Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 65 Comments

A thought

Wonder what these cows are thinking?

Hawklad has always loved listening and making stories up. One particular story line has been a common theme. We call it the Mr Mole Stories. It’s a world we’re talking animals live alongside humans. The story started back when Hawklad was a toddler. He was not the greatest of travellers and when he looked out of a moving train window – it was asking for trouble. It came to a head one particularly train journey. In a full carriage Hawklad decided to be sick. I took the full impact. Amazingly everywhere else was spared. I remember my walk of shame up the length of the crammed carriage to our suitcases. A now very distinctively marked black T-shirt needed changing urgently and wow did it stand out.

We needed a plan B as we soon had a long train journey from Geneva to Bern to navigate.

A plan was hatched. I would distract Hawklad with a story. A random story was told. A taking mole was walking down a street. He would happily talk to the various humans he would bump into. Problem was that Mr Mole had a spectacular sneeze. Tornado Force Sneeze. So when he did sneeze things happened. Clothes would be blown off washing lines. Cakes would fly through the air and hit people in the face. Umbrellas would take to the air. The poor postman even lost his trousers. Hawklad loved it – he nearly wet himself with giggles. For two hours Mr Moles sneezes caused increasing levels of mayhem. The Mr Mole Stories were born.

Since then the stories have moved on from sneezing to a self contained world filled with various weird animal characters. Over time the stories became increasingly Hawklads. He would help frame and tell the tales. Over the last 10 years I dread to think how many stories have been made. Hawklad can remember virtually all of them.

Last night was no different. A wild tale was told. Mr Mole with his friends Mr Cheetah and Olive the Ostrich we’re trying to explain wrestling to the legendary Mr Crocodile. A very special Crocodile. A vegetarian. He is scared of water. Actually scared of most things. A crocodile who finds most things confusing. A crocodile who does not always comply with the general laws of space, time and physics. A couple of actual wrestlers had been enrolled to help. Sasha Banks and The Undertaker.

Then the thought hit. We live in a world of over 7 billion people. With almost incalculable numbers of other living creatures. At that particular time. With such a bizarre story. Almost certainly we were the only 2 living creatures in the planet telling a story about talking mole, a mad crocodile and wrestling. Maybe the only 2 living creatures thinking those thoughts in the entire Universe.

That is such a cool thought. It really is.

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Almost ready

The apples are almost ready.

It will soon be apple crumble time. Now what to go for with it – Custard or Ice Cream?

There is always something to be thankful for. Even in 2020.

I heard someone on the radio say that to him 2020 was the worst period he had ever known. We are all different. We will have our own very unique years to forget. Suffering years. To me 2020 has been an odd year. Yes some new battles. Mainly filled with old battles. More isolation but not that much more than previous years. BUT crucially some wonderful things have also happened.

Eventually when I look back at my life 2016 will take some beating as my worst year. But even then that oversimplifies things. The first 6 months were not bad at all. Then the 6 weeks from hell. Lost my mum and then my partner. Came crashing into the competing worlds of grief, depression and single parenting. Those 6 weeks changed everything for ever. The despair associated with those 42 days and the following weeks just mark 2016 as a bad one. But you easily forget the good stuff that happened before and after. For example November 2016 witnessed the arrival of this well behaved and sensible four legged chap.

Yes it’s easy to forget that good stuff happens all around us, even in the darkest years.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 107 Comments

Mobile blues

Mobile phones are not designed for me. I have a regular habit of putting them in the washing machine, dropping them on stone floors and squeezing them into pockets alongside keys, which are not great for delicate screens. The current phone has done well to last for so long. But there comes a point on no return.

One too many bounces off an unforgiving surface.

Now only parts of the phone work. As Monty Python would say – It is an ex parrot. It can still make calls but has a habit of switching off after a few seconds. Not great when you are trying to wait in a call queue.

“Well Dad you will just have to buy a replacement.”

I will add it to the ‘need to replace when money becomes available’ list. May well be not at the top.

“But Dad it’s an essential item. Think of the calls you will miss.”

I don’t get that many calls these days. We have a normal phone. I know it’s hard to believe but I can remember a time before mobiles. It was great fun. I remember setting off for a meeting and driving 4 hours to Northumberland. Only to find that the meeting had been cancelled just after I had left. No way to contact me. So I had a chip butty in Morpeth and then set off back. Best work day ever. No work, chips and listening to music. Now they would have just contacted me within minutes on my mobile

“Dad what on Earth is a chip butty.”

Hawklad you have never lived. It’s a sandwich filled with chips (fries). It’s the food of champions.

“Ok. But your phone is an essential item.”

It’s not.

“It is Dad. Think of work.”

They can use the house phone and send emails to the laptop.

“How will you know if I’ve missed the school bus.”

Well you won’t be on the school bus for quite a while. Actually you probably won’t be at school for a quite a while.

“What about taking photos.”

I can just use the camera. The camera hardly gets used these days.

“What about the music you listen to.”

I can go back to my old MP3 player.

“Think of the times you use the calendar on your phone.”

Ok Hawklad I smell a rat. Why are you so keen on a new phone. Is it to do with games….

“Well funny you should bring that up DAD. It’s more than a game. We need a phone to play Pokemon Go. Even the Doctor said that this app was good for me. So it’s like an essential medical prescription…”

******And with that I am on the lookout for a replacement phone. I will compromise. Definitely a previously enjoyed one. But definitely it’s jumped to the head of the buying list – that’s Doctors orders******

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Pain

There is a physical pain associated with parenting that is off the chart. Excluding childbirth which thankfully I will never have to experience. Standing bare foot on a piece of lego. A weaponised toy. In the garden there is something that comes close to lego. It’s this lovely little thing. A tree which overlooks our garden and likes to drop these little bombs onto the lawn. Accidentally pick one up – agony. Kneel on one – agony. Get one attached to the top of your training shoe – beyond agony. Horse Chestnuts hurt….

“Dad I keep hearing that as you get older your body starts to hurt. Is that true. You should know as you are so very old…..”

Yes eventually the body does hurt. Playing contact sport or falling off cliffs doesn’t help. You can do stuff about the pain – mostly. But you do get to a stage when you realise that I’ve used this body up, so can I have a new one.

“So when did your body start hurting?”

Everyone is different. At school one of my friends had a Chopper Bike. It had upright handles and a gear stick brilliantly placed right in front of your undercarriage. Chris had a big crash and encountered the pointy gear stick at a frightening rate of knots. His hurting most definitely started when he was 10. It ended his choir signing days. I think my body pain started after I was 30. Playing contact sport on a Saturday and not being able to move on Sunday.

“Is that when Dad decided he wasn’t young anymore?”

Yes it was. I suddenly released that being a goalkeeper hurt. I stopped bouncing off the floor so well. There is a brilliant comic from Scotland called Billy Connelly. He says that you know that you are not young anymore when your can’t bend over without making a noise, usually a groan.

I can confirm that. I groaned 193 times during today’s yoga workout.

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Scary creatures

A good blogging friend was taking about finding a big spider in her garden. That friend is on a different continent. A place where you get spiders that are big, scary, poisonous and they even jump at you.

Did I ever tell you that I am not great with spiders.

So the prospect of scary spiders brings shivers down my spine. A movie comes to mind – Arachnophobia. Give me Jaws and Sharks anytime. Sharks need our love especially as Trump has decided to bully them as well now.

Scary spiders. No, no, no.

Hawklad loves to go to the zoo and handle spiders. The bigger and more deadly the better. The last trip I just about heard him say as he handled a Tarantula- ‘Isn’t she lovely….’. It was difficult to hear him as I was stood 30 yards back, hiding behind a wall. That’s great parenting……

Fortunately for me I live in Yorkshire. The land that time forgot. We don’t really do scary animals. Those cows can look at you in a funny way. Ferrets can nip a bit (especially if they are in your trouser pockets). Don’t get in the way of a squirrel and his nuts. Those Scarborough Seagulls are hooligans when you have a bag of chips. Get on the wrong side of stick of rhubarb and it can very awkward.

But we don’t really do scary spiders or insects. A few small and timid spiders. This is as big as it gets. A Daddy-Long-Legs. The most delicate creatures going. We end up desperately trying not to hurt or damage them. Even I can get up close to them. That’s the kind of spider and insect I like. Friendly and most definitely not one that is going to eat me.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 83 Comments

Summer

I do like summer, especially a Yorkshire summer. Those deep blue skies. Wall to wall sunshine. Baking temperatures. Never lets us down.

“Dad it’s like being in The Mediterranean”

Not sure how we survive the heat. Can’t believe our house doesn’t have air conditioning. Surely that would be more useful than damp proofing.

“Have I ever been sunbathing Dad.”

A long time ago.

“I can’t remember doing it.”

You did Hawklad. It was a couple of years ago. A rare hot day. You said that you wanted to try sunbathing.

“Oh I remember. We put a couple of towels down on the lawn”

That’s right. We brought the iPad out and found some beach noises to play.

“Yes it was just seagulls and whales”

We then took some sand out from the sandpit and put it round the towels.

“I went and found some of my old seashells and scattered them over the sand. Then we built a small sandcastle”

You brought out a few seaside animal toys like sharks. We put our shorts on.

“The shades went on and we went toplessssssss”

That’s right Hawklad. You then laid down on the towel and then before I had a chance to get down on my towel you shouted. I’M BORED WITH THIS NOW CAN WE GO AND WATCH A MOVIE. That was it. You sunbathed for about 5 seconds.

“That long. Dad maybe you should get out there now. Top up your suntan.”

***********

The question is did Dad brave the summer weather and go topless?

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 83 Comments

Seems like a lifetime

I accidentally stumbled across a social media post from a parent from Hawklads school. It contained a photo of a trip to the beach whichsome of the families had made last week. Clearly having great fun. It will do the kids so much good to start living again.

I was so happy for the kids and happy for the parents. They are really nice people. They deserve fun.

But the post brought a touch of sadness. Wouldn’t it have been lovely if Hawklad had been there. To be with kids his age. Enjoying himself. Enjoying being a teenager.

Actually it would have been good for me as well. The last time we went to the beach with other families was 2015. I’ve kind of forgotten what the feeling must be like. You get use to the isolated life style. It becomes all consuming. It becomes who you are. Back in 2015 I remember turning up. Watching Hawklad play with the other kids. The parents had a barbecue. We played games and sand cricket. Built sandcastles. We talked, laughed. We hugged.

But that was then. It’s 2020 now. Different world. It was a different world even before a pandemic. The last time I actually hugged someone was at my partners funeral. That’s virtually 4 years ago. It’s 5 years since we went to a meet-up with other families.

It seems like a lifetime ago.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 63 Comments

Blue rain

Funny old day. Stormy weather in the distance but blue skies overhead. Yet it’s cold and unbelievably it’s raining. Rain falling from these skies.

“Dad it even rains here when it’s blue skies.”

It’s called Sods Law or Murphy’s Law.

“No it’s not it’s called a weather anomaly.”

Yes that as well. Hawklad do you remember the days when you would have just replied – YES DAD.

“That lasted until I was about 18 months.”

Yes it did. Well at least you will remember when all you wanted to do was talk about Peppa Pig, In The Night Garden, Thomas the Tank Engine and Dinosaur Train.

“No Dad if you remember I would talk history, monsters, animals, birds of prey and the facts about real dinosaurs. It was you who would talk about those kiddy programmes. I still catch you watching them.”

They are educational. I get all my scientific expertise from Iggle Piggle.

“So what you get out of watching Peppa Pig then Dad.”

My parenting skills come from Daddy Pig and my fashion sense comes from George.

“These days it’s more Peppa than George. How else can you explain that T-shirt.”

It’s very fashionable.

“Yes on a 4 year old.”

It can be a hand me down to you. It would fit you these days.

“No thank you.”

Tell you what, tonight when I change your bedding I could dig out your old Peppa Pig bed sheets. That would be nice for you.

“Why don’t you put that bedding on your bed first then. If it’s that good you use it then Dad.”

I did last week.

“Tell me you didn’t”

I did. My bedding got stuck in the possessed washing machine and so I had to find an alternative. It was either Peppa Pig or your Pokemon sheets.

“Tell me you didn’t use Pokémon.”

No it was Peppa, George and Daddy Pig.

“Tell you what Dad how about tonight you go with Peppa and Friends again and I will go Pokémon.”

It’s a deal.

******************

Didn’t have the heart to tell him that I changed my bedding yesterday. This time to a Teletubbies one I had found in the cupboard. Best to have some secrets.

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Lists

Some of the plants are already starting to show some Autumnal colours. It’s only August….

It’s 131 days to Christmas. In normal times 131 days sounds like ages. I suspect this year it may not seem such a generous amount of time for many people, including parents. Pandemic rules, shopping restrictions, reduced product availability, money just that bit tighter, many still isolating. Plus remember last year – one of Hawklads presents was ordered in November and finally arrived in March. Yep this might be a challenge. I think I need to write a list. Yes I am good at doing lists. Unfortunately I am not so good at following list. And as for trying to find those lists after a few days – I’m a complete disaster. I need a list to help find the lists.

Occasionally I do stumble across long forgotten lists. I found one recently dating back 15 years. It was a list of mountains I had set myself a goal of climbing. 60 bucket list climbs. 15 years and I had ticked three as climbed. Another one had been attempted but I had to turn round near the top as I came across someone who had hurt their knee. So ended up helping her back down. So that’s 4. In my book just attempting a climb and coming back in one piece counts as ticking it off. Basically been stuck on 56 to go for years now. That’s another one of my great lists just basically gathering dust. Maybe I can change the wording on that list. How about 56 bucket list climbs that I will never complete. Change the wording and suddenly the list is completed. I can then bin it.

But no. The original list went back into the cupboard. A bit of paper soon to be lost again. This time I took a photo of the 56 climbs still to be attempted. Actually added a couple of Himalayan mountains to the list – might as well make it more sexy. The list is on my iPad now. So it won’t be lost and actually it might be a rare useful Gary list. It’s a great reminder that I’ve STILL got stuff to do and achieve in my life. It might seem like that I have not yet ticked off many things from my life lists but from today that CAN start to change.

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Story to tell – two

We all have a story to tell. Every persons story is just as precious and important as the next. Our life’s are filled with good and bad times. A rollercoaster of emotions. Filled with memories. Some bring smiles, others bring tears.

2016, it’s August. A week before I had been to my mums funeral. My partner had not been well but currently no reason to be truly worried. A Wednesday afternoon and we drove her to the Hospital for an overnight stay and some routine tests. I can see her walking across the lawn to the car. We talked in the car. Can’t remember what about. Just general stuff I guess. After she is settled on the ward we are asked to leave so the medics could start the tests. Told to come back tomorrow to visit, maybe even to pick her up. It’s now Thursday lunchtime and I’ve returned to the ward. The Doctor pulls me to one side. A sudden collapse in her condition. I sit in stunned silence. Tests results are shocking and grave. The prognosis horrific. 95% chance that she will be dead within a couple of weeks. Zero chance of making Christmas. She is in and out of consciousness. It’s extremely likely that she is not aware anymore. If family need to say goodbyes then you need to do it really quickly. Driving from the hospital like a zombie – how do I explain this to our 8 year son. She never regained consciousness and died in a hospice a few weeks later. We never did have a conversation again. The last time we talked was in the car and I can’t remember what it was about.

That’s one of my stories. It’s not easy to tell even now. I can feel the darkness starting to sweep over me. But there are other stories. Stories which bring light and are easier to tell.

Holding our son for the first time after the birth. Looking into his eyes and thinking I’M A DAD. Then thinking he’s very small – don’t drop him. Then one overriding thought. How can something so small be so pigging LOUD.

Sat on a scary rollercoaster with Hawklad as we slowly pick up speed. Hearing his must reassuring words echo along the suddenly panic filled seats – “Dad I’ve just spotted two missing nuts and one support joint without any bolts.”

Sat watching a 4 year old Hawklad in Switzerland. He runs up to a man trying to do some post run stretches. He then spends 5 minutes excitedly telling this man all about Dr Who and The Tardis. Speaking to the man later to apologise we found out that the man had never heard of Dr Who and didn’t speak a word of English. What a poor confused person he must have been.

So we all have stories. Some bad and some good. That’s life for you. They add together to make up who we are. Actually taking the time to listen will open your eyes to another person. If you are fortunate you might even hear some back stories. Gain an understanding of who that person really is. What makes them tick. Without that understanding it’s not wise to jump to assumptions. Without those back stories you really don’t know anything about that person.