trimmer I end up having to repair something!

Teeth

We had a family visit to the dentist last Wednesday which went smoothly, mainly because Sharon and I were both present and so could take turns at crowd control in the waiting room rather than keeping the boys (Rowan and Finn principally) from trying to open drawers and cupboards in the surgery itself. Rowan was funny lying in the chair and opening his mouth apprehensively but he got the all clear as did the other two lads although Finn's thumb-sucking did draw attention. Sean's at an age too where he should be stopping.

Sean's adult teeth are ready to descend, said the dentist and Sean is delighted that he finally has two wobbly teeth, being one of three in his class who is yet to lose a tooth. Finn did his best to follow him last night, chipping one of his front teeth on the sink upstairs as he stepped up to turn on the tap. A sore one, but Finn is the most resilient of the three. His temper has returned though. This may be due to the testosterone of a recent growth spurt: he definitely looks a bit meaner and leaner and Sharon often gets asked if he and Sean are twins. I wouldn't put them that close (Sean remains 9-10cm taller) but Sean is never happy when I tell him Finn will end up taller when they're both grown up.

Sharon flew over to Shannon with Sean and Finn this weekend to be picked up by Marie and Michael and transported to Tralee to see Edel and Alan (and Olivia). Finn didn't fly well on either flight: the outward leg was plagued by a hen party blowing whistles and the return leg was rather bumpy on the descent. I had Rowan to myself which was novel. We had a fairly quiet time (as quiet as you get when the garrulous Rowan is in full flow) but, despite the blustery sleet showers, we managed out to the supermarket, Buckstone Park and the museum where he had a great run about. He went to Wendy's for a while while Ian Paterson and I watched the St. Mirren v Celtic cup quarter-final on TV. Amazingly, the Buddies pulled off their first victory over the Bhoys in 19 years! 1-0! I phoned my Uncle James to make sure he'd seen it, espacially after last week's 7-0 trouncing at Parkhead!

Rowan now has his own "big boy bed," one of the adjustable beds from IKEA that we took from someone who was finished with it. I've set it up in the spare bedroom for now, for Rowan to have his naps in. He settled in fine over the weekend. Once he gets used to it and we figure out how we're going to rearrange the rooms and beds in advance of No.4, we'll move him from his cot.

Is yer Motherwell?

It's been an icy few days but not too disruptive on the travel front. I took the lads out to Beecraigs Country Park on Sunday where we didn't stray far from the car but still had a lot of fun playing by the stream and building a dam; writing names and drawing pictures in the covering of snow still dusting the ground; going for a tramp through the snowbound trees. It was good to get some fresh air. Mind you, I got plenty of that on Saturday watching a desperately poor 1-1 draw between Motherwell and St. Mirren in the Scottish Cup fourth round. We scored early on, they equalised in the second half, but the pitch was sandy, muddy and bumpy and the quality of football on show was dire.

The last time I was at Fir Park for a Cup game was on 26th Feb 1977 with Alex Ferguson in charge of the Buddies, a rampant 4-1 defeat of Dundee Utd in the third round under our belts and thousands flocking from Paisley to cheer our onward march to glory. I was with Graeme Nixon and his Dad, infrequent football supporters, and can remember the traffic tailing back past Strathclyde Park. The kick-off was delayed to accommodate the 28,000 crowd. Imagine that for a Saints v Motherwell game now! Saturday's was a fifth that size and Fir Park only holds 13,500 these days. Motherwell took the lead but St. Mirren equalised. Alas, it was not to be, as Motherwell's mustachioed super-striker of the late seventies, Willie Pettigrew, a man who looked like an ugly Billy Connolly, sealed a 2-1 win for the Steelmen. We were mixed in with the Motherwell fans (I'm not sure there was even segregation in these pre-1980 Criminal Justice Act days) and it was a real disappointment as we had felt the Buddies were invincible under Ferguson. We had to be content with the First Division title instead.

Sean managed his first recorded goal at any sport last week after a year and a half of going to ball sports after school on a Thursday. Weeks can go by without him getting a touch at the ball, regardless of the sport being played, but last week he scored a goal at hockey. It sounds like it was the turn around point for his team: from being 2-0 down Sean made it 2-1 and they secured a 2-2 draw. We won't go touting for sponsors just yet but it was worthy of note!

All four Wallace boys had long overdue haircuts last week. Sharon took Rowan one day, Sean and Finn another and I took myself! As the barber said after heaving his way through Rowan's locks and surveying the pile on the floor, "There's some come in here that don't even have that much to start with!" Rowan suddenly looks about 2 years older.

While on the subject of sport, I still can't believe England's abject collapse for 51 in the first Test in Jamaica. I was watching it on fast forward: I didn't have to! We were going round to the St. John's for dinner. Unfortunately Brian (of West Indian origin) hadn't seen it but was incredulous when I told him the score. We enjoyed our night out and dinner nonetheless!

Knee nasty

Adrian has injured his knee playing soccer over in the States and by the sound of the damage to his ligaments it's going to be cheaper for him to come home to Ireland to recuperate. Here's hoping his hobbling holds up.

Korean calamity

Once more the gallant losers, Ireland fluff their penalty kicks and miss the opportunity to reach the quarter-finals of the World Cup in Korea after battling back to equalise with a last-minute penalty against Spain who then played extra time with only ten men. Ian was relieved at Ireland's exit, since, the way things were going, hot water and towels could well have been required had Sharon got any more excited!