Home schooled breadq

Today was the Day 1 of the countries homeschooling project for many. Son’s school is trying to run a full days lessons online. At the usual start time of the lesson he needs to log into the school system. He records his attendance by a simple text message. Then he follows the instructions the teacher has provided. Any work completed is then loaded onto the school system for the teacher to review.

  • Geography was to research and answer a series of questions on Russia for 90 minutes. He quite enjoyed that,
  • Maths was to use an online teaching system. Complete one module. Unfortunately due to the numbers of kids nationwide trying to use the system – it broke,
  • French was to read a handout then try to write a few paragraphs in the remaining time. Didn’t really work for him.
  • Art was to try and replicate 4 photos in various styles. So he tried a few sketches then photographed them and sent that to the teacher.

It kinda worked. It did provide structure but I’m not sure some of the teaching methods really suit our son. But that’s modern teaching in this country. Let’s see what the next few days turn out like. I’m puzzled how some of the subjects will be run. Online PE and Drama could be interesting. Surely they will squeeze in a few of our favourite spelling tests. Food Technology mentioned cooking at home. Maybe even learning from your mum or dad.

“Say that again. Learn cooking and baking from your dad.”

He gave me a withering look.

Sorry dad I’m going to have to say a bad word. Oh CRAP.”

He knows me far too well. A couple of hours later.

Dad, I thought you had planned to put seeds on top of the bread”

“I thought I had put seeds on but clearly I accidentally put grated cheese on instead. It’s now cheesy bread.”

Its vegan cheese isn’t it.”

“Yes I believe it is as that’s the only grated stuff in the fridge.”

Well it’s grated cardboard topped bread then. I do learn from you. How not to cook…”

Energy

Well this friend likes my baking.

These days nothing goes to waste. Always find grateful recipients of any food we can’t finish. But there is a limit.

Today has been a bit unusual. Normally the body is willing but the mind refuses to leave my sleepless bed. Today was the complete reverse. My body felt like it was just a heavy sack of spuds. However the mind was sharp. Those three brain cells of mine were purring. Screamed through the workload which freed up an hour for exercise. Here is where the problems started. The bag of spuds just didn’t want to play. I dragged my body through the session but only just. The school run became a real effort. Trying to keep up with son proved impossible. I just wanted to collapse in a chair.

Now it was time for the three brain cells to follow my bodies lead and shutdown. Basically I had nothing. Unfortunately this coincided with Pancake Tuesday. An utter and unmitigated baking disaster. A simple pancake was beyond me. The sticky mess produced was deemed even too bad for the wildlife. So for the first time in ages food went into the bin. I finally just slumped into a chair. Then it dawned on me. I had not eaten in over 24 hours. I’m on the 16:8 diet. Can only eat in one 8 hour spell. I had simple forgotten about an 8 hour food window. What a prize pillock.

Thankfully heaps of junk food has restored my energy levels. The body is now beginning to function. Unfortunately the three brain cells are now a spent force. So the status quo has been restored. Back to being a brisk walking zombie. But it just goes to show if you start to overthink life it’s so easy to take your eye off the basics. It’s also another important warning. We are down to one parent and hence we are walking a tightrope. That’s why it’s so important that in all my efforts to be a good mum and dad, that I remember to care for myself as well.

Mud is good for the complexion

Today was dark and moody but thankfully the storm has gone. Gone but left us with a mini lake for my wayward football shots to target. I can confirm that is is particularly muddy and toe-curlingly cold. It’s amazing how I’ve got the entire farmers field to land in and the ball lands unerringly into the centre of the lake. Twice…..

The sliding contest was unsurprisingly a one sided contest. Son on his sledge managed a respectable mud slide of about 10 paces. My butt powered slide proved somewhat less aerodynamic. Basically it immediately sank in the mud and formed what can best be described as a sink hole. The impact somehow pulling my running leggings towards my knees. Poor kid will be traumatised for years with that sight. I guess the one redeeming feature is that since mud is good for complexion my backside should be just dandy for a few weeks….

So I took the forfeit. The 5 jelly bean roulette. As we have lost the taste chart I can’t be 100% certain on the delights which passed my lips. I definitely recognised rotten egg, booger and soap. One definitely tasted of burnt sausage. The last one was off the scale, too horrid to describe. Son seems to think it might be earthworm flavour. Well that was not his first comment on the potential flavour.

“If it’s as bad as you describe then it’s likely to be your own home made curry flavour.”

Yes that was a bad cooking disaster. As a meal shortcut I used some readymade curry paste. Unfortunately I didn’t read the bit about only using one or table teaspoons depending on taste. I used the whole jar. That was definitely weapons grade cooking. And on the subject of weapons grade food. Stand by your shelters. Lockup the kids and pets. Ensure all windows are closed. I’m about to try and bake a carrot cake. You have been warned.

Christmas Diaries 3 – Frankenstein

It’s the last Saturday before Christmas. Son is sat watching the Simpsons Movie while Baron Frankenstein is in kitchen seeing what creature he can create this time. Yes it’s baking time.

My attempt at a Stollen Cake.

As ever the ingredients used may not be quite as required by the recipe. Amounts are a little random. Going more with my Jedi force skills rather than the trusty weighing machine. Unsurprisingly the dough doesn’t quite look or feel like the perfect one pictured in the cook book. Son ventures into the seen of devastation.

Oh Dad that doesn’t look good. Are you planning to use that to fill the holes in the wall.

No Son but like Frankenstein even though the parts are not as desired we might as well see what happens when I bring it to life. Thirty minutes later the creature has been born.

A bit like the Baker it seems a bit crumbly and loose at the edges. So I’ve not been brave enough to see if it can survive life without its tin. I shall report back.

The Huddle

Now that’s how you do a huddle.

HU DD LE

Spelling has never been one of my specialities. So not a lot of help to a dyslexic son trying to memorise 15 words in the hope of getting at least 10 correct to avoid a school punishment. Now that’s a way to spend a Sunday. The approach Son has gone for is to break the words up into little words and the try to do a memory photograph of each little word in order.

Alliteration – ALL IT ERA TI ON

Advertisement – AD VER TI SEM ENT

Exaggeration – EX AG GE RAT I ON

It’s not the way I would try but his brain is wired up differently to mine. It delivered 11 out of 15 correct spellings last week. Which is fantastic. What’s frustrating is that it’s such a waste of energy. He can’t read or write any of the ones he got right just 7 days ago. Its achieving nothing. In a couple of weeks he is unlikely to remember any of these spellings. It’s not specifically tailored to help him read or to improve his writing or develop his knowledge or add to his independence or boost his confidence. It’s just about ticking a Government tick box. It’s the Government mantra. Even this week the PMs Dad callee the public illiterate as they probably even couldn’t spell Pinocchio.

GO VE RN ME NT

It’s times like this I really miss my partner. Maybe she would come up with a better solution. A way out of this educational quagmire. She certainly would be lifting all our spirits. She was brilliant at that. Making the world seem so much brighter than it should be. More hopeful. Making sure everyone is feels secure and warm inside. That’s what love is.

LO VE

It’s a new world now and you just have to make the best of it. Face up to the challenges which come your way. Learn to appreciate the small things in life again. Don’t be afraid to smile again.

SM I LE

Like watching the massed ranks of birds coming for their morning breakfast. How the larger birds wait until the little birds have had first crack. Must be some particularly fearsome little chaps..

Thankfully the Birds are happy to get stuck into another failed bread making venture. The humans in the house certainly wouldn’t risk it.

UN DE RB AK ED

Or smiling at the thought of that Amazon Delivery Mans face as he stood at the door waiting for us to answer. Looking at the pair of my underpants – frozen solid discarded on the path. Yes the dog still has a thing about socks and pants.

Or laughing at what the Delivery Man has brought us. A parcel containing a plate and cutlery set. Thinking this is much smaller and lighter than expected. Only to discover that bargain kitchen set was in fact a Kids Kitchen Dishes Playset. Thankfully we are not entertaining anytime soon. Dad is definitely a

MU PP ET.

Or even the sight of a really happy dog ripping apart a newly delivered election pamphlet from the Conservative Party. I’m sure it was full of lots of truthful facts and had absolutely stunning photos of our esteemed leader. To be fair our PM permanently looks well chewed.

BO RIS JO HN SON IS A LY ING TW AT

Road Closed Monday

I love this part of the run. It’s such a lovely view and ITS NOW DOWNHILL for 10 minutes. At my age that’s almost as good as life gets…..

I needed that downhill section. My spirit was flagging. Mainly because of politics again. The once impartial BBC announced proudly over the radio airwaves that Boris Johnson is a family man and he’s backed it up by promising a new 60 youth centres. Unfortunately the BBC failed to mention for some reason that since 2010 the Conservative Government has effectively closed 763 youth centres. Funny that wasn’t mentioned. I must sort out my MP3 player so I don’t need to listen to these falsehoods anymore.

Twenty minutes later I was having a lovely chat with a helpful Road Worker.

“You can’t come down here the road is closed”

But I’m not in a car I’m on foot

The road is still closed”

I can see the Road Closed Sign but I don’t see any signage saying the Path is closed.

“Well it is”

Looks open to me

Well I say it isn’t.”

Does the highways order cover the pathway.

I bloody don’t know. I’m telling you the path is closed. You need to go back.”

You haven’t even put up any advanced closure signs.

Don’t get clever with me. Your going back the same way you came.”

As much as I’m enjoying chatting to you I am getting cold and very bored now. Your closure doesn’t include the path and it certainly doesn’t include the field. So see yah…

** at this stage I jumped over the fence into the farmers field and ran past the purple faced road worker. He seemed to be giving me some friendly hand gestures.**

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

You get pivotal moments in time. In Middle Earth it would be the Battle of Helms Deep. In Sherlock Holmes it would be the Reichenbach Falls. In Marvel it would be End Game. In our house it’s when a certain Dad tries to bake an Apple Crumble. Years of trying and years of disastrous failure. Now it’s that pivotal moment in time again.

Dad did you make this Apple Crumble ?

Yes

All by yourself. Your not pretending you cooked it but actually it’s my aunties baking.

No all my own doing.

Unbelievably Dad this is actually nice. Never thought I ever would say this but can I have seconds.

So in the scheme of things for an old fart useless muppet life doesn’t get any better than running downhill and baking an edible apple crumble. It really doesn’t.

Sunday lunch

We do the same dog walk everyday with our son. We do it that often that I’ve got names for many of the straw bales. This one is Eric.

Routines and repetition form a key part of our lives these days. Some things have to be done at the right times and in exactly the same way. Anything else yields anxiety and stress. In a couple of days school starts again and all these anxieties are going to magnify again. But at least we can now smile at them thanks to the brilliant TV series Red Dwarf. Every time one of us is anxiety stricken we have to both put on our finest Kryten accent and shout

Grind those worry balls like you’ve never ground them before”

Before the world changed son loved to go to see his Little Nan every Sunday. He would sit with her and watch something like Ivanhoe. I dread to think how many times we have seen that movie. His Nan would read him a Mr Men book. He would also have an expertly cooked Sunday Lunch.

It’s a changed world now. But some things are constant.

We have the Ivanhoe dvd. We have the Mr Men books. Unfortunately I just can’t read the stories as well as they used to be read. My accents all sound the same like some really rubbish rejected extra from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

The Sunday Lunch cooking baton has also passed to me. Every Sunday I prepared Yorkshire Puddings, peas, carrots, sweet corn, potatoes, sausages and gravy. The food has to be plated so that each item is separate and don’t mix. I’ve had countless arguments with other parents and school over this. The ‘well just tell him to eat it, he will eat it when he’s hungry‘ line is just not helpful at all. It shows a complete lack of understanding. Maybe I should invite those parents over for one of my special baking disasters. Then they can just eat it that abomination when they are hungry….

The Sunday lunch is not exactly difficult to make but remember my cooking skills are military grade. Over the 3 years I’ve almost become competent in this particular art. HOWEVER Part of the Little Nan Sunday Feast was a sensational pudding usually Apple Crumble. Sadly this is still beyond me. Every so often I try but the results are as my Dad would say – a tad manky.

I have tried bought apple crumble but these have not been to our sons liking. So the search for the holy apple crumble grail continues. Until it’s found Plan B is Rice Pudding. Even I can do one of those – sort of. Don’t tell anyone but son hasn’t worked out that he quite likes tinned rice. Tinned rice is now part of the routine.

Counselling

Somedays get off to a good start, some don’t….

Once the day starts off on a funny note it tends to continue in a similar vein.

I forgot to put our ‘busting at the seems’ bin out for collection. How much more can I squeeze in before it explodes. Next delivery is in 2 weeks.

We had a parcel due. The postman always comes in the afternoon. So it was safe to take the dog for a walk in the morning. Wrong. Postman came early and now we have to go into the city to pick up the parcel.

Son’s football hit the only rosebush in the garden and burst on a thorn.

I started baking some cakes but found out that I had run out of flour. So off to the shop we went and stocked up. Attempt 2 went well for another 20 seconds as I added the flour to the bowl then….

No eggs.

So off we went again to the shop again to buy eggs.

Attempt 3 went well until I remembered that I had run out of vanilla essence. Bugger the shop.

Attempt 4 was vanilla-less. Replaced with several overripe bananas.

Unbelievably it worked out ok. It actually looked ok. The pets were definitely interested. So to protect it I put the cake in the grill part of the oven. Bad idea. For lunch I did some some fish fingers – under the grill. Unfortunately I forgot the cake at the back of the grill. Perfectly cooked fish fingers and extremely well burnt cake.

My digital radio which I’ve had for 18 years died.

My calculator which I’ve had since university died.

A shelf in our son’s bedroom decided to fall off the wall.

The slide door on the psychotic IKEA wardrobe wedged itself shut and is refusing to open. Given its from IKEA it is now refusing to grant access to any of my clothes and is secure as Fort Knox.

So what happened at the start of the day to cause this.

Remember we live in a bungalow. So we are never too far away from the front door. I woke up and went to open the curtains. As I opened the front door blind a rather unfortunate villager was delivering a note about an Easter event. As the blinds opened the poor lady was exposed to the site of me in just a pair of boxer shorts. She is going to need years of counselling.

The day finished on a poignant note. Before the world changed we bought a miniature apple tree. Today it has blossom for the first time. My partner would have been so excited.

Baking

I thought I would bake our son a cake to say sorry for this Sunday. He’s coming to work with me. Going to have to leave the house before 7am and will get back in the evening.

Well I’ve seen worse Dad”

That’s almost a compliment.

No I don’t think it was…. it’s definitely cake like”

It’s crunch time the taste test.

“Dad it’s, its, it’s time for a pizza I think”

Oh dear.