This more complicated version of the F35 has a reduced range and reduced weapons payload compared to the regular version of the aircraft. The jump jet is also more complicated to build, fly and maintain with all the extra expenses that follows. For obvious reasons the Royal Navy hasn't been keen on receiving this version. However defence contractors that are friendly with the Tory party are.

Abandoning the jump jet wasn't entirely a pain free choice. Flying the conventional version of the aircraft would require our two new Queen Elizabeth class aircraft carriers to be fitted with costly catapult launching and tailhook recovery systems.

Yesterday I had a moment of true contentedness. Obviously it didn't last too long - I'm too much of a grump for that - but for a while I was truly happy and at peace for the first time since, well I'm not going over old ground now.

I was walking down along garden path holding the hand of our two year old Will. He was humming a tune of his own composition. It was raining, for a change not water, but cherry blossoms from the trees in our garden,

The air was full of birdsong; beautiful, melodic, birdsong. I don't think I've ever heard as much birdsong as our new village. The birdsong is an ever-present beautiful chorus here. It's so good for the soul.

And so as little Will and I walked among the blossom and birdsong, hand in hand, with the sun shining on us I had a moment of peace and clarity. It feels like after the dramas and travels of recent years, our family has found its home. I have found my home, somewhere I can relax and hopefully heal from all that has befallen us.

I do believe I am actually happy.

A slight problem for the blog though, but I'm sure I can muster up some grumpyness soon...

In the meantime why not check out my music blog Grumpyrocker, it's got plenty of good stuff there, mostly not written by me.

Got lots of stuff to post about so I'd better get back onto it, or Mumsnet won't let me play in their paddling pool anymore.

Once again the subject of wearing crosses in the workplace has reared its head again following the government's decision that there is no automatic right to wear one.On this rare occasion I agree with the government.

The sort of people who get annoyed by this kind of thing have already been getting worked up about it. How can we show we are Christians, they demand of the government, if we can't wear our execution-based jewelry?

Here of course is the irony. The sort of person who needs a bloody great cross to show that they are a Christian, the sort of person who rants and raves about their rights to wear a cross, needs a heck of a lot more than a piece of jewelry to convince anyone they have anything to do with the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.

We've done plenty though - got quotes from movers, chosen and bought new carpets, booked the move with BT and Sky and many other things besides. We still haven't done the twins' school application though - whoops - tonight, we'll get that done tonight.

I don't really like moving, it's usually so stressful and tiring. Moving is one thing - but moving with children is another kettle of fish. However when we moved to Dorset from London we used a full packing service. This was a revelation, suddenly so much of the stress of moving was removed. And thankfully we'll be using a packing service this time around.

So rather than dreading the move - as I usually would - I'm actually really excited about it. I'm really looking forward to the change of scenery, moving to a house that works better for our family and to starting my new job as full-time parental technician.

I'm also looking forward to starting some new projects. I've got plenty of plans for my music blog that I intend to work on once we're settled in our new home.

BTW sorry for this very dull blog post. I'm just testing my ability to write blog posts with the new browser in my recently updated Android tablet. The old one wasn't great for this purpose. The Ice Cream Sandwich browser is great though. You may be glad to hear that it now has a working spell checker. No excuses now

I really like where we live. Our Dorset village might be mostly a new build - but it is still a rural village with clean air, almost no crime and has a strong sense of community. But to be honest since moving here in 2009 I've not really been much of a social animal. Lovely place though it is it lacks one important thing - a pub.

Now you may scoff, or even offer some temperance advice. Hold fire. I am serious and this has nothing at all to do with alcohol. In fact I don't drink that much anymore - hard to believe if you read some of the tales of my youth. I've always loved pubs - whether drinking pint after pint of ale with friends, or just drinking something softer and enjoying a good book. Pubs are great places to meet and chat, I used to work behind a bar many years ago and the social aspect of that is something I miss, though not the work.

It comes down to this - I miss having a local.

Some sort of normality has returned to our household today. After nearly a week and a half of ilness both the twins are back at school today. That said, I'm still expecting a phone call at some point to come and bring Pat¹ home. Not that's he's really ill anymore, but he's in complete mard-arse² mode thanks to a week at home.

In the true style of parent blogging I'm going to moan about my lot. I've no real reason to, the fact I can sit here spending time to blog shows I'm a privilaged person, but parent blogging is all about moaning about stuff. In a moment I may start moaning about stuff I have no real training or expertese in such as the methods used to teach reading at school or the design of buggies, or some other stuff I know nothing about.

I know it's a bit late for talking of new year resolutions but earlier in the month I couldn't actually think of anything I wanted to promise myself in 2012. After some thought I've now decided on something - partly inspired by the approach of the BBC radio show The Infinite Monkey Cage.

Over the years I've embroiled myself in many a compex argument with creationists and those that subscribe to the intelligent design concept. The sad fact is these people are too into their delusions and lies to admit their error. You can't change the opinion of people this stupid. And I've come to realise I'm just wasting my breath.

The other problem with debating with creationists and especially intelligent design advocates is that they believe that their view is of equal value in a scientific discussion as those who offer real scientific theories. In trying to debate with these muppets we've given them credence, which is far from what they deserve. They peddle their "evolution is just a theory" nonsense at length - despite not understand what "theory" actually means in a scientific context. They believe that "theory" means guess, it doesn't.

Hello and a belated Happy New Year. There's been plenty of anticipation and excitement in our household over the festive period because 2012 signals change for our little family. I've held off mentioning any of this over the last few weeks until plans were finalised.

The big news is that my wife has got a new job. Okay, for most of you that's not very exciting. But as she's a vicar that means change for all of us. The most visible change is that we're going to be moving. Not far. We're leaving our sleepy West Dorset village and heading to another sleepy West Dorset village some half an hour's drive west.

We're moving to a large vicarage - which is nice. But it also means lots of change in how we live our lives. With my wife taking over a full time role I'm going to become one of those fabled beasts - a full-time house husband. Scary eh? Okay with the twins at school it's not going to be too tough in childcare terms - just me and toddler Will most days. But during the school holidays I imagine the stress levels will rise.

2011 has been a great year for rock music, in particular for progressive rock and melodic death metal. While I still hold that 2009 was the best rock music year of recent times I still think there are plenty of great records that should be on your shopping list when those Christmas vouchers come flooding in next week.

Check out my musical review of the year over on my music blog Grumpyrocker.

I wrote recently about how I wasn't well at the moment and some of the rather unpleasant procedures I've undergone to get to the bottom¹ of whatever is wrong with me.

If you remember I had two tests lined up. I've been very nervous about these tests, more because I've been scared of what they might find. Partly because I tend to worry about such things anyway and also because a stupid GP scared the Bejaysus² out of me.

Well the experience of the first test was fine. As fine as being fed feet first into a giant radioactive doughnut can be anyway. We can save on electricity bills now as I'll glow in the dark for a year or so. In the week since the CT scan I'd not heard from my GP or consultant and took that to mean "no news is good news". After all if they'd found anything in there they'd have called me, right?³.

Do you ever just read something and hold your head in your hands in despair? I did when I just read some online debates among tens of parents on whether they let their children play games rated for adults. Seemingly intelligent and well educated people can be seen trying to justify allowing their children to view the most violent of content. These people know how violent the content is, they can't even plead ignorance of that. Yet out of some misplaced pride in their child's ability to function as an adult or perhaps a typically modern and lazy aproach to let their little darling have whatever he wants they would attempt to justify their reckless stupidity.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Many years ago - before I began a career writing about videogames - worked in a videogames store. We would often have parents walking up to the counter with a violent game intended for their child nexrt to them. In such cases we would point out the nature of the content. In many cases - thankfully - the parent would be shocked and it would be clear the child had lied about what was in that game case. In all too many cases though - especially among the educationally bereft - the parent would reply that they didn't give a toss (or something stronger). And in those cases we wouldn't sell them the game either.

Eagled eyed readers will notice there's now a Mumsnet Blog Network badge displayed in the right hand column of this site. This this daddy is now one of the certified bloggers on Mumsnet. I've only been involved for a week or so but the debate among the many bloggers that caught my eye during this time is over "mummyblaggers".

What is a mummyblagger? That's a blog where the writer seems to be going all out to get as much free stuff as possible, filling the site with more reviews - well let's be honest very thinly disguised adverts - for whatever free junk some lazy PR rep is willing to send them. I've written of my dislike for this kind of approach in the past.

Something odd has happened to British television in the last couple of years. The gameshow, once a staple of primetime television, has disappeared from our screens.

Or has it?

I've not enjoyed the latter half of 2011 thanks to a lingering illness. What's wrong with me? My guess is something as simple as kidney stones, but it has been a tough few months that has seen me at times feeling a-okay and other times in pain and having to take to my bed.

The months have been frustrating and scary too thanks to the inibility of various general practicioners to prescribe a coherent treatment regime. I've seen four different GPs over the last few months and this has not been entirely satisfactory - from one locum who felt she'd tell me it could be cancer (but then did nothing at all to help in this regard) to another who told me my symptoms couldn't be kidney stones (the whole internet and a consultant urologist say he's wrong).

The truth is I'm fed up with the whole thing. Fed up with being unwell for months on end and fed up of dealing wih an organisation - the NHS - I don't have great faith in. And as we'll come to later - I'm coming to some embarrasing conclusions about my general health and my own culpability.

Sounds too dry? Don't feel like reading on? Go on, there's a good bit about a doctor sticking his finger up my bum. Well good for you reader, less good for me and my bum and for that matter dignity.

This is my favourite photograph I've taken for quite a while. It's a pretty simple affair, my daughter Kitty catching the breeze on the jetty at West Bay in Dorset.

The Tory Party conference is never really a source of joy to right thinking people as it is often the source of stupidity, selfishness, racism disguised as immigration policy and general fuckwittedness. But they've outdone themselves this week - as have the business leaders present.

We live in a time where we are all being asked to tighten our belts. VAT is at 20 percent which is a huge burden on the lower paid and poor who it affects disproportionately. Sure Start centres are closing, as are libraries. Councils are cutting back on services. The armed forces are being decimated by a shortsighted and dangerous foreign policy. Our nation is being stripped bare in the name of the Tory defecit reduction plan.

Someone somewhere has really fucked up our nation and we're now having to pay for it. But who is to blame? Well you'd think, given the policy ideas coming from the Tory conference, that workers are to blame. Yes the poor workers of this country are to blame for wanting things like access to legal redress, support when ill or pregnant, somewhere safe to work and a workplace free of discrimination. If only we could return to the days of toddlers working under spinning machines then the economy would grow and all would be well. And while we are it, can we cut the top rate of tax down a bit, some execs are down to the last three or four luxury cars.

We've reached quite a milestone recently with the twins starting school. I have no idea how four and a half years have passed so quickly. Both Pat and Kitty have launched themselves into school with great enthusiasm and are really enjoying the experience.

Seeing them start school is an emotional experience. For most parents its the same I expect. It is the end of an era. An era that began with feeds through the night, then nappies galore, first steps, potty training and garbled talking. Starting school feels like the cut off point between infants and children. And a change to a different kind of parent.

So I've taken down the most recent post on the subject of NHS neglect and what I'm going to do is create a separate blog for that particular subject called Justice For Lanie. I'll post the link here when I've got that up.