As manager Gary Waddock and his Wycombe team currently sweat over avoiding the drop from League One, it seems appropriate to discuss the sensitive issue of squeaky bums.
It was Sir Alex Ferguson – another football boss involved in a nervy season finale at Manchester United – who coined the phrase “squeaky bum time” and at 5 in the morning last week those three words (not necessarily in that order) were tip-toeing their way nervously through my sensitive head.
It was slap bang in the middle of the period (4.40 to 5:50am) known in our house as the ‘danger zone’. One false move, one loud snore, one innocent cough, one bad step and the day could be ruined before it even got going. The waking of my daughter needed to be evaded at all costs.
And so as my alarm went off for an unusual early shift at work, a display of super-human efforts was required to avoid a chain of heart-wrenching, sinew-pulling and painstaking events. Any mishap or error in the process of getting up and heading out of the door, it would be game over. Here’s a list to help provide you a feel of my predicament.
Step 1. Try avoiding knocking over glass of water when scrambling for phone as alarm goes off.
Step 2. Avoid falling over pile of laundry next to bed.
Step 3. Don’t walk into dresser. Sounds silly but confused state of direction is at a maximum when the moon is out.
Step 4. Avoid dreaded squeaks (big and small ones) on hallway floorboards.
Step 5. After entering bathroom, step 4 applies, but extra caution required due to need for rotation of body around sink Step 6. Operation LOO SEAT. It squeaks when you sit down. It squeaks when you get up. Tensing of leg muscles and hovering required. A very tricky skill to master and crucial nonetheless.
Step 7. Operation STAIRS DESCENT. Every step has the potential to squeak at all opportunities and with varying degrees of volume. Extensive research into angle of foot-planting and squeaks required.
Steps 8-12 involve all sorts of other pitfalls, particularly when operating taps, fridges and dressing in the dark downstairs.
Any one of these steps has the ability to lead to the waking up of my beautifully light-sleeping daughter. But last week, step six proved my and my family's undoing. I hovered, my cheeks descended too quickly, my breath on hold, and EEEEKKKKK…the baby wails ensued. Baby up, the wife soon followed. Thank you squeaky bum. I arrived at work an hour later to find a text in my phone reading: “Thanks hubby, thanks for waking us all up”.
And there we have it. Another of area of training required. Any words of comfort or tips for silencing the loo seat, covering my daughter’s ears or tricks to avoid creaking stairs? Or perhaps someone can lend me a rope to abseil out of the bedroom window? All thoughts gratefully received.
In the mean time, I hope the story of my squeaky bum won’t cause too many nightmares and if waking my little girl brings some comfort or luck to aid Wycombe’s fight to stay up then it’s a squeaky sacrifice I am willing to make again. Perhaps.
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