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 “France”

Family Planning v Forward Planning

Didsbury Son, year 7 and therefore the font of sound bite malapropisms and mistruths, is going on a school trip next week. He has five days in France and the potential for calamity with two dozen pre-pubescent Kevin &. Perry know-nothings is sick. Like y’know basically, sorta, kinda massive.
Five days and although I’ll miss him, it will be in a dad way. The odd shrug, no one to blame for anything and having to go upstairs to get the things I have left there by myself.

Up to five months ago I would have been anxiously trying not to overplay my excitement at having no parental duties for fear of incurring maternal guilt and separation wrath; it is very powerful. This time, I assumed would be Yin and Yang. The yin of the not picking anything off the floor or having to watch Top Gear versus the Yang of a distraught mother whose only solace to assuage the heartache can be found at John Lewis. The yin wins but…

I had not thought this through. Now there are baby twins. Five months old, beautiful, smiling bundles of happiness. Squealing, laughing, dribbling, nappy-filling time thieves. The hours I spend gazing, gurgling, stroking and sniffing them uses up all my non-work non sterilising time. Their arrival has taken Didsbury Wife from proud protective mother to being a lioness of the Focaccia Velt where we live.

Now I have five days of Didsbury Wife worrying about Didsbury Son and I have no one to make stupid jokes about the babies with. No one to laugh when I dress them upside down or waft their fruitier nappies like a pomander. Most worryingly, no one to keep an eye on them during my shift when I need to make a brew/have a wee or look in the mirror to stare at the 50 Shades of Grey under my eyes.

I am left to pray for specific help. I hope it warms up. I wince at the thought of turning on the news to see Didsbury Son waving from the top of the Eiffel Tower and more than all this – please let delicate baby girl and The Mighty Headed Baby Boy gives up the hourly fight and sleep between News at Ten and CBeebies.

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Talk to the head because the hand ain’t listening. It’s just us three and Wibbly Pig for the next five days.

How the Higgs Boson was found in Didsbury Village

The news has all been (apart from Andy Murray and the weather and Barclays and Didsbury Son’s School Play ) Higgs Boson this, CERN that, Physicists from around the world blah blah. They’ve all missed a trick and wasted money.

The Avataresque set they have built under a ski slope near Geneva, where Tefal heads play ping pong with imaginary marbles could have been built here in the capital of Barbers, Charity Shops and Coffee concessions.

The God Particle may be a perjorative term but within the confines of Didsbury ( real Didsbury, not Estate Agents) we have all the god, spirituality, present and ex-past media moguls and university lecturers to unearth the smallest of particles.

First a quick history of CERN. Why CERN? Why Switzerland ? Why bother?

The Americans (represented by TFI Fridays in Cheadle) were in a race with The Japanese (Samsi opposite The Red Lion) . *Although Samsi is still in M20 and the California Rolls are to die for, it is Withington not Didsbury. The race was something to do with Big Bang Theory and writing a follow-up for Brian Cox and Lassana Diara O’Briain.

Still with me? You get 10 credits for an MA in Costa after this.

Europe (Didsbury) got wind of the Japanese v Americans battle and knew we could find Higgs Boson’s God Particle first if we pulled together. With WestFest, Cav Fest, Didsbury Arts Festival and a new bar on Burton Road how could we fail? We (Didsbury / CERN) beat the Asian/North American efforts with the same tenacity Douglas Bader showed in Reach for the Skies.

Higgs missed the collaborative God-inspired particles that the Didsbury Mosque, St. James & Emmanuel, St. Catherine’s, Queens Road Synagogue combined with Fog Lane Park, Healthy Spirit and the MMU Library could create.

If they had arranged for Didsbury’s Primary School mothers to create a chain around Didsbury and awarded an Airy Fairy Cup Cake to the fastest runner we could have created the conditions that the CERN saps spent a Premier League debt creating; easy.

To put the Higgs Boson in easily understandable terms it’s like this.

At CERN (which is a bit like Didsbury Scout Hut) they built a particle accelerator called the Large Hadron Collider. This was in collaboration with Sure Start and The Rotary Club and made its debut at 2008 Didsbury Festival.

It is the accelerator that has enabled the discovery of the Higgs Boson. (A boson is a type of Hadron), Didsbury Wife told me this and that it goes through France as well as Switzerland ( that’s South Didsbury according to Reeds Rains).

The existence of the particle proves that before Zizzi was the least successful Japanese restaurant cum gothic disaster ever. Before that the Clocktower, The Orange Tree, The Old Grey Horse and at the start of time – The Cavalcade.

This proves creationist theory that to make a decent Lamb Shank get the lamb from Axons.

It explains why, seconds after The Big Bang a charity shop opened in Wilmslow Road and means all we have left to discover is what the shop next to No 4. On Warburton Street actually sells.

Next week: pandas procreate after a day out at Fletcher Moss. “coffee and cake at Fusion Deli sealed the deal.” says delighted Zookeeper

How the Higgs Boson was found in Didsbury Village

The news has all been (apart from Andy Murray and the weather and Barclays and Didsbury Son’s School Play ) Higgs Boson this, CERN that, Physicists from around the world blah blah. They’ve all missed a trick and wasted money.

The Avataresque set they have built under a ski slope near Geneva, where Tefal heads play ping pong with imaginary marbles could have been built here in the capital of Barbers, Charity Shops and Coffee concessions.

The God Particle may be a perjorative term but within the confines of Didsbury ( real Didsbury, not Estate Agents) we have all the god, spirituality, present and ex-past media moguls and university lecturers to unearth the smallest of particles.

First a quick history of CERN. Why CERN? Why Switzerland ? Why bother?

The Americans (represented by TFI Fridays in Cheadle) were in a race with The Japanese (Samsi opposite The Red Lion) . *Although Samsi is still in M20 and the California Rolls are to die for, it is Withington not Didsbury. The race was something to do with Big Bang Theory and writing a follow-up for Brian Cox and Lassana Diara O’Briain.

Still with me? You get 10 credits for an MA in Costa after this.

Europe (Didsbury) got wind of the Japanese v Americans battle and knew we could find Higgs Boson’s God Particle first if we pulled together. With WestFest, Cav Fest, Didsbury Arts Festival and a new bar on Burton Road how could we fail? We (Didsbury / CERN) beat the Asian/North American efforts with the same tenacity Douglas Bader showed in Reach for the Skies.

Higgs missed the collaborative God-inspired particles that the Didsbury Mosque, St. James & Emmanuel, St. Catherine’s, Queens Road Synagogue combined with Fog Lane Park, Healthy Spirit and the MMU Library could create.

If they had arranged for Didsbury’s Primary School mothers to create a chain around Didsbury and awarded an Airy Fairy Cup Cake to the fastest runner we could have created the conditions that the CERN saps spent a Premier League debt creating; easy.

To put the Higgs Boson in easily understandable terms it’s like this.

At CERN (which is a bit like Didsbury Scout Hut) they built a particle accelerator called the Large Hadron Collider. This was in collaboration with Sure Start and The Rotary Club and made its debut at 2008 Didsbury Festival.

It is the accelerator that has enabled the discovery of the Higgs Boson. (A boson is a type of Hadron), Didsbury Wife told me this and that it goes through France as well as Switzerland ( that’s South Didsbury according to Reeds Rains).

The existence of the particle proves that before Zizzi was the least successful Japanese restaurant cum gothic disaster ever. Before that the Clocktower, The Orange Tree, The Old Grey Horse and at the start of time – The Cavalcade.

This proves creationist theory that to make a decent Lamb Shank get the lamb from Axons.

It explains why, seconds after The Big Bang a charity shop opened in Wilmslow Road and means all we have left to discover is what the shop next to No 4. On Warburton Street actually sells.

Finally August 2011; my inner snob and offal galore

Holiday Part 1

August 2011 Scotland. High summer in the Highlands. Last summer’s jaunt to France and Spain by car and Eurocamp was a sun kissed road trip. This year’s is shorter in time and distance and we have a series of nice hotels with swimming pools.  I am the only person in Scotland not at the Fringe, in T-shirt and shorts (It is summer, I am on holiday and it is my right.).

Didsbury Wife has booked this trip carefully. I need a gym to offset the promise of a daily cooked breakfast and Didsbury Son needs a pool. If there is one thing we love it’s a swimming pool with Jacuzzi, sauna and steamroom. We are in luck

We hit the pool within 10 minutes of arriving. I goon about, acting as a hairy inflatable for Didsbury Son and his acrobatics act as a magnet for the other kids in the pool who view me as a moving oversized Fisher Priced toy. We run through our repertoire of somersaults and shark attacks and he has quickly pulled with the local 6-12 year olds and I can slope off to read the paper in the sauna.

By Kids’ teatime on the first day he has a DS buddy, a coterie of hangers-on and emails of people whose names he will forget by Day 2. Having been a good dad and avoided having to speak to any other parents I treat myself to a cocktail whilst Didsbury Wife gets ready to remind me why I made the effort to shave and forego the Old Spice for something more 2011.

Through several days of swimming pools I work out every day and Didsbury Son knows to get an extra sausage on his plate for Dad Tax following my triumphant power walk into the breakfast room. We fish for salmon, but nether red nor pink bite. I watch him play badminton against cocky teenagers with aplomb and hang out with excited 6 year olds for the cartoons. His equilibrium and happiness in this range of company puts me to shame. I flick a silent V at the other dads who talk to me.

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