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 “Top Gear”

2015, More of the Same from Didsbury Dad

Apologies for being blogless. It’s a terrible thing when work and life get in the way of you writing reams of blah from the single in the nursery that the Mighty Headed Boy now calls “Our Bed” after a Christmas holiday spent edging me out of it.

Normal service will return in about a week but in the week when the retirement sale sign at Wilkinsons brought a lump to the throat. In the week when Emmanuel’s prayer group requested a Waitrose where Cafe Rouge once was. In a week when Gentry Grooming’s management buyout brought independence in the village whilst one of West Didsbury’s last remaining non-bohemian stores, Loft announced it was closing…

Five things I learned:
1. Watching toddler twins in the morning is akin to refereeing a corner in the Premier League. Finding out who began the pulling, dummy stealing and Peppa Pig invocation is impossible.

2. At 39 and 12 months + a few more 12s you can party or parent. Both leaves you looking like Stig (of the dump not Top Gear).

3. You can learn the words to every Frozen song through Osmosis.

4. Life is good. When the news on TV becomes almost too difficult to watch, having someone next to you whose world is complete with a soft toy and a cuddle is a real gift.

5. Four is enough for now.

Happy New Year

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Wilkinsons – who will fix our objects now?

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Peppa Pig glasses: I am praying they have better vision than me

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If you don’t know who this is, I salute you

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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.

Father’s Day, a report card on your prowess

Father’s Day. Two words that can strike dread into the heart of many dads. It is a report card on how you’ve done since Christmas. The level of effort put in is a direct grading of your role as supporting artist in the great film of family life.
This is not about money spent or responding to the abysmal Americanisation and spreading over the weekend of what was always traditionally a card and a cuppa before normal service resumed.

I had a trawl through the mmm, detritus that is being passed off as a present for dad. I saw an advert for Canadian Maple flavoured ribs and beer. Fine, if you’ve never had Gavuscon or Oemeprozole but not for the other 99% of us literally a recipe for disaster. This and a thousand Top Gear / presents aimed at 10 year olds with more hair passed off as what the retailers decided we should stress over for Father’s Day; rubbish.

There is the same nuance and care needed in a Father’s Day as there is when responding to a question from partners beginning “I want you to be honest with me…” (NB you only fall for this once every six months)

We know a great sage once decreed that the perfect childhood for boys was to have a father until they were seven years old before taking over as pack leader and sending father back into the forest to forage.
Handwritten cards, something you secretly wanted, a hint taken or anything fried and you have an A*; with gradings all the way down to a Co-Op card and a picture of your children to remind you who they are.

I think I did okay. Definitely on the upside and had an easy weekend with a family that becomes more lively and interesting by the week.

Sunday began at 2am with teething terrors traumatising the Mighty-Headed boy and ended alone in a double bed with all baby duties suspended until 6am as I had a big day at work; the greatest act of selfless love in a bedroom that the mother of your children can give you.

Didsbury Son had a break from being short-changed of quality dad attention, spending a sleepover with friends and Didsbury Wife and I spent a chummy afternoon on the couch with the twins before I didn’t have to go to John Lewis.

I felt special. As we wheeled the twin Meerkats out for an early evening drink in a sun-dappled West Didsbury I felt relaxed and sure in the knowledge that the world was right and I was one inappropriate joke away from a Top Gear compilation.

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Hands full, all three of them

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.

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