Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 56 Comments

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….

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 39 Comments

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.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 14 Comments

Ice

Cold cold cold….

You know it’s cold when you can step across ice and not hear a single crack or ice groan. Even having gingerly tottered halfway and inevitably hitting the ice with the force of a giant meteor about to wipe out the dinosaurs…. not the slightest ice indent.

Now filled with unbounded hope and belief in that ice, I visioned the perfect opportunity to excel in life once more….. I can do this. Sprint like a cheetah, build up vast amounts of momentum, jump on the snow sledge and majestically sail across the mighty ice lake. The first human ever to successfully sledge from East to West on this huge swath of lake ice (sounds way better than a big pond)… A cold Yorkshire hill, the theatre of dreams…..The beauty and grace of Swan Lake seamlessly combined with the power and agility of an elite sporting superhero.

Once again reality rips asunder unfounded hope….

A few moments later I’m stranded halfway, now face down in the ice and with the sledge riding on top of me. Going nowhere, unable to even get any purchase on my limbs to get up.

Spreadeagled on ice….. That’s probably a video title from the very top row section of Blockbusters….

It took me 5 minutes to find dry land again. It’s incredibly emasculating to be basically pushed by your sniggering son, helplessly across the ice like a curling stone….

Bring on summer……

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……

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In the dark

York Minster and the surrounding streets after dark.

It’s hard to avoid the countless city ghost tours, apparently it’s one of Europes most haunted cities. Any city with this much history is inevitably going to be on that list I guess. It’s hard not to walk past one of these tours and not shout ‘he’s behind you’ or hum the ghostbusters theme. The actors doing these tours are super talented and I’m sure they are more than use to that kind of terrestrial intervention from muppets like me.

I love the city at this time. It’s almost quiet, peaceful with the heaving daytime crowds having largely ebbed away. You can almost hear yourself think, you can remember, reflect. Recall a world which is now gone, feeling like it’s rapidly receding in my rear view mirror.

Christmas can be the most wonderful of times but it can also be the most painful of times. Isolation rather than solitude. A life that is out of reach.

Time to think.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 29 Comments

Panto

Oh yes it’s a trip to the Panto…

On no it’s not…

Oh YES it is…

That might make no sense to anyone not used to Panto World. A big Christmas tradition in the UK. Outlandish costumes, songs, dances, bad jokes, family jokes, some not so family jokes, getting as many children in the audience to shout out and get involved as possible. So much more, most which are beyond rational explanation.

The Panto at the old York Theatre Royal is always brilliant entertainment. The hard work that must go into this to be this good.

One established Panto Law is that if you are a Dad, don’t sit anywhere near the stage and never ever on the front row. As you can see from the photo I was safely hidden in the roof…..

At every performance, one poor soul is going to have the longest couple of hours of his life. Picked on during the Panto to be a part of the show. A friend of mine was asked to pretend to be a Lion from his front row seat and I once was subjected to a custard pie in the face by the Panto Villain. At the show we went to last year, one Dad was picked on and at random times had to shout out ‘words of affection’ to the Panto Dame on stage. Panto Dame is probably unexplainable, just look it up….. Looking at that Dad’s increasingly red face, he was so hoping the torture would stop way before the 3 hour show’s big finale.

He got off lucky…..

This year a poor Dad from the front row was picked out. Oh boy was he picked out. Initially it started off like last year, with the Dad having to shout out a few embarrassing things from his front row seat. But then….. He was donned with a costume, brought on stage, given a sheet of written lines and tried as best as he could to act. Not exactly Oscar level acting unsurprisingly. Very funny but the other Dads in the audience also sharing in his discomfort, that could have been me….

When he returned to his seat, he clearly slumped thinking the torture was over….I was reminded of that Simpsons scene where Bart says he’s having his worst moment of his life and Homer chips in ‘SO FAR…’.

After the intermission that Dad had to endure a few more thankfully for him, briefer moments of embarrassment. Then the Big Show Finale. The Cast are leading the crowd in singing some famous songs and suddenly they announce they need to change costume for the ending, so the poor Dad was pulled on stage and left by himself to lead the audience in singing ‘I’m Gonne Be (500 miles)’. Stood all alone on stage in front of the sell out 750 audience, with the cast stood in the wings looking on. Poor poor man. I have a weaponised voice but not quite as out of tune as this Dad. He gamely tried some moves as well but you could almost see this man’s soul leaving his body as the song went on. Finally the torture was over for him, hugs from the Panto Cast and a standing ovation.

I bet he never ever sits on the front row of a Panto again. I will look out for him in the roof next year….. Where the coward Dad’s sit.

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So worth it.

Nothing screams more a festive morning without enough sleep than trying to shake a full protein chocolate drink without putting the lid on…..

It was all over the blinds, on me, even on the ceiling.

Definitely self inflicted sleep deprivation. A concert finishing in London at 11pm, followed by a 5 hour drive back to Yorkshire. Add another 2 hours for road closures designed to keep you from making any progress around the dreaded motorway that inspired Chris Rea’s The Road to Hell.

But it was all worth it. You don’t often get the chance to see Paul McCartney in concert and unbelievably get to see him play once again with Ringo Star. Duets via the magic of technology with John and George. Throw in a bit of Ronnie Wood and it was a truly unforgettable night.

We will even forgive Paul for playing that Christmas Song….