Apparently there is a mysterious monolith that keeps appearing in various parts of the world. Strange Things.
https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/monolith-mystery-las-vegas-desert-b2564821.html
Looks impressive, well today I think we found the Yorkshire Mysterious Monolith which has randomly appeared in a similarly remote, exotic location… A Cow Field.
Same shape just a bit crap…. That kinda sums up Yorkshire sometimes 😂😂😂
That’s a proper sign post, although I’m not sure how feasible it is to walk to Canada or The US from this part of the world.
Most of the support had already started to be pulled from Hawklad when he approached his teen years, that’s how it goes in the UK. Now at 17 the inevitable letter arrived. At 18 he will be signed off from the last service still providing support to him and his care will be handed over to Adult mental health care. In other words, the day he hits 18 any support he may need will need to come in the form of self help, or from family, friends, internet, leaflets and a few overstretched voluntary groups. NOT from health professionals.
As a Paediatrician cautioned me when Hawklad first started receiving support
Some support and help could be required for life. The level of support required may diminish over time, sometimes no support is required but often the level of support can grow as people try to forge their own adult life. But when someone reaches 18, we stop asking as a society, in fact we stop providing the support almost completely. Child Mental Health will inevitably hand over virtually every child under its care to an adult service that doesn’t exist in the UK. After that if someone picks up the courage to go to see a doctor, in most cases that doctor will have little real understanding of areas such as autism and will probably just want to put a plaster over any problems in the form of Anti Depressants.
As adulthood fast approaches for Hawklad, I keep increasingly focusing on the immediate future, the next stages. Trying to develop that independence yet worrying about where he can turn to if he ever needs support. It’s a sobering thought sometimes.
Nearly the longest day and it still doesn’t feel like it’s nearly summer. A walk along the bitingly cold Yorkshire Coast.
These are really unstable cliffs. After high tides and especially after storms, you will see intrepid fossil hunters scouring the base of the rocks for fragments of a past world. Locally it’s known as the Jurassic Coast.
No T-Rex hunting for us this day, way too cold. Hands much better employed stuck in the pockets avoiding frost bite. Is it really the longest day in a few hours…. As we eventually headed back to the warmth of the car we passed a bare chested Surfer marching briskly towards his inevitable frozen doom in the North Sea.
“You might need a few more layers on….”
“Probably. The secret is to not scream too loudly and look like you enjoying it.”
“I thought the secret was to surf somewhere way warmer”
“It is but then you don’t get to surf round Icebergs. Plus if it was warmer my wife would have me cutting the grass….”
I had a conversation with a friend a few weeks back on how his view on life had changed drastically with time. He talked about how for years he desperately wanted to see the world, home was just not enough. Home time often felt like wasted adventure time. Adventure, adventure, adventure. But over the last few years, increasingly, his home, his garden, the countryside immediately around him, was his world, it was more than enough. He felt like he had done enough travelling and adventuring now, experienced enough of that in person. Now he could relax and fully appreciate that LOCAL LIFE which had previously seemed way too claustrophobic and restrictive for him.
Why take his paintbrushes and sketchbooks thousands of miles, through countless stressed filled hours in concrete departure lounges…
Why damage the world in search of ever more exotic adventures when there was more than a lifetime of adventures and wonderful subjects to paint, just a few moments from his front door….
For years he only went into the garden to have a barbecue and reluctantly cut the grass. Now he sits for hours in his garden, happy, relaxed and content.
He was even thinking about if he could get rid of his car, did he need it now he had taken ROOT.
This got me thinking, could I do the same here, take root in this part of Yorkshire. Possibly, there are definitely worse places to become rooted. But I kept coming back to this one thought…
I could take root in Switzerland, I really could. I would right now if I could.
Sometimes even in Yorkshire, the clouds part and we get a view.
Sutton Bank.
The edge of The Hills, edge of The Moors, overlooking the Vale of York.
It’s a truly beautiful world.
For the last week I have had a recurring dream, a vivid recurring dream. A dream about a place we’ve been to a number of wonderful times, the Gornergrat in Switzerland. A very high ridge in the Alps with a luxury hotel and beautiful stone chapel, set amongst the rocks, the mountain peaks and glaciers.
In these recurring dreams, we are sat on a bench, watching the clouds roll across the rocky landscape, as the sun slowly sets. Then we wander into the hotel’s observatory and look at the stars through the large telescope. That is something I’ve wanted to do for years.
Maybe I’m being told something…..
Not for the first time – sounds a bit like a Foreigner song.
How many times before I learn.
Why are life lessons so easily forgotten.
The older we get the more we are visited by loss, the more emotional baggage we carry.
Not for the first time, a character, a personality, someone with a rich story to hear, explore and understand. Let’s have that coffee next week, after this and that, let’s set something up tomorrow, maybe the weather will be better in a few weeks. Sorry busy, there’s a delivery I need to stay in for, shopping, work, housework, family….
Let’s have that coffee soon.
Time sometimes runs out…. I know…. I should know…. It’s happened before….
For months been talking about having a coffee with a wonderful chap in our village. A few decades older than me, lost his partner similar time to me, an artist. Much to talk about, share and discover. For this reason and that the coffee kept being put off till next week, then next week, then…..
He passed away a few days back. So many stories unheard, didn’t get to hear about his artist life. Just have to treasure the chats outside his house as I passed on the daily dog walk. Chats often quickly reverting to mutual disbelief at what is becoming of our country and its so called government. Little glimpses into each others worlds, a few tantalising snippets gained on an artist’s life.
If only that coffee had happened. If only I had asked this question and that question. Spent some more moments talking.
How many times have I thought that. Family, Partner, Friends.
Maybe this time, I’ve really learnt the life lesson.
Going through some old photos for this post and a TV news item about the upcoming election sparks memories. The Swiss Hotel Owner would always want to hear updates about UK politics. After the update he would always say something like
‘In the UK people don’t seem to go into politics to help communities, it’s about helping themselves. They want the political power too much…’
Oh that is so true, and my mind wanders. Some folks do want political power way too much 😂😂. This post is going off on a tangent now.
Recently I went to vote in the local Mayoral election. A trip to a little used, tiny village hall. The Presiding Officer, clearly bored, was having a good giggle at not accepting my photo id, as to her it was not a true likeness. Apparently my beard shape was different to the photo and she wanted me to restyle it before I could vote.
Maybe more ZZTop, or maybe more Idris Elba…..
In front of the bored official, on the desk, apart from the voting forms and electoral register WAS a Stephen King Book, a food pack up, several Mars Bars and a flask of something.
Memory time. I had completely forgotten that years back, I had been a Presiding Officer, just as bored as this beard focusing prankster.
The Election Team could never get enough people to volunteer to run all the polling stations, so the day before the election, desperate officials would walk round the government building where I was working, trying to entice people to volunteer. AND I was one of the willing….. Why was I so willing….
Run this past me again, you want me tomorrow to not come into work, at this really busy time, to go to a deadly quiet village hall. Then instead of working my butt off, I can read a book, drink coffee, have a picnic, and I just have to hand out a few voting cards for 12 hours. I’m your man…..
But the secret was not to look too keen, make it look like a real chore, a real inconvenience. Eventually they would agree to pay your normal salary for the day rather than just volunteering.
And you are going to pay me to do nothing for the day…. Just GRAND. Now you can sign me up.
You would turn up at the voting centre and basically vegetate. In most of these remote polling stations your were lucky to get 10 voters turning up during the whole 12 hour shift. Normally a super relaxed shift. Yes, sometimes boring. One time I can remember trying to convince a voter that I could sort out a special voting bone for his dog, so the dog could vote as well. Yes I so understand her beard jokes….. But one year I had to do the voting centre gig with a trainee planner as an assistant. Way too keen. Have you done this, have you done that, is that wall poster on local conservation appropriate during voting. Never stopped. On top of everything, he then accidentally put his empty crisp packet into the vote ballot box rather than the bin. I forced him to fish it out with tongs I managed to find in the village hall kitchen. After about an hour it was too much for my sanity.
Ok, I’m going to make you Acting Presiding Officer.
Really, can you do that.
Yes, I will even get you a name badge to tell everyone about your new role. You can then run the process and I will just sit over there and de stress.
He was so happy, even happier when I stuck a postage note on his chest telling everyone of his new role. Then I sat in the corner and read while the new Acting Presiding Officer enthusiastically dealt with the handful of voters over the passing hours, only once did I have to intervene to stop some form of bureaucratic madness from him. Always thinking, when will he look at his name badge. He never did, at the end of the day, he threw it in the bin and went off a happy bunny, full of the new political power he had exerted. I kinda hoped that at least one of the voters had read his name badge.
No it didn’t read……
I’m the Acting Presiding Officer
Much more importantly it read….
I’m the Acting Prime Minister.
I’m sure that act of personal silliness broke several electoral laws and Revolutions have started over much less.
Each Day, Dad would pick up the local newspaper, briefly glance at the main headline and then it was straight to the same old page. He would turn to the Death Notices which bizarrely was on the same page as the previous day’s horse racing results…. I’m not sure what message the Editor was sending there.
Each Day, Dad would carefully scan the names to see who had died. I never understood Dad’s seeming obsession with that.
Now after all the years, I understand…..
Last night I had a series of bizarre dreams. Not bad dreams, just odd ones. One featured a friend from college, a long forgotten friend. Hadn’t seen her in decades, we met up a couple of times in London after college but then we just lost touch, we headed in different life directions. No idea why she suddenly popped up randomly last night but after that dream I wondered what happened to K. So I headed online to see if I could find any mention of her. After a bit of searching I think I maybe found one brief reference to K, right name, right age. If it’s K then she has become some form of Judge, I had heard years back she was training to be a solicitor. Hope this means it’s a good life scenario.
But here’s the thing, alongside hopes of finding news of K in a wonderful life setup, a big part of me was just hoping she was ok, still with us. I think Dad would understand that feeling.
Walk around any store and look at all the food labelling. Detailed information and warnings on all sorts of things which these days means that you can try to shop wisely and safely. It can be done….
A really grey, wet and chilly May Day. We needed to get out so we ventured to the local cinema. Only two films about to start as we arrived. One about Apes running the planet and one about a big blue imaginary monster friend. Looking at the posters, what to go for. Well hardly scientific, we have already seen the Kong movie recently, that’s probably enough Ape for one year. The other movie looked quite cute and funny. Plus as it was rated ok for small children, it should be safe, untaxing entertainment, perfect way to vegetate for a couple of hours.
IF only we had more detailed movie labelling….. AND NO it’s way too late putting a brief disclaimer on the screen that the movie contains depictions of death, bereavement, adult themes, strobe lighting or whatever barely two seconds before the movie starts. If they can do it then they can do it on the trailers, movie posters or what’s on cinema ticket booth screens.
Ok yes, the movie had lots of cute, funny and harmless entertainment. It was a really good movie. BUT all sandwiched between a 12 year old girl trying to deal with her mum dying of what appeared to be cancer and her father in hospital facing the prospect of a major life threatening heart operation. Quite a lot of the movie was the girl visiting her father in hospital and being petrified of losing him as well…..
Definitely brought the occasional tear to this grizzled lump, Hawklad struggled. But was it suitable for really young children, especially those who might have already experienced loss. And what about the two poor parents who brought their really young children to see the cute film. One child had to leave in tears early on and the other had to be taken out to buy some distracting ice cream during one tough scene.
IF only those parents had some film labelling and warnings before they bought the tickets.
A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent. 