Who knows

Dog really wants to walk through that. I’m not so keen. Who wins the battle of minds.

I’ve got wet feet….

So the schools are here are due to go back next Monday. The hospitals are full to busting. Infection rates are rising fast.

The Government says the situation is in hand. The scientists and doctors are pleading for more action. They want schools to stay closed and use online education for a few weeks. The Government is resisting the move to that. They might stagger the return over a week with a good portion of pupils back in 7 days. They want to test all pupils with the unreliable, quick results method in the first week. That’s the answer apparently.

So as I’m writing this most parents just don’t know what’s happening next week.

I guess it doesn’t effect our little family that much. Hawklad is not starting back next week anyway. He just can’t. Maybe more online support will be opened up. How knows. We just have to make the best of it. Go with the flow.

It’s all such a huge mess.

No one ever asks

It’s been a little wet over the last few days. The sheep have got themselves a couple of paddling pools. We might give those a miss. I guess no one will be to upset about that.

I have a questionnaire to fill out about school and it’s services. Looking at lots of areas.

Teaching quality, subject material, classroom facilities, school meals, communication, discipline, bullying, uniform, school transport, sports facilities, IT, websites, outside clubs…..

Lots and lots of areas. So many questions.

What’s revealing is not the questions being asked but those which are not asked. Ones which are never asked. Questions about Autism and Aspergers support. Dyslexia support. Learning Disability support.

No one ever asks. It’s not just our school. It’s across the board. No one ever asks. We live in a world driven by performance measures and league tables. Yet no one ever asks….

I wonder why that is.

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.

Puddings

Where are our biscuits……

So today my country finds itself cut adrift. Many countries have closed their ports, tunnels and airports to us. That’s what happens when you mix an even more pesky variant of Covid with clueless, self deluded, only interested in themselves numpties who couldn’t manage a snowball fight.

Dolly and her biscuit munching woolly friends would do a better job than that prat called Boris and his cronies.

So yep we are cut adrift as a nation. All I can think about is why it took so long for this to happen. Countries like France should have done this years ago. We are not exactly going to be missed. Must be time for Yorkshire to join Scotland in declaring independence and ditching this madness. Let’s celebrate that thought with a large portion of Yorkshire Puddings. I’d rather talk about those puddings than the other puddings who are in charge,

Chickpeas

So the government has known that the new strain, the even more pesky strain of Covid has been here for weeks. In that time it has issued travel warnings and banned travel to other countries that had the slightest whiff of this strain. But it failed to mention that we had it all that time. It encouraged people to meet up and plan for a largely restriction free Christmas. Allowed people and businesses to make plans. Hurled abuse at those who dared to mention that easing restrictions might be a mistake. And then at the last minute they have cancelled the Christmas easing and have hit millions with further restrictions. How do some people still think that these people are fit to lead us. One rule for us and another rule for them. Making a priority of making making millions for their friends and themselves.

Avoiding making decisions, ignoring facts and putting things off to the last minute never works…

I’ve had a supersized bag of chickpeas propped up on the kitchen sideboard for weeks and weeks. The bag is opened at the top. Wide open…..I should have put the chickpeas into a large container. Or resealed the bag. Or moved them somewhere safe. Oh no. I’ve left them there. Courting kitchen floor disaster. Well this morning it happened. As I tried to clean the work surfaces I spectacularly elbowed the open chickpea bag. Given how far it went into the air it might as well have been a NASA Saturn 5 rocket launch. Strangely given an opportunity to escape, chickpeas will not refuse the opportunity. They are everywhere. On the floor. Under units. In the sink. All over the work surfaces. I’m wearing a few. Actually some found their way into the toaster. Even some foolish souls dived into my training shoes. Not content with that, they enticed the pets to spread the chickpea invasion to other parts of the house. Mayhem.

If only I had done something sooner. Now you could argue that I’m just as bad as the government for letting this happen. Well maybe not. I don’t get paid handsomely for doing this. I don’t get advice from top scientists and logistical planners. I don’t have a duty of care to look after millions. Decisions over my 3kg chickpea packet do not impact of the life and health of a country.

Yes I’m a muppet but I’m not wilfully negligent…..

Sensible person

This is a fine, beautiful tree. A special tree. Any tree that is shaped by lightning strikes is special. Definitely so worth walking there. Maybe even one day a lovely picnic under its branches. One day.

It’s also a completely sensible tree. Sensible is much needed some days.

I did something silly this morning. Monumentally silly. Not sensible at all.

I forgot that the delivery man had can come yesterday and dropped a small parcel into the outside metal letter box. So I went outside to retrieve the parcel. It’s a lockable letter box. So this muppet went out with the keys in hand. A sensible person would have separated the three keys for the box by now. A sensible person would then unlock the front box door and retrieve said parcel….

A sensible person certainly wouldn’t think it was much quicker to just stick his hand in the letter slot and try to rummage around until his fingers found the parcel. A sensible person must certainly wouldn’t use a hand to do that – which was still holding the only keys for the letter box. Only a monument muppet would get his hand stuck.

The only way I could pull my hand out of the slot was to let go of the keys. The only keys.

So now my hand is free but the keys have now joined the parcel at the bottom of the box. So with no keys to now unlock the box what would the sensible person do?

Unfortunately this muppet keeps coming up with plans that involve large hammers.

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….

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 Im not missing it. Yes the bank balance is only going in one direction but as for worknot 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.

Curve ball

Definite curve ball from school today.

I have wrote about the problems Hawklad has been having with French classes at school. The way the subject is taught just don’t suit him. Dyslexia complicates the learning process. Being at home adds to the difficulties.

I have been trying to get the school to modify the teaching approach in this one subject. Even switch the language to one which better suits him and one he is more interested in. Basically met with a brick wall. Then today’s curve ball.

The school doesn’t feel that he will be able to pass exams in this subject due to his learning issues. So they are now recommending that he drops the subject completely. Undertake no language learning at all. He would use the French class time to work on his other subjects.

So rather than try other learning routes they just want to ditch the subject. I’m kind of speechless. Will let Hawklad decide what happens next. BUT my initial take is that

…..Sadly it reflects the lack of flexibility in the UK teaching system. It also reflects the general approach schools take with those pupils who have learning disabilities.

Odd

Oh Yorkshire. You are such a beautiful county. Ok a bit cold, wet and windy. But definitely beautiful.

Beautiful, cold, wet, windy and a tad ODD. Look at me… Ok I’m not beautiful but the other 4 things most definitely do apply.

I think the weather has a tendency to make us a little odd here. You can tell by some of the things you here. Let’s go through a few Yorkshire words which stick in my mind. There are others but many spectacularly fail the decency bar.

I remember my school teacher announcing to the class. “Tomorrow 3C you get new classmates joining you. Brother and Sister. They are called Esmeralda and Oscar. With names like that they must be from Lancashire…..”. The funny thing was that they actually were born in Lancashire. The other funny thing was that our class was called 3C, which was ironic as the school only had two classes.

I remember going on a secondary school trip to The Yorkshire Dales. As we got off the bus the Teacher went though the safety rules. No mention of the nearby cliffs, caves or army firing range. “Right you need to climb that mountain and come back here. I would normally join you but I’ve forgotten my boots so I’m going to sit with the bus driver and listen to the cricket on the radio. Don’t get lost. Don’t go further than the mountain cairn as beyond that is Lancashire. Venture in there and you will be a lost soul forever….” Lancashire is our neighbouring county. Yorkshire is on the East and Lancashire is on the West of England. Both counties have been basically hurling abuse at each other for centuries. It has descended into Civil War and bloodletting over the English Throne. Thankfully it’s just verbal abuse and a couple of annual mad cricket matches these days.

I remember hearing a tourist ask a local in York how to get to the train station. The locals response was spectacularly helpful “Well Lad I wouldn’t start from here”. He then walked off….

I was stood on a Yorkshire Train Platform when the station announcer called out the next train to arrive. She finished off with the following helpful words. “The train on platform ….. will be departing in two minutes for London and the South, my thoughts are with those passengers at this difficult time for them as they head off into the badlands. There is still time for you to change your mind.”

As a kid my next door neighbour was a bit of a character. He would sing to his Rhubard patch every day. Usually things like ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’ and ‘We will meet again’. It was an experience as he had a singing voice equivalent to a misfiring tractor engine reversing over a long line of exposed toes. Anyway one day I picked up the courage to ask him why he sang to his Rhubard. His response ‘They have feelings ya know’. Apparently he would wee on them as well. Clearly not that bothered about their feelings.

I remember my Dad often telling me that “this was the wrong type of rain for the plants”. “The rain has far too much water in it….”.

When I was at Uni I had to program a robotic arm. For a joke I decided to change all the user input instructions away from English into Yorkshire slang words. As you do! Unfortunately when I tested it for the first time eckie thump wasn’t the instruction to lower the arm cradle gentle to the table. I should have told the robot to wazzock. Eckie thump basically sent an expensive piece of robotics smashing through the table causing untold damage. Yorkshire was banned from the laboratory, probably still is.

I had been Rock Climbing in deepest Yorkshire and had popped into a remote pub for some lunch. Looking at the meat full menu I asked the Landlord if he had a vegetarian option. This clearly perplexed him. He scanned the menu board for a few moments and then asked “The best vegetarian option will be the Pork Sausages. They won’t have that much Pork in them most days….”. He did deliver as he made me one of the worlds greatest chip butties.

Final mention has to be left with out very own Yorkshire born Hawklad. He had been pestering me to take him to the KFC Restaurant. Finally I succumbed and took him. As the helpful assistant asked him what variant of southern fried chicken he would like. Hawklad responded “Have you got anything else to eat rather than chicken. I’m not keen on CHICKEN…..”.

So yes Yorkshire is most definitely ODD. But it is staggeringly beautiful.