Author: bigdunc09

We’re back now.

Low in high school.

It was good while it lasted… But the second half of the summer holidays is always a bit like a film, or theatre production.

At first, it seems ages away… you enjoy the opening, completely absorbed and engrossed. There’s anticipation, often followed by anti climax as time runs away with you. Finally, you reflect on the time you have spent in this ‘other’ world. Hopefully… Resolutions, with questions answered and no regrets or being upset there’s no time left.

Talking of which, I actually made it to the cinema last month, just before Morrissey announced his new album, and England is Mine didn’t disappoint. I felt empathy and sympathy towards the protagonist in equal measure, as it showed shyness isn’t actually that nice after all, and strangely made me think a lot about our own son.

Thankfully, his hip is developing nicely and the doctors were really pleased with the progress he is making (even if he’s been keeping us on our toes)

I actually started writing this on the way back from Blackpool.

The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and the News is on the radio, somewhat serendipitously, as several key moments of recent days felt once again like going back to the future; none more so than today, not just to the summer when I visited all those fortune tellers, and secretly recorded my predictions with the excitement of a child and the wide eyed belief of many a poor tourist… but further back to childhood, when a day out seeing the tower and piers brought triumph, and Jungle Jim’s was heaven.

We had a great day. Harry Ramsden’s, two of the three piers, ice cream and donkeys and the northern life right there… Watching my daughter run up and down the promenade, beaming face lit up like the illuminations, and the little guy’s bemused face wondering what on earth was going on, was like looking in mirrors.

Watching myself back then.

I don’t remember starting school, though this year, feel like it’s happening all over again. There will of course be the obligatory photos, tears, proud smiles and nervous nights, but also a period of reflection that turning four, leaving nursery and growing up offers no alternative to.

Reading signs, forming letters correctly and doing sums. Mark making like her life depends on it… inquisitiveness. Intelligence, we hope… even wants to become a doctor! Time will tell, of course.

Some hope and positivity, then, and she turned four amidst the pain caused by a group of troubled young men in Barcelona.

A place very close to my heart, and although it’s easy to say ‘I’ve been there’ or ‘I know people there now’ these terrible events are getting closer and the fear they strike gets stronger.

I seem to be writing about tragedy every month, which isn’t what any of us want, and the anniversaries of Ten years ago and Rhys Jones; Twenty, Princess Diana mean we are constantly reminded of sadness and misfortune.

That’s why I opted to make my annual attempt to get on TV – and make my name before 40, as the fortune tellers predicted – a light hearted story for a competition to write an episode of Moving On, based on real events that I’ve bored you with over the years. I was spurred on by Jimmy McGovern’s impressive and nicely ended ‘Broken’, and I can confidently say it would have made a great 45 minutes’ TV, but having heard nothing in reply I can only assume I’ve been unsuccessful this time.

Still, celebrating that fourth birthday as much as possible was important, after everything she went through being three. Thankfully, Poppy made the party extra special…

At the start of the holidays, we drew a list of what we wanted to do.

Pretty much everything was ticked off – not everything positive, like – so there was a sense of achievement at the series watched, books started, jobs around the house done, farms visited, parties attended, especially with Princess Poppy.

One of which was Twin Peaks.

I’ve written before of my bemusement and it didn’t stop, but there was a point in episode 15(I think) where it all suddenly started to make sense: my patience became worthwhile and David Lynch’s modern masterpiece unravelled in inimitable style. I’m so glad I stuck with it, despite those times when WW came in and asked “WTF?” whilst I, agape, couldn’t answer, quite incredulously.

Just listen to this… https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=dTp6d7Bw79A

Still, it ended perfectly, and as the holiday drew to a close, I got to start the long awaited project of drawing the statues, spending a few days on the beach with the iron men. Antony Gormley has been complaining about their adornments and additions, but they added interest and variety to my task, and the kids loved them too.

Deciding how to document the project brought back other memories. Countdowns, listening to the charts and Carrie’s speech from Four Weddings all influenced the list. As the new terms start, creative wells dry up for the autumn, but with something much better as a replacement.

Before that, huge changes take place, and the monitor lizards arrive to devour their prey whilst the new blood embed themselves quite happily.

It matters not; what is important is the routine, the quality time spent smiling and enjoying each other’s company and the hope that the future brings opportunity (no knock, no doorbell) to support what we were foretold.

School has started very well, for one of us at least, and the optimism for the future outweighs any worries, for now anyway…

To Autumn.

It’s all about time.

Once again, it’s taken me a few days to complete these musings on modern life… Time changes when you have kids: films take a few days to be watched, newspapers a week to get read. Minutes in the night can seem like hours, and years like seconds when you have the chance to reminisce.

I actually started writing this on St Swithin’s Day.

Once again, the weather that morning could be described  as a bundle of contradictions, meaning that for the next forty days, it will probably be a mixture of sunshine and showers, just as it was when I carried out the  initial experiment back in 2011.

I still have the test tubes of rain, collected over that period.

Still, whatever the weather, life goes on, and has been somewhat more settled – especially now that the summer is here.

Beauty surrounds, and health abounds… five weeks have passed now since E’s baptism; a wonderful day filled with love and generosity. Heartfelt thanks to all who shared it with us, and who took us up on our request that gifts were replaced by donations to Alder Hey… we raised a couple of hundred pounds and are back there soon for a check up; in the mean time, he has become much more mobile and the health visitor today was made up with his progress.

In the time since the baptism, then – other milestones: B’s Sports Day and Graduations, both successful days I had to experience through filmed footage, though still brought tears to my eyes given the immense pride the running and smiley singing filled my heart with. There also came taster days at school; the ultimate sign of growing up and the ending of an era.

These joyous moments were accompanied by surreal and uncomfortable events, however. As the curtain fell on another difficult academic year, biding our time, we had a couple of days out to celebrate / avoid the home improvements being carried out Chez G.

Three separate incidents involved a brush with the law.

One resulted in accidental shoplifting, another getting thrown off a train (although ongoing investigations mean I cannot divulge further… it’ll all be in the book) which heightened the irony of a friend commenting that we looked like we had both committed a crime when I had this picture taken with Simon Mignolet.

I asked him for said selfie to send to a colleague doing an Iron Man challenge and wouldn’t normally bother to acknowledge ‘them’ but his demeanour says everything about the impression I got of him. I wish now I’d been more honest with him, and will be sure to be should our paths cross again.

The other big moment of the first week ‘proper’ of the school holidays was a wide eyed trip to Costco and our marvelling at some of the deals and products on offer including a tomahawk steak which exceeded expectations.

However, it was the scene of an armed robbery exactly 24 hours after our attendance, meaning we had a lucky escape.

Around this time I also decided to change my appearance.

There’s another tattoo on the way, too.

And, seven years after my equally dramatic eye lasering, I also took B for her first eye test and joined in the fun. Thankfully we both have pretty much perfect vision, which I put to good use on a whistle stop tour of some of Liverpool’s museums and galleries, taking E to Open Eye, Tate, Museum of Liverpool, Bluecoat (great for kids) FACT, and the highlight overall, an exhibition of Cuban protest posters at the Slavery Musuem which some beautiful and powerful graphics in support of monumental movements, depending on your epistemological standpoint.

Some culture then, which inspired next week’s embarking upon a belated project for Hannah. Weather permitting, it will involve several trips to the beach and a fair few pencils.

I can’t wait.

Finally, food and drink have been high on our agenda recently, as holidays offer a more relaxed diet and lifestyle with time, that great healer, giving opportunities to enjoy things a bit more. Said steak, Baltic Market offerings, and a tour of the Lancaster Brewery which was a great experience.

The season starts next week, too. I’m tired of the ‘banter’ and despite feeling more optimism and pragmatism than ever – I’ve spent decades biding my time but realise now there’s no point -in reality I’ve more excitement about fourth birthday parties and sponsored elephants than Fantasy Football team names and Sandro.

Oh, and the new term starts…

Times they are a changing.

An eventful week, which offered time to reflect – and update – at the end of it.

Since last we met, the country has been plunged into chaos: more political pandemonium, a horrific fire evoking memories of 1970s disaster movies whose aftermath is still being dealt with, and a couple of pupils happening upon my blog – meaning I’ll have to be be more careful than ever with what I write.

Teaching took a funny turn this week. Not just because of the discovery, but also, I announced to my classes my intention to write a book about my career so far – inspired by some of the funny questions I got asked this week (“Sir, why did Macbeth write a book about himself?” “Is a Banquo what you get from a chippy?” and “Did Macbeth write Blood Brothers?”) which made me laugh and in this dark time, shone a light on what I do daily… But also because I said goodbye to my form of five years.

It’s been emotional… particularly as this week I was given a couple of gifts and more importantly, cards, which were heartfelt and sincere and justified why we go to work everyday under such stresses and pressures. What was given – and written – remains personal to me and the students plus their families, but will stay on my mind and in my heart for a long time. Equally, a thank you and handshake from one troubled young man, meant just as much – an acknowledgement that gives hope for the future.

I wish all of them the very best, in all they do.

But this blog shouldn’t be about teaching, especially if it’s being read by young impressionables!

It’s quite refreshing that they see a teacher having another life outside the class room; certainly, I want them to be widely read, to check my posts for spelling and grammar errors, and to realise that I am a real person.

Not just a suit (with funny coloured socks) who dictates to them every day, but a man, a fan, an artist…

Talking of which, I am about to embark on another project to celebrate my involvement in this year’s Hannah directory.

I will be spending the summer drawing each and every one of Antony Gormley’s Another Place statues, to acknowledge my locale and how honoured I am to be living and loving, here in our north west – the home of bingo, black pudding, Billy Fury and Brookside.

But this particular weekend, I am also – and very proud to be so – a husband, a son and a dad.

Before I go on about that, though, let’s discuss the dead mice I discovered the same evening.

Yes, you read that right – I found out who I’d seen scuttling across the shed floor, who I’d noticed had nibbled at my bird seed, whom next door’s cat had been sniffing around after – Mickey and Minnie, who unfortunately drowned rehearsing their new film.

Lighter news now, and England won the World Cup. Everton even spent lots of money on new heroes for the little guy. The future is bright, and orange…

Plus it’s Father’s Day.

I’ve written enough about my joy at parenthood.

The early nights and mornings, the worries and anxieties, the carefully planned routines… the smiles and bites, the lovely moments and the tantrums, the bottles and the nappies… everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.

The pride I feel on a daily basis, make it so:

Father’s Day is every day, for me.

My first ‘proper’ one, I was hungover after an England World Cup game at which I stole a glass, but each has been enjoyable and lovely and rewarding, and for that I thank WW and SG… and this year, the elephant, whose baptism we celebrate next weekend with (hopefully) lots of contributions to www.alderheycharity.org thanks to their care and expertise when he was poorly.

Naturally, I’ll spend part of the day down the pub with fellow fathers, maybe afterwards drink some of the wine and eat the chocolates I so gratefully received… but I’ll also honour my own Dad in the process.

Cook his favourite lunch, let him know how grateful we are for everything he does for us.

Let him know that he’s Sylvester Stallone, Pat Nevin, Dirk Benedict, Duncan Ferguson, Damien Hirst, Neville Southall, Sir Peter Blake, Liam Fray, David Hockney, Lionel Messi, Morrissey, Tony Cottee and Vincent van Gogh all rolled into one, and more… and that, since becoming a father, I’ve appreciated him and all he stands for, more than ever.

In a recent conversation with our vicar, I explained how becoming a parent has changed my thought process and perspective for the better, not just being a father but also a son.

School taster days start soon, Leavers’ prom takes place, a wonderful day spent in the sun: the stars turn, etc.

The world is a funny old place right now… but let us not forget that the things that divide us make us stronger: similarly, we have more in common than we think, so please, let people know how grateful you are… and how much you love them.

Happy Father’s Day.