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 “March 2, 2014”

Why and How You should / can vote for Didsbury Dad


There may be Scallops at the awards ceremony (if you are vegetarian these are fake)

I’ll just put down this Ukranian/Syrian/Ecuadorean/Southern England refugee orphan child (delete as appropriate) I have been nurturing despite the chronic pain, full-time job caring for family members and short attention span that I have  to ask you for a small favour… Sorry about the delay – just chanting for world peace and an end to Mike the Knight on CBeebies. 


I told Didsbury Son to be as brave as a lion and that we may eat fresh food again if we win the awards.


I have been nominated for a MAD Award (Mums and Dads Blogger Award) and there is the chance of a free dinner in it if I get enough votes. If only my eyesight/knees/Didsbury Wife’s patience (delete as appropriate) will last that long.

Please take two minutes to follow the link http://www.the-mads.com/vote/ or click on the “The MADS Awards 2014” banner on the right hand side of the page. You just fill in the details and write @DidsburyDadBlog or Didsbury Dad in as many categories as possible.

In case you are unsure or cannot be bothered here are a few reasons why.

1. Please

2. Pretty Please


Vote now and make them happy

3. If I win I will offer one lucky voter an all-expenses trip to Didsbury Dad  HQ to see a blog written and posted live. (This is less interesting than it seems to can be swapped for chocolate). Blogs are usually written on my phone in the early hours whilst trying to quell a boddler with the other hand. So bring a sleeping bag and milk.)


Need more

– If I win this will be a win, not just for me, but for parents everywhere who really are not quite sure what they are doing, why, or whether anybody cares. This is a vote for knowing you are not in charge and not always that good at it. You know it makes sense.

Didsbury Dad



Let’s all dream of a brighter future

A Pinch and a Punch too Far

Yesterday I tipped over the edge. The edge of being 39 years, 364 days where I have teetered for many years. This was no seeping age stain or dawning realisation. It was a specific moment at around 11am.

The Mighty-Headed boy and I had stepped out early. The whole family are anti-biotic infused on the end of a week of snotula dynamics. I have pushed through man-flu that would floor a horse, never complaining, coughing in private, whilst hunting and gathering by daylight – changing nappies by night; it’s the man way.

My Mighty-Headed boy is 17 months of excitement and constant noise. He was keen to see the renovations at the Nido ranch and to find out what double whammy of hairdresser and Costa Express could fill the mini parade opposite East Didsbury station.

We had our first trip in a trolley round Tescos. His general wonderment and quietness is something I’m not expecting to be repeated but on our return, life changed.

We arrived home. Didsbury Son beckoned me towards him. Distracted; I leaned in. In slow motion I saw his hands go to my arm and heard the words, as though through a tunnel.
“A pinch and a punch for the first of the month, slip slap, no comeback. ”
Defeat . A run lasting as many months as there has been Didsbury Son. On the same step where we have shared picnics, called the moon and watched the world. Done . Like a kipper ( other cliches are available).

He turned and paraded, I shrank and looked down to where the Mighty-Headed boy was trying to eat a newspaper and told him, “Son, I’m 40.” ( plus many weeks) cue Happy Mondays.

To some a bottle of wine, to others consolation.

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