A short drive takes us into the heart of the Yorkshire MOORS. A stunningly moody setting for generations of fantastic storytellers. Wuthering Heights could only be set here in Yorkshire.
Today seemingly a perfect place for a trip out for Hawklad. He wanted to go out but to somewhere quiet and remote. The busiest time of the year for tourists yet we had the place to ourselves. Often it felt like we were the only two humans in these lands. That’s what Hawklad needed.
The setting perfect for forgetting the anxieties starting to build around the upcoming school return decision.
Then the decision was back centre stage for me. One small occurrence bringing the enormity of what Hawklad may soon be facing into clear focus.
A wall to be climbed. A set of steep, uneven narrow steps to be navigated. Helpfully a wooden handrail helped with my balance. But Hawklad couldn’t touch the handrail. Didn’t matter that I was probably the only person to touch the surface in hours. He just couldn’t touch it. Don’t laugh but he found a use for his old Dad. I stood next to the steps and he used the top of my head as a temporary balance aid. We laughed.
If he can’t touch surfaces how can he return to an overcrowded classroom with shared learning materials and equipment. He can’t touch door handles. He won’t even be able to touch his desk.
Two weeks to go and how can this school return happen.
Moody Moors. Moody Dad.