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Foot bath

The sun so tantalisingly close but no cigar. That’s as close as it came to beach weather here in Yorkshire today. When I say beach weather that is in terms of Walruses.

The picture is perfect for my mood today.

Trying to be a ray of sunshine but not quiet achieving it. After the stress of the last few days I was aiming to have a nice day. At home sorting out the works payroll run while listening to a fine collection of relaxing music. Not forgetting to fit in a run around a slightly extended lunch break. Well that was the plan.

Unfortunately as I was heading for bed at 1am I noticed son had lost a button on his school jacket. That’s a School negative and would send him into meltdown again. So the half asleep Dad with the sewing abilities of a drunk Penguin spent most of the night basically sewing various fingers onto the front of the said jacket. How difficult can this really be. As a guide it took me 40 minutes and three hot drinks to just thread the needle. At one stage I must have dozed off as I managed to head-but the sewing box. Eventually I made bed at just after 4am with a pretty decent sewing job completed. Unfortunately now I was wide awake and sleep passed me by for another night.

Relaxation and no sleep are not a great combination. Especially when the old CD player annoyingly developed a jump while playing my favourite cds. Thankfully I made it to my run. An almost enjoyable run until my sleep deprivation led me literally down the wrong path. Normally the right one but since the last floods – not a great one. The ground was becoming increasingly squelchy until I came to the large beck. Normally a nice wooden bridge joins both sides of the path. Unfortunately the bridge collapsed months ago and is currently heading towards the North Sea. So two choices do a u-turn which will add another hour to the run or jump the beck. The need to restart work ASAP dictated the mad option. I guess I can just about jump the beck – it’s only about 6 feet. I hit the long jump perfectly and unbelievably sailed clear over the beck. My moment of triumph was short lived. As quick as my considerable momentum tried to take me forward my left foot tried to sink into the mud. Then the dreaded muddy suction sound and a foot reluctant to come out for air. Something had to give. My foot released unfortunately my shoe didn’t. Hoping around on one leg while trying to prize the missing trainer from its muddy grave. Unfortunately gravity always wins and my exposed white sock sunk into the mud. When the trainer was rescued it was full of thick cold mud. Lovely running in that for the final 2 miles. At least my left foot got a free mud bath.

But here’s the rub. To take my mind off the mud drenched foot I replayed memories in my head. Happy memories of my partner. Passing one particular farm field I was taken back about 16 years. A late sunny evening walk. Maybe one too many wines. Then trying to make snow angels in that fields wheat crop. Completely forgot that one. It’s such a treat when you discover keys to long lost memory doors.

The mood darkened a bit on news that son has to revise for two tests on Monday morning AND spelling tests will now happen every week. Deep joy. So yes it’s been a day which could have been really uplifting but never quite managed to shake off the dark clouds. Maybe tomorrow the sun will shine.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 52 Comments

Kick the wall type of day

Spending time near water can be so relaxing. Today felt like I needed to be submerged right in the middle of this river. Stood on the banks probably wouldn’t bring my BP down much below 5000. Yesterday was a kick the wall type of day. Even today my BP is probably 250 points higher than my IQ.

You plan to work from home but that’s the day BT decides to turn off the broadband. You then decide to drive to work but then find out that’s the day the Council decides to close ALL THE roads leading to it. Aargh…

You drive to the supermarket to find it was as empty as my wallet. When I say empty it had plenty of items as long as they were not on my shopping list. Shopping for someone with Aspergers often revolves round a small range of food items. If the food is not quite right then he won’t touch it. Today the only pasta, soup, pizza and sausages he likes were frustratingly missing. The upcoming weeks menu for our son has suddenly become even less varied (if that is possible).

Then we come to my menu. You try to go healthy. You try to go environmentally friendly. The key phrase is ‘you try’. In my case that is meat free, dairy free, gluten free, soya free. In a supermarket of 32 aisles my shopping area constitutes no more than one quarter of one aisle. At best it’s a very limited range of products. Today most of that small portion of an aisle was empty. When I asked the ‘shoppers champion’ (title on badge) helpfully said

“It’s becoming really popular so we run out normally in the middle of the week”

Well order more stock and why not give just a bit more of your shop to this really popular range…. While I’m at it let’s vent some more. If I am eating healthier (as the government wants me to) and I’m buying more environmentally friendly items. Why am I being penalised for it. Why are these products so bloody expensive. How can they justify charging £2.50 for a small loaf of gluten free bread. Why are all the ‘healthy and socially good’ products three times the price of the bad ones….. Aargh….

You rush back home so you are in plenty of time for an afternoon delivery only to find a note pushed through the letter box. Unfortunately you were not in when we called at 9.45am. You will need to collect the item from you local delivery depot. When is 9.45am an afternoon delivery AND how is a 25 mile trip to the LOCAL PIGGING Depot defined as local. Aargh…

You then venture into the utility room to put on a wash when your faced with a waste spillage even BP and Exxon would be proud of. Why has the big fat boy cat suddenly decided to use his litter tray sideways rather rather long ways. He’s a big fella and using the tray sideways means he now misses by over 1ft. Aargh…

Then you get a phone call from the bank. One of my cheques bounced. Why. Apparently the other bank wanted .00 adding to the total I had wrote on the cheque. It was a round number so why do I need that. Aargh…

Then we come to the main event. Already my blood is boiling.

I was getting sons Games Kit ready for the next day. Like most school things you have a prescriptive list of items. Any variations from the list gets the child an automatic negative. Only one light blue football sock could be found….

Son wasn’t sure if he brought it home or had left it at school. We ransacked the house to no avail. With every passing minute son is getting more upset and my BP has gone to Green Rage Hulk levels. Not angry at son angry with life in general. Then a great idea we have 40 minutes to get to the nearest sport shop. Some frantic driving and we get there just in time. The shop has an extensive football range. Every colour sock going EXCEPT Light blue… Normal blue would be a school negative (as it’s not the official colours). Ask the shop assistant. “Yes we have some light blue behind the counter”. At last we catch a break….

“We only have two in stock and I’m afraid they might be a bit small for him”. If it’s tight don’t worry. “Both are 5-6 Year Old size”. Bloody hell… Aargh.

So that was that. Son was sent into school with some royal blue footy socks and a note pleading our case. But the damage was done. I spent most of the night and early morning trying to calm our sons anxiety meltdown. A meltdown caused by one missing light blue sock. It sounds trivia but it isn’t. On that night it was the single worst worry one particular kid with Aspergers could have. Caused by petty school rules.

So yesterday was officially a kick the wall type of day. To the outsider it’s all mundane stuff. No internet. A few road closures. No expensive hippy food. A missed delivery. A cat missing the target. A cheque which needs amending. AND a light blue sock. But to me it was a massive pain in the bootocks….

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Spark an Interest

York Minster is one of Europe’s finest Cathedrals.

The central tower is 235ft (72m) tall. It’s Northern Europe’s biggest Gothic Cathedral.

The first religious building was built on this site in 637AD. Work started on the current Gothic structure in 1230 and was completed in 1472. The Minster has 128 stained glass windows which apparently have 2000000 individual glass pieces. It’s a busy place of worship with over 1600 services each year.

Thankfully York has not succumbed to the plague of high rise buildings. So The Minster still dominates the city view from all directions. I remember having a chat with an American work colleague who on visiting the city for the first time told me

“That’s a lovely church but it would have been better if they had built it on a hill”

Unfortunately the nearest hill is about 15 miles away. Strangely our little bungalow is on that very hill. We struggle to fill our little church so I’m pretty sure a Cathedral would be bit of over kill.

It’s absolutely stunning inside but we never make it that far. Son loves to walk round it and think. Then he looks to the skies for a glimpse of the nesting Peregrine Falcons. Finally we always end at a statue of a Roman Emperor. In 306AD Constantious died in York. The soldiers in York immediately proclaimed Constantine the Emperor. So for a brief moment in time York was the centre of the Roman Empire. Son loves to drink up this history.

Surely when you have such history on your doorstep why not use. York has the largest Train Museum in the World showcasing engineering and invention at its finest. What better way to spark an interest. To learn. To grow. But apparently this is not the case. It would seem writing out spelling mistakes 3 times is the way to go. Regardless of the subject – Science, History, Maths, Design Technology, Drama – let’s just get the spelling right. I bet that will spark an interest!!!!

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 39 Comments

Little things

A beautiful little thing from warmer months.

Unfortunately many little things are not so enjoyable.

Little things are sent to test us. The one day when it had to be a full day at the work base would also have to be the day the office heating failed. The heating failure had to be on the coldest day of the year so far. In the morning the thermometer was resolutely stuck at -2C. In the afternoon the thermometer reached the heady heights of 1C. Sat huddled over the computer with a coat stretched like a tent over me and the screen. Inside the makeshift tent hoping that the hot tea and the heat from the CPU would fend of frost bite. Lovely

Little things are sent to test us. Maybe it’s the frostbite but as soon as I got into the car a warning light came on. Car Key Battery Low – Change Battery. Not a problem as we have a vast collection of various types of batteries at home. Guess what. Having ransacked the house I found 11 different types of battery but unbelievably not one which would fit the key. So let’s hope the key has enough juice left to allow me to get to the shop in the morning.

Little things are sent to test us. Like WordPress being most vexing. For the last 6 months the WP Ipad app has been hopeless. Well not sure what has happened but it is now firing on at least 3 cylinders. Best it’s been for a while. Not saying much but at least it’s partly working. Unfortunately we come to the Yang. Now my WP email updates are a disaster. They arrive as normal but it’s impossible to do anything with them. That leaves trying to read and comment using the app – that is the cylinder which is misfiring. How can it be so difficult to leave a comment or just like something. Just so frustrating.

Little things are sent to try us. Spelling Tests for a Dyslexic. If son doesn’t sit the test then he will be given zero marks and this will rule out any chance of him moving up sets this year. But if he does sit the test he will be given no help and no marking adjustments – setup to fail. As son has decided to try the test he has been practising the words. After much frustration (from both child and parent) Son announced.

This is not happening. I’ve got a photograph in my head of all the words and will just see what happens on Thursday. I can find better things to spend my time on. I can name every English Monarch since 827. Their main achievements, notable events, claim to the throne and how they died. I know it been no use at this school but it’s fascinating. So I’m going to do the same with the French Monarchy. Much better use of my time.

And off he went on his quest. If a child has a passion then that passion should be given every opportunity to flourish. Our bureaucratic education system has forgotten this. Thankfully kids and many parents have not. That’s why there is always hope. Hope in little things.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 69 Comments

Let’s spell out Monday

An entire weekend without seeing any evidence of other humans. No post. No phone calls. No dog walkers. Villagers hidden away in warm dry houses. On the walks not even one passing car or stray rambler. Helps when many of the roads are closed with overrunning roadworks or floods. Great fun in the pouring rain trying to play tennis on the pavement. Very cramped in an area probably not big enough for table tennis.

Sadly the relaxing weekend goes to quickly and dreaded school looms. A temporary change in school bus routes means more strange faces and much larger buses are running. No guarantee when the bus turns up. An absolute nightmare for a kid with Autism. If only that was the only thing.

Another heated discussion with school and the authorities. Both reassuring us that measures have been put in place which ensure compliance with government requirements and allows all kids a fair chance of performing well. Yeh right. Keep the Government happy – Sod the kids in effect…. Clearly certain parties need to lookup the definitions of all and fair. So this weekend our son’s homework basically is all about writing out three times all his spelling mistakes and unclear handwriting attempts. That’s going to expand his mind and boost his confidence!!

Then to cap it off he has to revise for an English Test. The test is an old school Spelling one. Learn 20 words.

Language

Presented

Sherlock

Through

Evidence

It’s the same spelling test for all in the class. No extra time or help for any child. Again maybe it just me and my cabin fever. If it is please just delete this post. But how is this fair. On what planet is this supposed to have any positive impact on any child with dyslexia and autism. Designed to fail AGAIN. For all the required words our son can give definitions for and provide alternative examples of how to use the word correctly in spoken English. But this is not important apparently. Not what school and the government wants. The focus is on getting all kids to just spell by learning parrot fashion a list of predefined words. If you can’t do this then you are low attainment. A failure. A faulty item.

Education is filled with really good, dedicated and caring teachers. Yet they are increasingly told how to teach and to focus on a narrowing range of objectives. Objectives not about the interests of the child. It’s all about Satisfying the Government. The agenda is that money should go to fund tax cuts for the rich rather than on unimportant things like school budgets. To make sure this happens Schools need to follow the tried and tested factory model. Increasingly large production runs which help drive down costs. Eliminate natural variations and reduce choice. Children just seen in terms of inputs and outputs. Push them through the system. Those who don’t fit are labelled a problem and discarded as surplus to requirements.

I will tell you where the staggering stupidity and the real problem lies. It’s in those leaders pushing this dogmatic crap and equally on those who choose to vote for them. Shame on you.

So we move on into another uncertain week filled with too much anxiety for someone so young. Let’s hope a few Muppet and Spider-Man movies can briefly lift the mood. Even a bit of no space tennis might help. But surely the countless thousands of children who suffer deserve so much more than this. The really do.

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First letter

Friday has been distinctly chilly especially when you go running in shorts and T-shirt. Some muppet decided to wash his running kit 5 minutes before the run. Not good planning. So yes chilly. Now take the first letter away from chilly and that was the other feature of today’s run. Distinctly hilly. As many of the rivers have flooded the only paths which are passable are those which are on the high ground. So before I got stuck into today’s work I needed to defrost and sooth the aching muscles. I was that cold that when I got into the piping hot bath – it went cold within a couple of minutes. Sitting in a cold bath when your cold is not good. Not good at all.

Been asked about the subliminal message in this weeks Terrible Poetry content. See what the first letter of each line spells….

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Mind wrestling

Yorkshire weather. Good running weather. Why would I want to run in dry warm windless conditions. Well that’s what I tell myself. Maybe I’m like Count Dracula. I would turn to dust in direct sunlight. I wonder what I would do if someone offered me the chance though.

I’m mind wrestling with something at the moment. My partner was an epic traveller. She visited so many countries. It was her extravagance. From her late teens she would save up during the year for one great adventure. Family and her adventures was what she lived for. The adventures only stopped when we became a family. Her dream was that when our son became older we could have adventures together. The two places she always talked about was New Zealand (would have been her first time) and Chile. She always said that we would all love Chile.

Then life happened.

I really want to complete those journeys for her. Our Autism World may preclude that. Circumstances may preclude it. But we will see. I most admit a part of me doesn’t want to do those trips. It’s just not right that it would only be the two of us.

Sorry I digress. Back to my mind wrestling. So many adventures and so many photographs. All sat neatly and well organised in carefully stored albums. Here is the dilemma. Part of me wants to do a retrospective photo journal. Tell her travel story. Her trip to the Soviet Union (gives you an idea of the timeframe) maybe would be a great starting point. YET another part of me recoils at the idea. What if she hates that idea. What if I’m breaking some unwritten bond of trust. It’s like having two competing voices on either shoulder each shouting differing viewpoints on life.

She’s not here anymore. What’s the problem!

YOU KNOW SHE WOULD SAY NO. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOUR SERIOUSLY THINKING ABOUT THIS!

But this feeling is something I’ve grown used to over these three years. On virtually every major decision I have these doubts. ‘What do I want to do’ balanced against ‘what would she do’. I try to see the world through my eyes and at the same time through her eyes. Problem is that we were two completely different characters. We each had our own unique take on the world. We would frequently disagree on the right answer. Often we would compromise. I’m still trying to compromise now. Yet I can’t replicate her thought process. I never could and I never will. I’m probably getting her point of view completely wrong. But I still do it.

Maybe other people do this. Maybe it’s just me sinking further into cabin fever.

So am I going to publish this travel journal? I don’t know. WE still haven’t decided.

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Perfect timing

Perfect timing. The walking woolly jumper had been resolutely looking the other way. After a minute of waiting I gave up and took the shot. Just in time for the sheep to turn it’s head and briefly pose for the photo.

Perfect timing. After 4 hours of excruciatingly boring work I needed a run. But some days the mojo is just not there. After a couple of minutes I was on the verge of abandoning. Just outside the village a car was at the side of the road. The car had conked out going through a deep flood. After a few minutes with a push start we managed to get it going again. A quite reasonable run followed and I only remembered that I was going to give up when I was sat back down at the works laptop.

Perfect timing. I made homemade ice cream tonight. For some reason my vanilla recipe came out luminous yellow. The ice cream was served midway through the Monsters Inc movie. Unfortunately we were still sampling it when we got to the scene with the yellow snow cones and the Yeti. The immortal Yeti line rather killed off the taste sensation

“Oh would you look at that. We’re out of snowcones! Let me just go outside and make some more”

Homemade Yellow ice cream is now banned.

Perfect timing. I was going to do a post about school. You can guess what it would have been like. Probably done a few of those over the last year or so. But as I started writing it a song came on the radio. Not sure who the band was but the songs basic theme was

Those with depression sit in silence. Feeling they are the only ones. Those who have suffered need to shout. So others know they are not alone. So they know it’s ok to shout to.

So here goes with a change of plan. Imagine I’m shouting to some Nordic Operatic Metal music.

I am a single parent. I’ve experienced a few too many deaths over the last few years. I’ve gone through phases where I’ve become too isolated. My personal confidence is shot. The upshot of this is that I have been to some really dark places in my mind. Scary frightening places. Yes I suffer from DEPRESSION. So if your reading this and you are suffering then please remember that your not alone. If you can then it’s good to talk. Talking or writing really helps. There is absolutely no shame in admitting your struggling. I struggle. Millions struggle. Let’s shout together. We can do this.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 65 Comments

Sometimes

“Sometimes only one person is missing and the whole world seems depopulated” – Alphonse de Lamartine

Maybe it’s your partner. Maybe it’s your child. Maybe it’s a parent. Maybe it’s a friend. Maybe it’s a pet.

It does seem that way some days. Maybe it’s on a walk. MAYBE ITS STANDING BY A LONELY POND. Maybe it’s listening to a particular song. Maybe it’s during a movie. Maybe it’s when your in bed. Maybe it’s when your at the school gates surrounded by couples. Maybe it’s when your shopping. Maybe it’s just when you return to a home with no lights on.

But with bereavement it will happen. One gone make the world seems empty. So what do you do about it? Sadly no one right answer to that. Every person is different. Every grief journey is different. With me those lonely times still hit and still hurt. I try many things.

Sometimes I just let it hit me. Confused and helpless.

Sometimes I try to distract myself. Just hope I eventually forget that feeling.

Sometimes I just let it hit me but it’s kinda reassuring. Not ever loving would be so dreadful. Grief is another word for love.

Sometimes writing helps.

Sometimes reading blogs helps.

Sometimes I need to find solitude. Sometimes I need to be in a crowd.

Sometimes it’s reading an old favourite book.

Sometimes it’s looking at old photos.

Sometimes it’s playing a game.

Sometimes I go for a run.

Often it’s trying just that bit harder to be that better parent. Trying to make life just that bit more fun.

Then you get sometimes when the best thing is to carry on but just to do it louder. Much LOUDER. So this morning I am ironing but let’s just crank up that Iron Maiden cd just a little louder.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 109 Comments

The shame

Is it time for Mad One to go to a hairdresser. I’m only jealous I would love to have that problem these days. It’s not so much Lush Amazonian Rain Forest it’s much more Barren Arctic Tundra.

Dad when was the last time you had to Combe your hair.

I do still Combe. Sometimes. Why?

I was watching a video of famous people who have had a Hair Transplant and I thought of you.

Are you saying I am Famous.

No Dad your certainly not famous. Must have been something else about that video which made me think of you.

I took the car back to the garage as it needed to be checked again. The poor technician took one look at my car and said ‘I better get a pair of gloves’. On his return he added ‘that’s the muddiest car I have seen in a long time’. I suppose that’s a badge of honour but I was filled with a certain amount of embarrassment. He’s right. You can’t actually tell what colour the car is these days. Oh the shame.

The shame day continued. I needed to go to the Bank but didn’t want to pay the extortionate parking fees. So I had a clever idea. I will put the bike in the back of the car so I can ride in. So the night before the 2 flat tyres were fixed. Unfortunately today has been wet. Very wet. The Yorkshire roads are muddy. Very muddy. So after my 15 minutes cycle ride I arrived in the city centre looking like the Swamp Monster. The looks I got. Oh the shame.

The shame day continued. I walked into the crowded Bank. Well when I say walked in that’s not strictly true. I did try to walk into the Bank but had failed to see the closed glass door. The looks from the hordes in the bank as they turned to see my face planted in the door. Suspect it was not a great look. Oh the shame.

The shame day continued. Now finally inside the bank I was stood in the long queue. I had to watch someone from the bank go to the infamous front door and clean the glass. Clearly the muddy impression of my face on the bank’s door was not good for business. Oh the shame.

The shame day continued. In the busy supermarket I tried to take a sharp corner at pace. Too much understeer and I crashed into a neatly stacked pile of soup tins. Complete devastation. Tins everywhere. Oh the shame. As I helped the not so impressed shop assistant pick up the tins he pointedly said ‘it took me ages to stack those’. Oh the shame. Eventually I moved away from the crash scene but I kept seeing random tins of soup scattered around the shop. Oh the shame.

The shame day continued. I had a couple of work reports to post. Going to be tight it’s a 5 minute walk to the post box and the last collection is in 3 minutes. So I jumped into the car and belted there. Letters posted just in time as the Postman arrived. Unfortunately I also posted my car keys. I had to sheepishly ask the postie if he could search the box for them. ‘That’s the first time I’ve had to do that. The crew back in the Sorting Office won’t believe me when I tell them this‘. Oh the shame.

The shame day continued. As I returned to the house I had a few minutes before the school bus was due. Let’s garden and prune in the pouring rain. Much good work completed. Then son arrived back. Shall we go in before he gets soaked. Hang on. Where are the house keys. After 10 minutes finger tip searching of the soil I remembered. I put them on top of the car tyre so I wouldn’t lose them while gardening. That look from our son. Oh the shame.

These days I’m with Spongebob and Patrick. Any day you manage to get your pants on the right way round is a good day. Everything else has gone wrong today but my pants are facing the right way ….. so it must be a good day. Oh the shame of getting back to front pants. That was yesterday.