Didsburydad's Blog

From the not so mean streets of M20, blog about being a dad, Didsbury and dealing with parental confusion

Archive for the day “August 26, 2011”

God, Toggles and Chocolate

Our house reads from differing sides of the Old Testament. My Passover is Didsbury Wife’s Last Supper – same God, different caterers. Her Easter Egg trumps my Matzo but the Charoset (pronounced by continuously clearing ones throat whilst shouting et) is gaining favour. Then comes the dilemma. Didsbury Son is an easy-going and friendly only-child; so he receives an Augustus Gloop of chocolate eggs and has no sibling rivals to steal them; just me after he is asleep and I am pretending that chocolate stimulates the creative juices, not the salivary glands. The mixing of religions can be invigorating and waist expanding and not mind if you are not careful. I am many things, but not that careful.

Cub Camp Catering Tent

May 15th is a bittersweet day. Pride at Didsbury son winning The Pip Hartley challenge on a cubs weekend, tinged with sadness at missing the last day of the football season and my lot ending on a slump that had begun pre-Christmas. As proud parents we travel out of Didsbury and even Greater Manchester. It could be Derbyshire, Lancashire or North Wales, it is all interchangeable to me. Narrow roads, grey buildings and no Flat Whites. 5Live fades too quickly and my 3G goes as we enter the gulag they stayed at with only 10 minutes gone in a pointless match to all but… dads in their early 40s with a fear of being asked to go camping.

Cub camp resembles some 70s TV imagining of post apocalyptic Britain; with toggles and orange headbands. To Didsbury Son it is a land of adventure and glory with friends, campfires and late night songs and stories. To Didsbury Wife it has Didsbury Son and is therefore the best place on earth.  We coo diligently about his team’s great navigation; breathe through our mouths to avoid the overwhelming smell of damp people sharing a small space but our pride is mixed with dread. I realise that it is muddy fields with toggles rather than football grounds and balls that I will probably be traipsing around for the next few years and the thought of a wet night in a tent is making my knees creak in fear.

There must be a football ground near here

Playing Blog Catch-Up

This blogging keeps you current. Happy New Year everyone. 2011 already. I have a sneaky feeling that News International will be exposed and The News of the World is going to close, but it’s just a hunch.

Pets or soup? Didsbury Dad and son disagree

So it was Christmas 2010 and it didn’t go to plan, I blame the coalition. There was a discrepancy between depth perception and a television. Consequently Didsbury Family spent Boxing Day morning in a slightly sweaty shopping centre, suffering a combination of embarrassment, claustrophobia, snobbery and mortification as we searched for a just discontinued line.

That and a Christmas holiday spent trying to please other people and satisfying no one led to me some less than groundbreaking conclusions.

1. Trying to kill several birds with one stone ends with broken items and can lead to the light shakes at Meadowhall surrounded by chirpy and determined South Yorkshireans.

2. When you are entertaining your 9 year old by simply speaking and swaying, it is time for bed.

3. The Cheese Hamlet is probably more economically viable that the USA

4. Other people’s problems, whilst excruciating, can make you feel better about your own social inadequacies.

5. Hindsight is the best predictor.

That’s the end of the philosophy, on to 2011.

2011. It’s been quick, sometimes brutal, never dull and occasionally life enhancing in shouting from the sidelines dad kind of way. Highlights so far include Didsbury Wife’s birthday party at a Tapas Bar in Boho West Didsbury in February. You know it’s going well when mid conversation with the barman about the joys of Morcilla over Bury Black Pudding you decide he is the best friend you never had and want to kiss everyone.

a stunning lack of imagination went into buying this football cake

Didsbury Wife is precise. Things are either right or wrong and getting it right can be grueling so happiness, mixed with Rioja and relief are powerful stimulants and we celebrated true Didsbury style. Families, fancy food, Philosophy and gatecrashers we had never met who went home friends.

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