For a relatively small land, Switzerland often feels like it has so much space.
Sometimes we can have too much space….
When Hawklad was at Nursery and First School he had plenty of friends but things change.
Aspergers, going from a Tiny School to a huge Main School, Covid Insolation, Home Schooling, Rural Life, LIFE.
Currently Hawklad now finds himself self with only one Friend he has contact with, and that is only sporadically. Been like that for over 4 years now. No sign that position will change imminently.
A thought struck me as we ambled towards the light. I would have loved to have done something like this with my Dad. Don’t get me wrong, we occasionally had trips out, but they were pretty rare. Looking back to my childhood I can still count the trips. I remember Dad taking me to see the 125 High Speed Locomotive, back then it looked like a Space Age Rocket rather than a Passenger Train as it passed through Darlington Station. I remember a trip to a Train Museum where I found an old ticket machine that dished out things that looked like raffle tickets. As we walked around the museum he eagerly checked out each steam train while I trailed a few paces behind. There was another trip to see a charity cricket match featuring the sporting legend Fred Truman. That was the trip Dad sent me into the players showers to get Fred’s autograph…. Not sure that’s happening these days…. A few trips to the coast to see a storm, sat in Dad’s banged out car, I’m eating chips while Dad is silently smoking.
The whole family would have an annual trip to Scarborough. Dad would frequently disappear for most of the days to do his thing. I can remember seeing him sat on a bench some distance away from the rest of the family as they tried to stop me from falling off the Donkey Rides on the beach.
That’s it, I can’t remember any other trips with Dad. Definitely no walks through a Forest….
To be completely fair, back then in our northern working class town travel was way less accessible. Few cars, even rarer aircraft tickets…
At home there was similarly limited Dad time. Dad might be briefly pulled away from reading the newspaper to talk, I might get a few words before he buried his head back into the racing and obituary pages. As Dad listened to his radio on an evening I would clearly annoy him with interruptions, you just know when someone wants you to shut up. Volunteering to take him a cup of tea to him while he sat in his Greenhouse might yield me a few minutes being told all about how to grow tomatoes or raspberries. Even when I was sent on a Sunday to the local Pub to tell Dad that his meal was getting cold, I would be lucky to get a brief nod before I was pointed in the direction of the door. On the way home again I trailed a few paces behind while. We just didn’t talk that much. So few chats with Dad.
Those times were so frustrating to me. I would have loved ME TIME with DAD, yet in reality MY DAD TIME felt very distanced. I’m sure it wasn’t the case but it just felt like I was often a nuisance, a bit in the way, an interruption to Dad’s routines.
The end result was I always felt distant from him. He didn’t understand me and I didn’t really know him. I knew he liked trains, liked cricket, he liked fishing, he liked gardening, he liked beer, he smoked, he was in the army. Looking back, I now realise that he wasn’t happy, probably chronically depressed and I still don’t know him. I will never know him.
Scarborough Castle on the tropical Yorkshire coast.
An exposed seaside hill, great strategic yet horrible comfort location. Wind, rain, mist, wind, rain, mist, wind, rain, mist, never ending cycle here. The Weather, Vikings, Baron infighting, Tudor rebellions, a civil war and a WW1 Naval bombardment has taken its toll. Hawklad pointed out that he couldn’t understand why the German Navy didn’t invade this undefended part of the country. Plus given it’s Scarborough, the invading forces could have been here for years without anyone realising. It could have been the first successful invasion in over 700 years. A few boats, land on the beach, avoid the seagulls, rent a few holiday cottages, start to order a few bratwurst sausages from the local Spar shop, invasion sorted, course of history probably changed.
But sadly walking around here in the cold, windy drizzle, thoughts navigate back to more somber thoughts. This castle sat on this bleak cliff, show the marks of history over centuries. I wonder what any ghosts walking these ruins would say when they see we are still doing the same things, still making the same mistakes.
Evening trip to the coast. Park up at Filey on the North Yorkshire coast and then head north for a couple of miles along the cliff tops.
Destination… Filey Brigg
That was Plan B….
We had initially planned to head into Filey and walk along the beach but…
As we headed towards the beach, Hawklad froze. There were a couple of teenagers sat on a bench eating chips and he thought that they were possibly looking at him. That was it, he couldn’t walk towards them, he had to head away from them, as fast as possible. So with the beach path blocked, he pulled this hoody firmly over his head and we rapidly headed in the other direction along the cliffs.
He has always struggled with the sensation of being looked at by strangers. As a child he would frequently hide behind trees to avoid being noticed. Now he makes a real effort to dress in such a way that doesn’t draw attention to himself. He likes the comfort of his personal space and he definitely needs the comfort of blending in, being invisible. That’s why he can survive football or concert crowds, he feels blended into the background, unseen with people completely focused on other things. So he can sit reasonably comfortably in a crowd of 50000 yet be frozen to the spot by just two teenagers. Thankfully the only eye contact after that was with angry looking seagulls….
Another late evening trip out for Hawklad, this time a couple of hours drive to the beautiful Peak District. It might well have been quicker but I managed to get lost in the dreaded Yorkshire Twilight Zone, otherwise known as the city Sheffield’s road network.
On the bright side, while lost we discovered a Dunkin Donuts store. One of those occasions where I happily ignore any gluten issues I may have for the GREATER GOOD….
The downside of evening trips is that you can far too quickly start to run out of light, BUT for those couple of hours, having somewhere as amazing as this place basically to ourselves, absolutely wonderful for Hawklad.
The Lighthouse at Flamborough Head. Still going strong after 200 years.
I like lighthouses, they are simple to understand. You see one and know exactly what you are going to get….
We sat down to watch a movie last night, Fight Club. As I sat with my coffee I was ready for a couple of hours about boxing, maybe unlicensed, probably featuring an underground boxing club. Think Rocky mixed with Dead Poets Society.
I won’t give the plot away but how wrong was I with that assumption. It was like sitting down to watch a harmless romantic comedy like Notting Hill and then finding out it’s actually a slasher horror film set on a Space Ship.
After the movie Hawklad said that this time, the real movie entertainment was watching my increasingly confused and bewildered expression.
It’s just me, I don’t get out much these days 😂😂😂😂😂
As a child I lived in a seaside town that was bizarrely lacking in water. We were definitely a bit short of streams, lakes, ponds and rivers. One really big river but that was many many miles away. No streams….. If you wanted water then it was about walking for 40 minutes to get to the beach. Yes the local park had a boating lake, but that lake had more shopping trolleys than water. Maybe that’s why I now have a real soft spot for villages built around water.
That’s definitely why I always love walking around Thornton-le-Dale.
My Partner’s Mum used to live here. One evening we were walking around the village when we came across a well dressed chap pulling himself out of a stream. He was an absolute state, dripping wet. As we asked if he was alright, he muttered something about ‘daydreaming and suddenly finding himself falling into water’. I’m not sure he was so enamoured with village streams.
Summer poses its own set of challenges. This season’s weather hasn’t been great with few warm weather days. Yes there has been sun but it’s often felt more like late October than high Summer. But the weather hasn’t deterred the crowds. Try to go anywhere around midday and the car parks are mobbed. Hawklad doesn’t do mobbed car parks….
But leave it until the evening and suddenly the car parks are empty. Ok that usually means the venue is shut but not everywhere. Just like Dalby Forest. A few hours earlier this walk would have been rammed with hikers, dog walkers and mountain bikers but now at 6-30pm it’s all change. It’s quiet, we are the only car in the car park. A 2 hour walk and we didn’t see another soul.
Or just like 6-30pm on the North East Coast. A couple of intrepid surfers enjoying warming drinks on the beach. A couple of ball chasing dogs with well wrapped up owners. That’s it. Solitude.
Yes 6-30PM cuts down the places open but it opens up so much space and peace. It works for us. Just don’t forget the Woolly Hats, it is Summer here.
Chatting with a work colleague who was literally busting about his upcoming trip to Cornwall next week. He had just booked in to a luxury hotel with its own golf course, a few days of golf and pampering. He apparently hadn’t played golf in years. Seemed odd as I had thought that he had mentioned golf in Scotland a few months back.
Silly me mentioned that to him and the normally ultra talkative colleague was unusually silent. Silence eventually broken by a sharp intake of breath and the timeless herald of one of those monumental life mess-ups, summed up perfectly in one simple but effective word …. “BO##@@@S”………
Turns out that the poor chap had a few months back already booked a similar golfing package in Scotland for the week ahead AND HAD COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN about it….
At least he saw the humour ….
“Like pigging buses, you wait for ages and then two come at the same time…..”
I wondered which one he would cancel….. turns out kinda neither …..
Three days golfing in Cornwall (rather than 6), an overnight drive (9 hours), then two final days golfing in Scotland. Well that was PLAN C. Today he went down with COVID, so I guess it’s PLAN D for next week now.
I wonder what simple and effective word he will be using right now to describe golf, next week.
I ended up with way too many missing pieces from the jigsaw which painted the life of my parents before they had our family, before me. I never took the time to ask for those missing pieces when I had the chance…..DEEP SIGH.
But I can sketch some details with the pieces I do have.
Dad loved playing cricket, loved to go and see Yorkshire play. He would go for long bike rides, go fishing, loved to ride on steam trains. He was also a bit of a party animal, putting on his suit and heading to the dance halls. He liked to look after himself, liked to be fit. Apparently he was also a bit of a comedian, very gregarious.
Mum loved to dress up and go dancing with her friends. Way too much dancing for her parents liking. She loved music, especially the likes of Crosby, Martin and her always favourite Sinatra. She also loved the cinema but only to see musicals or romance. She also really wanted to travel, wanted to see Paris and New York. In a word, apparently she was FUN.
Then they had three daughters and two sons.
Dad never talked about it, but looking back I’m convinced he fought depression for years. Boughts of heavy smoking and drinking. Hours sat in his chair, pretending to read the same newspaper page yet eyes fixed on a blank wall. Volcanic eruptions of anger, followed by days of silence. Those eyes, eyes filled with suppressed tears, frustration and anguish, was that why he frequently avoided eye contact. Some days he seemed unable to function, rooted to his bed, did sleep bring some temporary relief. Maybe he opened up at Work or at the Pub, not to his family. At home, one word summed the mood, UNAPPROACHABLE. Maybe DISTANCED is better. One word definitely didn’t fit Dad, HAPPY. I can’t remember him smiling or laughing. He worked, he gardened, he went to the pub.
Mum was more open. She said she struggled. She would apologise sometimes simply saying something like she wasn’t feeling like herself. Yes I can remember Mum laughing and smiling, but I can also remember way too many tears. She often seemed so sad. I remember a doctor visit, mum rooted to a sofa, talk of a nervous breakdown. She soldiered on. She had never touched alcohol but started to drink some sherry to calm her stomach. She went shopping, went to see her parents, went to her part time job, went to school evenings when school needed to see a parent, she looked after the house and US. She never went out socially, never met friends, never seemed to listen to music. She never put on a dress, she never made it to Paris or New York.
A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent. 