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 category “Flying”

Didsbury: I Have a Dream

I have a dream. I have many dreams. Beyond a harmonious world and an easy to assemble Kinder Egg Toy, I have dreams.          I remember when all of this was train track. 
I dream of reading a newspaper article (analogue or digital) whose research is not a celebrity twitter feed and in which fact checking does not mean a retweet. 

I dream of the time when the Pearly Princess can put on her own tights. Truly, as a man with the dexterity of the average baby this is a daily bind. Fifteen minutes spent struggling with a wriggly toddler to find they are on back to front and the heel is over one knee is soul destroying in a way that working out next to someone who keeps asking if you’re okay “…as you don’t get many people in your age” can only peck at gently.Burns, La Tasca, Cibo, Solita. Inhabitants and the back four of FC Nido in the 2004 Champions League qualifier. 

I dream of a time when each incarnation of the restaurant known as Y Fabrica (me neither, no idea) join forces. Whether it’s The Mud Crab Cafe, Felicinis or Didsbury Wine Bar, between them there is a decent menu lying in wait. 

I dream of people caring about each other. Of pushy mothers in 4x4s not double parking or taking residents’ spaces when dropping their Freyas and Archies at Primary School. Of the staff at Evans being knighted for services to middle class dinner parties in South Manchester. Of Unicorns singing Stone Roses tunes as you pass the “Welcome to Greater Manchester” sign on the M56 and of a time when my first action of the day is not deciding what to do with a pull-up. The names on the mug are in reverse order.

Alongside every act of lazy and institutionalised xenophobia we have witnessed over the last year I believe there is goodness. There are people who realise the contribution of all people whether British born or not. I thought about this as I sipped the most exquisite Sardinian-made Bloody Mary at Piccolino’s on Saturday. I remember it when it when I bump into people who remember me going for sweets on Lapwing Lane with my own Didsbury grandad. Rare picture of Fog Lane Park’s Pets’ Corner

I dream of a world where Coronation Street does not move so quickly that I miss a month and have no idea who Steve MacDonald has married/impregnated/saved.Kiwi, a rare Didsbury delicacy from when Evans first opened. 

I dream of a world where the city abruptly ends and the country takes over in seconds. Then I remember Stenner Lane, the perfect cut through between almost Gastropub The Didsbury and the haven of Fletcher Moss.

Ten minutes looking at the river and I don’t care who’s blocked my drive, which continent Felicini’s is pretending to be from or which toddler’s knee wakes me with a morning kidney jab. I just tap my heels together 3 times and I’m walking back from Flannagan’s with a smart haircut and a Fosters’ chippie tea in my hand. 

* thanks to @craftwords for keeping me up to date with developments and great one-liners whilst I’ve been too busy navel-gazing to write a regular blog. 

Advertisements

Getting Over the Brexit Blues

Apologies for going quiet. I have written eight or nine blogs in the last two weeks. Topics have included the disappearance of the magnificent AiryFairyCupcake on School Lane – why? Was it something we didn’t say? Its replacement by a Babyscanner is genius. The nearest is in Old Trafford and if we know one accessory always popular in M20 it’s a baby. We were offered one so early in the Twins’ development they would have still liked like dust under the carpet and my advice is be careful, at 20 weeks they still look like an outtake from Alien. 

I also wrote about the Viz gonad sign coming down in the village, the replacement of summer with a repeating week from Autumn and the trials of coordinating family, work, health and the European Championships. Boris Johnson’s post Brexit strategy document was less than impressive.

None has made it past notes. Each has turned into a self-pitying rant and call to arms for the soul of the nation split by the ridiculous Etonian argument. Since we voted to leave Europe (when I say “we” I mean the whole herd, not our bit grazing happily on focaccia obviously) I have moped, railed, cried, feared and read a lot of clever articles that would have been brilliant a week earlier. Had these tremendous minds talked in advance rather than pointing and saying “Told you so” afterwards it may have been different. They remind me of the Donald Trump & Nigel F*rage memes that have filled social media over the last year. Whilst we’ve chuckled and “liked” their crassness and the ease of satirising them, they have both hoovered up votes and influence. They talked to people too easily dismissed.

I’m sure some people voted “no” with positive intentions and I hope I’m wrong. I’m fairly used to being in the minority. BUT for those thinking this will re-invigorate the job market and bring wages, standards and vitality up – you must be too young to remember 79-97 and why New Labour and their domestic policies were met with such gusto. I’m digging out my Redskins records and preparing to find happiness in different ways. 

Revised post-vote integrated transport system for Manchester

Have a look at his Jonathan Pye video – says it better than I ever could. 

So as a Didsbury Dad so far past 39 that when I first heard about “Thatcher the milk snatcher” I thought it was a new character on Scooby Doo, this much I know.

1. Democracy is vital and I believe in it and will know longer use terms like bellend or mispronounce Jeremy Hunt when talking to people who voted “Brexit”, even those who thought it was “Brisket” and they were voting for a decent meat sandwich.

2. Over a decade as a Didsbury Dad has taught me that 90% of what I say is ignored, 5% is misunderstood and 5% is disputed. But at least I can add up. 

3. I feel personally responsible for the demise of TheAiryFairy Cupcake shop. When we moved house I gave up cupcakes – but sadly took up the pistachio biscuits and pain au raisins from Bisou Bisou

 4. I miss Cafe Rouge. It was originally a pre-work tryst location when I first met Didsbury Wife and we evolved with it into toddler-haven in its latter days. Bring it back.

Britishcakes

5. The bar menu at Chalk is so much better than you think it will be. 
6. Falling out over politics is a waste of time, we have to work together. However, if there’s someone you’ve been trying to ditch them this is the perfect moment to take offence at their “I’m not racist but…” Comment.
7. When I found out that the Tories had won in 92 I marched, angsted and made false promises. In 2015 when we found out it was over at 10.01pm I had an early night. On 24th June I swore loudly, was genuinely shocked and had to go and get milk. The world may be falling apart but my little enclave still has to have its routine. 

 Didsbury Son walks M20’s green and pleasant land – it is only that green because the weather’s been crap. 

Hello Didsbury, I’m Home – Postcard from the edge of town

Contrary to rumours I have heard I have not moved to Chorlton (as if), grown a beard or started working for Didsbury Magazine** and now spend my life checking out Altrincham and Hale. I am excited that it’s Didsbury Festival day and I have been working away, beavering at home and generally been to busy to even watch football.

Doig something media-ish and almost high falutin’ I have been to the Far East. These are the excerpts from Didsbury Dad’s Diary.

Postcard from Outer Didsbury 1:

38000 feet and several hundred miles above Didsbury.

I have a 13 hour flight to where I am tasked with delivering something media to media people in a media building so far from Fusion Deli that my breakfast coffee is your late night snack. 

I’m halfway through The Martian. This is the first thing I have watched for months that isn’t Paw Patrol, Blaze or Gnomeo & Juliet. The swearing may be bleeped out but just to see anything with jeopardy feels like a rare treat. I am on the way to somewhere allegedly, that sees the phrase “Paw Patrol, on a roll” with different connotations.

paw patrol I see more of these guays than any of my friends and family.

Sitting here with a Gin & Tonic in a skiff, an empty pretzel bag and Matt Damon on Mars makes me realise how out of practice I am after 3 1/2 years of nurturing blobs to toddlers and Didsbury Son from squeaky solo to hear honcho of the Krispy 3. Twice now I have wondered if The Martian is a true story. I think I need to go abroad more.  

IMG_2918 When this seems luxurious and watching a film on a 6 inch screen framed by the back of someone’s head a treat – you need to get out more.

So… Not much blogging recently. Didsbury Village is storming forward with the kind of independent vigour usually reserved for Burton Road.

Casa Italia is now worthy of the term bustling. Somewhere between the beardy hipsters and the independent artisans, the Makers Market and the cycle shop on the cobbles, Saints & Scholars still thrives on a 90s menu and service throwback.

As if the Didsbury Village Farm Shop had never existed comes Three Little Pigs. A butcher so achingly trendy it may just work. Axons have seen off pretenders before. But this is no Victoria Highfield mistaking Didsbury’s residents for the wastelands of Bramhall. This is not a Wedding Dress shop. This is meat so trendy it gets the tram to the Northern Quarter for a night of Benelux Lager. 

The space formerly known as Royal Bank of Scotland has a sexy looking symbol, Bosu Body Bar is spreading low-carb love and even the old Global News space sees movement. 

gonadWhatever this is meant to be, to readers of Viz this is Buster Gonad’s testicle

With house prices currently increasing at a rate that defies logic but means new adjectives need inventing, these are vibrant times in the land of the Fletcher Moss. 

An hour later.

I cried at the end. I don’t know whether it was the Chicken Penang or the cramp creeping up my thigh but I cried with joy for Matt the Martian and realised with joy that as a 40 something with dodgy knees and claustrophobia – I think it’s a good journey if I don’t have to shut the windows.

IMG_2924

The view from the hotel inspires with the majesty of the East.

** In an early version of this blog I accidentally referred to Didsbury Magazine as Didsbury Life. Apologies to Didsbury Life, promoting M20 in all the best ways.

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: