Nothing like a power cut to disrupt the daily schedule. We are in the first part of a storm battering which is due to last for a few days. A small house on an exposed northern hill is wonderful except in a storm. We get an absolute belting. The back door is exposed to the full force of the elements. It floods during normal wind and rain so when a storm hits…… Time to dig out the ark. We are inside with about seven layers on. Living in the sticks when the power goes so does the heating. We do have a small chimney place but it needs serious repair work to make it safe to use. It’s on the when money appears list. So it’s cold without the central heating. As it’s an electric oven, hot food preparation is fraught with problems. So it’s Pot Noddles and Soup for lunch.
The power is back currently. It’s on and off like a Yorkshire Cricket match. Son is on the internet while he can. All the thermos flasks are filled. Every battery item is on charge. The floor behind the back door has been deflooded. Writing this while listening to the wind scream through. So far powers gone off twice in the time it’s taken to write these two paragraphs.
To someone with Aspergers all this can be an absolute nightmare. The break in routine, the uncertainty and the unpredictability. Sunday is such an important day as it’s the transition to the school week. A day which hopefully smooths the bumps from that unpleasant ride. For that to work then the safe and well tried Sunday ritual needs to be followed. On days like this all that goes out of the window and is currently being blasted towards Norway. Yes Son is on the internet but he’s severely on edge. Pacing the room. Senses on overdrive.
I’ve sent school an email to warn them but deep down I know it won’t be acted upon. That’s modern secondary schooling in this area. His last school (admittedly much smaller) would certainly have at the very least kept an eye on him. Even rescheduled the teaching plan. Not at his current school.
When the power is down it makes you realise who reliant we have become on technology. Yes it’s progress but it’s such a fragile progress. Pull the power and quickly it’s gone. For me I can fall back on my books as my safe option. Unfortunately for someone with dyslexia that safety net is not available. He needs technology to read them. His Dad can try but quickly my lingering cold kicks in and reading out loud becomes a cough fest. We can’t play ball sports outside due to the storm. The trampoline is filled to brimming with every heavy object I can find. Thankfully we still have other old school options. Card games. Top Trumps. Lego and one of the best cheap presents ever. A little battery operated air hockey game which cost less than a bag of chips. Endless fun until the batteries run out or the fingers finally break.
So hopefully the power will now stay on so we can try to have part of Sunday as normal as possible. Hopefully Son’s anxiety levels will recede a little. Sadly I think there is as much chance of that happing as there is of his Dads getting a Michelin Star. Don’t you just love a storm.
It’s been raining. It’s been windy. It’s been awful.
It’s been one of those famous Yorkshire weather days. The type of day you think it’s wise to deploy the life rafts then you realise anything not bolted down is being propelled to continental Europe on the jet stream. Absolutely chucking it down. The rain is almost horizontal as the wind is whistling in. The thermometer is saying it’s not that cold but any skin exposed to the elements is turned blue within seconds. My Dad would call it a two jumper and waterproof socks day. The type of day he would have got the ark out and filled it with the important stuff – his prize Rhubard.
As a child I could never spell Rhubard. In Yorkshire that normally is punishable with excommunication. It’s much worse. I’m probably the only Yorkshire citizen who does not like Rhubard. Good job nobody reads this as saying that is equivalent to witchcraft here.
Who thought it was a good idea to put the H in that Yorkshire delicacy. If it’s bad for me try explaining that to someone with dyslexia.
Dad I’ve got this weeks spellings which I’ve got to learn for Fridays test. Are you sure there are no negatives for getting less than 10 out of 15.
“No the Head of Year has stopped those negatives. Why are they difficult.”
Dad your asking someone who is dyslexic…
“Sorry. Are they ridiculously hard this time”
About as hard as explaining why light bends round massive objects.
I thought I understood Spacetime Curvature and General Relativity until son picked my reasoning apart the other day. So those spellings must be super hard. Having now seen them they are beyond General Relativity difficulty. Actually they are on a difficulty level as trying to get a Tax Returns from a certain Donald Trump.
Who put the H in rhetorical. Looking at our sons confused look clearly he doesn’t understand the sneaky H as well. Apparently the spellings will get increasingly harder over the coming months. Can’t wait for June. At this rate son will be trying to spell words like
Who put the 3 H’s in that Dinosaur.
Dad can we have a Thanksgiving meal this week. I like the idea.
Ok what shall we celebrate.
How about the rain. It’s the only thing guaranteed to be around when we have the meal.
He is so true. It must be Yorkshire’s biggest commodity. I was reading that one Yorkshire weather station had recorded its wettest Autumn on record – with 15 days still left for more rain. And yes we’ve had much more rain.
One big problem with rain is when you live in the country everywhere gets covered in mud. Lots of mud. I had to put winter tyres on as my car as it was wallowing on the sea of mud. Mud everywhere. On the roads, paths, tracks, garden, house floor and on the DOG.
On his walk today he became caked in brown stuff. That means the most dreaded two words – Dog Bath. Many pet owners will know the feeling. Two hours to catch the mutt (they have a sixth sense when it comes to visits to the Vet and Bath Time). Those wonderful 10 minutes standing next to the bath where the owner gets wetter than the dog. Then trying to catch the manic hound to dry him. At this stage the dog develops Cheetah speed and flies around the house coating every room in lovely smelly Dog wetness. Then you spend hours trying to clean and dry the house. And what does the dog immediately do. Go outside and roll in the mud. Deep joy.
You may think the water is quite clean. He was that muddy as Sherlock Holmes would say – it was a two bath problem.
It’s SUMMERTIME. It’s YORKSHIRE. It’s still RAINING.
As a kid I remember being told if it was settled and fine on the 31st July then the rest of summer would be great. However if it was wet on that day then summer would stay poor. It’s funny how often we have great weather in July then we hit the 31st and the weather breaks. So basically here in Yorkshire at this time of year – once the weather breaks it stays broken. But it’s great conditions for ducks.
See it’s true the Brits are always taking about the weather…..
Today was supposed to be another attempt to visit a new place. A local castle. Unfortunately lots of rain stopped play. So we will try again tomorrow.
Dad if we go now then we will have the castle to ourselves. But it’s a ruin. So no cover. Going to get so wet. On balance I will take a risk on crowds. This is way beyond wet.
Yet one hour later.
Dad can we go out and play footie.
It’s pouring down.
When the aliens come to invade earth they ain’t going to say – it’s raining we will give it an hour.
So in the pouring rain we played football then it was aquatic trampolining. Drenched. That wet that you can feel your feet shrivelling up. That wet that the football becomes like a bar of soap and weighs as much as a set of dumbbells. That wet that the ducks bugger off inside.
Tomorrow the colds will start but today it’s fun.
“Dad any chance of a White Christmas”
Look out the window and see for yourself.
“It’s not happening is it!!”
I think the current state of the wheelbarrow tells you everything about the current Yorkshire weather situation. Apart from one year when we took our 2 year old son out to show him snow straight after Christmas Lunch, he’s never had a White Christmas. Maybe next year.
But the show goes on. Let’s create the white stuff feel. It’s time for ice cream and watch Snow Dogs. Our son just loves this movie. Now it feels like it’s a White Christmas.