Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 103 Comments

Change

Sorry going to milk our temporary farmers field lake for photos while it’s here. It does make such a difference to the view.

Time does make a difference. Look at schools. On Monday morning our PM said schools were completely safe and parents should send them there right away. Monday evening suddenly according to the same PM schools were clearly vectors for transmission and had to close immediately. Then on Tuesday the very same PM said schools were completely safe again but unfortunately staying shut. Having said that he has a track record of this. The man who championed Brexit to become leader likes to forget that before that he said “I would vote to stay in the single market (EU). I’m in favour of the single market”…..

So things can clearly change. One day I was one of two parents, the next I crashed into single parenting and the world of bereavement. Things can change.

But here’s the thing when they do change THEY CAN ALSO CHANGE FOR THE BETTER. That’s why there is always hope. Good things can still happen. So yes I’m struggling through a period or depression. Yes it feels like Groundhog Day. But it can change.

I can do this. We can do this.

I would vote to stay in the single market. I’m in favour of the single market

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 51 Comments

Muddy puddles

This will be where I go for my one permitted trip out of the house. The farmers field at the back of the garden. One bit of outside exercise is now permitted by the Government. So that’s taking the dog for his morning constitutional. A few laps round the deserted field.

But look at those puddles. How tempting are they. So want to channel my inner Peppa Pig and jump in those muddy puddles. But I don’t want to get the dog drenched and caked in mud. So maybe I could go back home, drop him off and then come back.

But surely that would count as a second exercise trip out. Breaking the rules.

I bet those sheep would dob me in as payback for feeding them cheap biscuits.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 50 Comments

Plague Island

So that’s the shopping done for the week. We are now officially closed for Christmas. Time to get behind our fence and shut the world out for 7 days. Or longer if we are plunged into a Tier 4 lockdown (more of the country will go that way on Boxing Day apparently).

So it’s Christmas Eve on Plague Island. It’s not entirely sure if its a virus related Plague or a Plague of self absorbed, imbecilic, on the take, cretins apparently running this country.

We have enough food and drink to last us weeks. We have enough options to cobble together a couple of special holiday meals for two. Certainly not Plan A or B food options, but the C menu will be just fine. Actually with my Thanos like cooking skills at the click of the fingers any food taste can be suddenly turned to dust. So it really doesn’t matter in the end.

A few days of being an island cut adrift from the world has started to take its toll. Hardly any fresh fruit or veg in the store. The stuff which is still there is getting snapped up instantly. No chocolate ice cream. I will say that again. No chocolate ice cream. Oh the humanity….

But in the scheme of things. We are so fortunate. Too many are not so lucky.

So we are lucky to be on the right side of our fence. Hawklad is definitely not on Santa’s naughty list. Me – I’m not so sure. Yes the weather is horrible but actually if you close your eyes, the sun will still shine.

Yes it’s alright in this side of the fence, living on Plague Island.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 59 Comments

Puddings

Where are our biscuits……

So today my country finds itself cut adrift. Many countries have closed their ports, tunnels and airports to us. That’s what happens when you mix an even more pesky variant of Covid with clueless, self deluded, only interested in themselves numpties who couldn’t manage a snowball fight.

Dolly and her biscuit munching woolly friends would do a better job than that prat called Boris and his cronies.

So yep we are cut adrift as a nation. All I can think about is why it took so long for this to happen. Countries like France should have done this years ago. We are not exactly going to be missed. Must be time for Yorkshire to join Scotland in declaring independence and ditching this madness. Let’s celebrate that thought with a large portion of Yorkshire Puddings. I’d rather talk about those puddings than the other puddings who are in charge,

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 72 Comments

Another day

Another day and yet more mist.

It’s been one of those days when apart from Hawklad, I haven’t seen another member of my species. Not one person walking the fields. No one walking in the village. Not one soul. In fact I haven’t even see one moving car. With the mist no chance to see aeroplanes. Nothing. No sign of human life. Its officially a GHOST TOWN. Time to FROWN…

Well Ghost Village. Time to PILLAGE. That maybe is my Viking ancestry.

The only other option entering my frazzled mind is. Living in a Ghost Village. Better listen to some Steve Hillage. I once had one of his albums.

Anyway you get the picture. ISOLATION.

Definitely the perfect metaphor for 2020. ISOLATION and learning to really appreciate what I have. It’s definitely been a defining year. Sadly the year has done nothing for my poetry skills….

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 74 Comments

Odd

Oh Yorkshire. You are such a beautiful county. Ok a bit cold, wet and windy. But definitely beautiful.

Beautiful, cold, wet, windy and a tad ODD. Look at me… Ok I’m not beautiful but the other 4 things most definitely do apply.

I think the weather has a tendency to make us a little odd here. You can tell by some of the things you here. Let’s go through a few Yorkshire words which stick in my mind. There are others but many spectacularly fail the decency bar.

I remember my school teacher announcing to the class. “Tomorrow 3C you get new classmates joining you. Brother and Sister. They are called Esmeralda and Oscar. With names like that they must be from Lancashire…..”. The funny thing was that they actually were born in Lancashire. The other funny thing was that our class was called 3C, which was ironic as the school only had two classes.

I remember going on a secondary school trip to The Yorkshire Dales. As we got off the bus the Teacher went though the safety rules. No mention of the nearby cliffs, caves or army firing range. “Right you need to climb that mountain and come back here. I would normally join you but I’ve forgotten my boots so I’m going to sit with the bus driver and listen to the cricket on the radio. Don’t get lost. Don’t go further than the mountain cairn as beyond that is Lancashire. Venture in there and you will be a lost soul forever….” Lancashire is our neighbouring county. Yorkshire is on the East and Lancashire is on the West of England. Both counties have been basically hurling abuse at each other for centuries. It has descended into Civil War and bloodletting over the English Throne. Thankfully it’s just verbal abuse and a couple of annual mad cricket matches these days.

I remember hearing a tourist ask a local in York how to get to the train station. The locals response was spectacularly helpful “Well Lad I wouldn’t start from here”. He then walked off….

I was stood on a Yorkshire Train Platform when the station announcer called out the next train to arrive. She finished off with the following helpful words. “The train on platform ….. will be departing in two minutes for London and the South, my thoughts are with those passengers at this difficult time for them as they head off into the badlands. There is still time for you to change your mind.”

As a kid my next door neighbour was a bit of a character. He would sing to his Rhubard patch every day. Usually things like ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’ and ‘We will meet again’. It was an experience as he had a singing voice equivalent to a misfiring tractor engine reversing over a long line of exposed toes. Anyway one day I picked up the courage to ask him why he sang to his Rhubard. His response ‘They have feelings ya know’. Apparently he would wee on them as well. Clearly not that bothered about their feelings.

I remember my Dad often telling me that “this was the wrong type of rain for the plants”. “The rain has far too much water in it….”.

When I was at Uni I had to program a robotic arm. For a joke I decided to change all the user input instructions away from English into Yorkshire slang words. As you do! Unfortunately when I tested it for the first time eckie thump wasn’t the instruction to lower the arm cradle gentle to the table. I should have told the robot to wazzock. Eckie thump basically sent an expensive piece of robotics smashing through the table causing untold damage. Yorkshire was banned from the laboratory, probably still is.

I had been Rock Climbing in deepest Yorkshire and had popped into a remote pub for some lunch. Looking at the meat full menu I asked the Landlord if he had a vegetarian option. This clearly perplexed him. He scanned the menu board for a few moments and then asked “The best vegetarian option will be the Pork Sausages. They won’t have that much Pork in them most days….”. He did deliver as he made me one of the worlds greatest chip butties.

Final mention has to be left with out very own Yorkshire born Hawklad. He had been pestering me to take him to the KFC Restaurant. Finally I succumbed and took him. As the helpful assistant asked him what variant of southern fried chicken he would like. Hawklad responded “Have you got anything else to eat rather than chicken. I’m not keen on CHICKEN…..”.

So yes Yorkshire is most definitely ODD. But it is staggeringly beautiful.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 69 Comments

Fibonacci

We had a bit of a perfect storm during the morning. AND for a change it wasn’t the Yorkshire micro climate to blame.

MATHS

In particular number sequences. A whole 90 minutes dedicated to the little beauties. Geometric, Arithmetic, Square, Cube, Triangular, Fibonacci. I always remember thinking Fibonacci sounded like a really cool wrestler. The Maths Tutor didn’t find that thought very amusing.

For those who quite rightly have forgotten mathematics from school and college, the Fibonacci sequence is where the next number is the summation of the preceding two numbers. One of those things you are taught and will probably never need it. Fibonacci has only ever cropped up twice since school. Annoyingly not in the school exam. I remember giving one unfortunate External Consultant a bit of a frosty reception when he tried to convince me that I should be using Fibonacci to better manage agile teams at work. I think the poor chap learnt some new Yorkshire words and was then ushered out to annoy someone else.

The second time Fibonacci entered my world again was today. This morning we discovered that our son struggles with number sequences. He just can’t see the patterns. It wasn’t helped by the frequent use of decimal points to make the patterns even more pesky. Much frustration. Son couldn’t see the patterns at all and his dad could see the patterns BUT I struggled to describe them in words. Clearly one of those things I can do with out thinking but I’m not entirely convinced how I do it. Bit like trying to programme the washing machine.

But here’s the thing. I convinced son that it didn’t really matter. If sequences do come up in the exam then they won’t count for many marks. He can still have a stab at them and if all else fails, guess and move on to stuff that he will be able to do. And after his exam unless he meets many keen External Consultants, he is unlikely to need number sequences again. He’s better off learning stuff he wants to learn and stuff that he will use.

Let’s leave Fibonacci as a wrestling star.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 39 Comments

How many

If only we had the technology that the Time Lords build into things like The Tardis. Much bigger on the inside than on the outside. Doctor Who tech let rip on domestic appliances and the home would be so cool. No more crammed to breaking point drawers and cupboards. Think of the clothes, towels and bedding you could get into one washing machine load. No more having to sit on the freezer lid to try and force it shut.

We don’t have a big freezer. But it should be perfectly big enough for just two of us. That’s the theory anyway. The reality is rather different. It’s full to bursting. Like Homer Simpson’s brain – as something pops in then something has to pop out to make space for it.

Well today I had enough. Time for a freezer audit. What on earth is in there.

Many ice lollies. Burgers, sausages (lots of them), pizzas. A few random bags of frozen veg. Three bags of chips (I know what I’m having tonight). A few bags of ‘I know not what’. But then the main culprit was identified.

BREAD. Three frozen loafs. And more. I’ve tried to be more careful with food wastage this year. As a result any unused slices of bread have been carefully frozen over the many months. The result, A BREAD MOUNTAIN. That many slices came out of the freezer, I am sure the earth tilted slightly on its axis. What was this muppet thinking about.

The end result is that we will be eating toast and sandwiches at every sitting for weeks. The birds will be spectacularly well fed over most of winter.

The days of Dr Who Freezers cannot come quick enough for me.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 49 Comments

Big sky

I’ve talked about it before but two things really sold our house to us. We were thinking about starting a family. We wanted somewhere quiet with a bit of a garden. We looked at a few places and then we visited this little bungalow in a small village on a hill. The bungalow was a bit small and run down but then we looked out at the overgrown back garden. That view and that sky. There was nothing to block out the view of the clouds. It was a BIG SKY. That was it were were hooked.

It’s definitely still a BIG SKY.

It still kind of takes my breath away. I’ve always been a town and city person. Grow accustomed to buildings and trees blocking out large parts of the sky. At night the artificial lighting just drowning out what sky that is still there. That just doesn’t happen here.

A BIG SKY definitely deserves big dreams. I do need to start working on those. Sometimes it’s too easy to fall back on memories. It certainly is for me. Not today. I’m going to get wrapped up, brew a mug of something steaming and go outside. To look, to breathe and to dream. All thanks to a big sky.