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Plague Island

So that’s the shopping done for the week. We are now officially closed for Christmas. Time to get behind our fence and shut the world out for 7 days. Or longer if we are plunged into a Tier 4 lockdown (more of the country will go that way on Boxing Day apparently).

So it’s Christmas Eve on Plague Island. It’s not entirely sure if its a virus related Plague or a Plague of self absorbed, imbecilic, on the take, cretins apparently running this country.

We have enough food and drink to last us weeks. We have enough options to cobble together a couple of special holiday meals for two. Certainly not Plan A or B food options, but the C menu will be just fine. Actually with my Thanos like cooking skills at the click of the fingers any food taste can be suddenly turned to dust. So it really doesn’t matter in the end.

A few days of being an island cut adrift from the world has started to take its toll. Hardly any fresh fruit or veg in the store. The stuff which is still there is getting snapped up instantly. No chocolate ice cream. I will say that again. No chocolate ice cream. Oh the humanity….

But in the scheme of things. We are so fortunate. Too many are not so lucky.

So we are lucky to be on the right side of our fence. Hawklad is definitely not on Santa’s naughty list. Me – I’m not so sure. Yes the weather is horrible but actually if you close your eyes, the sun will still shine.

Yes it’s alright in this side of the fence, living on Plague Island.

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Cinema

It’s that time of year. A definite feel to the movies we have watched. Can you see the theme.

Scrooged

Home Alone 1, 2, 3, 5

The Grinch

A Christmas Carol

Muppets Christmas Carol

The Santa Clause 1,2,3

Elf

National Lampoons Christmas Vacation

The Polar Express.

For me I just can’t quite catch the connection. Sure there must be one if I look hard enough.

One of the things that feels amiss this most odd year (that doesn’t work as 2020 is even) is the cinema experience. Before Hawklad we would always have a Christmas trip to the pictures (as my mum would have said). A meal before hand and then a movie. Such a lovely experience. So many wonderful memories.

Taking my mum to see The Horse Whisperer on Boxing Day. She hadn’t been to the pictures in 40 years. She was most puzzled not to watch the Pathe News segment before the movie. She refused to get up at the end and waited until the credits played through. Apparently she was waiting for the National Anthem to be played…

Trips with my partner to see huge blockbusters on Christmas Eve like the Lord of the Rings Movies. Then coming out in time to sing carols in the city centre.

Even after the world changed Hawklad and I kept the tradition going. A changed Aspergers tradition. We would take in the first, early morning screenings of movies like Jumanji and the Rise of Skywalker. Popcorn at 8am works on so many levels. Then we would go and get him his favourite takeout. All before midday.

But this year it’s no cinema. Any trip is just so out of reach for Hawklad and his anxieties. The world has changed. Even the prospect of Wonder Woman and Black Widow epics won’t overcome those fears. Maybe the trips to the Pictures have stopped for good. We will just have to see what the future holds but life goes on. It’s time to recreate that Christmas tradition at home. So we will pick a movie. A good movie. Set the dvd off at 8am. Microwaved popcorn in plentiful supply. The Christmas Cinema tradition continues.

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Fence

Which side of the fence is best?

I had a call with Hawklads new health specialist. She will (pesky pandemic dependent) come out to see him for the first time in January. Continuity is so important for someone on the spectrum. It takes time to earn trust and confidence. Those bridges when they come down are slow to be rebuilt. Having had a wonderful health lead for three years we are now in a spell of meet one, quickly see one disappear. Fingers crossed this time.

It’s clear what the medical opinion still is. Any meaningful progress is extremely unlikely until this virus is well under control. When it’s clear that the vaccine which has been administered works effectively and does protect. Only then can any progress be realistically contemplated. Prepare to bunker down for 2021. 2022 might be the first gateway to a more open life for our little family. I also have to accept the risk that progress does not happen for Hawklad. Bridges are not built. This is the new world.

I remain clear. It’s Hawklads life. He makes the call. I will support which ever route he goes down.

So will he return to school in January? Most likely NO. Will he make it back before the end of the school year in July. Probably NO. Will he start the new school year in September. Definitely no guarantee.

It feels like we are in one side of a fence. The side that feels limited but safe. The other side of the fence opens up the world, broadens his horizons but…….

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Another day

Another day and yet more mist.

It’s been one of those days when apart from Hawklad, I haven’t seen another member of my species. Not one person walking the fields. No one walking in the village. Not one soul. In fact I haven’t even see one moving car. With the mist no chance to see aeroplanes. Nothing. No sign of human life. Its officially a GHOST TOWN. Time to FROWN…

Well Ghost Village. Time to PILLAGE. That maybe is my Viking ancestry.

The only other option entering my frazzled mind is. Living in a Ghost Village. Better listen to some Steve Hillage. I once had one of his albums.

Anyway you get the picture. ISOLATION.

Definitely the perfect metaphor for 2020. ISOLATION and learning to really appreciate what I have. It’s definitely been a defining year. Sadly the year has done nothing for my poetry skills….

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Something needs to change

I was talking to a colleague about the lack of work currently. The company will probably survive but it’s going to be many months before things start to slowly pick up. Is it just me but currently I‘m not missing it. Yes the bank balance is only going in one direction but as for work – not really in the mood for it.

Anyway this chap has a son on the spectrum. He’s a lovely, really bright boy. A couple of years older than Hawklad. It’s a depressingly familiar school story. Hardly any support. It’s all down to him to put his hand up in class and ask for help. Nothing proactive. The teaching is not suiting him. He’s going backwards. His potential grades are falling and it’s not ringing any alarm bells. It’s because he is Special Needs. The bar is set low so that there is no need to work on potential. Anything is seen as a bonus. What a waste.

Too many wonderful kids get let down like this. How can we have got education so badly wrong here. Something needs to change.

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Hanging on

Sometimes you just have to hang on. Just one leaf hanging on in a sea of wood. All alone. Looking at all the fallen brethren on the ground, now very brown and shrivelled. Feeling a little left out. Forgotten about. How long can it hang there for.

Somedays it does feel that way to me. Just hanging on. Trying to survive.

But just like this little green bit of life – IT CAN BE DONE. It is possible to survive against the odds. Even when the odds are seemingly stacked against you, there is always hope. If you look hard enough there will be a connection, something to cling on to. Something to keep you going. Something so precious to you.

Yes I can do this. Yes you can do this.

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Farmer

Been far too grey and misty over the last few days. Too much winter. So let’s have a little bit of summer. Yes Yorkshire does get some of that. Sometimes.

This is one of those great footpaths. A footpath across the crop field that the local farmer dutifully maintains. Not easy to get lost of this one. I always think it would be funny if the farmer built in a maze to this path. He could get hordes of walkers lost here for hours. Could be a nice little money earner for him. Send his sheepdogs in to rescue the walkers for a small fee.

In that photo if you keep going straight. Climb the hill. Keep going straight and in about 10 minutes you will crash into our overgrown garden. You could get seriously lost in there.

I feel a little lost today. I think many of us are. A little tired of Groundhog Day. Bored with 2020. Hours , days, weeks and months seemingly merging into each other. Having to constantly look at the date on my mobile and then check the calendar to work out where I am. Is it a Sunday? Not sure.

But there is always hope.

This time will pass. Directions will be rediscovered again. The farmer will work on his lovely straight path again.

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Fibonacci

We had a bit of a perfect storm during the morning. AND for a change it wasn’t the Yorkshire micro climate to blame.

MATHS

In particular number sequences. A whole 90 minutes dedicated to the little beauties. Geometric, Arithmetic, Square, Cube, Triangular, Fibonacci. I always remember thinking Fibonacci sounded like a really cool wrestler. The Maths Tutor didn’t find that thought very amusing.

For those who quite rightly have forgotten mathematics from school and college, the Fibonacci sequence is where the next number is the summation of the preceding two numbers. One of those things you are taught and will probably never need it. Fibonacci has only ever cropped up twice since school. Annoyingly not in the school exam. I remember giving one unfortunate External Consultant a bit of a frosty reception when he tried to convince me that I should be using Fibonacci to better manage agile teams at work. I think the poor chap learnt some new Yorkshire words and was then ushered out to annoy someone else.

The second time Fibonacci entered my world again was today. This morning we discovered that our son struggles with number sequences. He just can’t see the patterns. It wasn’t helped by the frequent use of decimal points to make the patterns even more pesky. Much frustration. Son couldn’t see the patterns at all and his dad could see the patterns BUT I struggled to describe them in words. Clearly one of those things I can do with out thinking but I’m not entirely convinced how I do it. Bit like trying to programme the washing machine.

But here’s the thing. I convinced son that it didn’t really matter. If sequences do come up in the exam then they won’t count for many marks. He can still have a stab at them and if all else fails, guess and move on to stuff that he will be able to do. And after his exam unless he meets many keen External Consultants, he is unlikely to need number sequences again. He’s better off learning stuff he wants to learn and stuff that he will use.

Let’s leave Fibonacci as a wrestling star.

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Loss

LOSS in whatever form it takes stays with you. It shapes you. It changes you. It can become you. It can define you.

For a few years it did define me. It did become me. It stopped me living. I basically just existed.

But time moves on. The journey is ongoing.

Loss still stays with me. Yes it’s changed me. But hopefully for the better. It’s taught me the importance of time. Loss made we realise the importance of life.

The next stage of my journey is to move from existing to LIVING.

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Back to normal

Do you ever have those moments in time that are just a little too busy. When lots of random events decide to bloom at exactly the same time. When life goes kinda mad. Well I’ve just had another one of those career defining epochs.

I was happily trying to cook tea. Pan boiling nicely. Grill turned on. Looking through the window at the washing gently drying on the outside clothes horse. Everything under control. Even time for a little air guitar listening to Kiss and then …..

For some reason the TV Speaker Bar kicked into life and decided to join in with the kitchen speaker and blast out Kiss. And I mean blast out. Deafening. It does have a mind of its own, definitely when it comes to Bluetooth. So I rushed to turn it off but couldn’t find the remote control (it doesn’t have any useful buttons on the speaker, apparently that is progress). Then a shout from the toilet…

Dad the toilet is blocked and flooding.

So I ditched trying to turn the music down and headed towards the toilet. The phone rang.

Can I phone you back, bit of a crisis here (having to shout above the music),

Running towards the toilet and the front doorbell rang.

Can you leave the parcel there ….. Apparently not and I had to sign for it. Definitely getting an evil look for listening to that type of music so loud.

Heading towards the toilet when the smoke alarm goes off. Run to the kitchen to find the grill was arc welding the once tasty food options. Turn off grill and throw the food embers outside. Then throw the smoke alarm out as well. That’s now happily screeching away on the lawn.

Head towards the toilet and the cat knocks the school iPad off the table. I try to catch it but fail. Check the damage. Screen looks slightly cracked.

Dad the toilet is flooded and I’m busting. Hawklad shouting over Kiss.

Head towards the kitchen sink to find the plunger only to find the pan was now boiling over and the top of the electric cooker is like a boating lake. Turn the pan off.

Dad I’m busting. The words almost lost amongst the dialled to 11 metal music.

Plunger now in hand. Front doorbell rings again. Can our postman leave a parcel for next door with me. Apparently he likes Kiss and went to see them 20 years ago.

Dad the cat is drinking the toilet water and I’m seriously busting.

Ten minutes later the toilet is working. Son isn’t busting anymore. Kiss is playing at less than 150 decibels. Soup has now replaced the wrecked food. I’ve got no idea who phoned. The smoke alarm is getting a free wash on the front lawn in a passing rain storm. As is the once almost dry washing.

Back to normal again.