Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 40 Comments

Powers

There comes a stage when our kids start to develop superpowers as a direct result of trying to live with their strange and ancient parents. It’s the power of second guessing, otherwise known as the power to interpret muppet parents. Maybe it’s the result of too many sleepless nights, too many family crises, too many additions to the ‘to do list’. Maybe it’s not enough caffeine, too much mind numbing tv but often parents function with only 90% of the words they know, the other 10% is either randomly lost or corrupted. The end result is we often don’t make sense and yet our kids can somehow make sense of the rubbish that sometimes comes out of our mouths.

Example one of those superpower from our house…

Asking Hawklad what he wanted for tea… “do you want thingy and chips”. Seamlessly he replies “yes I’ll have an omelette but maybe with vegetables…”

Example two of the superpower….

Asking Hawklad “have you seen the erm, you know”. Without taking his eyes of his book, he points to the sofa, “the remote control is there”…

Example three….

In the car, we were talking history and Hawklad mentioned Theodore Roosevelt. His muppet dad immediately butted in with his Einstein like intellect….

“Theodore, wasn’t he one of the hamsters in that tv thing…”

Almost without blinking Hawklad replied

“You mean Chipmunk…. Theodore from Alvin and the Chipmunks..”

I was surprisingly close, Theodore was a rodent. As we don’t get chipmunks here, maybe we need a British version of that show. Harry and the Hamsters. Rather than singing pop songs badly, The Hamsters could recite Shakespeare really badly with annoying high pitch voices.

Example four….

“Erm, you had a {…. mumbling as I fight with the vacuum cleaner, …}, erm Whatsaface {…. more mumbling as I’m distracted by the vacuum cleaner bag emptying its contents onto the floor…}, don’t forget”

Hawklad somehow understood what I was trying to say and he went to phone a friend who had called him earlier….

BUT here is the thing, it’s a selective superpower that our children wield. The power seems to fail if the parent starts talking homework, housework or personal grooming…….

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 33 Comments

Lucky

Not a bad place to run.

The iPhone tries to hide the terrain. It’s a bit steep. it’s a bit bumpy. It’s also hardly ever used these days. But yesterday I was around about here when I came across a dismounted mountain biker, someone who initially looked like he was taking in the view. As I passed him, he asked if I knew anything about fixing knackered bike gears. After I said ‘a little’ and started aimlessly tapping the bikes chainring, he painfully explained ….

“If you heard any screaming noises a few minutes back, it was from my lungs, my knees and my backside. My wife said I should take up this as a hobby, she said it would be fun, good for me. Strangely she didn’t buy herself a bike…. The first time I went out I fell off and dislocated a finger. Since then I’ve been lost, bruised, angry, tired, broken but never ever has it felt like fun“

His bike was beyond my expertise…

The poor chap groaned …. “this hobby just keeps on giving”.

LIFE IS FUNNY SOMETIMES

Just then, in the distance, a bit of a dust cloud coming up the usually quiet hill lane. One bike, two bikes, three bikes, four bikes, five bikes. All flying up the steep climb, heading towards us. It was like a scene from a modern day remake of a Spaghetti Western.

Unbelievably a professional mountain bike team, all in matching team kit, out on a training run. Not just one bike expert, FIVE EXPERTS. Within seconds the fallen bike was as good as new.

In the words of Monty Python, the Lucky, Lucky, Lucky B………

Yes Lucky but I also suspect, he is now a FORMER Mountain Biker…….

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 · 34 Comments

Green Day

Somedays you just can’t touch anything. A few years back that would have shut everything down, locked down in the house or in the garden.

But now we have figured out a bit more stuff, actually you can do so much with a bit of preparation and patience.

200 miles of driving.

Park up in the UK’s third most populous city.

Walk to a big Cricket Ground.

Strike lucky and find quite a bit of space close to the side of the stage. Amazing as it’s a 50000 sell out.

See a double rainbow.

See Green Day, one of Hawklad’s favourite bands.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 37 Comments

Nearly

Nearly the longest day and it still doesn’t feel like it’s nearly summer. A walk along the bitingly cold Yorkshire Coast.

These are really unstable cliffs. After high tides and especially after storms, you will see intrepid fossil hunters scouring the base of the rocks for fragments of a past world. Locally it’s known as the Jurassic Coast.

No T-Rex hunting for us this day, way too cold. Hands much better employed stuck in the pockets avoiding frost bite. Is it really the longest day in a few hours…. As we eventually headed back to the warmth of the car we passed a bare chested Surfer marching briskly towards his inevitable frozen doom in the North Sea.

“You might need a few more layers on….”

“Probably. The secret is to not scream too loudly and look like you enjoying it.”

“I thought the secret was to surf somewhere way warmer”

“It is but then you don’t get to surf round Icebergs. Plus if it was warmer my wife would have me cutting the grass….”

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 54 Comments

Take root.

I had a conversation with a friend a few weeks back on how his view on life had changed drastically with time. He talked about how for years he desperately wanted to see the world, home was just not enough. Home time often felt like wasted adventure time. Adventure, adventure, adventure. But over the last few years, increasingly, his home, his garden, the countryside immediately around him, was his world, it was more than enough. He felt like he had done enough travelling and adventuring now, experienced enough of that in person. Now he could relax and fully appreciate that LOCAL LIFE which had previously seemed way too claustrophobic and restrictive for him.

Why take his paintbrushes and sketchbooks thousands of miles, through countless stressed filled hours in concrete departure lounges…

Why damage the world in search of ever more exotic adventures when there was more than a lifetime of adventures and wonderful subjects to paint, just a few moments from his front door….

For years he only went into the garden to have a barbecue and reluctantly cut the grass. Now he sits for hours in his garden, happy, relaxed and content.

He was even thinking about if he could get rid of his car, did he need it now he had taken ROOT.

This got me thinking, could I do the same here, take root in this part of Yorkshire. Possibly, there are definitely worse places to become rooted. But I kept coming back to this one thought…

I could take root in Switzerland, I really could. I would right now if I could.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 72 Comments

Not for the first time

Not for the first time – sounds a bit like a Foreigner song.

How many times before I learn.

Why are life lessons so easily forgotten.

The older we get the more we are visited by loss, the more emotional baggage we carry.

Not for the first time, a character, a personality, someone with a rich story to hear, explore and understand. Let’s have that coffee next week, after this and that, let’s set something up tomorrow, maybe the weather will be better in a few weeks. Sorry busy, there’s a delivery I need to stay in for, shopping, work, housework, family….

Let’s have that coffee soon.

Time sometimes runs out…. I know…. I should know…. It’s happened before….

For months been talking about having a coffee with a wonderful chap in our village. A few decades older than me, lost his partner similar time to me, an artist. Much to talk about, share and discover. For this reason and that the coffee kept being put off till next week, then next week, then…..

He passed away a few days back. So many stories unheard, didn’t get to hear about his artist life. Just have to treasure the chats outside his house as I passed on the daily dog walk. Chats often quickly reverting to mutual disbelief at what is becoming of our country and its so called government. Little glimpses into each others worlds, a few tantalising snippets gained on an artist’s life.

If only that coffee had happened. If only I had asked this question and that question. Spent some more moments talking.

How many times have I thought that. Family, Partner, Friends.

Maybe this time, I’ve really learnt the life lesson.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 49 Comments

Each Day

Swiss Alps

Each Day, Dad would pick up the local newspaper, briefly glance at the main headline and then it was straight to the same old page. He would turn to the Death Notices which bizarrely was on the same page as the previous day’s horse racing results…. I’m not sure what message the Editor was sending there.

Each Day, Dad would carefully scan the names to see who had died. I never understood Dad’s seeming obsession with that.

Now after all the years, I understand…..

Last night I had a series of bizarre dreams. Not bad dreams, just odd ones. One featured a friend from college, a long forgotten friend. Hadn’t seen her in decades, we met up a couple of times in London after college but then we just lost touch, we headed in different life directions. No idea why she suddenly popped up randomly last night but after that dream I wondered what happened to K. So I headed online to see if I could find any mention of her. After a bit of searching I think I maybe found one brief reference to K, right name, right age. If it’s K then she has become some form of Judge, I had heard years back she was training to be a solicitor. Hope this means it’s a good life scenario.

But here’s the thing, alongside hopes of finding news of K in a wonderful life setup, a big part of me was just hoping she was ok, still with us. I think Dad would understand that feeling.

Lake Thun

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 46 Comments

Northern Lights

Crazy night. The largest solar storm to hit our region in decades and the fickle Yorkshire weather unbelievably played ball. We found ourselves a quiet, remote part of the moors and for 4 hours we watched the patterns and colours unfold. The whole sky was filled with the ever changing lighting show, even looking south. Absolutely mesmerising and awe inspiring.

And even when we got back home, just before dawn, it was still going strong.

Yes LIFE can be really tough and challenging but it can also be truly breathtaking and spectacularly good.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 26 Comments

Dreams

What an odd night with two very different DREAMS. One really nice dream, but I can only recall snippets. One really weird dream and I can recall it vividly. With me I think the key is how I wake. Wake slowly and the dream is hazy, fading quickly. Wake with a START and the dream is clear, has a permanence.

The first dream felt like such a lovely, safe place to be. Based on real places. I know it was about Lake Brienz in Switzerland. The rest is hazy, no idea about any details, just that I was happy. I’ve been truly blessed to spend a little bit of time here, wish it was way more, such a stunning place. I woke slowly and quietly.

And then we come to the SECOND dream. Just an hour or so after Lake Brienz.

Even now, everything from that dream is so vivid. It started off in another real place, at my parent’s old house. I was in the garden and it was a perfect copy of reality. Little long forgotten details brought back, the gap in the fence under the hedge where my tortoise would go exploring, the crooked apple tree, the missing pane in the greenhouse, the lavender smell. So many details. The dream kicked on. A young couple had moved in next door. I talked with them over the fence, but quickly the guy had to go inside to feed the pets. He liked it here, she hated the new house. She hated the area, the people, the weather, her new home, everything. She even hated the plants in her garden. She bitterly talked about wanting to be anywhere but here, it was her husband’s bad idea. I felt really uncomfortable. As soon as she could get out, she would. She was even going to burn those two ugly Japanese shrubs in the pots, I asked if I could give them a new home. She shrugged and stormed off. So I headed inside to see Mum, to tell her that I had met her new neighbours and that she might get those two nice plants that she likes. The reality was actually my mum left that house nearly 30 years ago and although the garden in the dream was perfect, the other bits of the story had much fiction. That couple never existed, the inside of mum’s house wasn’t quite right, the neighbouring garden looked odd, but I do remember those two Japanese plants, they were definitely real, although I’m not sure mum ever noticed them.

Here’s where the dream slammed in a sudden handbrake turn…..

As I went inside I heard mum’s voice scolding my older brother. He was apparently sleeping his life away and his breakfast was still on the table….. now there was some reality to part. I can remember my older bro liking to party at the weekend and as a result he would stay in bed till nearly midday, that didn’t please mum…..

Back to the dream, my brother’s bedroom door opened and out came my bro. As he walked passed me on the way to the kitchen, he patted me on the back and said in am AMERICAN ACCENT ‘Hi Bro….’.

But that’s not my brother, he’s not American and hold your horses ….that’s Jack Black……

That jolted me out of my dream, and I’m sure I woke shouting ‘Jack Black ain’t my brother’.

Figure that dream out, not been back to that house in decades, haven’t spoke to my brother in months and no I have not seen any Jack Black movies recently.

Really odd and just a bit frustrating….. So many unanswered dream questions and really frustratingly, why can’t I remember all the good details from the nice dream.