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Endings

My mum had a range of old movies that she would watch over and over again. Every week she would go through the TV listings and carefully circle those movies she just had to watch again. She would the likes of Casablanca and Singing in the Rain at least once a year. As she made 90 that’s a lot of views. But some strange movies would also get onto the ‘watch again and again’ list. Dirty Harry….. Die Hard …….. anything with Chuck Norris in.

But then there were other movies. Movies she would watch for the first time and only ever once. For these B-list movies she had an interesting strategy. If she didn’t like how the plot was progressing she would stop the movie. Stop the movie and make up her own ending. That changed the very essence of certain classics. Maximus doesn’t die in Gladiator. Tom Cruise was the rogue agent who killed his spy team in Mission Impossible. All the Gangsters get captured at the end of The Godfather. Bruce Willis was a ghost in Sixth Sense right from the start and there was no need to watch the rest of the boring movie as he was going to be resurrected at the end. The little fishing boat was completely unsinkable in Perfect Storm.

The strategy worked for mum. She was never disappointed in a movie ending. I must admit I am tempted to give it a go. I could watch the first 10 seconds of a Newcastle United game and then assume we played total football like the great Brazilian side of the 70s, winning the game by at least 6 goals. I could read the first line of my annual tax form and then assume the authorities owe me money. I could start baking a cake then assume it’s a gourmet masterpiece. I could cut one strip of lawn and assume the rest would cut itself.

But here’s the thing. What happens if the bit of the story you miss out actually is the best bit. What happens if you skip the bit where your dreams come true. This will sound bad but I gave occasionally felt like skipping parts of my life. Life can wear you down sometimes. Single parenting sometimes feels like it never stops – it has done the last day or so. Constantly pushing up a never ending slope. I could also miss out the grieving and bereavement section. But if I did skip parts of my story WHAT COULD I BE MISSING OUT ON. The fact that yesterday and today have been tough doesn’t necessarily mean that tomorrow will be. You just never know. You never know when dreams can start to materialise. That’s a reassuring thought.

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Saturday

A Tree on a Saturday but not this Saturday. Its different today. It’s cold, it’s wet, it’s windy. Thunder is rumbling all around us. Not really sunbathing weather. Not really the weather to stand anywhere near a tree on an exposed hill top. Another bright flash. Now hail.

A day for staying inside and dreaming.

Maybe in a few hours a trip out in the weather to an historic site. Should be quiet. That will help Hawklad.

This Saturday is now only 35 days from the start of the new school year. 35 days sounds a long time. Something like 3,000,000 million seconds. That does sound such a long time. But it isn’t. It really isn’t. Is it enough time to build life bridges. To move from finding quiet outdoor sites. Where the few people there are distant. Where you don’t touch any surfaces. You nervously cast glances at strangers. If space shrinks then you ask to leave. Is it enough time to build a bridge. To move to overcrowded classrooms. Classrooms with no ventilation. To being within inches of others. To sharing table surfaces, sharing learning materials, sharing classroom objects.

It feels like not enough time to build secure bridges. That’s the thing that some don’t understand. You can’t put a set timeframe on these things. There is no set time. Hawklad feels like he should try to go back to school. He should try for September. Any later and he’s joining a class part way through the year. Never an easy experience. But he is having doubts. Maybe it’s October. He has decided to push those thoughts and decisions to the back of his mind. Deal with those anxieties as September hits.

For what it’s worth I think a September return is way too early, fraught with so many risks that could bring those fledgling bridges down. His departing Health Professional feels exactly the same way. School thinks this is the perfect time to reintegrate him. The Government thinks that I am a bad parent for having these doubts. Childhood is about getting those qualifications the economy needs. Anxieties, mental health issues are excuses. Purely reasons for extended holidays.

So this Saturday feels stress filled. Maybe Hawklad is right. Put these thoughts to one side. Let’s see if we venture out. If we do then let’s see if some bridge building takes place. Let’s wait to see where those bridges lead to. You never know it could be to a better place. A place of dreams and contentment. Happiness. That’s what really counts this stormy Saturday.

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The Yorkshire Albatross

The Yorkshire coast at just after 5am.

Steep cliffs filled with a wide range of gulls, gannets and sea birds. It’s a special place at any time of the year. Don’t forget your thermal underwear if you are coming …..

But today eyes, binoculars and telescopes are aimed at one spot near that distant sea arch. There sits an Albatross. That rarest of Southern Hemisphere wonders has made its way north. And with impeccable taste has made a temporary home in Yorkshire. Hope Albert (his new name) has brought his woolly hat and jumpers.

This was our second attempt to see Albert. We left the house at 4am more in hope than expectation. This time we were in luck. Through the lens we could see Albert perched on the cliff face. For an hour we watched the new Yorkshire Star. Then in seconds he was out to sea. A brief glimpse of an Albatross flying. Towering over the other birds.

If Albert stays long enough then we will try again. This time hoping for a longer sight of him flying. even maybe a chance to get a photograph.

It was also another step for Hawklad. Another encounter with strangers. All very friendly strangers. He kept his distance but managed to stay. Another step in the right direction all thanks to an Albatross. Who would have thought of that one.

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Abbey

Bylands Abbey which is not far from our home. We are blessed with so much history on our doorstep. There has been an abbey on this site since 1135. Bylands grew to be one of the most important monasteries in the country. It’s church was described as one the finest in Europe during the 12th century. At its peak it was home to 36 monks and 100 lay brothers. It was closed in 1538 as part of Henry VIII’s suppression of the monasteries.

Late afternoon we ventured here. The weather had been grim but was slowly improving. It seemed the perfect time and place for Hawklad to test just how much progress he had made with connecting again with the wider world again. His favourite subject, HISTORY and likely to quiet.

At the start it was a little too quiet for the test. We had the site completely to ourselves. There are places which have a special atmosphere. This is certainly one of them. You could definitely hear the echos of the past.

After a while a few other brave souls arrived. A couple of families. Some rather damp walkers. A well behaved dog. I dread to think the damage Captain Chaos could cause if he was given free reign here. The dissolution of the monasteries would have happened so much quicker if only it had been left to a mad pup.

It’s a pretty big, open site but to Hawklad it shrank rather too quickly. No one got too close, Hawklad made sure of that. He noted that no one had masks on. He wanted to put his on but felt self conscious. Even when I put mine on he still declined. He made sure not to touch any surfaces. The visit changed in nature. From a fun historic walk to anxious glances and nerves. Within a few minutes Hawklad was rapidly heading towards the exit and the safety of the car.

So he made another visit. It’s a step in the right direction. But it also highlighted just how far he still has to venture. Even small numbers of strange faces are enough to throw him. That’s outside and not inside. Inside would be such a test. A test he may face sooner rather than later if he is to return to school in September.

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Out of touch

I had to go into the work unit for a few hours. Hawklad decided to come with me but to stay in the car outside. We are lucky as the unit is basically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by farmland. It’s also down a small dead end lane. It’s quiet and I can park the car right next to the front door so Hawklad is never more than a few feet away and can see me. With the door open he can even chat to me. But not on this visit. He wanted to watch some movies on a tablet. So being the dutiful dad I filled up the storage with movies. You can guess the movies. Avengers, Lord of the Rings, Godzilla, Monty Python, Indiana Jones. Perfect for him…..

“Dad can you delete some of these movies so I can download the ones I really want to watch. I want to watch Victoria and Abdul, Robert the Bruce and Henry V. Historic masterpieces.”

Ok… Definitely will delete some of these movies. Just thought you might like watching them.

“I know Dad. You try 😂😂😂. But you are so out of touch with the teenage years now. 😂😂😂😂. And face it dad your idea of great historic movie is Jurassic Park….😂😂😂😂😂”.

HE KNOWS ME TOO WELL.

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Water

It’s a weather kind of day. Lots of it…..

The irony. For a few hours the village had no water due to a burst water pipe.

I don’t know why but I’ve just thought of a bit more water irony. Back to when I played football at university. We played a game across in France. Both trips across the sea were a nightmare. Really stormy. Huge waves. I was the only one in the party who could not swim. They team would take great delight in pointing this out. One of the nicknames my team lovingly gave me was the ‘Drowning Flounder’…. Yet out of the 13 footballers on that ferry who was the only one who didn’t get sea sickness. I was happily in the restaurant indulging in the all day breakfast while my teammates were leaning over the side of the ferry for some reason. The Drowning Flounder mastered the waters that day…..

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Don’t forget but

If I wander around a graveyard I notice the old headstones. The stones that have been weathered for centuries. The etched names now gone forever. .

My mum told me once “Just put me in a cardboard box and bury me. Then get on with your life. “

Bereavement and loss is an individual thing. Each grief journey is different. It took me a few years to figure mine out. I probably spent too much time living in the past and not enough time getting on with my life.

But now the balance feels better. Much more time focused on today. But each day I don’t let those names fade. Those that I have lost and yes I include pets. I find a quiet place, maybe the garden at night. Then I spend 5 or 10 minutes and recall great memories. I say those names out loud.

This way I don’t forget to live but I also don’t forget.

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Got to dig

I was digging around the blueberry bush to clear weeds and I discovered 2 socks…. I wonder how they got there.

So Hawklad had school tour. He ventured in with a teacher after all the other pupils had left for the day. He wandered around for 10 minutes. The first time he has been in the school in 16 months. He was fully masked up. The teacher was as well. He didn’t touch any surfaces. Kept looking down at the floor. Back from school he showered fir nearly 40 minutes. But he made it. That is such a huge step. He still has so many hurdles to clear before a return to the classroom is a realistic possibility, but it’s a start.

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Bath

You know what boys are like. Any excuse to get dirty. Spraying food and drink everywhere. None stop partying. Any excuse for a game of football.

Well there comes a time when even a boy needs a bath, even worse a hair wash.

Well this one just did and he looks like a rather grand drowned rat….. And nothing better than drinking from your own bath. Boys will be boys.

Then there is only one way to get dry….

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Nature

I don’t mind gardening. Yes it can be hard work but it’s mostly enjoyable and relaxing. Problem is that I’m not very good at it. My gardening attempts to make things worse. Over time I’ve figured out that the garden will always look better if nature takes control. With patience it brings you gifts. It always does. So amongst the weeds the gifts keep on coming.

Sadly the ‘leave it to Nature’ strategy doesn’t stretch to the lawn. Nature won’t cut the grass. It just keeps on growing. It becomes a meadow. A meadow without wild flowers, just prickly, stingy things. Balls get lost. Pets go missing. Mine and the dogs hay fever goes into meltdown. Yes the dog had allergies. He takes exactly the same antihistamines as I do. It’s such an odd feeling swallowing my tablet while trying to get the mad dog to take his. So the lawn needs cutting. That’s down to me. But I do leave Nature a few areas of grass to do it’s thing with. You never know what it will do. What wonders it might bring. And it does give the mad dog a great place to hide socks, my socks.