Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 119 Comments

Tell me why

In my voice – Tell me why

  • My partner was taken from us when she was so young.
  • The system continually fails our son.
  • The Government can find billions to bribe other parties to keep it in power but can’t find the money to fund education support for the kids who need it.
  • I don’t sleep anymore.
  • They say the world is getting smaller yet I feel so isolated.
  • Chocolate has so many blooming calories.
  • Hair doesn’t like growing on my head yet it sprouts like an Amazonian Forest on the back of the my hands.
  • The cat continually finds a way into the wardrobe.
  • I can’t find any socks in this house.
  • They never made a Captain Scarlet movie.

In our son’s voice – Tell me why

  • My mum had to die.
  • Both my grannies had to die.
  • My hamster had to die.
  • My girl cat who was like a sister to me had to die.
  • I can’t read.
  • Some people think I am stupid just because I am autistic and dyslexic.
  • Shops have to be so busy.
  • Hazard is leaving Chelsea.
  • Do people have to kiss in films.
  • Marvel Movies are way better than DC Movies.
  • Most kids don’t like rock music.
  • Broccoli wasn’t deemed an inedible plant.
  • My Dad can’t cook.
  • In our dogs voice – Tell me why
      • I get shouted at for pinching socks.
      I get shouted at for digging holes.
      I get shouted at for eating garden tools.
      I get shouted at for eating garden furniture,
      I get shouted at for digging up plants.
      I get shouted at for burying stuff like socks.
      I get shouted at for pulling bits of the apple tree off.
      I get shouted at for escaping.
      I get shouted at for climbing in the hedge.
      I get shouted at for eating cat poo, cow poo, sheep poo.
      I get shouted at for pinching food.
      My best friend isn’t with us anymore. I know I am a dog but she was a really cool cat.

    In our boy cats voice – Tell me why

    • My sister isn’t with us anymore.

    • My best friend, the really lovely woman has gone. I miss siting on her lap.
    • I get shouted at for missing the cat litter by several feet.
    • I get really shouted at for missing the litter by so many feet I hit the wall.
    • I get shouted at for sitting in front of the TV when a movie is on.
    • I get shouted at for sneaking into the wardrobe and getting white hairs on all the black clothes.
    • I get shouted at for falling in hot plates of food.
    • I get shouted at for always tripping people up.
    • I get shouted at for sleeping on the laptop.
    • I get shouted at for sleeping on the toaster.

    In our gerbils voice – Tell me why

    • We don’t live in a toilet roll factory.
    Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 98 Comments

    Confession time

    I need to come clean about something. A secret I have hidden from all but my closest family, friends and postman. Darkness personified. Please don’t be too upset with me.

    I have a beard.

    There you go I’ve admitted it now.

    It’s a recent thing. Not as if I was born with it. I was born with a mass of black curly hair. Was almost called Jimmy after rock guitarist Jimmy Hendrix. Yes born with his hairstyle. A few years later I would have been named Brian after another rock guitarist. In the end I was named after an actor who played in many cowboy movies without a beard.

    When the beard started our son never mentioned it. Well not until he told someone working at a ticket office that his dad was trying to get a job with ZZTOP.

    Trust me it’s not that long….

    I understand the technical term is a short beard. A number 1. Rather aptly I had to re-type short as my first attempt replaced the or with an i.

    It’s funny in the 17 years I was with my partner the subject of beards only came up once. That was on a French TGV speed train. So I don’t know if the beard would be fondly stroked or would produce a Paddington Bear like stare followed by the words “shave it now”.

    Is it time for the beard to go. I’ve decided that I am now even less likely to be mistaken for George Clooney.

    It’s never going to happen. Take George’s beard and transplant it on the back end of a Honey Badger. That’s what we are dealing with.

    So maybe it’s time to say goodbye.

    But our son is now not keen to say goodbye to it. This is an amazing turnaround as a few years back on a French train the guard had a beard. As he walked down the packed carriage our young son stood up, pointed at the beard and shouted “he’s got rabies”. By the look on the guards face that was three words of English he fully understood.

    Now as part of his strategy to save the beard he has named it. As everyone knows if you name something it suddenly gets protected status. So what do I do now.

    By the way the beard is now name Mr Crimble….

    Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 65 Comments

    Alone

    Complete white out. Zero vision. Your boots constantly struggling to find grip on the sheet ice. All you can hear is the wind howl and your rasping breathe. Somewhere to your right are bone breaking crags, to your left a 200 feet sheer drop. Holding the ice axe waiting for the inevitable fall. The trail has disappeared. The map is useless. The compass won’t give an accurate reading. Alone. Are you too far right or god help you …. too far left. Too late to turn back. Your only guide is to follow the sharp slope upwards to the summit.

    The delights of winter mountaineering. Or is a metaphor for life. Disorientation, lost, no idea where your going, unattainable goals, alone, no plan, fear and panic.

    Then hope. A kind word. A caring hand in the dark. Brief enlightenment.

    The clouds briefly part. The beautiful mountain summit reveals itself. You survived that crisis. Panic subsides. Your pounding heart starts to ease. The break in the clouds is short lived. But you have a path. You have a direction. You have hope. The climb continues.

    Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 55 Comments

    More school days like this

    We have had some big anxiety attacks and tough times recently so it’s nice to have a stress free post.

    “Dad I shared a desk with a ladybird today. He watched a bit of history with me.”

    It’s always good to get close to nature. Especially when you are at school.

    “I wish all school days could be this good”

    The school has a system that everyday a pupil is taken out of classes and assigned to school reception. Basically for the day they deliver messages, photocopy stuff and do admin tasks. It’s supposed to broaden their horizons. Today was our son’s turn. It certainly broadened his.

    “Basically every so often I would deliver a message to a teacher. It was funny when the receptionist asked me to deliver a message to a teacher and the teacher was stood at reception. I delivered it without moving. Then I had to deliver a message about a kid who couldn’t come in today as he had come down with flu – he said he was doing this yesterday as he hated French.”

    “Greta would be very annoyed with me. Every time I used the photocopier I kept getting the paper upside down. Wasted so many sheets. I did get a great copy of my hand”

    You can’t believe how relieved I was when he said hand….

    So what happened when you had no work to do.

    “I went to see the teachers and they just sent me back to reception. Finally one teacher told me to go to the library and get a book to read. Ha ha he doesn’t know I’m dyslexic. So I improvised”

    Did it involve your iPad and games.

    “Not entirely. Yes I played some very educational games like Space Invaders and Sonic. But I also watched a historical thing about how bad the British Empire was and how the navy went after Pirates.”

    So you watched Pirates of the Caribbean.

    “Yes. What a top day.”

    Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 76 Comments

    Deliver it….

    Another day, another strange smelly thing to roll in, another bath.

    I was talking to a very wise blogger and a new game popped into my head. It’s a game Son and I played as we waited for a Doctors appointment.

    This started by slagging off the U.K.’s Secretary of State for the Environment (god help it) – Michael Gove. I talked about sending a letter just marked ‘To the worlds slimiest man” and it would be delivered to Gove.

    So you have to send a letter to a famous person. But you can’t use their name or address. How do you ensure the postman knows where to deliver the letter.

    Son – To the smelliest dog in the world. Letter would be delivered to our very own Captain Chaos.

    Me – The Buffoon. Letter delivered directly to Boris Johnson (a clown masquerading as a U.K. politician and potential future PM)

    Son – The Orange One. Letter straight to President Trump

    Me – Current address unknown previous address Ecuadorian Embassy. Julian Assange

    Son – America’s Bottom. Avengers spoiler can’t reveal answer

    Me – Most overrated rock star ever. Delivered to Bono

    Son – Useless, incompetent, stubborn and generally not very nice. Goes straight to the UK Prime Minister

    Son – To the worlds nicest man. Sent to Sir David Attenborough.

    Me – Returning this App to sender as its crap. Delivered to the developers of WordPress for the iPad.

    Son – Darth Sidious, The Sith Lord. Postman delivers to Senator Palpatine, If the postman can see this why can’t Yoda.

    Me – Rubbish Film Script. Will arrive at the offices of the Star Wars Movie Director

    Son – Package contains cockroaches. Urgent delivery to Bear Grylls

    Me – Missing Tax Return. Another one being delivered to Trump

    Son – Most overrated footballer ever. Letter straight to David Beckham

    Son – To the worlds worst chef. Delivered to Dad

    Son – To a muppet. Delivered to Dad

    Me – Just F******g deliver it. Straight to Gordon Ramsey

    Can you think of some new ones…..

    Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 45 Comments

    Parent Evening

    Sometimes school does make me laugh. On his return from school today I found a severely scrunched up piece of paper. It’s the invite to the annual parent/teacher consultation. I’ve got to decide which teachers I want to see. Tick the appropriate boxes then get ‘your son or daughter to arrange times with the teachers’.

    I just looked at our son and said that’s not going to happen is it really. Son smiled and said

    “Never in a million years”

    Then we both burst into fits of laughter when we read the next bit of the letter.

    We are happy for students to attend with their parents. School uniform is not required but we do ask that students do not chew gum or wear hats whilst inside the school building.

    WHAT

    “Dad isn’t that Hatist …”

    Yes son it’s very anti hat and it’s also very anti kiddie as well. So apparently it’s ok for an adult to chew gum and wear a hat but not a child.

    “Dad does that mean that I’m ok going in nude or wearing a satanic cross as long as I’m not wearing a hat..”

    Apparently so.

    So we probably won’t get any teacher appointments booked but we are still turning up so I can wear the biggest and silliest hat I can find at the charity shop.

    Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 174 Comments

    It’s rant time….

    I’ve talked about walks quite a bit recently. Hopefully I won’t stray too much onto old ground on this rant. Apologies it is a rant.

    One of the benefits of a walk in nature is that it helps you forget about our world, my country.

    Deep breathing and it begins…..

    We are so lucky to be sitting on this magical rock, in this special little place in the Universe. We live on a planet which is beautiful and can provide for all of us (if we let it).

    I live in a stunning county in a once lovely and diverse country.

    I used to love my country but I deeply hate what it has become.

    A place where someone thinks it’s ok to string dead Jackdaws on the gates to a TV presenters house because he makes a stand for animals in our country.

    A place where one of our finest and nicest politicians is stabbed to death while trying to help someone.

    A place where our so called PM is not prepared to meet a 16 year old who wants to talk about the climate but falls over herself to find the time to meet leaders of regimes who regularly execute hundreds of innocent people.

    A place which like many lands is slowly drowning in a sea of plastic.

    A place where too many people are happy to take a risk on the world burning and happy to use up its resources today just because it’s not their problem and someone else can sort out the mess when they have gone.

    A place where some people think it’s ok to poke fun and demonise kids dealing with things like Autism and Aspergers.

    A place where extremist on both sides of the Brexit argument have taken control of our national agenda.

    A place where you are labelled a traitor if you dare to go against a particular thought pattern. Demonised for rocking the boat.

    A place where the establishment happily allow extremists promoting religious and racial intolerance to be seen as acceptable political parties.

    A place where the national broadcaster happily gives air time to the views of a minority group and its leader who openly promotes violence.

    A place where we continue to ignore the plight of the survivors from the Grenfell Tower disasters two years after that dreadful night.

    A place where loathsome, self interested and self deluded buffoons run our country for no other reason than because of their privileged and elitist upbringing.

    A place where the government thinks it ok to dismantle our health and education services because money doesn’t grow on trees. Yet is happy to spend billions on giving bungs to minority parties to safeguard their own jobs. A government happy to waste billions on administrating it’s own cock ups.

    A place where food banks are our fasting growing institutions.

    A place where we value the contribution of millionaire bankers above the contribution of our wonderful nurses, teachers and emergency services.

    A place which worships at the alter of celebrity.

    A place where growing numbers of our population cannot afford to access decent transport links.

    A place where our Mental Health services are straining at the seems trying to deal with the rising numbers of people suffering in our communities. A fact ignored by the Government.

    A place where a public library is now becoming a rarity.

    A place where the Government tries to force the disastrous Fracking Industry on communities. Communities carefully selected to be far away from the rich and privileged.

    A place where too many of our care homes are delivering shameful levels of care.

    A place where we think it’s acceptable to net off potential nesting sites for birds and animals so as not to hinder building expansion plans.

    A place where we continue to eat into our unspoiled wild lands yet ignore the huge disused and derelict areas in our urban sprawls.

    A place where every night someone else dies from knife crime.

    A place where every night homeless people die on our streets.

    And on and on …..

    It’s time to breathe again. It’s time to make my way to that overgrown tree trunk and focus on the beauty which still exists close by. It’s time to forget that I live in this country.

    Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 93 Comments

    Storm Bunker

    We had a large thunder storm pass over this afternoon. The cat was taking no chances. After the first bang he made his way to his storm bunker.

    Unbelievably the early morning cinema screening was very full. The cinema was mobbed. Not seen crowds like that since the ‘Everything for a Pound’ Store had a sale. It’s not a statistical significant sample population but from the early morning hordes I guess that The Avengers movie is going to pull in some astronomical numbers.

    And yes it is an astonishing movie.

    Yes the crowds unsettled our son but we took our customary place on the front row so no one could be in front of him or to the left of him. It’s so close to the big screen that I come away feeling like I’ve been chewing on magic mushrooms but it works for him.

    For 3 hours we both lost ourselves in the Marvel Universe. All our problems and anxieties forgotten. Heroic deeds fill your heart. With even a bit of free grief counselling thrown in by Captain America. But sadly it doesn’t last. You eventually find yourself back in the same place with the same issues.

    In fact it feels like we have regressed. Fifteen months ago we eventually secured some anxiety counselling for our son. I say ‘we’ as the fight to get some help started while my partner was still very much with us. It seemed to really benefit him. Progress was starting to be made. But now due to cutbacks that support has dried up. The anxieties are building and it feels like the system has cast him adrift again. We have been lucky really – far too many families get zero help – all they get is patronising comments from politicians who have no interest beyond their off shore bank accounts and rich friends.

    So as the thunder rumbles on we try to fight demons. Health anxieties, fear of death, school anxieties, friend anxieties, social anxieties, reading anxieties, fear of being left alone anxieties…..

    I’m no psychologist. I’m no health professional. I’m no education specialist. I’m not a grief counsellor. I’m just a parent trying to figure out this increasingly bizarre world with no one to help guide me. Doing the best I can. Deep down this scares me as what chance do I have when I can’t even come close to fixing myself. Queue worried face. 😱

    Pleased to report the immediate threat to life and property must have passed as the cat has made his way back to his favourite chair again. That’s one less worry to deal with.

    Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 58 Comments

    Bath time

    Some pets are clean and tidy. Some pets are not. Some pets are dogs…

    Captain Chaos won’t pass up the opportunity to roll in any unsavoury object. Mud, cat poo, soil, bird poo, grass, sheep poo, hay, cow poo…. You get the picture. You get the musty aroma.

    Cometh the smell, cometh the bath. The dog bath doesn’t last long. Most of the water ends up on the floor, the walls, the windows, the ceiling, on me. Then you do your best to dry him then it’s release the mad one and he’s fully into his even madder 10 minutes of madness. Followed by you have guessed it, some more rolling about…..

    It’s the early hours. We need a bit of a lift so in 4 hours son will get up and off we go to see an early morning (and hopefully relatively empty) screening of The Avengers – End Game. A screening starting at 6.30am – how mad is that. Thanos will still be in his pyjamas.