It’s been that kinda day. The occasional brief glimpse of the sun then just grey, cold and damp.
“Dad that’s so wrong. That’s not Henry II. It should be Henry III. “
Son was talking about a national History Revision package which his school is using. All the kids are expected to revise using this. On history I would never doubt our son. But as this was a national teaching package so I thought I would double check. Yes full marks to Son and the Teachers compiling the package – you must try harder. Yes they were referring to the wrong King Henry.
“I also certainly don’t agree with that view of King John. It’s as balanced as the biased tosh Shakespeare wrote about him and Richard III.”
When Son raised this with school they told him that the pack had been compiled by teachers and it had been used by many kids. So basically accept it. I’m happy to report that Son is sticking to his guns and if asked will stick to his version of history. His version which is factually more accurate. If he’s marked down by school for this then stuff them.
It’s been a bizarre set of exams that he’s had to sit. In English and Science he’s been given a scribe. But in the other subjects he’s had no help so he has had to read the papers on his own. He’s certainly been provided with no additional time. I’m still not convinced school has any real idea how to deal proactively with dyslexia and autism. Given this is 2020 I find that staggering. Even with the scribes it’s been far from ideal. At his last school Son knew weeks in advance who his scribe would be. They worked together on a number of dummy test runs to get used to each other. He also received additional time. This week he only found at if he was getting a scribe at the start of the exam. The exam was the first time that he had worked with the person scribing for him. The scribing happened in a room he had never been in before.
“So how did the history exam go Son?”
“Well I didn’t get any help. Not sure I read the questions correctly. But I knew the answers to the questions I sort of read. Not sure they will be able to read my answers anyway. I definitely got one question wrong. I knew the answer. But I could not spell the two battle names. In the end they looked more like Pokemon or Manga character names rather than English Civil War sites.”
So if the teacher is reading this
The Battle of Nagato means the Battle of Naseby
The Battle of Madoka Mano means the Battle of Marston Moor.
Finally succumbed to the New Year ‘Sort myself out’ bug. So the Gluten, Soya, Caffeine, Dairy, Meat Free diet is back in force. Whats the old phrase – in for a Penny in for a Pound. So on top of that it is a fasting type regime as well. 10pm to 4pm no food. Allowed to eat in just 6 hours everyday. If I was sticking to the 8:16 diet then I could start eating at 2pm but as Son is not back from school until 4 then might as well wait. It’s funny the effect it has on me. Even a simple bowl of green salad takes on an out of body experience at 4pm. Almond Milk becomes pure nectar.
Anybody who experiences the pleasure of IBS will probably understand the length you will go to try and sort your innards out. You realise it’s unlikely ever to be that magic fix. You happily settle for work around that settles things down for a few months. As you get older more items are added to the banned list. Or at best the once a year I’ve got to have my fix and will take the consequences list. It never seems to be the boring or least favourite foods does it. This Christmas shockingly Marzipan has been added to the naughty list. Absolutely heartbreaking. It’s bizarre as Almond Milk is currently fine with my body and yet Marzipan…… So if you ever see me in the street looking like Mr Creosote then you know I’ve just succumbed to Marzipan with a large coffee.
Anyway the diet switch has been surprisingly easy this weekend. As soon as we have got up Son has wanted to play football in our mud patch and then take the dog for a walk. It’s helped pass the empty feeling hours. Frustratingly the football was set all day in a misty and rainy backdrop. Only as we started to pack up did the clouds finally part and we got to see the last embers of the setting sun. It will be a brief interlude as another Atlantic Storm is flying towards us. The Trampoline is hopefully well and truly sandbagged down.
So now we prepare for school. Last week was best described as a holding pattern. It didn’t get worse but certainly didn’t move forward. Currently we are trying to revise for a Science Test. For whatever reason Son suddenly gets areas of knowledge that he just can’t visualise. Being dyslexic visualisation is his memory method. I’ve previously talked about his struggles with decimal points and shapes. We can now add Waves to the list of struggles. Poor kid just can’t get his head round them.
Dad not sure I‘m going to do very well on this one. Can’t even spell Electromagnetic or Longitudinal. So even if I do fluke the right answer I still won’t be able to write it down correctly. Maybe as I’ve been practising for a Shakespeare spelling test I should just put down random bard words. At least they will be sort of spelt right.
That did make me smile. Imagine the look on the Science Teachers face when the response to the question. Which of the two types of wave produced by an earthquake is the first to arrive at a location. And will it be the P or S wave? Is as following
Macbeth and Stratford upon Avon.
To Bee or not to Bee
Time for a bit off Terrible Poetry in the form of Chelsea Owens weekly competition. This weeks it’s a bit of a walk on the Bard side of life.
Here are the specifics for this week:
- I’ve thought short and shallowly about the Topic, and it shall be Shakespearean laments. If you don’t know what a Shakespearean lament is, Google is your friend. And William Shakespeare.
- If you wishe to truley showe offe, go ahead and maketh the Lengthe a traditional iambic pentameter couplet. If ye wisheth not, at least keep the duration to that of a reasonable amount so as not to send the masses into a Midsummer night’s dream.
- Since The Bard most often Rhymed or near-rhymed, ye muste as well.
- Above all else, ye knaves, make it terrible! Off-the-cuff Shakespearean performers must give you a standing ovation, followed by throwing the foulest fruit they’ve purchased from the nearest funnel cake food truck.
- Keep things PG or lower. If ye must insult or deprave, use Elizabethan curses.
You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (August 30) to submit a poem.
The Sonnet 73 butchering – Sorry Bill but I did keep a few of your words the same.
That time of year thou decides to do some baking and behold
Knowing the results will be that bad my shame do hang
Upon finding I forgot to turn the oven on and thy food is still cold,
Bare ruined I shall burn all food until the cry PLEASE LORD NO MORE is sang.
In me thou see’st the worst kitchen abominations performed anywhere in the land that day
As after sunset fadeth the Fire Engine arrives to put out the oven fires from the west;
Which by and by blackend food is thrown away,
Death’s icy grip can be seen in the stodgy bread as it refuses to rise as long as it do rest.
In my donuts the taste of vileness and repulsiveness does such fire,
That on the ashes of the badly overcooked Rhubard crumble do lie,
As the death-bed do lyeth anyone who tastes the food with the use by date do expire,
Consum’d is the food not by any sane man but dumped in the bin by any brave passersby.
This thou has bakethed food with a nauseating odour so strong,
To love the simple beauty of a frozen microwave meal I do long.
We had set our hearts on a trip out. Son wanted to go for a walk round a quiet lake. I wanted sea air to cleanse my soul. I was born near the sea and it has great healing properties. But the weather was grim. Too grim. So a change of plan.
Plan B. We needed a few smiles this morning so off we set to the cinema to see the new Horrible Histories movie. Maybe not quite as funny as Bill but it was a really good film. Yes it brought many smiles.
As the rain lashed down on the drive back home it was decided to just have an afternoon of movie watching.
Dad let’s watch Bill when we get home.
So it was a TV lunch. Jacket Potatoes and a super funny take on Shakespeare. It’s amazing how a couple of funny films can lift the spirits. Makes you forget your own reality. It’s a most odd feeling these days. That feeling of laughing. So as Bill finished I wondered what comedy classic our son would pick next. Monty Python? Paddington? Ice Age? Spongebob?
I’ve decided Dad. Can you check if you can find XXXXXXXX for free. Always fancied watching it.
So 20 minutes later we are watching another movie. MacBeth staring Michael Fassbender. Yes not the happiest movie. A bit short on laughs. One of those films which is just so bleak that it forces you to put on the thickest jumper you can find. Even the steaming hot coffees fail to warm my bones. It’s gory, it’s dark, the music is brooding, the imagery is stunning. Not quite the family movie I had set my heart on but I suspect William Shakespeare would have loved what his words had become.
It’s strange how something so bleak can help you forget your reality as well. My mum would always say she would play sad songs to cheer herself up. I understand that now.