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Spoilers

After the final online lesson of the day we headed to the cinema, bit of a risk on Valentines Day. Even riskier when the movie is a romantic comedy.

In our defence Captain America was just too full for Hawklad.

This mid afternoon Bridget Jones screening was half full and we were the only males in Screen 3…. As we headed towards our customary front row seats, I couldn’t help notice the amount of wine and champagne bottles that I had assumed had been sneaked in. Even just a small glass of wine there is eye wateringly expensive never mind a bottle. I smiled as I thought back to my childhood. To my seaside towns cinema on the beach. I remember going to watch a dreadful movie called I think ‘ BMX Bandits’ and some nutter managed to sneak a bike into the cinema. Proudly riding round the aisles to distract from the dreadful movie, that kid must have had ginormous pockets to sneak that thing past the ticket collector.

No such wheeled subtractions this time.

We’ve both enjoyed the previous three Jones movies, found them very funny. The latest version is funny but also this time around, sad at times, painfully sad. Anyone who has experienced loss will need at least one hanky. Recently I’ve become way less prone to movie tears, but this one got me.

Sorry no more movie spoilers….

Ok confession time. As I felt the tears roll that I was really conscious of being on the front row. I was reluctant to show signs of weakness for some reason, really daft as I bet I wasn’t the only one. I slid lower and lower into my chair before trying to brush away the tears. What a silly sausage.

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Eye test

With every visit to the optician there seems to be more and more technologically eye tests to complete. Focus on the balloon, look at for the white dots, green and red circles, track the moving line. They seem to change every year, shame the one that fires a jet of air into the eye never gets phased out. ‘Try to keep your eyes open’… try telling that to my eyeballs who clearly remember the last visit and what’s about to hit them. By the time you finally get to read the letter chart, you are definitely as Bruce would sing ‘Blinded by the light’.

‘Can you read the 3rd line’… well I might if you hadn’t covered up my good eye….

But at least I didn’t cheat. Years back, I took mum to get her eyes tested. She was clearly pleased with herself when the optician told her that her prescription hadn’t changed since her last visit. Driving home, mum casually let slip that she memorised the 3rd and 4th lines, as she waited to start the test. “I’ve got a perfectly good pair of glasses already, don’t need to change them…..”

Then the real nightmare starts. ‘You can pick your new frames now…”. Hundreds and hundreds of them. I always crack under the pressure. Randomly poking a couple of frames before grabbing a frame that roughly looks like my current ones. Then the optician assistant asks you to try them on to see if they fit. They never do, I don’t care what you do to them, as soon as I take them home they slide down my nose like a ski jumper picking up speed to fly. Then you get the inevitable sales compliment. This time it was ‘you look very handsome in those’. Clearly someone else needs an eye test……

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 34 Comments

Let it

I guess many parents have probably done this. A Ninja Argument with your partner. Our Individual flaws mean that things like arguments can brew up anywhere, anytime, sadly even when our children are present. What follows next is an argument while desperately trying to hide this from the kids. Trying to portray normality, happy families while having a right ding dong…. Using all the tricks in the book, those looks, silence, sarcasm, sign language, under your breath anger, referring to your partner in the third person….

One of those arguments sticks in my mind even now, even after something like 10 years.

This argument’s fires were stoked in the gift shops of Interlaken, reaching their zenith on the lake boat returning to the hotel. It was one of those arguments that we couldn’t even agree on the length of the conflict. Sat at a boat dining table, I’d moved to let’s park this argument stage. Withering looks, caustic comments and a well placed under table shin kick clearly indicating that feeling wasn’t yet mutual.

Here’s the madness, I can remember the argument yet I have no idea what we were arguing about. Parents with a wonderful son, in a wonderful location, so many adventures to be had and we were consumed on pointless, destructive arguments. No recollection of good moments, just the self inflicted negativity. Apart from the madness the only other thing I can recall from that day was getting seasick. Seasick for the only time in my life. I’ve been on really rough North Sea crossings, NOTHING. Yet on this beautiful, wave free Swiss lake, as the argument finally subsided on both sides, the gentle movement of the boat got to me. Everything was moving and swaying, wow was I feeling nauseous. Even trying to hide this from Hawklad. Stumbling off the boat at our destination and slumping on the nearest bit of dry land grass.

My last memory of that day was one more comment I heard – ‘that’s a little too over dramatic…”. All I wanted was the world to stop spinning. Now I just want to play out those few hours again. Replace negative memories with fun ones. Life can be such a wonderful adventure , if only we let it.

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Branch

Now that’s a branch…

I’m always fascinated by this piece of natural art. It’s a great place to stop for a few moments on my run. Take off my earphones (according to Hawklad I should call them earbuds) and ponder why…

Why have I become so uncool….

Why does a branch suddenly decide to grow upwards after years of heading downwards…. Just maybe I can learn something from this.

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Stones

We are so blessed to live on the edge of The Moors. Close enough that just 30 minutes after Hawklad’s last lesson of the afternoon we can be here…

The Bridestones…..

The name is likely to come from the Norse Brinkstones, stones on the edge.

Natural sandstone sculptures formed through an Ice Age and shed loads of Yorkshire Weather….

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Language

Language is so important. More than ever it frames the debate, creates headlines, fills social media channels and sadly can alienate, castigate.

We all have different views on society, on politics. In the UK, to me the last few years has been unremittingly grim. And yes I’m not the only one who thinks that.

Am I pleased there was a change in government last year, YES, maybe the right word is RELIEVED.

Am I pleased with the new government. NO, but to me it’s way less bad than what came before it. A bit of good stuff, some puzzling stuff, some bad stuff.

The BAD stuff includes LANGUAGE. I don’t like the language the government often uses in terms of Mental Health and Disabilities, in terms of the many needing real help. Way too often the language is grim, divisive, and riddled with stereotypes which easily make its way on to the front page of gutter newspapers. It portrays a real insensitivity and a clear lack of understanding on the real issues and problems many face during every day life. What happened to the so called enlightenment that society went through on how it sees Mental Health and Disability.

I completely understand the need to control spending, to ensure it’s targeted where it’s needed. BUT…

The language often being used creates the false impression that most on Mental Health and Disability benefits are intentionally work shy, have a choice to either push through any issues they may face to work or to choose to stay at home, lead a life of leisure paid for by taxpayers. How the rising mental health crisis is just a sign of an increasingly work-shy population, it just can’t be based on real need. How the rising demand for special educational support is more down to pushy parents than actual individual child need. How every pound spent on a child with specific educational needs is in some way depriving the vast majority of pupils much needed new books or teaching opportunities. That those benefits that are essential to so many people are in some way an extravagance, a waste of resources, unfair on hard working taxpayers.

This language then fuels so much which is wrong in our modern world. False information, bullying, victimisation, mistrust, division and hatred.

Is it really 2025, is this really positive change and new hope….

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Time will run out.

I always wanted to stay a night here. Maybe one day. Almost touching distance of The Eiger, the famous mighty Swiss mountain.

The winter months, the inhospitable weather, deserted paths and seasonally closed cafes. This time of year always makes me more reflective, some would say EVEN more reflective.

I’ve been thinking about parenting, specifically before our family world changed and I fumbled my way into single parenting. With parenting you sometimes get things right, sometimes get things wrong and sometimes you kinda just drift about on the tides of life. Given that there is no parenting blueprint to follow and the propensity of our little raptors to transform the seemingly straightforward into sleepless, stress filled angst maelstroms, we can forgive ourselves for not always being perfect. As a couple we were very different with very different takes on how to bring a child up. Sometimes we agreed, more often we negotiated (possibly argued) our way to compromises. And YES we didn’t get everything right, sometimes we got it spectacularly wrong. Looking back that doesn’t frustrate me, we did our best.

But now, in 2025 something does bother me, frustrates me, makes me feel sad. It’s not the decisions we got spectacularly wrong, it’s the decisions and opportunities that we kicked into the future. We didn’t say NO, we just said not now. ‘Not now’ because of some fairly unimportant work stuff, because it took us slightly out of our comfort zone, because it will complicate things, because we don’t need to push now because we have loads of time to sort this out in the future….

Let’s think about it again next year…

Let’s not do that now but maybe later….

Let’s talk ourselves out of this even though it could be so wonderful, no pressure, plenty of time to get round to it….sometimes sitting doing nothing can seem better than having the time of our life’s.

We were fooling ourselves, time ran out….

I keep going over those moments. Often trips, adventures or holidays that didn’t happen. Like the big Christmas adventure, the chance to take Hawklad to Lapland to visit Santa. Never happened even though we could have done it and we both knew it was a great adventure. Yes just the two of us could do it now but it’s not quite the same after the pesky Art Teacher decided it was time for some festive tough love… What a missed opportunity because we thought there was plenty of time.

Then there are those moments, missed opportunities that yes we can still do (and sometimes have already addressed) but we left it too long for his mum. She missed out. Hawklad never got to experience these moments with her. Disney Florida, Panto, trips to see Whales, Horse riding, skiing, Yellowstone, Kennedy Space Centre, Patagonia….. I could go on. Especially this little beauty, I managed to film Hawklad’s first walk on an old video camera, his mum was at work. The camera wouldn’t connect to the TV, so I needed to get the tape converted to VHS. I never did get round to it, I put it off (plenty of time) and then it was forgotten in both our life’s. She never did get to see that special moment.

Now I feel sadness over those moments, moments his mum never got to experience, Hawklad never got to share with her. It’s a painful lesson.

Time will run out……

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 35 Comments

Listen

Newcastle…

The view from the top of the modern art gallery, The Baltic. A converted old flour mill set next to the River Tyne, on this cloudless yet cold Saturday afternoon. Trying to forget the proceeding two hours, where my alleged football team successfully donated 3 points and way too many goals to a visiting, actual football team….

The Baltic is the Joseph Rank building…

I’ve been thinking about the support Hawklad has had from the Education and Health services. Lots of ups and downs, hopefully a few more ups…. In the UK it can be a bit of a postcode lottery. Some parts of the country offer more support, more joined up support than others. Our area is definitely in the OTHERS column. An area that has prided itself on highly streamlined services, so streamlined that a few too many services have disappeared completely in repeated budget cuts.

Fortunately a few services survived and have tried to help Hawklad. So thankful for those. But even for those services, what hasn’t helped is the constant change over in staff. The longest Hawklad had the same nominated support clinician was 18 months, often they would change at least twice a year. He’s had 7 different Paediatricians. As for his Education Support Officer, they have changed more frequently than managers at my so called football team… Over the last 3 years, this officer has changed 8 times. This week we phoned to talk about exam support and yes, the person has changed again. Every change brings delays and the need to bring the new person up to speed on Hawklad, who he is and his needs. Above all things, Hawklad has to try and build up a connection, time and time again. That’s so not easy for him. It really doesn’t help him. Some changes are unavoidable, people move on, that’s life but frequently, the change has been down to management decisions. Too often we’ve read or heard the following words ‘unfortunately he’s been taken off my case list so I’ve had to hand his files over to another professional, hopefully they will be in touch with you soon….’

Continuity, hard thought connections and openness based on trust are so important to successful support and therapy. Listen to Hawklad and he will talk about this way better than me. But here’s another thing. How often do the services listen to the kids they are trying to support. In our area, the answer is I suspect somewhere near, never. To my knowledge, he has never been asked. Maybe if they did they might start to understand better the importance of qualities such as Continuity in the services they are trying to provide.

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Not raining

Scarborough and unbelievably it’s NOT RAINING.

With one finger briefly dipped into the water I can confirm that the North Sea is absolutely frigid at this time of year….

That was Thursday, Friday was way more misty. Perfect weather to visit the cinema, or as my Mum would have called it, THE PICTURES. Dear Mum, when she was young she loved going to The Pictures but then life happened and she stopped going. For many Decades….

She did go one more time to see The Horse Whisperer. She was rooted to her chair as the credits finished rolling, a little disturbed to discover that the modern Pictures experience doesn’t include a PATHE News bulletin and the singing of the National Anthem. I’m also not sure what Mum would have made of the movie we saw on Friday, the new Bob Dylan biopic. A Fantastic movie but maybe wouldn’t have quite been mum’s musical cup of tea. However we loved it and Hawklad shared a thought while watching Timothee Chalamet hauntingly accurate portrayal of Dylan. Thinking of Dylan performing back in 1961 (even before I was born….) and then realising 63 years later, Hawklad got to see him play live just a few months back. Had to agree with him, that is mind blowing.

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Three

A late evening walk on the Moors.

Three….

Hawklad now has three support sessions left then he’s discharged from Child & Adolescent Mental Health Services. He’s discharged because at the age of 18 there is no equivalent Adult service to be handed over to. There is some voluntary charity provision but it is very patchy.

Research has repeatedly highlighted the implications that can flow from the removal of dedicated mental health support as soon as someone reaches the age of 18

– Increased risk of Isolation and loneliness

– Escalation in untreated/undiagnosed mental health conditions

– Increased risk of depression and self harm

– Life opportunity limitations

– Increased risk of unemployment and employment insecurity

Even for under 18’s, services are stretched and far too many children don’t get the support they need.

From the age of 18 any formal support has to accessed via the Doctor Lottery system. Post Covid, in many areas patients have to try to navigate the appointments labyrinthine. Join a telephone queue at 8am and wait in line to be answered, a few minutes late and all the appointments for the day will be booked solid. If slots are still available you then first have to explain the symptoms to the Doctor Receptionist who then decides if you can have a face to face GP appointment or more likely a telephone call back. Way too frequently you are either told to try again tomorrow for an appointment or to try to self treat. If you do get a precious appointment or callback, you have at most about 5 minutes with a Doctor. In our surgery it is quite rare to get your own GP, often speaking to someone who is looking at your records for the first time. It feels very rushed and pressurised. Then you’re faced with a Doctor who is unwilling or unable to refer you to a specialist mental health service. As one Consultant told me,

Many Doctors just don’t fully understand specialist Mental Health areas. They are stretched and sadly they often try to treat anything that might look like Autism or ADHD with Antidepressants and a leaflet on Mindfulness.

This whole process ain’t going to work for Hawklad, he isn’t going to go through this process to get any support that he might need in the future. Family support is going to be even more important for him in the future. But then again, he doesn’t exactly have many trained mental health care professionals in the family…. That’s such a worry going forward.