IT

Weather and more weather. Looks like an incoming horror storm.

Son was trying to understand why Stephen Kings ‘IT’ Book was not a great choice for a school book. I suspect it will be making an appearance on the school system as soon as I turn my back.

Dad do you remember that time I got you told you off not the teacher.”

How could I forget it.

It was very funny.”

******

I think that he was about 7 and in class his teacher asked what things the kids watched on TV. Most of the kids mentioned things like football, Peppa Pig, Dora the Explorer, Spongebob and Finding Nemo. That was until it came to a certain boy

My Dad lets me watch Dracula, Frankenstein, Ghost and Zombie movies…”

Understandably Teacher was not impressed. So I was asked to see the teacher after school. I was suitably nonplused until the penny dropped. Yes that is true but son failed to mention the fact that these were all with Scooby Doo….

Heatwave

Yes this is Yorkshire. It’s a heatwave. Well a mini one. Whisper it, we might even get to 84F. Now we can moan about it being too hot. The Yorkshire Yoda would say that it’s ‘Proper mafting it is‘.

Dad what are you doing?”

I am watching TV.

Yes but what are you watching”

Peppa Pig…..

Why Dad?”

Just because….

Because your a big kid and so uncool”

That as well.

Have you found the paper you went looking for. I need to get this lesson done.”

Oops I forgot. Too busy watching Peppa tell George off. I will go now and look.

***10 minutes later with the required paper in hand***

What are you watching Son.

I am watching Peppa Pig”

Is that because you are so uncool like your Dad!

Of course not Dad. I’m watching it because I couldn’t be bothered to find the Deadpool DVD. It was on so I kept watching Peppa. Peppa is infinitely better than schoolwork. Young people do cool, Dads try to be cool.

Dads can be cool.

Yes they can but not when they are wearing a T-shirt like that.”

What’s wrong with my I’m Too Sexie for My Accountancy Qualification shirt.

Says it all Dad. It really does.”

Conversations

Sorry this is a couple of days late. The new WordPress editor took a dislike to this post and it’s taken two days to fix it.

Well a bit of blue sky and no rain is a start. Even the wind has eased. Feels almost like Autumn now.

Two conversations have rather defined this autumnal feeling day. The first one with the dentist.

I finally managed to speak to my Dentist about my chipped back tooth. In a nutshell this is what the Dentist said.

  • The practice partly reopens tomorrow.
  • They have a huge backlog and waiting list.
  • They are allowed to start looking at emergency cases but won’t be able to do much with them. Basically just temporarily patch them up. No drilling or aerosol inducing treatments allowed.
  • They will get back to me when they can have a look at it. But the repair will be some time. Dependent on getting the go ahead from the Government.
  • The Government is a shambles. Just making things worse.

So basically just got to grin and bear it. Will add temporary dental fixes to my increasing list of almost skills. It’s quite bizarre that the UK’s Health Minister is spending more time and energy on getting Horse Racing going than be is on helping out the NHS and Dental services. It’s amazing what being funded by the Horse Racing Industry does for a persons priorities.

The second conversation involved a muppet but not our Health Minister thankfully.

Dad remember when we worked out that you are 25% human and 75% muppet.”

75% is probably understating the muppetry.

Well Dad I’ve been trying to work out which muppet DNA runs through you.”

Well when I used to go and watch Newcastle United play footy. When I say ‘play’ I should say ‘get beat’ at footy. Me and my friend would just sit and slag off our own team. We were definitely the two old muppets in the audience. Waldorf and Statler.

Ok but now you don’t go anymore then they don’t count. I am seeing three muppets in your DNA. First one is Beaker. That expression and the hair sticking up is just so you..”

“The second muppet I see in you has to be Fozzie Bear and those terrible jokes of yours..”

“The final muppet in my Dad is definitely Animal. You seem to approach everything. Things like cooking, gardening, hairdressing with the same care and attention that Animal approaches life..”

I can’t argue with this assessment, although I am a little disappointed not to have a little bit of Miss Piggy in me. Now do I trust Animal with this emergency dental kit…

*****Photos from Wikipedia******

Terrible Poetry

I was thinking that my recent posts had been a bit too depressing. Maybe a bit too much about that pesky virus. So I thought let’s have a bit of fun with some Terrible Poetry from the wonderful Chelsea Owens’s weekly challenge. I’ve just checked what this weeks theme is – Oops Sorry.

  1. The Topic is a parody of a popular song on the theme of COVID-19. Yep, I’m asking for a Coronavirus song parody.
  2. For Length: No, I’m not expecting every verse and chorus, especially if you do “Bohemian Rhapsody.” A verse or two and a chorus ought to be great.
  3. If the song rhymes, you must rhyme.
  4. This issue is a bit close to home for many of us, so keep the terribleness funny. Please do not be insensitive or over-violent or such.
  5. Rating? PG or G. My kids will want to hear it.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MDT next Friday (April 17) to submit a poem to Chelsea. *!!ALSO!!* Chelsea’s husband has agreed to sing a recording of the winner’s song.

***********

So here goes to the theme tune to The Banana Splits……
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
One infected, two infected, three infected, four. 
Four infected make a pandemic and so do many more. 
Over hill and highway the corona buggies go 
Comin’ on to bring you The Corona Up The Shit Creak Show. 

Makin up a mess of life 

Makin up a mess of jobs 
Lot’s of free time for everyone. 

Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.

Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.

Four infected, three infected, two infected, one. 

All not allowed to play outside in the bright warm sun. 
Flippin sick of our leaders, poppin like a cork 
Guarding the bog rolls with a Pitch Fork

Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.

Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.

Ballet

This photo was taken just a couple of weeks ago. Seems like such a long time ago. Time has slowed down. Sorry I keep saying this BUT…… Is 2020 only 4 months old – seems like an eternity.

Finally watched Toy Story 3 last night. As the credits rolled…

Dad it’s taken 3 movies, 6 hours of viewing and 15 years before we got there. Finally it recognises it’s great to share toys. Its better to let toys go to someone who would love to play with them rather than let them gather dust on shelves and old boxes.”

To be fair to him he does donate toys to his old nursery and charity boxes. But this morning the house is like a bomb site. Toys everywhere. I’m not complaining. It’s good to have a house full of life. It really is. Kids still have a childhood to live. Adults still have a former life of fun to reconnect with.

Like most things in our Son’s life it revolves around plans and order. Being a boy that naturally excludes the important areas of clothes and bedroom draws. He seems to have a photographic memory of all his toys. They seem to come out in a strict annual rota. No toy seems to be missed out. It’s so nice to see.

Having said that. THE PAIN of standing bare foot on a piece of Lego is timeless. That’s my ballet career knackered. At University our sports coach liked to change training up. For two weeks the team did ballet classes with a lovely Spanish dancer. During the last class I split asunder my cycle shorts. The feeling was very airy but it nearly caused a diplomatic incident.

Now back to the bomb site.

Swan

It was good to see the swan observing social distancing at the local lake today. If only some of the humans could get their head round the concept. Our village thankfully has. Apart from the postman, the occasional food delivery driver and a handful of dog walkers – that’s it. All the cars are parked up and are not being used. Virtually no through traffic. We don’t have a shop, cafe or pub. The village hall and church are temporarily closed. Basically it’s like a ghost town. It seems to oscillate between beautifully peaceful and slightly unnerving.

It’s the new normal.

Work is definitely shutdown until at least mid June now. No sign of schools reopening anytime before September. The countrywide lockdown isn’t being relaxed any time soon. No long runs. Apart from the very occasional trip to a shop for essentials, that’s it for physical social interaction. Maybe for months. It’s not happened yet but I can see this ramping up a grief attack soon. Especially as my partners birthday is looming. But it is what it is. Another thing for my constantly racing two cell brain to deal with.

We were watching Toy Story 2 last night when a thought popped into my head. Apart from the obvious one – oh man I look increasingly like Mr Potato Head. Wouldn’t it be great if toys did come alive. How much fun would that be. Suddenly a whole new self contained social circle. And yes we have a Buzz Lightyear so maybe he could teach us to fly.

I feel bad now Dad. Not played with a number of my toys in years. They have been shelved. Woody was mortified when he was shelved. Maybe we should dedicate the online Drama lesson to playing with old toys.”

He’s been so turned off from the subject that playing with old toys would certainly have more learning value.

Dad Ive been thinking about Toy Stories meaning. Basically it’s that you need to keep old toys come what may. Yes always play with them, even when your old. But never, ever give them away – even to a needy cause. It’s a bit of a grim message really.”

And with that he was off to find his old In The Night Garden Toys. But unusually for him, he did not fully think this through. His Dad fell in love with that old BBC kids show. His Dad can still answer any question thrown at him about Igglegpigle, Makka Pakka and the gang. And rather than looking for the shelved toys in the old toy baskets he just needs to look at his Dads bedroom table. No shelved toy sadness here. The In The Night Garden gang are very happy each night. Much loved by someone who really should know better.

Photo from the BBC.

Time

TIME is a funny thing. Walked past here on Friday and hardly any of the white flowers had emerged. 72 hours later after a yucky cold, dark and damp weekend – any hey presto it’s a sea of white.

I remember someone very clever saying that TIME operates at different rates for different people. Thinking about it – that clever person might have been Dr Who. When I was a kid I loved Dr Who. I so wanted to be a Timelord. As a prize for winning a football tournament school arranged a trip to the last day of a Dr Who exhibition. I was super excited. On the way our bus broke down. It took them hours to fix it. Finally we arrived at the exhibition only to find it had closed 5 minutes earlier. How on earth can you miss an exhibition about a time travellerjust doesn’t seem right.

TIME definitely operates at different rates for some of our son’s school teachers. Quite a few of the online classes require the student to read an article or a section of a text book. The amount of reading has definitely increased over the last few school days. The number of follow up tasks has also increased. Strangely the TIME allowed has stayed the same. Exactly where does this approach leave the dyslexic student. I know teachers are super busy but maybe one of them might have asked son how he is coping with reading the course material. They seem much quicker to spot his spelling mistakes. Much better use of TIME.

TIME is also hard to define. School have now rolled out a national learning app primarily aimed at those students who struggle with English comprehension and grammar. Interestingly an app with a rating of 1 out 5 from users (lucky to get 1 by all accounts). Son has been set a weekly app study time of 50 minutes. The teacher will be checking that each student has achieved the weekly minimum study time. Punishments for underachieving. What they don’t mention is that the app uses a lot of videos and narratives. Unfortunately these do not count against the learning time but need to be completed before you can get to the student work areas. When it crashes (and it crashes more times than me on a diet) all learning time is lost and you need to start at the beginning of the section again. So far son has been on the app for just under 3 hours. He’s watched endless boring videos and robotic narratives. He’s still to learn anything new. AND he’s only clocked 20 minutes actual study time.

Dad what is the point of this. I’m bored out of my mind. As you would say, it’s a pile of pants. It’s a complete waste of my time, your time, the teachers time and a waste of bandwidth.”

I fed this back to school with a few of my own rather barbed comments. The school’s response was well we have sent a teacher to be trained in its use, that’s valuable school TIME so we need to keep using it.

Clearly I was wasting my TIME arguing.

Names on Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve has been very damp and exceptionally grey. No colour at all. So it called for some colour from a couple of weeks ago. Today this is as colourful as it gets. I can’t think of a name for this at the moment.

As I’ve got older I’ve become more used to dealing with the inevitable life curveballs. But not completely. The dreaded demon curveball still gets through.

Dad if I had been a girl what would you and mum have called me.

I couldn’t remember and that’s a great start to 24th December. My defence is that we found out very early on in the pregnancy that it was boy names only. But I still should remember that. Those fun brainstorming seasons for two unprepared newbie parents in waiting. But nothing. It felt like I had let down our son and lost another important link with my partner. It hurt. It hurt like mad. Yes you can hurt at this time of year. Sadly so many do. Sending everyone of you a hug.

To try and clear my head I went outside to do my odd outside thing. Push a wheelbarrow around the garden a few times. It’s hard work but that’s the point. In the middle of the garden was a stray Santa’s Hat – presumably courtesy of Captain Chaos. So as the effort started to do its job I donned the slightly soggy hat. Wheelbarrowing in the rain. Like to see Gene Kelly’s face if that was the song he was given all those years ago to dance to. Wheelbarrowing in the rain did its job. Mind reset. I have one job and that is to make our son happy. Make him happy this Christmas. Need to get back to my A Game.

“Son when was the last time you had whip cream direct from the canister into the mouth”

Never Dad.

“Well you are now”

So that’s what we did. Soon this was escalated to shaving foam covering my entire face. It kinda suited me. Still no George Clooney but a vast improvement. A look all the more better for the sound of laughter filling the house.

Dad do you fancy a first to hit the crossbar challenge.

Followed a few minutes later with

Dad you do know it’s first to kick the ball onto the goal crossbar not first to repeatedly kick the ball into next doors garden challenge

As I spent a quite a bit of time retrieving the football from next doors garden I got to spend a bit of time noticing how a garden should look like. Very neat and tidy with immaculate lawns. Well almost immaculate. A couple of ugly holes courtesy of an escaping Captain Chaos. That’s compared to our garden which is more akin to a ploughed farmers field courtesy of moles, son and CAPTAIN CHAOS. Maybe 2020 is the year of the NEAT GARDEN. More likely it’s the year of the NEED A NEW GARDEN. So as the ball sailed over the hedge again son shouted.

Dad what would you call me now if I was a girl.

This time the curve ball missed.

Laa Laa Po Dora the Explorer Elsa Tinkerbell”

Really Dad. All those names.

“No son Dads fibbing.

Good I was getting worried. It’s a joke then

“Yes

Maybe you could call me either Daphne Blake or Velma Dinkley

“Jinkies that’s a good idea”

So a day that threatened to be scuppered on a girls name ended with laughs about a girls name. Like many folks I operate on such fine margins. With so little separating happiness and sadness. I really hope this Christmas you find happiness.

Christmas Diaries 4 – Shopping

A perfectly tranquil setting which feels like a million miles from civilisation a dit’s madness.

What possesses anyone to venture into a English Supermarket on the 23rd December. As Son sat in the car I donned my finest Indiana Jones costume and ventured into the tunnels of hell to try and secure the prize. This time the prize was not a rare artefact. The goal was milk, bread, cheese, fruit juice, ice cream and carrots.

This wasn’t a shop. This was an ordeal. A form of modern torture. A sometimes moving sea of humanity – usually moving in the wrong direction. Too terrifying for even an a hero like Indiana. Milk, bread and cheese ticked off. The fruit juice and carrot sections stripped bare. Are we prepping for an upcoming apocalyptic winter. No I forgot it’s the few days of Christmas.

Trying to fight my way through the hoards to the freezer section. So many empty sections almost as if they had been previously visited by a plague of locusts. A brave shop assistant trying to bring a box of frozen parsnips to the freezer. As he walks shoppers are rapidly emptying his box. A few seconds later he’s walking back to the store room. Poor chap never stood a chance. He didn’t get within 50 yards of the freezer before he was stripped bare. At the freezer ice cream is at a premium. Must be summer. From the empty sections and desperate shopper faces the luxury little tubs costing a million pounds each are this years must have. Luckily the value vanilla tubs are clearly being shunned in the shopping frenzy today. So I’m now finished. Almost….

Then you get to the mayhem which is the cash tills. At least 10 deep. I opted for the self service as every cashier appeared to be sneezing and coughing. After 20 minutes I’m next in line. Unfortunately a family better placed in The Simpson’s stood in my way. Clearly a bar code reader was beyond them. Just putting the item straight into your bag is not going to work. Covering the bar code up with your hand is not going to work. Scanning an item then rescanning the item isn’t going to work. Then with half of your items still on the conveyor belt just basically giving up is not going to work. They just paid for the few items they had managed to scan and left. Leaving a poor over worked shop assistant to remove the unscanned items so giving the rest of the poor sods stood in line a chance to get on with their life’s.

Finally returning to the car to find it’s now well sandwiched between two cars clearly deciding 6 inches is enough space to open the car door and slide easily into the drivers seat. Have they seen the size of my bum….. Luckily son was in the car and he opened the window. The window proving the only way into my car. I guess Starsky and Hutch entered there red police car with a bit more star quality than me. Finally at the wheel a careful 27 point turn managed to free the car from the parking spot.

Dad did you remember the bananas.

No son. I forgot but thankfully as they are for me then they can wait until normality has returned. I’m guessing sometime in 2025.

Don’t you just love Christmas.

Kings, Queens and Telly Tubbies

4am When the world hopefully sleeps.

The bedroom door bursts open.

Sorry Dad can’t wait to ask. If you had to be related to a king or queen which one would you most want it to be and which would you be most embarrassed to be associated with.

Erm top of my head probably Queen Victoria and probably not mad King George III. How about you son.

Henry V would be so cool but he only had one child and he was pious so it’s not likely. Many would say King John as one your embarrassed with as he is seen as the most useless one but he was actually not as bad as that. Henry VII probably as his claim to the throne was illegitimate. Night Dad.

I then I had a bizarre dream about being late for a meeting with the Queen. A meeting which was to happen on a train in a random rainy town. And I got lost. At least Son had not asked about my favourite Telly Tubby. Getting lost on the way to meet my favourite Telly Tubby would have been a dream too far.

So at breakfast I decided to continue the historic theme. I convinced son to have a trip to see the beautiful ruins of a local Abbey. He wasn’t convinced but finally we set off. I really should stick to my level. The Telly Tubbies. We arrived to find the site closed until March and that knowing look from son. At least we got a few lovely views from the outside.

I gave our son the option of extending our trip but he just wanted to go home. Too many people about. That’s becoming an increasingly common comment from him. As the months go by he finds it harder to deal with social contacts. He can still cope with rock concerts. It’s because he thinks they are still very inclusive. Doesn’t matter what you sound like, dress like or look like – your just accepted. No condescending looks. It helps that it’s dark and noisy so it’s unlikely anyone will talk to him. He was also ok on our recent train night but that was onboard the train. Luckily no one was sat opposite us. On the platform he struggled. We basically stood inside a coal shed until we could board. He had been ok with the cinema but now if the screen has more than handful of people in then he can’t watch the movie. We were going to see Jumanji but the screen was half full and that was the end of that. At school he’s just not happy. The crowded school bus is becoming impossible for him. You can see the change in him when he’s back home. He’s confident and happy. Outside he’s nervous and wants to hide. As soon as we leave the front door his hood goes up.

I remember a conversation with a really good Child Psychologist who worked for a time with him. She thought that his social difficulties may well become more pronounced as he became a little older. She had worked with a number of kids a bit like our son and they had all found mostly happy life’s. But isolated life’s. One or two friends and some family contacts allowed into the inner sanctum. Pets and animals definitely. But the rest of the world – preferably not.

It’s early and things may change. He will follow his own path. I will be there as long as I’m needed. But it’s his own path and he needs to find the type of world he’s most contented with. A closed abbey with a handful of walkers being too busy is potentially an indication of the direction of travel. If that path takes us inevitably into a more isolated world then so be it. And for those interested my favourite Telly Tubby was Laa Laa.