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 “Glee”

Didsbury Life: This Much I Know

As the sails of 39 years, 364 days recede ever further back into the noughties and the creaking of the trees in the late autumn breeze matches the creaking my knees; this is what I have learned.

Male patterned grumpiness is not a right, it has to be earned. We lack the manipulative front to be supportive AND judgemental, so grunting like a 15 year old and sighing like a winter wind fill the gaps.

Mancunian slang rarely works. I recall the Didsbury Boys in Tesco, Parrs Wood describing their Shredded Duck in Hoisin Sauce Wrap as “bum man, f- ing bum” and thinking that the Bronx would be shaking. Last week I was exiting the gents at Piccadilly Station. (how many stories have started thus?) when a 40 year old, Gallagher clone but without the hair saw the 30p charge to use the facilities and danced his outrage. Talking loudly to no one and everyone he declared, “Are you having a giraffe?” Before scuttling off more crab on the sand, than ungulate mammal on the velt.

The closure of Cafe Rouge in Didsbury Village is a blow to the community. I miss people
-watching from its patio and peering inside when walking past with the pram. I miss my free Guardian Sports Section and I miss the feeling that by sitting in sight of the library I was upping my culture.

Didsbury Son is now a teenager and the first month (83 to go) has been fine. The build-up was threatening, but since the clock turned he has resumed being the lovely boy and easy-going accomplice of his blondini, squeaky voiced days. He has started cracking gags in a style that I know is based on me and makes me truly understand the issue Didsbury Wife takes over my mistimed, poor taste speciality.

With their second birthday looming the battle amongst the Didsbury Dad extended males has begun to claim The Mighty-Headed boy and Pearly-Girl for our respective football teams. There is no subtlety, no fraternal loyalty, just craven boddler baiting with song, shirt and toy. I realise that against all my best intentions, this is probably going to use up more thought than which school they should go to and possibly more money on uniform.

The staff at Chalk all look as though they have stepped out of rehearsals for Glee to be with you (courtesy of. @Craftwords). Whilst their unfeasibly kittened-hipness is shaming, the hope that they will break into Flashdance on one of the sofas keeps me coming back. ( and the chipolatas.

Twins’ weight: painful knee and cortisone’d elbow.

Nursery Rhymes sung badly as I Only know the rude version: 8

Frozen watched: 3 times a day

Sleep Depravation constant with a good chance of caffeine and chocolate about 10 to get through the day.

Next time: Why I love Burton Road, It’s autumn soon so the bad-parking 4×4 Season is upon is and a review of The Global News refit.

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This is starting to seem a long time ago.

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News of Cafe Rouge closing caused a walkout

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Pre- service team meeting at Chalk.

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Iggle Piggle v Homeland and Utopia

This much I know. In The Night Garden is possibly the finest television I have seen this year; edging out Homeland’s multi-story pile up and the beautiful crafting and colouring of Utopia by a short Nonk.
Derek Jacobi’s VoiceOver is worthy of forgiveness for that thing he shares with Gandalf on ITV, where Frances de la Tour plays a female, middle-class Keith Lemon.
ITNG, a flagship show on the mighty CBeebies could go prime time. If the unfathomable Deal or No Deal ( the whole open a box is Key Stage 1 motor control) is an 8pm show then why not “At Home with the Pontypines”. 8 kids, living next door to their twins who also have 8 kids – more enticing than Celebrity Big Brother and genuinely mind-bending.
How about a Top Gear Special on Ninky Nonk v Pinky Ponk? We are a Ninky family but there is something about the Pinky Ponk’s wheezing beauty that draws you in. I was granted access to the cast to find out their take on being part of this QI for the pre-lingual.

Part. 1:
Iggle Piggle in his own words. Iggle rarely gives interviews and is known offscreen for his thoughtful poetry and landscape watercolours.

“Once the blankey comes down, the light goes on and the music starts you have a lot of time on your own to think. It’s just you and a rolling sea. There’s no one running circles around my palms and until I get through the hedge it’s a lonely journey. The guys are great and I think I could sail there in my sleep, but… Sometimes not even a smile and a kiss from Upsy Daisy can make up for that commute. Me? I know one day it will end. Only Postman Pat and Bob the Builder seem to go on forever and they have a trade. Glee are interested in a spin-off of the Blankey dance but they think Sky Blue’s a weak colour so we are in discussion. I’m not bleaching for anyone.

The best thing? Good question. I don’t think you ever get over being a role model for the Holophrastic Babblers. It’s a gift.

Chris Tarrant v Jabba the Hut; a generational schism

When Didsbury Son goes into overdrive about some technical point on Zelda or begins to explain to me the difference between R2D2 and a Ford Zephyr I smile, zone out, remember to sound interested and silently thank my own Didsbury Dad. Didsbury Son is a bright and typical 10 year old. Whatever is his latest must have/see/do is endlessly fascinating and he is an expert. It also seems to have a directly negative correlation with whatever interests me.

In my mind I zoom back to the late 70s and realise how much more patient my own Didsbury Dad was compared to me. Actually he may have been able to sleep with his eyes open and put his “ooh” and “yes” on autopilot but at the time I thought he genuinely cared about 2nd Division football, what happened at break and Tiswas.

I think I give away my lack of interest too easily.

I have become expert at looking for a pause (anything from 2-20 minutes) and diving in to distract him with a cheap gag, shiny object or task to complete. Then that fantastic middle class guilt kicks in and I feel bad for not being able to feign interest, or better still join in and care about Clone Wars. In my mind the West Didsbury Dads of Freyas and Archies are on their hands and knees on their polished wooden floors re-enacting the battle between Manequin Moonwalker and Shabba the Hut or singing along to Glee, whilst I offer Didsbury Son 50p to go to the shop and buy some sweets or ask him to finish his homework.

However, this guilt, indifference and avoidance does have its upside. On the rare occasion our interests collide, the homework is done and 5Live is quietened there is magic. Magic in a slouching, hands on snacks, eyes on TV, snuggled up in one corner of the couch kind of magic.

Sent from my iPad

2011. Things I have learned whilst sailing past 39

Things I have learned in 2011, sailing past 39.

1. The more you try to please people the less impact it has. You should only try to please one person at a time and in my world that is Didsbury Wife.

2. The craze of Pokemon will pass. One day you will no longer have to feign Interest in Pikachu and his cohort. (This also applies to those suffering Glee, High School Musical and Transformers).

Didsbury Ultra

3. It has an immediate, more expensive, more consuming replacement. Ours is Star Wars with an accompaniment of eye-watering Lego, books, boxsets and bollxxxx

4. Recession shmession. Double Dip Shmouble Shmip. Riot Shmiot. The teenage fear of 1981, the shredding of live entertainment in 1991. The pre-Commonwealth bonanza of 2001. They make 2011’s financial fiascos a year to chew slowly and not panic. (I also learned that there is no predicitive text replacement for shmiot.)

The laughable coalition just gives you twice the number of Hogwarts Alumni to despise.

5. The 11 plus may have gone but its replacements and the competitive parenting, tutoring, sneaking and angling that goes with it have a Roman Empire scheming feel to them.

6. I like a good blog, tweet, google, stumble and tumble but none of them match a handwritten love note.

7. Having a choice of independent delis and corporate coffee caterers on  your doorstep can be expensive, enlivening and expanding.

Why have a teaspoon at home when you can pay £3 around the corner

8. The constant stream of minor bogus celebrations that school and Hallmark inflict on us throughout the academic year diminish the celebrations you love, as children are constantly over-stimulated.

9. He may think he is “sick” and all grown up, but when Didsbury Son grabs my hand tight as we mooch around, it is still the best feeling around.

10. If I hang around the remnants of the turkey for much longer I will get separation anxiety when I leave the kitchen.

11. New Years’ Eve is a great night to work and a microcosm of the – men love women, women love children, children love animals scenario.
So my idea of the perfect New Years’ Eve will be on hold until at least after the Olympics; but I will be kissing goodbye 2011 and beckoning 2012 in touching distance of Didsbury Wife and Son and definitely in Didsbury.

Happy New Year, more rambling next week for 2012.

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