Didsburydad's Blog

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


The week that I have counted down to  has finally come around.  Didsbury Son has donned his black shoes and grey trousers after what seems like 6 months in pyjamas and joggers watching Deadly 60 and gone back to school. Hello peace after 8.30 (am and pm), numbing 5 day a week routine and breakfast without chocolate.  I’m starting to sound all grumpy old man  here and ungrateful for my gifts but, it’s not that at all. Much as I love the bones off him and the sound of his voice still lights a bulb deep inside me, he is now at the age where he is an expert on everything (in a Roger Irrelevant kind of way) and willing to fight the most tenuous of corners (my fault). This, combined with an approach to personal space based on limpet can leave me craving a bout of indifference. Last week he also professed himself ready to go back, which set off  in me the kind of overwhelming middle-class bad dad guilt and inadequacy for which sweets and films were the only pacifier. Didsbury Son likes his school and has every right to, they seem nice people but I started school in the 70s so this notion still slightly shocks me. One of our final summer adventures was a distant friend’s wedding. I thought that the day would be good for his social skills and I could ask him to drive if I found a free bar. Didsbury Wife dressed him impeccably and all I had to do is pick a buttonhole. The Gerbra was a poor choice and blocked most of his shirt but I got away with it. Being my Didsbury Son he is the only one walking into church asking loudly whether to shout Mazeltov or Lchaim when they smash the glass. I qvell with pride, schlepp nacchus and get all my stereotypes out of the way before instictively checking for a skullcap as I go into the church. Now. As go-getting freelance I can finally return to the creative schedule and change the free world; Just time for breakfast, SkySports News and Funny or Die before heaving the iPad to Costa to look important.The house suddenly seems to be a bit too quiet and I may have to coax one of the cats to my study. Should not be too hard, if Didsbury Fatcat gets any greedier he will need his own set of keys to get through the door.

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