Andy's Blog

Somewhat reminded of that scene from Blazing Saddles where Lilly Von Shtup is singing “I’m Tired”, not so much in the sense of being a “Goddess of Desire”, etc, but just the sheer sense of not being able to get the energy up to do anything of much use.

These past few weeks have been a manic blur of competing priorities, unrealistic expectations of what one person can achieve in a relatively short space of time, and this week just gone is something that just doesn’t want repeating.  Headless chicken mode is a thing of wonder and highly amusing… when it ain’t you that’s the nogginless avian!

Won’t go too much into detail, cos… well… I’m too tired to string the relevant words together properly, and in my case that level of in-eloquence isn’t pretty – suffice to say; kids, injuries and a little measure of work.  ’nuff said.

All of which is a rather round-about way of apologising for a lack of posts on my narcissistic little corner of the Internet.  I will try better, honest… just let me chug a few cans of Red Bull whilst chewing coffee beans and Zolpidem!

..Should make the next post an interesting one (at last)!

Well, I have hit that big milestone in my life which, depending on who you talk to, is either all down-hill from here-on-in or where my life begins.  I am of course talking about reaching my 40th year of life.

To be honest, and to great disappointment in some and relief to others, I haven’t had any major wobbles or mid-life-crisery with this particular milestone.. or in fact am particularly bothered by it.  For some reason I had a major wobble at 25, as my erstwhile friend in Scotland will avidly remember, and that’s it. 

Apart from giving me an excuse to eat copious amounts of cream cakes and doughnuts, plus a damned good reason to demand gifts with menaces, I have entered my 40th year of life with a non-committal shrug of the shoulders and a “meh”.

That said, and despite all the gifts I received and which were gratefully received, I think the best presents I received were from my sprogs.. although I don’t think they intentionally went out and got these for my birthday.

My youngest managed to get a handful of 3A’s *and* a 4 in his SAT’s (which is in the ‘beyond expectation/exceptional’  range for his age) and my eldest got straight-5′s in his SAT’s (which again is in the ‘beyond expectations’ range). 

A bit of a last huzzah from #1 son in his last year of Primary School, as he also received the School Governor’s award for excellence!

There’s nothing quite so soppy as a proud parent …apart from, possibly, an old soppy parent!

Sometimes I wish was 8 years old again… actually, *most* times I wish I was 8 years old again!

Although it does seem that nowadays kids are wrapped tightly in a blanket straight-jacket of Health & Safety rules that stops them from experiencing anything that even looks like being a little edgy; like putting up posters without goggles *gasp*!

So whenever the opportunity presents itself, we chuck our sprogs into whatever adventures come their way, like boating on the local reservoir.  It’s especially at times like these that I remember my own yoof.

…and yes, this does mean that if the kids drop any food on the floor our first response is to pick it up, blow away any floor based additions and place it back on the plate for them to eat.  If you raise kids in a sterile bubble, don’t be surprised at what happens when that bubble bursts.

Anyways, here’s our smallest enjoying his day out on the Reservoir.

Blink and too many years seem to fly by without you even noticing!

Number 1 son has spent his first week away from home, in an adventure residential camp, is now taller than both his Aunt and Grandmother, has bigger feet than his mum, has a mobile phone and we are now going through the joy of purchasing his uniform for Secondary School.

What happened to the strawberry blonde curly haired child that used to sit in my lap, just before bedtime, and want to hear the Gruffalo yet again?

Of the course the rush to teenage’dom almost inevitably leads to the descent into Kevin’dom!  The mantra “must not throttle firstborn, must not throttle firstborn” seems to be the order of the day at the moment… The joys of parenthood!

Another weekend completed and another GKR karate tournament competed.  Very soon, if I keep this sort of thing up, I’ll become an old hand at this malarky … which is more than my hand will become as I have managed to damage it once more whilst laying it, with forceful intent, upon somebody else’s person.  Enough of that story though.

This particular tournament I was accompanied by sprogs #1 and #2 on their first steps into competitive posing, flailing and shouting.  Unfortunately they didn’t win any medals but I was HUGELY proud of the way they conducted themselves both during and after their time in the ring.  Teaches them an important lesson too, I suppose, that you can’t win at everything – which School seems scared to teach them, in case it damages their delicate psyche!

I, also, didn’t do very well at the individual level and was somewhat relieved that Sensei wasn’t around to see the woeful effort that was my kata… who swapped my feet with a 7 year olds when I wasn’t looking?!

This did give me the opportunity to go around and “ra-ra” from the sidelines as a fair number of my fellow Sensei’s did get their medals.  We were competing for Silver and Gold in both the male and female instructor levels!  What a dilemma; Who do you cheer for when you want both of them to win?!

(I have just noticed the judicious use of “we” in that last paragraph.  I think Sarah, Katie, Shaun and Daz actually probably managed their collective bling amassing without my aid)

However, what personally what made my tournament the more enjoyable was being involved in the Team Kumite.  It wasn’t the fact that we came away with a Bronze medal, it was the sheer look of joy and excitement in Ed’s voice when he realised we had gotten past the first round.  The exclaimed “We’ve never gotten this far before!” and huge grin were worth far more than any lump of metal draped around the neck.

Title Disclaimer:
When asking your son to remember the word “YAKP”, as you concentrate on something else, remember to tell him that it stands for “Yet Another Karate Post” and not get into a conversation about the colour, texture, smell and relevance of “Yak Pee”.

The 10 minutes of confused cross-talking that went on, and combined “you what?!” looks, is not something to be reproduced.

Songs have a powerful influence on all of us and we choose our own soundtrack to reflect that which we feel important, highlighting defining periods in our lives.  Revisiting those audible monuments does sometimes give you pause to reflect and wonder at what was, could have been, will be..

Listening to “Again”, by Archive, and appreciating the lyrics as well as the mood generated by the music.  I am an absolute sucker for guitar and drum heavy music, and as blogged about not so long ago, this one still has the ability to give pause.

“..now you get me down” to complete the lyrics began in this posts title.

Good times, bad times, shameful times, and those times where you shone beyond yours, and others, expectations; all are, or should be, encapsulated within their own musical punctuation, usually via an artist or group that seemed to talk to you specifically during that period of your life.

I can’t change those times, I can only revisit them and reflect on the person that they helped develop for better or worse.

I now find myself in the position where I am seeing the seeds of this process starting to develop in my two young boys.  Both of them, and more so the youngest, are beginning to develop their own musical tastes and creating their own ‘audible monuments’ as they grow ever upwards physically and emotionally.

I do wonder how their own internal playlist will sound, and also whether my own musical tastes will influence them as they grow.  We can only watch… and listen…

Today was somewhat hectic as ‘she-who-must-be-obeyed’ is not feeling very well at all and it was left to me to do the School run with my two boys; Alex and James. Of course the School run also involved me having to make their pack lunches (wait till they open THAT little surprise!), break-their-fast and also ensure they are sh*t, showered and shaved before departure.

We survived

After all that, and the grumblings they made when I told ‘em we were walking to School, it was back to work, albeit working from home – thank gawd for broadband and a VPN connection.

Work, as in my previous post, is not going particularly pleasantly and today has gone pretty much to that same script. However, this post isn’t really a usual rant about how badly work has gone, but the small things that make life seem so much more worth living.

The look on my youngest son’s face, as he popped out of his classroom, when he saw me waiting made the whole day seem not so bad after all. His enthusiasm as he skips in front of me telling me about all that he did today does make me wistful for those yesteryears of my youth.

Keeping cynical in the face of his youthful exuberance seemed almost sacriligious.