May the force be with you. May the fourth be with you.
I noticed the significance of the date just a few minutes before it was the 5th May. Clearly the FORCE is not strong in me. Maybe I would fall into the third Star Wars category. Not good enough to be a Jedi or a Sith, so I would be in the third class of characters. Only good enough to be ‘canon fodder’.
For what it’s worth I just had enough time to see what the online Star Wars name generators would come up with for me. Last year I think I was Hans Up….. This year apparently I am HOR VADER. The mind boggles….
It’s a grey morning definitely in need of a few smiles.
We have both just sniggered a bit. Trying to help Hawklad with his school at home day. It’s French. I’m not much help really. German yes I could help. Speaking gibberish certainly could help. French not really. It doesn’t help that French is one of the subjects that he isn’t getting much support with these days. So he often just has to look at the online class chat system. It’s sometimes used in class and can give at least an indication of what the lesson is supposed to be all about. Maybe even provide some of the questions the class are working on. Well that’s the theory…..
This morning no set work provided so all he can do is crack on with other subjects or find things to learn about and wait… Today he was researching the American Civil Rights movement while waiting for anything from French. Then a class comment was posted.
ma belle-mère a bu trop de champagne et ma grand-mère est tombée du cgair.
“Oh my….Dad. Whats that supposed to be”
Wow is there anything else.
“No Dad just that. Any ideas apart from it’sabout a GrandMother and a Step Mum”
It surely can’t be what I think it means. Have a go at translating it with your dictionary
“Dad it means thanks to Google “My stepmum has drunk too much booze and my grandmother has clearly been at it as well and fallen off the chair…. “
Yes I thought it kinda did mean that.
“Ok Dad as given my familyworld I am unlikely to need those French words, can I ignore it and get back to Martin Luther King.”
A lovely day to spend time in our garden. If you take the time there is always things to see. Always things to fill the heart. All things to be thankful for. A time to think and smile. Time to hum and sing a little. Sing a bit of KISS.
Rock and Roll All Nite……
“Dad please stop….”
Don’t you like my singing
“Is that what it is”
My voice is a thing of beauty
“No it’s not Dad. It’s like 2 nuclear bombs going off in my eat drums at the same time.”
“More like painful”
My voice has been passed down the generations. Millions of years of evolution has honed it to what it is now.
“A weapon Dad. That’s what it is. So yes millions of years of evolution. Survival of the fittest. That type of weapon is going to guarantee survival.”
The mobile phone is leading a charmed life. Yesterday it found its way into the garden refuse bin. Today as I weeded suddenly the little bucket next to me I was filling with weeds started playing music. Never been so thankful for one of those nuisance marketing call.
With the mobile safely back in my pocket. I got back on with the job of weeding.
Then another call. A work call. 60 minutes worth of …… what’s the word I’m looking for. I can think of a few, some I can even safely write down…
After 60 minutes I was so tempted to switch the mobile off and voluntarily drop it back in the garden waste bin. I’m old enough to remember a time before mobile technology AND today I vote for going back to then….
A few years back before parenting happened I played for a little village cricket team. They had a lovely tree lined cricket ground. Sadly the land was sold and they had to move. They moved to some land set on a sea cliff, right next to the edge. After every storm one side of the pitch shrunk by an inch or so. Washed out to sea. It was usually really cold. Not a tree in sight. On the other side of the pitch was a water treatment facility. Get a wind from the West and the smell brought tears to your eyes.
The actually pitch wasn’t exactly flat more like a mountain range….. And every April at the start of the season the outfield was covered in Daffodils.
It seemed that all our fears about the move were justified.
The cricket team was allowed to use the field by the local landowner for free. The two rules he insisted on was that he got a game for the team and as he liked Daffodils, we weren’t allowed to cut them back even if they started growing on the pitch. So yes we played around them. Made the game different. Took a lot of getting used to. But soon we got used to the change. And actually it was FUN. To the point that when the daffodils died back, we missed them. The game didn’t seem as good. Yes it was cold but the view over the sea was stunning. Even the Water Treatment Centre worked out great. They started sponsoring the team and soon we started getting brand new gear.
That’s the thing, change doesn’t have to be bad thing. Often change works out just fine and in fact can improve life. Improve it in ways you just can’t visualise before it happens.
Had one of those moments last night. One which seemed to contradict the very fabric of scientific thinking as we know it today. Could this really happen to someone after millions of years of evolution of the species.
I couldn’t sleep. 4am in the morning. Sleep wasn’t coming tonight. I had given up trying and had headed into the kitchen to make a hot drink. I started singing a Beatles song to pass the time as the tea bag brewed away. Suddenly a woman’s voice. Am I going mad. Must just be me. I started singing again and there again was that woman. A definite female voice. This time asking if I was alright. A secret lover (that secret it would have been news to me)…. A ghost!!! I ran out of the kitchen and slammed the door shut.
This morning looking back. What a pillock…. Spooked by the helpful Amazon Alexa app.
It’s funny how you forget things. A couple of days back I was writing about my lame brushes with fame. Then this morning another memory flooded back into my mind.
My Dad took me on a train to see a charity cricket match. My first ever game. I think I was about 8. It was one of those matches with former cricketers, celebrities and a few local club players. It was a decent turnout of stars so a large crowd turned up.
Some quite well known former Yorkshire and England players with one huge star. One of England’s greatest ever fast bowlers and larger than life characters, Fred Truman.
At the end of the game my Dad told me that I would like to get Fred’s autograph. That was news to me….. Handily Dad had brought an autograph book and pen. Almost as if the autograph was for him…. So I was sent off to obtain the signature while Dad finished off his beer. A bit later I came back with various scribbles, one was definitely a TV celebrity – Leslie Crowther. But no Freddie.
That clearly wasn’t to Dad‘s liking and he decided to help me now. After much looking Freddie was located. He was in the players changing room. Next thing I knew Dad had pushed me through the door with clear instructions. Your not going home until you get that signature….
I was surrounded by men in various states of undress…. All appeared to be drinking. No sign of Freddie. So I asked. Freddie was in the showers. So yes I did get the greatmans autograph. When he was completely naked. How could I forget that…..
Dad was happy. I never did see MY autograph book again….
Sunny but cold. Cold we are used to, sunny feels like a pleasant change.
Spot the photobombing bug.
How can hand stands be so difficult. I have been trying to do one in decades. As apparently I’m hundreds of years old well then that’s a lot of decades of failure. Today joined the long line of those. But what chance do I have. I can’t even balance on one leg (somedays two legs is even beyond me). I tried the old wall trick again. Slowly raise myself against a wall. Let the wall provide balance. All goes swimmingly. Well for about second. Then the gravitational pull on my excessively large bum takes over and I hit the ground. Somedays my backside feels like a villain in the Marvel movies. It is inevitable….
But I keep trying.
One day just maybe.
There is always hope.
I remember back in 2016 and thinking I’m never going to be able to do this single parenting gig. I’m going to collapse. And yes I have repeatedly fallen over. Can’t blame my inevitable rear ended for most of those….. But I’m kinda still here. Still trying. Still doing that parenting gig. You never know I might actually get it right one day. There is always hope.
I’ve been trying to practice yoga and tai chi for months now. I diligently watch and follow the videos. All the really glossy and professional videos. I was trying again this morning. Following the instructor through her perfect routine. Even her dog sits beside her perfectly. Never moving. In the background the gentle sound of peaceful music. Perfect.
Meanwhile in deepest Yorkshire.
A muppet is seamlessly moving from one body creak to the next groan. Losing balance and crashing into furniture. Constantly fearing my pants are going to split under the galactic pressure being exerted on them. Every time I hit the ground a mad dog instantly leaps on me and I replay the Bill Murray Ghostbusters scene – I’VE BEEN SLIMED. And no gentle sound of peaceful music here. Rather the sound of derision and laughter….
“What on earth are you doing Dad”
“If this was on TV it would be banned”
“You look a right sight”
“Funnier than a Will Ferrell movie”
“Say that again Dad. Golden Rooster. More like drunken Pigeon”
“Are you supposed to be balancing on one leg or head butting the wall”
“My Dad has turned into Homer Simpson”
“Please never do this when any of my friends visit”
“Your just embarrassing yourself now”
Technically speaking this probably means that I still have a long way to go on my spiritual exercise journey. Or more likely …. time to get the mega pack of biscuits out and vegetate.