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Damp memory

A wet old evening on the Yorkshire coast.

It’s odd how our memory works. I can see my Mum vividly but almost entirely from her later years. As she described it, the ‘grey haired Little Nan, don’t you ever dare call me Grandma, that makes me sound old…’ period. I have a memory glimpses of her when she was younger, but not as many and definitely a bit faded now. Dad died in a different century, so his memories are all way more faded now.

But something struck me, I have so very few memories of both my parents together, almost entirely they live in different memory sets. I really can hardly see them together. One joint memory I can recall is from this Pier, by the sea, on a bench like one of those. On a family day trip in equally grim weather as in the photo. One of those trips that is described as being good for the constitution rather than actually being fun. I can see them eating fish and chips together, off increasingly wet newspaper, not talking to each other, not even looking at each other. Maybe one parent was ignored when they suggested the weather might not be conducive to a pleasant seaside visit….. It’s not a particularly loving memory.

Just really odd, I can remember that damp coastal moment yet I can’t recall any memories of them together from say Christmas mornings, happy times, adventures, daily family life. It’s as if they inhabited different places, different parts of my childhood. Old photos don’t help, all the family photos are taken by one of the parents, so they aren’t together there as well. It’s the same with Hawklad’s family photos, just one parent ever seen at any one time as the other is behind the camera. There are a couple where we tried to use the timer but invariably you have a blur, or a back of the head shot of the sprinting camera operative. Hawklad has a few from Nursery of the 3 of us together, taken when the school photographer came in but wow they look like mug shots.

Maybe we were just like my parents. We just never thought about having joint photos, never thought that in the future someone might be wanting to see us together, living shared family lives.

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Night shift

Misjudged a late evening walk. Walking past a graveyard, located down a very deserted country lane, just as the night roles in. Always a bit spooky.

Somethings are always a bit unnerving.

In the UK, having to contact a company called BT, that’s unnerving. BT is a big telecoms company.

BT aptly can also mean Bloody Terrible…..

BT provide our broadband and telephone service. Both have been broken for 6 days now.

Do you remember when you had to queue when ever you went into a branch in person. Then the Call Centre was introduced and you ended up queuing for that, listening to the endlessly awful piped music and recorded message – ‘your call is important to us’.

Then CONTACT US ONLINE was brought in to stop the hours wasted waiting in person and on the phone. With good old BT you now have to queue online to use their online service.

Initially the wait time was 15 minutes, which in normal time was actually over an hour. The ‘less than a minute’ wait time turned out to be another 20 minutes. Deep joy.

Fast forward 6 days and still no telephone or broadband. Back on to BT again for the 6th day running. This time going old school, having to use my mobile to call them. Apparently to the BT person, we weren’t a customer priority as we were just a reduction in service rather than a service down issue. I was keen to understand if we only get two services from BT, and both are 100% not working, why wasn’t that service down. Service reduction sounds like we are still getting some services….

On the call, I think my tone went from friendly, to cordial, to a little gnarly… But nothing over the top, no raised voices, quite calm really. But it was a bit too much for Hawklad. One of the things he’s always struggled with is conflict. It throws him, he gets anxious, completely on edge. I have to be careful and over the years I’ve got better, much calmer, trying to avoid putting him through those emotions. Very few things brake me out of calm mode these days. My Football Team’s inability to pass to a colleague and the name ‘Nigel Farage’ are the only things recently to bring on the red mist. But I can’t micromanage every situation. When he went to school, one of the things that constantly unsettled him was the daily, frequent conflicts. Teachers raising voices, pupil on pupil stuff. He would frequently struggle to differentiate between real conflict, minor disagreements and play acting. I wonder if it’s because he struggles to read social interactions, pick up on tone, body language, taking some dialogue too literally. It could be that he really doesn’t like seeing anyone suffer or be hurt. But it does make the modern world a difficult place for Hawklad to fully integrate in to. We are still trying to figure that one out.

And yep, still no broadband……

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 48 Comments

We need a bigger bin.

‘We need a bigger bin’ doesn’t seem to have quite the same dramatic ring as ‘we need a bigger boat’ from Jaws….

Houston We have Problem….

In the great scheme of things, it’s not an Apollo Spacecraft is running out of fuel level crisis. It’s not even anywhere near the patio weedkiller isn’t really working with the Red Weed from War of the Worlds emergency.

Ok it’s just a wheelie bin issue…

But a common one round here.

As a cost cutting idea the local Council changed our recycling collections from every 2 to 4 weeks. To be fair they did give us a slightly bigger bin but in the good old days, every two weeks you would just pile up all the cardboard next to the inevitable full recycling bin and it would be collected. Now if it’s not in the bin, it ain’t being collected….

So these days, after about 2 weeks you see local residents employ various strategies to fit more and more into the already packed bin. Some carefully cut up the cardboard into smaller pieces (takes them hours), some madly folding and refolding as if in a crazy origami tournament, others have bonfires, others just start cramming cardboard into the normal refuge bin. I’ve elected for the get the ladders out, step into the full bin and start jumping up and down to compress. I dread to think of the internal pressures being applied to that poor wheelie bin. You never see good old Dr Who having to do that with his Tardis.

Anyways enough of Yorkshire Troubles.

We clearly haven’t had enough Castle trips this summer. Let’s have a look at Warwick Castle, one of Britain’s finest historic sites. Brings back a ton of memories, I went to university many many moons ago at Warwick.

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What they need

Kinda sums up the Yorkshire weather this week…

Foolishly I listened into a radio phone in as I drove towards home. I think the show was supposed to be a discussion about the proposed disability benefit cuts but had rapidly become a ‘this is how you parent’ rant. Caller after caller jumped on a populist bandwagon. Far too many young people are receiving benefit payments rather than being FORCED to work. Mental Health issues, autism, adhd, you name it were modern day fairy tales allowing the youth of today to stay in bed, play games and be PAMPERED….. ‘In my day’ the rants continued, National Service and a good clip round the ear was the answer.

Not one young voice was aired.

Not one Health Professional voice was aired.

Not one parent voice was aired who had any experience in supporting a your person with daily, life affecting real needs.

I would have called in but strangely the show never gave out a number as the switchboard was jammed, I suspect with even more ‘in my day’ tirades….

After thirty minutes of this madness I switched off and drove the last few miles in stony silence.

This is supposed to be 2025 and it might well just have been Victorian times.

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Windy

The last day of the season at The Arboretum.

A few days later and a storm blasted through the area. I wonder how much damage was done here. Just a bit up the road and we had some wood down outside our house.

Some trees around the village came off far worse.

The tree busting winds from the North were so strong that wind assisted Santa has arrived 14 days early….. That’s definitely way too early to find that I’m still on the naughty list.

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Dreaming

For the last week I have had a recurring dream, a vivid recurring dream. A dream about a place we’ve been to a number of wonderful times, the Gornergrat in Switzerland. A very high ridge in the Alps with a luxury hotel and beautiful stone chapel, set amongst the rocks, the mountain peaks and glaciers.

In these recurring dreams, we are sat on a bench, watching the clouds roll across the rocky landscape, as the sun slowly sets. Then we wander into the hotel’s observatory and look at the stars through the large telescope. That is something I’ve wanted to do for years.

Maybe I’m being told something…..

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Birds at dawn

Another early start. This time a seriously early one. A perfect insomniac storm. 3am. Hawklad has woken and can’t sleep. I have not been to bed yet and sleep feels a million miles away.

Hawklad wonders if we can see the dawn brake. On the coast.

So a few moments later and after I had sampled the meanest of espressos, we are driving. Driving past badgers, foxes and owls. Before 4am we arrive at RSPB Bempton Cliffs. It’s still pitch black and we have the site to ourselves. It’s such an eerie feeling walking in the complete absence of light and sound. Even to early for the thousands of seabirds perched precariously on the cliffs. No wind and even the sea was strangely becalmed.

In perfect time to watch dawn brake. No thoughts of an Albatross who was apparently out at sea. Who needs one bird when you get to watch all this unfold.

The dark was a challenge to my iPhone camera but it gave it a go.

By 7am a few people had started to arrive, mainly here to take up prime spots and wait. Hoping on catching sight of one particular bird. They had no idea what they had just missed. The deafening sound of seabirds hides the peace that existed just 2 hours ago.

We were back in the car and driving a few minutes later. The site had lost its appeal to Hawklad. Even a handful of strangers proving too much for him. But he had got to see a spectacular show first hand. Just the two of us so without his anxieties. He slept during the ride home.

Yes it was a ridiculously early start. Yes I went more than 24 hours without sleep. But it was worth it for those couple of hours when Hawklad felt that he had the world to himself. I suspect it won’t be the last time we do this. Yes there will be time for trips out to build those social bridges but those come with anxieties. We all need these times and places of sanctuary. Hawklad does. Yes even a worn down parent needs them.

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Thoughts and dreams

In years gone by if I needed to think. Be with my thoughts. I would go for a run. Maybe go climbing. Those things worked best for me. But then parenting and then single parenting curtailed the climbing option. It was then running. Fell running to collect and process my thoughts. Often I would start a run then become lost in my thoughts. Only the alarm on my watch would bring me back to reality. I would be miles into the hills and it would be a mad sprint to get back home for the return of the school bus.

Then the pandemic happened. We went into our family lockdown. So far 16 months of a lockdown. I lost running. But I didn’t lose my need to think. So I discovered the joys of leaning against our back garden fence. Thinking while looking over the fields and scanning the distant horizon from a little hill top home.

It worked.

So this morning I was leaning on the fence. Thinking. Looking at a distant beautiful tree. Dreaming.

But then I was joined. Someone decided to invade my space and block my view.

I’m can’t really see the tree now. I’m having to stroke and feed this one. I’m telling this cow my dreams. She seems udderly fascinated. Or maybe she’s herd then all before. Definitely deja moo…

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Road

Yes it’s another one of those massive, multi lane Yorkshire motorways.

We are a couple of weeks into the start of trying to help Hawklad build bridges back towards the wider world again. It started with us taking the mad dog for a walk at night. Nighttime as it would be quiet with no other people out and about. Small steps in breaking out of walls that surround our little house and garden. The isolation which started 15 months ago.

We quickly realised that actually it’s always pretty quiet here, not just at night. So we started going for the walk a little earlier. Now nearer 7pm. Guess what. We still hardly see another soul. Currently that’s perfect for Hawklad. Very rarely we see a farmer or another dog walker. When that happens Hawklad immediately turns on his heels and heads quickly home in the opposite direction.

The other thing is that Hawklad doesn’t like to walk on the path. Just doesn’t feel comfortable doing that. So we walk on the road. Our massive and very busy road….

Well you can see just how big our road is. Just how busy it really is can be gauged on one fact. We have been walking every night straight down the middle of the road. Not once have we encountered a vehicle. The road is ours….

That’s such a cool feel. Such a cool feel for both of us. I can concentrate fully on talking and in the quiet bits, on dreaming.

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Salvador Dali

A quick look at this mornings weather forecast sent me scurrying outside to cut the grass. Thankfully not cutting the farmers fields. I will leave that up to the cows.

I’ve heard of sleep walking but never heard of sleep mowing…. But it felt like I was doing that this morning. Today has been hard work. The body and mind have started to grind to a halt on the back of not enough sleep. Last night it was one our kip. Similar to the night before. And the one before that……

I won’t show you my attempt at nice straight lawn stripes. Think more Salvador Dali and his Persistence of Memory painting.

Add to sleep mowing, today I added sleep working, sleep parenting and sleep housework.

I have been barely functioning today. Not ideal when your trying to explain Double Replacement Chemical reactions. So add either sleep teaching or sleep chemistry. It’s odd what ever I did today resembled a Salvador Dali creation.

Maybe I’ve sussed out the secret of Salvador success. Maybe he wasn’t an artistic pioneer. Maybe he couldn’t sleep, he did sleep painting.

Salvador Dali, 1931