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 tag “Dr Dre”

Gluttony, religion and Chocolate for breakfast

In my religion all festivals follow a similar pattern; they tried to kill us, we killed them -let’s eat. It’s an annual and generational repeatable saga. Take Passover, currently nearing its end. The Jews were slaves, God freed us by slaying first-born captors amid a plague epidemic and we left before the bread had risen.

You notice we didn’t leave the bread as we ran for our lives, we took it partially cooked. Today Jews eat Matzoh (crackers with a backdraft more powerful than your average house fire) as a tribute to our pragmatic forefathers. This notion of group identity and the importance of shared food has shaped the tribe.

Didsbury Wife and Son are Christian and Easter is a big deal. I like this. I like the fact that the breakfast, lunch and dinner (plus snacks) courtesy of Galaxy that will shape Didsbury Son’s day comes with a story and a bit of grounding; it helps. I also wish a Happy Easter to the other religions and atheists who just fancy a day on the Cadbury’s, it’s a good call.

Didsbury Son is just back from his first school trip abroad; happy yet gallically pre-teenage. I have discussed the Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy/Santa dilemma before (my only parenting tip – you don’t believe, they don’t come). This year our foreign explorer needed something a little upgraded and 2013 – we needed something doable between nappy changes and feeding for the Mighty-headed boy and his pearl-tipped twin.
So this year the Easter Bunny sent clues by text message. this worked brilliantly. Having chocolate in one hand and an electronic device in the other fulfilled all Didsbury Son’s desires and a breakfast of Minstrels, Mini-Eggs and Milk was alliterative if nothing else.
As the twins shnurgled happily, Didsbury Son followed clues sent direct from Easter Bunny HQ that led him around the house. Via little treats stored craftily he came to an Easter Egg big enough for a dad tax without complaint.
All was perfect, or it would have been had I remembered to reset his phone so that the texts didn’t come through saying “Daddy” at the top. Definitely not a Heavenly Father but a Didsbury Dad.


Love is the Message and the Message is Love – delivered via Dr Dre endorsed Beats


Dr Dre, Holland & Barratt and being 11

This could well be the nearest the British post-hippy, post-modern, post postal service digital native generation get to a summer of love.
After a climax to the football season that had more false endings than the film version of One Day, a brief May heat wave, a Jubilee that saw Buckingham Palace turn into the MEN Arena, a damp but delightful Didsbury Festival and an Olympic Games that squashed the chippiest of cynics under a medal load of good vibes and six packs what more could we ask for?

Another Hairdressers on Wilmslow Road next to a Holland & Barratt that threatens Healthy Spirit and could lead to Tofu Wars? You would be more likely to see every other pub and service station in the country open a concession for the ubiquitous Costa with tasteless coffee in a cheap red cup or see the city’s youth wearing more sky blue than red.
These are heady days filled with passion, potential and pasty faced Olympic TV addicts. Heck Danny Boyle won the Olympics and Andy Murray smiled.

But in the world of Didsbury Son there have been bigger fish to fry. Having cast off the shackles of primary school and scored a pair of Dr Dre Beats for his birthday, the Didsbury Son who squeaked blondily is less and less on show. The mornings of being woken at 5am by hopeful eyes and squeezes seem a distant joy. Didsbury Son is now last up and lopes down with a Kevin the teenager lurk not far behind him.
With twins on the way and a nursery to prepare it has made for interesting times.
The new skills Didsbury Son is developing are helpful and practical. Although he has not yet found his voice as an ex little boy, what we can hear sounds promising and… To my quiet delight; when I can prise him out from under his headphones and away from YouTube to mooch the not so mean streets on which we live- it turns out he is the same little boy, it’s just his voice is heading south on a monthly basis.


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