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 “Manchester”

Bonnie Prince Charlie & The Didsbury Festival 

Funny day. That is the first Didsbury Festival I’ve had to swerve since 1745 when Bonnie Prince Charlie’s Jaccobite March south took in Barlowmoor Fields and stopped the festival. Two remain buried under Oak Trees near Simonsbridge, the stories say. They liked Didsburye so much they stayed to set up their own Jacobean Fishmonger, Cheesemaker and Butchers, but they couldn’t break the stranglehold of Ye Originale Cheese Hamlette, Evans and Axons.  * If you are not from Didsbury then honestly, that’s a good gag. That year there was controversy when the local town cryer Didsburye Magazine proclaimed ” Hale, Altrincham and Bowden” to be part of a Didsburye Territory they would control through shiny horses and people with teeth and without scurvy. 

18th Century Didsbury Delicacy

Two Hundred and Sixty One Years later this was the year of the Aqua Plane. The Fire Brigade were there collecting water for a change. There was an impromptu Frog display after the Wet Dog Show and the fairground became Didsbury’s Own Water Park.On a Day when Manchester’s two biggest events, Parklife and Didsbury Festival collided like The Rumble in the Jungle, it chucked it down. As though the weather has gone all Manc and thought “F it”.

plans to turn the Mersey flood plains into poppy fields have been shelved

Saturday night the carnival left town. The rides parked at the side of Wilmslow Road like Pimped up Tourans sided whilst hassled parents re-adjusted the car seats and wiped down the inhabitants and next year it will return – dryer, happier and thankfully exactly the same as it has been since the Eighteenth Century. 
An Oak Tree that does not have the remains of one of Prince Charlie’s Men.

NEXT WEEK: How Evans saved a Whale, Axons fought the Bratwurst War and The Cheese Hamlet may really be a village

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Snoring, sneezing and big big love

Didsbury Dad Mansions is Snot Central right now. The house resounds to the sound of coughing and of
noses being blown. Tissues are secreted around the house like little cat toys. My pearly-topped princess sniffs as though this terrible scourge will never end. Competitive sleep deprivation has a new friend and has taken a back seat. Yesterday, my catarrhal morning croak and sub Barry White vocal register won a lie-in til 8. Today Didsbury Wife returned early and forlorn from her morning run. A night on the Sinutab and an early morning Heffalump movie meant I had no answer, dressing duties were mine.This general spluttering which began in nursery, came home, went to work, to school, to home, to nursery, to family, to school and back is one of the Manchester-living selling points not often promoted. “Come to Manchester, once Cottonopolis – go home with an Upper Respiratory infection.”

When I got to the platform there was no one to moan with.

lurgy – visual representation 

It also ties in nicely with one of our greatest national celebrations, National Snoring Week (25-29 April – strapline “It’s just the way I’m lying”).

After the confusion of an early Easter and a late Passover, the liberal angst of St. George’s Day is closely followed by the pointlessness of National Snoring Week. Turns out this is not about promoting snoring as a postmodern family pursuit. There are no articles that begin, ” Embrace the sound of your loved ones having a good sleep after their nightcap. Good times, leave your cares behind, just come along and drift into restfulness and prove you could fall sleep in a Steelworks.”The British Snoring & Sleep Apnoea Association (not to be confused with the Association of British Snorers & Sleep Apnoea Appreciators) are having a field day. There is free postage all week (www.britishsnoring.co.uk) and a range of products that seem to have escaped from either a GCSE Chemistry lab or are a zip short of Ann Summers Gimpware. 

saving Private Kitty

I have a friend. Erm, Withington Dad, who apparently snores (obviously it doesn’t disturb him). We thought a more useful set of products could include Rib protectors for that jab telling you to get off your back, earplugs so you aren’t disturbed by being told to shut up or a long straw so if one wakes up with a dry mouth from a couple of hours catching flies and singing guttural chants you don’t have to try and find the water next to your bed. It’s a common conversation between couples everywhere. But as a great philosopher once said, “Show me a man who does not snore and I will show you a man doing no childcare…
Junior Doctors solidarity poster   

(or drinking coffee, alcohol, being overweight, eating too late, staying up watching TV, sleeping badly, finding out there are consequences to years of partying or generally being a man.)

Chic – Good Times: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8g6bUe5MDRo

Postcards from Murcia 5/4 – The Epitaph, Didsbury 1 0 Murcia

Postcards from Murcia 5/4 – 

Didsbury 1 Murcia 0We landed easily, fought our way through Passport Control and Baggage reclaim – a broken stroller souring the mood.  

 Savaged by Baggage Handlers
I find that however keen I am to stay on holiday that the first flat-vowelled Passport Officer and the first nasal “Yor-ite” remind me of how much I love this sceptred chunk of the North West: but not this time.
We arrived home slightly low, a great holiday shaded by its proximity to work, school, nursery and cold mornings. Except the Pearly Princess whose paleness had found the constant Spanish heat difficult and had made her quieter than usual. As we stepped into the damp mulch of British summertime she grew, her voice returned and as pulling into Didsbury she whooped and clapped – which perked us up. 

 ready for some Mancunian cool

Four hours later Didsbury Son fell quickly into a pain that needed a speedy drive (still in shorts and sunglasses) to Children’s A&E. He is fine now, but needed an operation and is a bit sore.

My trepidation at coming home and the feeling of general malaise dispelled by the ease of getting from Didsbury to A&E in 15 minutes, the care he received from everyone and the quality of the drugs. Three of Manchester’s longstanding cornerstones.
Drains the tan a bit too quickly, but did feel like another rite of passage all around. 

Didsbury Dad Guide to London

A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single footstep. Our journey of 200ish began with the low-level restraint only packing a car with three children, two adults and 20 bags the day after rich food, quality booze and general indulgence can bring. A real journey begins with a coffee. Bisou Bisou and Fusion let me down but thankfully Didsbury Village has around 20 outlets (excluding restaurants) with coffee and this Boxing Day morning the Costa machine at the Shell Garage did a mean White Americano.

Christmas Day was a huge success at Didsbury Dad Towers (more in the next blog). From the Mighty Headed Boy and The Pearly-Topped Girl’s lie-in, to Didsbury Son’s charm, through a smoothie breakfast, a turkey so moist we clapped, to presents well-received. So a Boxing Day Drive with a car full had all the ingredients for disaster.

We were an hour late leaving. Didsbury Son was having angst about the brand of the latest electronic device in his collection. The twins were not tired. A slight hangover combined with the effect of sprouts, cheese and champagne on a system fuelled by Oemeprozole could seriously test the air conditioning.

Four amazingly tension-free hours later we arrived in London. For those who don’t know it, London’s a big city in need of a wash, with a lot of people. The water doesn’t taste very nice, but it has a wide selection of Nando’s and its North West has enough ex-pat Mancunians to iron out some of its flaws.

So for Boxing Day and the rest of the Christmas holidays a guide from a world traveller to the 5 must dos on any trip to the home of David Cameron, Wormwood Scrubs and Jellied Eels. London has some magnificent attractions, make the most of any visit.
1. Lock your doors.
2. Whether it’s sterimar, olbas oil
Or a Vicks inhaler do not worry about the grime you will inhale – just be prepared.
3. Try the Underground. Not only is it impressively claustrophobic, but Euston, with trains to Manchester every 20 minutes is easily accessible.
4. Remember what a pain it is driving everywhere. It makes rush hour on Barlow Moor Road seem a breeze.
5. Speak to the locals. Even though they think Rosy Lea is a drink and you can climb apples and pears, it’s not an ism, it’s London Rhyming-Slang and is hilarious and unique.
6. Don’t be parochial.

Tomorrow: the first sentient Christmas Day with the twins – whoops, games and a guide to a happy day.

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The Mighty-Headed boy cruises the streets of London looking for snacks.

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To be honest, the Natural History Museum was a little disappointing.

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