Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 42 Comments

Still Grey

Another grey Yorkshire day, just a bit stuck under this blanket of greyness. It’s also still very green for this time in Autumn, usually it’s way more yellow and red. Definitely feels like it’s been a longer growing season here. We also still have a handful of Swallows still hanging around, these fellows are usually back in Africa by now. They clearly are not hanging around because of the sun…. Maybe they are just putting off trying to get through the chaos and queues that is UK Passport Control these days. One of my neighbours foolishly tried and failed to get out of the country a couple of weeks ago to go on holiday. Apparently she didn’t look sufficiently like her passport photo anymore. In her words “you try looking like you did 5 years ago when you hit 84…”

Made me check my passport photo. I’m ok, still looks like me, still looks like Shrek.

I remember going to a fancy dress themed party years ago at University. Themed around cartoon characters. I went as Fred from Scooby Doo, back then I could rock an orange ascot….. A friend of mine put in way more effort to go as Shrek. He was mortified when the first couple of people thought he had come as Alfred Hitchcock.

Hitchcock was famed for talking about “always make the audience suffer as much a possible”. My so called football team have clearly been following that principle for decades now….

Another thing Hitchcock talked about was ‘DRAMA is life with the dull bits cut out’. I always think you could take out DRAMA and substitute that with SINGLE PARENTING. I’ve had a few people tell me they were sorry I was a single parent. Don’t get me wrong, it happened for tragic reasons, but actually being a single parent is such a wonderful privilege and experience. Being a parent has been the best experience and it feels like because of circumstances I got the chance to get just a bit more of that wonderful experience. It has been a wonderful experience.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 57 Comments

Accountant

I have a confession, a secret deep inside that haunts me. Something deeply embarrassing and just rather sad. Yes I’m an ACCOUNTANT. A pretty bad one, but still a BEAN COUNTER. I have no idea how I managed to first qualify and then subsequently fool several employers with financial skills that never really progressed much past counting the fingers on one hand, even that would need to be an estimate. I’m one of those FINANCIAL WIZARDS who as quickly as possible moves the conversation away from those problematic and eternally perplexing numbers.

But recently there is some mathematics that I can’t seem to move on from.

I don’t know why it popped into my mind suddenly, but it did and now it’s THERE….

Hawklad’s Mum who passed away in 2016 has now missed well over half of his life. She missed out on well over half of his childhood. I just find that thought so deeply sad and tragic. Definitely for Hawklad, I so wish no child had to ever go through that trauma. But also for his poor Mum, she has missed out on so much, so many experiences, so many years. Too many years, I do keep hearing a variant of that sad Clapton song in my head, would she even recognise him now.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 31 Comments

Years

I wonder how many years these wooden poles have survived the North Sea….

Looking in the mirror most mornings, they have clearly weathered way better than me. The front one has even got more hair than me. I’m not jealous, much 😂😂😂😂

We’ve been coming here since Hawklad was just starting school. Always the same routine. Find a parking spot where you can see the beach, let Hawklad see how busy it is. Too busy for him and we drive off, no questions asked. If it’s quiet enough, we hit the beach. Sometimes we don’t even park up, if the car park is busy, the beach will be.

So how does he manage concerts and now a F1 race.

We have a routine. Always try to buy the two seats at the end of a row, the back or front rows are best. If those seats aren’t available, then we don’t go. It’s the same for the cinema, has to be the two end seats on the front row. Hawklad takes the end of row seat. Sometimes that’s not enough and Hawklad decides it’s still too much. There have been a few concerts, movies and a football matches where it just never happened, still feeling too crowded, just never felt right for Hawklad.

At Silverstone it was even better, 168,000 watching an F1 race. But we still were able to find two end row seats, with no seats behind us. Plus next to our two seats was a roof support column, three more seats missing. Hawklad found space amongst the masses. All we had to do is arrive really early to miss the queues to get in, let Hawklad get to his seat before the crowd mayhem started. Setting off at 3.30am sorted that out.

That felt early, too early. Probably one of the reasons I’ve weathered worse than those beach poles.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 38 Comments

Grand Old Castle

Brough Castle, built around 1092 on the grounds of an old Roman fort.

Once a grand old well kept castle. Once an impressive, seemingly impenetrable fortress. Attacked by an army from Scotland, destroyed and rebuilt. Rebuilt to be stronger, even more impenetrable. It was for 250 years…..

Then it met its new destroying army in the form of a Christmas Party… in a desperate attempt to cook the Brussel Sprouts properly, a fire broke out, destroying much of the castle.

OK I’m guessing on the Pesky Green Veg Villain, but something went badly wrong with that Christmas Feast in 1521.

The castle was partly rebuilt in the 17th century, but within a couple of years, fire struck again. Maybe don’t have 24 fireplaces…..The harsh northern weather has subsequently taken its toll since then.

Far too many children in the UK never get the support they need from the health and education systems. Hawklad was fortunate, it took over two years but he finally started to get some of the support he needed. Over the years that support made a real difference.

Then the day he reached 18, it was pulled. There is no equivalent adult support service. It’s only been a few months since then but I have started to see some changes, not positive ones. Hard earned progress starting to slow, halt or even reverse.

How many more are in the same position.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 44 Comments

Sky

Over the last few weeks we haven’t seen much of the sky. Mostly it’s been like this….

But when it has parted….

On another misty, dark day, we were heading back from the City and passed a stricken smoking car. Suddenly I was taken back years. Back to when I was young and Dad’s 4 wheel pride and joy. His MK1 Ford Cortina, 1% Silver 99% Rust and Holes. Top Speed, who are we kidding, there was nothing TOP about that thing. Stationary to walking pace in about 2 days before the inevitable smoking breakdown. I had completely forgotten about that Henry Ford Miracle and strangely I was smiling.

Maybe that caught me off guard….

We drove past a Children’s Play Barn, I brought Hawklad here countless times when he was a toddler. Fun times, so many happy memories. But life moves on, he became too old to venture there. The Xbox world became way more attractive than climbing around a Pirate Ship Climbing Frame. Now he’s doing College and the Christmas Present list is way different now. As I took another glance at the Play Barn in the Rear View Mirror, feelings of melancholy swept over me.

Where did that time go……

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 38 Comments

Dracula and Captain Cook

Whitby on the Yorkshire coast. Famed because of Captain Cook and Dracula, not many places can claim that….

Whisper it, I read Bram Stokers vampire novel when I was about 12. I had just started Senior School and on the way home would walk past a little dusty old library. A tiny place, maybe not much bigger than a large living room. With so few books, I quickly exhausted the readable options. But on one visit, as I desperately tried to find something new to read, I noticed sat on the returned counter, a little book with DRACULA emblazoned across a gothic cover which had clearly seen way better days. Picking up the courage, I sandwiched the horror book between a couple of nondescript nonfiction books and hoped. Hoped the librarian wouldn’t notice. It was noticed….

A long over the top of the glasses, Paddington stare, was followed by clearly a few moments contemplation. Unbelievably the book was then stamped with the quiet warning…. ‘Don’t have nightmares…’

Little did the Librarian know, in-fact little did my Parents know, that for months I had been sneaking down stairs on a Friday night to watch the late night Hammer Horror movie on TV. As a result I was already well versed in Christopher Lee’s Dracula.

The book didn’t give me nightmares. But I loved it. I loved it because for the first time I was reading a story set in a place that I knew, a place where I had been. The book came alive to me, it still does.

Move forward several decades and I was summoned to see the Teacher at Hawklad’s first school. The Teacher was concerned that I had let my 7 year old watch horror movies. Hawklad had in class told the Teacher that he loved watching Dracula, Werewolf and Frankenstein. One little detail that Hawklad had left out was the name Scooby Doo. Scooby meets Dracula, Scooby meets Werewolf, Scooby meets….

On a sunny day like this one, Whitby even with a Dracula Museum, is probably as intimidating as a Scooby Doo cartoon. But come back here during winter, when a nighttime storm is battering the Port, when a thick fog has descended. Then try reading Dracula and not feel just a little bit on edge. That book can still bite…..

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 73 Comments

What did it cost them

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.

What did life, marriage and parenting COST THEM….

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 31 Comments

Care

Our local Market town, Malton, occasionally mentioned in Downton Abbey TV stories. There has been a town here ever since the Romans decided to build a fort here one day. Could have found somewhere a tad warmer….

Just down from this bridge is a small children’s play barn. One of those places that goes through repeated name changes but nothing ever changes inside. It’s a site of much parenting inspiration for me.

The play barn is really tight inside and the owners somehow squeezed in an even tighter adventure climbing maze. The kinda maze that every few minutes a young child loses confidence and cries out for a parent to rescue them. Mums often heading into the maze to make the save, Dads often opting for a non intervention, low risk strategy. Declining to enter the maze, just shouting and pointing approach from a safe distance.

On one trip years back, when Hawklad was a toddler, he went climbing there. Yep he got stuck. As much shouting and pointing as I tried, Hawklad remained stuck. Time to face my mini Dantes Inferno, I had to go in. Uncomfortably claustrophobic, having to climb over toddlers with the bite strength of an African Crocodile. Eventually I made it to where Hawklad had been. Now he was outside, giggling, watching his Dad go through this instrument of torture. I had been done like a kipper…..

But then the parenting inspiration after being the butt of the joke…..

A few minutes later, a toddler properly stuck and needing help. Eventually a rather exasperated Dad decided he had to go in….. I’m no Thor but this Dad was even less of a Thor. Well actually he was way bigger than Three Thors round the belly region…. Seeing this poor Dad get slower and increasingly more stuck was strangely fascinating. The inevitable eventually happened, Dad got stuck. Properly wedged in. His toddler now filled with renewed courage and unable to turn down this unique opportunity to inflict torture, he came in for the kill. Toddler made it to his stuck Dad and started to draw random patterns on his Dad’s bald head with chalk and non marking pens. Other parents now gleefully supplying more and more ammo for this unrelenting assault. Dad unable to move his hands so unable to offer any defence to this unprovoked attack. Finally the Barn owners dismantled part of the maze to free this poor, broken colouring book of a parent.

What’s the patenting inspiration from this….. as bad as things have got for me, and they have frequently been very embarrassing. It’s never ever got close to being as bad as it got for this poor, randomly tattooed Dad. A Dad whose only crime was to CARE…..

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 22 Comments

The Wall – disc two

That’s a shed load of water heading towards the sea just a few yards further on.

Too many times in Hawklad’s school life, he came across an inflexible school system, setting him up to fail, blocking his path.

Two of many examples…..

He was struggling with French. The way it was taught wasn’t working for him, he was falling behind and getting really anxious. Parrot learning how to spell and read French for weekly tests. I approached the teacher to talk about this and our preference to try something different. A more visual and interactive learning App approach. An approach producing great results in some US schools for dyslexic pupils. We even offered to pay for the software. The response sadly predictable. No learning approach could be used that differed from the standard national programme. Even when I pressed on the fact that it just wasn’t working for Hawklad, it was a firm, he just has to work harder using the set learning script. In the end Hawklad was given just two options. Follow the class programme or drop the language course. So he dropped the subject, even though he really wanted to learn a language……

Computer Studies featured a significant element of learning and practicing coding. Month after month, trying to read stuff of a classroom screen then re type it. Get it slightly wrong and it errors out. A nightmare with dyslexia. Again Hawklad started to fall behind. Again the teacher was approached. This time more understanding but still inflexible. The teacher realised it wasn’t working for Hawklad and talked about in the past being able to try different things or switch out coding out for something else. But now the Teacher wasn’t allowed to do that even when the method isn’t working. He had to stick to the set curriculum. End result, Hawklad dropped the subject at the first opportunity…….

So many more examples but you get the picture. At no stage did school ever ask Hawklad what he wanted to do, what were his dreams, his big hopes, the things he was interested in. At no stage was the learning environment tailored to his needs or wishes. It was always, here is the education you must follow. What makes it worse is that this set education is ultimately dictated not by children, not by educational professionals, not by parents but by vested interests and politicians.

As a result far too many children are overlooked and forced into moulds that just won’t ever work for them. A WALL is built blocking the child from thriving, from enjoying developing, from dreaming big and for going down the path that works for them.

This has to CHANGE, that WALL has to come down.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 33 Comments

Spot the balloon

In all my euphoria over Hawklad’s exam results (https://bereavedsingledad.blog/2023/09/10/bridges-2/) I completely forgot that I was going to get some party balloons for the house. When I did remember, well to be accurate, when Hawklad finally reminded me a few days later……

We immediately rushed off to the Supermarket but with perfect timing, they had completely sold out. Pants….

But sometimes life has a habit of trying to bring balance and so it did. As we drove back empty handed what did we see….

BALLOONS

VERY BIG BALLOONS

Lots of HOT AIR BALLOONS

Maybe not quite the same but definitely memorable and definitely less taxing on my lungs. Now play spot the balloons.