Australia calling...

I like YouTube. It brings us things from around the world that we wouldn't normally see. Sounds and pictures are brought to us in seconds from all reaches of the globe - some in stunning high definition - if you have the bandwidth.
I was browsing YouTube the other day, not looking for anything in particular, when I stumbled across some uploads from a guy living in remote Western Australia. He has uploaded a set of v-logs - a kind of video blog - which provide a fascinating insight into his rural life and interests. Living in a remote part of the country, he doesn't have access to mainstream broadband (as he describes in one of the v-logs), therefore his uploads are quite sporadic with long periods in between. Nevertheless, I do find them uniquely interesting and I have already learnt so much simply from watching them. Something I didn't know previously was how to find out how much gas is left in a gas bottle. Apparently, if you pour boiling water over it, the part that remains wet and doesn't condense is where there is remaining gas, therefore giving an indication of the gas level.
I'm sure he won't be everyone's cup of tea but he's certainly worth a look. He can be found by searching 'glen1040' in YouTube.

The man who waves

Each time we take our son to playschool, we often pass a really nice old guy who always waves to us. He is always walking, wearing his luminous jacket and a walking stick. Whenever we pass, he always gives us a smile and waves. We've never met him but we know he's a nice old chap. You can tell by his cheerful expression. No matter the weather, he always seems to be there. He must walk up and down the same stretch of road for most of the day. We sometimes see him chatting to people so he must be well-known. A while back, he would be seen walking his dog. It was a black Labrador and we could tell it was getting on in years as it was always walking some way behind him. It was some time ago we noticed his dog was no longer with him and we deduced from this that his dog must have died. So he now walks alone, seemingly without a care in the world, each day greeting every passing motorist. I don't want to know anymore about him. He knows us and we know him. The smile and wave are enough. He may have fought in the war or worked the land, with hundreds of tales to tell of bygone Lincolnshire and Sutton Bridge. Or he may have some terrible secret to live with, hidden by his cheery exterior. I don't want to know. For me, he's the cheery old man who makes me feel good every day and lets me know that everything's 'alright' when my life is otherwise in 'turmoil'. He'll never know the difference he makes...

Cholesterol cake

We visited my mother this afternoon. If we don't visit regularly we get the usual remarks of 'we haven't seen a soul for weeks' or ' we could have died for all anyone cares'... and so it goes on. We always try to arrive before 4pm as my father has an irritating habit of locking the doors and getting into his PJ's. It's actually quite embarrassing for us but for him it's perfectly normal and he thinks nothing of it. That's the most annoying part.  By far the worst experience we've had to endure has to be the sight of my father in just a dressing gown and trying desperately to look elsewhere as he sits across the room from us in his favorite armchair. My wife and I laugh about it now but I know when we had first met, it really was a bit much to expect her to deal with...

We normally try to visit on a Sunday but this isn't always possible so we called in this afternoon on the way back from the library. My mum has always been a pretty good cook and the old saying of 'mum's is best' can certainly be applied to anything she bakes. We're often given the odd cup cake or slab of fruit cake when we visit but today we were given an enormous brick-sized lump of cake. We were told in no uncertain terms that 'it had to be eaten today' as she had made it yesterday having expected us to visit and that 'it has fresh cream inside so won't keep'. In actual fact the cake had about an inch of cream with strawberries sandwiched between two enormous layers of sponge. All I could think about was the number of calories and amount of sugar that had been used to produce it. I'm diabetic but I'm sure my mum forgets, and my wife and I could certainly do with shedding a few pounds. 'Don't worry, we'll find a way to get rid of it', whispered my wife as we left. If we did, I would certainly feel guilt-ridden and I'd have to lie the next time I saw her when she asked how the cake was. No, we'll have to eat some of it... 

School seemed to agree with my son and my son with it. We both gave a sigh of relief when he emerged smiling from the classroom door when we collected him earlier. He's looking forward to returning tomorrow which is great! It remains to be seen how he will cope with it full-time come September...

Big school

My son is excited. He's going to his new 'big school' this afternoon for a few hours. I on the other hand I am feeling quite nervous. I remember how I dreaded the prospect of leaving the safety and warmth of my infant school to embark on my journey into junior school. It all seemed new and strange, full of unknowns and people I hadn't met. The teachers were scary. Two in particular were known for their occasional bouts of rage. During lunch break, dinner ladies would patrol the playground. I recall there was no grass, just a very hard tarmac'd surface with strange lines and circles painted on it. Falling over would result in hideous bruises and bloody scrapes which would be treated with TCP and witch hazel. I always sought out the kindest dinner lady and soon befriended her. She had a new digital watch. I hadn't seen one before and it was amazing. I clung to her as much as I could. I felt safe with her and she protected me from the big boys.
I would hope against hope that the bell wouldn't ring and I wouldn't have to go back in to class. The route back took me up a flight of stairs unchanged from the day they were built at the turn of the last century. The brickwork was shiny and appeared to be sort of varnished.
Returning to class, I would take my seat once more unsure of what was in store for us. I had a good view of the clock. That was good, as I would have my eye on it a lot, willing the hands to move faster... but they never did.

A duck and a swim

Our neighbors are odd. They have their own farm in their front garden. They also seclude themselves away from society by having a very tall hedge encircling their property. They never prune it. It's over eight feet tall in places and it's a constant source of frustration for me that we're forever having to trim it.
Anyway, my normally mundane morning ablutions were interrupted by our neighbor shouting for her duck. This went on for a few minutes and then I heard her say 'there you are'. This was then followed by wailing. Between the cries I heard 'oh my poor duck' and 'that was my favorite'. At first I actually thought she had found her husband dead in the border. You see, the hedge between our respective properties is thick but voices are clearly audible - as is the constant barking of her dogs, but I digress... This woman was upset, really upset. The crying continued for a long time. I couldn't see anything but I had formed a mental image of her cradling her favorite duck, tears running down her face. It was a very sad thing to witness. She seemed to blame a cat for killing it though I couldn't work out whether it was her own. Given the number of ducks and assorted wildfowl she keeps, I can only imagine a cat would be the worst thing to have around the place.
What really got me was the affection this woman had for her duck. I know they are a reclusive couple and have communicated very little since they moved in about two years ago. Thinking about it, the chap who had the place before them was weird - he never communicated either. We do seem to attract people here who don't fit in anywhere else. People seem to cocoon themselves away up here - some on their own and others with wild animals to keep them comfortable.

This afternoon, the three of us went swimming at our local pool in Spalding. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it. I've always likened it to having a bath with a load of strangers, not that having a bath with friends would be any better... It wasn't busy - just a handful of people really. We spent most of the time in the kiddies pool. My son cannot swim yet and lacks confidence. The pool was about 0.8 meters deep and comfortably warm. I hadn't swam for a long time but I was pleasantly surprised to find that I could actually float. I'd always had my doubts given my considerable bulk and with a little more confidence I managed to both float and propel myself across the pool a few times. Wow, I was pretty proud of myself! My son soon gained more confidence and also managed to float a little with the aid of armbands. My wife showed off her swimming skills by diving under and pretending to be a shark. My son loved it, shrieking with excitement as her dark mass got nearer and nearer until she finally surfaced with a big splash. Oh what fun...
So despite my misgivings, I actually confess to having enjoyed myself. It looks like we'll be making a habit of it...

Tomorrow, my son experiences his new school for the first time. He's only there from 1.30 to 3.30 but I do find myself worrying whether or not he'll take to it. He does seem quite excited about it though so I don't think he's worrying nearly as much as me. I'm sure he'll be fine...

At odds with my in-laws

I think I have hinted at the fact that my in-laws have a very dim view of me. This hasn't always been the case. Back at the start when I was a high-flying executive, I couldn't have put a foot wrong. I was their golden boy and they were so proud of the fact that I would turn up in my flash car wearing a suit... It's only since I had my breakdown and decided on a totally new career path that their view of me has changed. I'm now the 'black sheep' of the family. I am derided as I have refused to work in the local factory to bring in some money and they are certain my illness was just an excuse for being lazy.
Things went a bit further this evening as my wife remarked that I do nothing to help my image with my in-laws. Apparently I hadn't joined them in the lounge when I had called to collect my son. The truth is I actually find it very difficult to be in their company. I know they talk about be when I'm not there and they love to gossip about how I do nothing to support my wife and son. Yes, we're in a financial mess (who isn't nowadays?), but I did work bloody hard for 15 years, earning a lot of money so I could insure us against the worst of it. We could be in a far greater mess. I suspect also that my determination to gain my PCV license also riles them. The truth is our backgrounds are completely different. They have been used to taking the first job that's offered and suffering it for a tiny wage. I on the other hand have been used to a lengthy career on the IT ladder finally reaching the top three years ago.

My new career choice is one I have longed to do for many years. I do so wish I had pursued it earlier but I had become 'trapped' - well comfortable - in my IT career and to be honest the money was good. Part of the problem is the fact it's taken such a bloody long time for me to get where I want to be. My first attempt at completing my training was scuppered by the training company after they stole my money. I'm now trying to raise the funds required to try again. I'm nearly there - I have the court trying to get my money back and I have also requested a loan. I'm hopeful I will hear something from both of them next week. As soon as I have the funds, I will book my course and I'll be behind the wheel of a coach driving round Peterborough.

The problems with my in-laws actually serve to make me more determined to prove to them that I can both drive a bus or coach and enjoy my work at the same time. I'm not happy with my current situation and each day I long for things to be different. But knowing how they feel about me has really started to make me quite angry, so much so that I did tell my wife that I didn't care what they thought and that I'll never do anything right by them. I could happily avoid them though I know this will be difficult to do. I feel very uncomfortable in their presence. I know I shouldn't but I feel as if I no longer know them. My wife will hate this but it's how I feel...

Memories of now

Being a father to a young boy can either be easy or difficult. It's what you make it. What spurs me on to do the best for my son is how I think he will remember these times in years to come. I know myself, I can remember a lot from my own childhood, some are good happy memories, and others are not. There are trips to the seaside that stand out and walks to the nearby park, where I recall spending a lot of time. My father back then had an allotment which I know he still misses. He used to spend most of his spare time at weekends tending to it and I would often accompany him. I suspect he thought I would take an interest in growing things and that it would stand me in good stead for the future. I didn't and it did not. It seems those things I was forced to enjoy such as gardening and football I simply rebelled against.
I do find myself thinking a lot about my actions and how they will be remembered by my son in the future. I want him to remember good things and to be fond of his childhood. I know he has started to take after me. He has an interest in buses and trains and has confidence to use a computer. He also likes football and thanks to my wife's side of the family, I know the opportunity to develop this will always be there.
He is intelligent and curious, but not overly so. I'm determined not to make him into something. I want him to develop into his own person.

He will start school soon, in fact he begins attending reception classes next week. I know it'll be good for him and that he will enjoy it. But I do so want him to have happy memories of his school days. Mine are so mixed. I was never brilliant and I was never really bad - I sort of sat in the middle much of the time. I was very rarely ever in trouble, except for towards the end of my secondary school days when I went off the rails a little. I actually feared school much of the time and I would pursue any opportunity to avoid attending. Secondary school was a good few miles from home and necessitated a bus journey. This for me was the best part of the whole experience. I would try to stretch it as much as I could by starting my journey far earlier than I needed to. A journey that would take fifteen minutes I would turn into a full hour. Every day as the school bus stop approached I would wish I could stay on the bus and not get off.

I never shout at my son. I have raised my voice a couple of times, especially when he chooses to ignore us. My wife is a lot firmer with him than me. She has shouted at him and I know she has smacked him once or twice - never hard though. My wife always says that he 'gets away with murder' when I'm with him and that I'm 'too soft'. I suppose I am. I remember what a nightmare I was as a child. In my early teens I ran away to London and spent the night on buses, finally ending up at about 2am outside East Croydon Station. My parents had called the police and they coaxed me off a bus and into the back of a police van. I spent the rest of the night in a cell to teach me a lesson to then be driven back home the next morning.

There are certainly times I remember for the wrong reasons. My dad did have a temper and this would be unleashed when he came home from work and upon hearing of my bad behavior from my mum. In a way, it's these bad memories that make me the person I am today - far more cautious and protective of my son and keen for him to never remember any bad times the way I can.
Trips out and about are easier today than they were then. My parents have never owned a car so we would have to rely on public transport to get about. I didn't mind this and didn't really know any different until I was much older. It did though restrict where we could go and when. Nowadays we're able to go practically anywhere and at any time. We take it for granted.

Another thing that's different today from when I was a child is our ability to record details and images of what we do. I'm forever saying what things were like 'when I was your age'. My son will have an enormous record of images, video and text to take with him into later life, to look back on and to share with his children.
With so much already recorded, maybe he won't need to remember so much...