Everyone wants to escape sometimes

I am getting bored with this now, the snow is still here and it looks as if it intends to stay. My son's school was closed and my daughter was unable to drive to Leicester to get to university, so we had the pleasure of their company at home. My son wandered around with an air of disapproval and he resisted all my efforts to encourage him to do something useful. My daughter was less visible but it was clear that our weekday routine was getting in the way of her plans for the day

Robbie was up and ready for work very early this morning, he wanted to get all his work done so that he could finish early and go out this afternoon. The snow has kept him away from the railways for a few days and it doesn't take long for him to get withdrawal symptoms. So this afternoon I braved the weather and the roads to drive Robbie to the station. The main roads were not too bad but if you strayed on to the very icy side roads you had to take your life in your hands.  

I only had an hour of 'peace' without Robbie, then I had to go to work, but it least it gave my son and daughter a chance to watch television and take possession of the lounge for a few hours. Robbie returned late but happy, the train for his return journey was rather special (according to Robbie) so he had plenty to tell me about his afternoon. I'd been worried about him falling over in the snow, but thankfully he managed to stay upright thanks to his Dr Martens shoes.

“Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn” - Orson Welles

My son persuaded me that he absolutely had to have new clothes ready for the start of term. He is in the final year of sixth form so he doesn't have to wear uniform and he doesn't seem to have grown since the end of last term but it seems that he can't possibly cope with the clothes that he already has. So one day last week I had the joy of a shopping trip to Topman and several of his other favourite shops.

He wanted a pair if chinos, really I would have liked to just give him the money and just send him shopping on his own, but he had asked me to go with him and it is unusual for him to want us to do things together, so it was important for me to go with him. Every pair of trousers that we looked at seemed to be designed for Stretch Armstrong. Wearing them would certainly be a shape changing (and probably life changing) experience! The legs were impossibly narrow but the bottom was loose so that they give the wearer a strange bow legged look as if they have lost their horse or have had an unfortunate accident. My son assured me that they are meant to look like that, and just to be sure that I got the message he told me that old people don't understand fashion! It is so nice to have teenagers around to make me feel good about myself!!

He chose a pair of 'Stretch Armstrong' trousers with turn ups in a contrasting colour - and he dares to say that Robbie's fashion sense is weird! He then spotted another pair of trousers on the sale rail, they were the same sort of style but without the contrasting turn ups. That was the sum total of our purchases from Topman, but we still had more to buy. He chose a pair of long shorts, a patterned jumper, a pack of socks including a green pair with ducks on and one or two other bits and bobs. He was very happy with his purchases and to be fair the clothes looked better on than off, but I can't help thinking that there was a lot of truth in the words of Oscar Wilde

"Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months" - Oscar Wilde

Autism is like an iceberg some signs are visible but more are hidden below the surface

A telephone call on Friday afternoon left me in tears, but that is the end of the story, I need to start from the beginning. At 6am on Friday morning Robbie had left for work and I was standing in the kitchen ironing shirts and feeling very apprehensive. Two members of my family had important meetings that day and there was not a thing I could do to help either of them except to iron shirts for my son in the hope that looking neat and tidy would help him to make a good impression.

I have spent my life worrying about him, trying to keep him safe and generally trying to do my best for him, he may be 17 and almost grown up but I still worry and I still do my best to support him. Life is often challenging for people with Asperger's Syndrome or Autism but it can also be mentally exhausting for those who love them. I don't usually write about my son's Asperger's Syndrome because he tries so hard to be just like everyone else. He doesn't want to be labelled, he just wants to be accepted as himself, but in order to achieve that he has had to work hard to understand other people and to understand himself. It has been an up hill struggle, but I am so proud of him because he never gives up, even when things go wrong he keeps on trying.


He had applied for an important role within his school and on Friday he had to attend interviews as pat of the the selection process. We all feel anxious about interviews, but for my son facing people he didn't know, managing to maintain eye contact, to answer questions and (most important of all) to know when to stop talking was a really big challenge for him. I felt apprehensive all morning, and it was a relief to get a text from him saying that the interviews had gone well. He told me that he would know the outcome by the end of the school day, so he still had an anxious wait. I wished him luck and reminded him that whatever the outcome, it is all good experience.


I can't believe the change in him since he moved to that school. They have helped him to believe in himself, to believe that he can do things and to dare to aim high. His old school had high academic standards and he did well there, but I never felt that they cared about him as an individual. His new school had a different outlook and he has thrived.


I watched the clock, 3.15pm came and went and I convinced myself that it must be bad news. Then at almost 4pm my son rang to say that he had been selected as a vice president of his school for the next academic year (boys are not allowed to stand for president because it is a girls school). I was just on my way out to the supermarket when I took the call, I was so please for him and so proud of him, that I sat in the car with tears running down my cheeks. It has done him the world of good going to that school.

Getting My Own Back

Thursday was my son's parents evening, an event that neither of us were looking forward to very much. I was just anxious about getting to each appointment on time but he was anxious about what they would say about him and even more anxious about what I might say. As we drove towards the school he began his lecture, I must not say anything embarrassing, I must not make comments about the teachers and I must not under any circumstances talk to any of his friends or their parents. I have never set out to be an embarrassment to my children, but it seems that it comes naturally!


As we got out of the car he cast a critical eye over my choice of clothing and suggested that I should leave my coat in the car! I assured him that there was nothing wrong with my coat and I suggested that he should pay more attention to his own clothes. We signed in and I noticed fascinated that the 'merekat effect' is still in evidence. As one of only a handful of boys at a girl's school it is not surprising that he turns heads. What is more surprising is that he seems completely oblivious of the rows of heads popping up following him with their eyes as he passes.


We sat in the library looking around and waiting for our turn to speak to his psychology teacher. The room was busy with teachers sitting at tables around the edge of the room, with chairs in the centre of the room for the people waiting for their turn to talk to a teacher. Most of the teachers were busy talking to parents and students, but one or two were sitting there all alone. I quietly asked my son who was the 'billy no mates' sitting opposite us looking miserable. I received a glare in reply and an instruction to stop being embarrassing. I couldn't resist teasing him just a bit, it's fun being an embarrassment to your offspring. I pointed out that judging by his glasses, the chap in question seemed to have been taking fashion advice from Brains on Thunderbirds. My son tried hard to keep a straight face, but failed miserably, then with a sly grin he announced that 'Billy no mates' really was called Bill. Then it was time for us to see the teacher and his smile vanished again.


I think it came as a surprise to my son that each of his subject teachers were very pleased with his progress and they had lots of good things to say about him. I was impressed with the change I could see in my son, he has always been bright, but this school has nurtured him as an individual and given him confidence to be himself rather than just being one of many. He was very lucky to get into this school, I know some people thought I was mad to let him change schools for the sixth form, but it was the best decision we ever made.    

Turning Heads

I had a strange experience yesterday, I went to parents evening with my son. He has recently moved from a boy's school to a girls school for his A levels. It was his choice to make the move and his decision was based on the girl's school being able to offer him the subjects he wanted and a better all round experience. He is one of just half a dozen boys in his year, there are about a dozen in the whole school so the move must have been a bit of a culture shock. 


Last night my son and I went to a consultation meeting at school. I am used to the school, my daughters went there, so turning up for parents evening was a fairly ordinary experience - or so I thought. I wasn't prepared for the new experience of going to parents evening with my son. As we walked in there were a number of younger girls there to get people to sign in and to give out various bits of paperwork. It felt like watching meerkats, every head turned in the same direction as he walked past and there was a chorus of girls calling his name and trying to attract his attention. As we left much the same thing happened again and my son gave a small hand gesture of acknowledgement as he walked passed them. He seems to be very happy at his new school, but I just hope it isn't making him big headed!  

Teenagers are people who express a burning desire to be different be dressing exactly alike.

The son who must remain nameless has been at home since finishing his GCSE's in early June and before that he had exam leave  so it feels as if he has been 'at leisure' for a very long time. He started sixth form at his new school on Tuesday so on Monday he and I had a shopping day to get an extra pair of shoes and some more trousers for school. It was really nice to spend some time together, usually I am just the taxi!


I am not a natural shopper, in fact I go to town so rarely that I find that a number of the shops have changed since I was last there. So I was not fully prepared for the joys of Topman and River Island. Why do they have to be upstairs? Clearly 'the nameless one' gets his love of clothes and clothes shops from his dad. I was fairly calm when he showed the carrot cut chinos that he wanted, they were in a colour that I am more used to seeing in the cat tray on a very bad day but I don't have to be seen out in them so I gave in without a fight.


Next we looked at 'boat shoes' apparently they are retro, they would certainly not have looked out of place in the old men's section at Marks and Spencer. His heart was set on a pair that were navy blue and brown and eventually he found a pair to fit. That was the easy bit, the price was a bit hard to take, but if that is what he chose to spend his shoe allowance on he will have to wait a while for the next pair.

He also needed what he described as a pair of short joggers for sport. Apparently he had seen a pair that were just right and he wanted me see them. After trailing around the entire store he finally found the desired garment and my composure became a distant memory. They were in a dirty off white colour in a loose almost baggy fitting with cuffs around the knee. I couldn't possibly let him be seen out in public in something like that, I have seen a similar garment in the past but it was worn by an elderly man at a care home who needed extra room for a nappy! The price was the deciding factor, this was one desire that he would not become reality. We went to a sports shop and found some (slightly) more normal sports shorts. We went into several other shops so that he could show me all the items on his wish list so by the time we drove home my feet were killing me. I have seen some sights in my life, but those joggers were certainly 'memorable' for all the wrong reasons! 

On Target

In a way I had been dreading Thursday morning, what if the unthinkable happened, what would I do then? The problem was that I was not in control, I had done my best or at least I thought I had, but this wasn't about me. All I could do was get on with my morning and wait for the phone to ring. 


At last the phone took pity on me and rang. A rather cheerful voice at the other end informed me that he had passed. He had some very pleasing results and most important of all he had got more than enough to get into the sixth form of his choice. After a huge sigh of relief, I was the proud mum full of congratulations and cross with myself for my moments of doubt.


So why was I so anxious, I don't recall being this nervous when his sisters got their results. He is every bit as bright and able as his sisters, but perhaps not as diligent. The girls were able to continue to the sixth form at the same school, but 'the son who must remain nameless' wanted to change schools. We all agreed that it would be the best option for him, and he had been offered a place at the better school (the one his sisters attended) but he needed at least 8 good GCSE grades in order to take up his place. Perhaps it isn't so surprising that I was anxious, so much depended on his results.


Today I took 'the nameless one' to the new school for a meeting to sort out his timetable and do all the necessary  paperwork before starting school a week on Tuesday. He will be one of only a handful of boys at an all girls school, but I am certain it is the right place for him. It is not always easy for him to cope with ordinary things because of his Asperger Syndrome, but the next couple of years will be very important not just in achieving good A level results but in helping him to become independent enough to thrive at university. 

Wearing The Happy Hat

My son has decided that he no longer wants to be named on the blog. As a blogger himself he understands that this will be rather challenging for me, so he has given me permission to write about him (as long as it is not too embarrassing) but he does not want me to post photos of him. So the question is do I give him an alias or should I just refer to him as my son. So far that question is unresolved and for now he remains nameless. My dilemma reminded me of when he was about 8 and going through his spy phase. He decided to change his name to Flash, his teacher was most annoyed when he changed his name on all his exercise books!! That seems like a lifetime ago now.


So back to the present, he has his GCSEs looming in front of him and the difficult question of finding a suitable place for Sixth Form. The school he is at is very good in terms of the results it achieves and there are some very good teachers but it is very rigid and oppressive. I want him to do well beyond Sixth Form and that involves becoming more self reliant and taking responsibility for his own learning. He also felt that he needed a different learning environment for Sixth Form and he was very keen to go to the school that his sisters attended. There was just one problem, they only take up to 20 external students for post 16 education and everyone wants to go there.


Having attended the open evening and chatted to the teachers about the courses available he was more keen than ever and he eagerly filled in his application form. After that there was a long and anxious wait, then when we had almost given up hope there was a telephone message inviting him for an interview, he was so excited. The interview went well and on Friday the long awaited letter arrived, he has a firm offer of a place. He will be one of only a handful of boys at a girls school! He had a huge grin on his face and he sat in the lounge with his hat on (the hat is similar to the type worn by Olly Murs). I asked why the hat had put in an appearance after an absence of several weeks and he said that it is his happy hat. He took it off and allowed me a brief glimpse inside. Inside he has tucked several photos and notes into the lining band. He carries his most precious memories with him - in his hat! He has always had a unique approach to life. 


I like the idea of a happy hat, if I thought it would work I would make one for Robbie, but maybe Robbie wasn't built for hats! 


Photo by t-florie

A Fitting Description

Sometimes when I sit down to write the blog I cant write about the most pressing issues, thoughts and feelings as it would either be breeching the confidence of someone who would not want that issue made public or it would make extremely boring reading. That was the case today, so I did what I usually do when this happens, I clicked on to a site for writers looking for inspiration. There was a long list of questions, but the one that jumped out at me was 'describe yourself in one word'. That was a fairly easy question for me to write about because my special word was given to me a very long time ago and over the years I have grown into it.


I went to a very traditional school that put a strong emphasis on academic achievement. The teaching methods may seem rather old fashioned by today's standards but I am glad that we had to learn so much by heart, because it has stayed with me all my life and the poetry in particular has brought me so much pleasure. From the age of 9 we had spoken English lessons with the formidable Mrs Nichol who could strike fear into even the bravest heart without even raising her voice. We had a textbook called Poems for Pleasure and we were expected to choose a poem from the book, write it out in an exercise book, learn it by heart and then recite it in the lesson. She would hear half the class each lesson so the whole process worked on a fortnightly cycle. 


When my name was called I took my exercise book across to her desk then walked across to the corner opposite her desk and recited my poem. I was fairly pleased with myself as I had remembered it without prompting and I hoped I'd read with enough expression and meaning to satisfy. There was a long pause when I finished the poem then her deep terrifying voice boomed out "Idiosyncratic, what is the meaning of idiosyncratic?" I was frozen to the spot, the word was not in the poem and I had no idea what it meant. I told her that I did not know. She replied "idiosyncratic, meaning peculiar unto one's self; learn it and remember it because you will need it for the rest of your life to excuse your spelling!" My spelling has improved since those days but the word has remained with me ever since. I developed a great respect for Mrs Nichol, she was certainly formidable but she was an amazing teacher with a very good sense of humour.


I like the word idiosyncratic, it sums me up very well. I do things my way, I am not a sheep, I don't follow blindly I make my own decisions and I have my own opinions. That may irritate people sometimes, but I like it that way and I am not going to change, so don't waste time trying. If I had to choose a second word to describe me it would be 'determined' (or as my family would say 'stubborn'). It is not so easy to think of just one word to describe Robbie, he is a man of many words and one word would never be enough to describe him. At the moment the only word that even comes close is impossible!

University

It was a busy day yesterday, Laura started university, she was only there for a couple of hours but it seemed to go well. Her greatest concern seems to be the her ID card, she hates the photo they took of her! I told her that it is traditional for passport and ID card photos to be unspeakable, but she is convinced that this is the most unflattering photo ever. I can't see anything wrong with it, in fact I have had worse photos myself and some of Robbie's ID card pictures have been seriously scary!

Sam was feeling unwell when he got home from school, he had a pounding headache and he was finding it impossible to stay awake. I could tell he was genuinely unwell because we went to Grandma's for tea and usually he loves to be there, but yesterday he just sat curled up on the sofa and he went to bed as soon as he got home. I expected him to be too unwell to go to school this morning, but he came down in his school uniform as usual, he looked dreadful and he said he had a pounding headache. I suggested that he should stay at home, but he was determined to go to school, he said he had coursework to hand in. Now I am convinced he is ill! The Sam I know would never pass up the chance of a day off school, maybe he is growing up at last!

The Kitchen Police

Robbie is still moaning about the 'unauthorised' knives I bought. I really don't understand him, he says that it will cause extra washing up, I hardly think that three knives and some extra tea spoons are going to cause much difference. I only bought them because he was moaning last week that we had some missing knives, and in our house tea spoons seem to the same place that scissors and biros disappear to. I think his real reason for objecting is that they don't quite match the others and that annoys him, we have a set of best cuttlery and we even have a very posh set that hardly ever gets used, but Uri Geller's understudy lives in our house, so for every day we have cuttlery that can easily be replaced.



Sam went back to school yesterday, being a typical fourteen year old he had been very difficult trying on his new school trousers so that I could turn them up. He took them upstairs, tried them on and came down carrying them, he wouldn't let me see him with them on, but he showed me how much needed turning up. So at the weekend I carefully turned up one pair, on Monday morning he put them on and they were ankle bashers, so I had to hurriedly sew the second pair to the correct length! Typical boy, a little more effort on his part in the first place would have meant a lot of effort for me! this morning I have to adjust pair one to the correct length and turn up pair three, thankfully I didnt have enough faith in Sam's measurements to turn up all three pairs on Sunday!

Choices

I have such a bad back, I can hardly sit down to write this because it hurts so much. I don't know how I hurt it. Anyway on to more cheerful subjects, Sam has been notified of the subjects he will be able to study next year. He expressed his preferences a couple of months ago and he has been waiting anxiously to find out if he got his chosen subjects - he did! He was very lucky and he got everything he asked for, triple science, history, French and photography. He loves photography and he really wanted to study it so he is very happy that he can do photography GCSE. He already takes nice photos and he edits them in interesting way, here are two recent pictures that he took.

One of Those Days

Do you ever have one of those days? Today started badly and so far it has gone from bad to worse. Sam came home limping badly yesterday, he had somehow managed to cut the soles of both feet during a swimming lesson and he was in agony because it was very painful to walk. He was still in pain this morning and he didn't want to go to school because he has to walk long distances between classrooms. I was determined that he should go but I would write a note to explain his problems. He got very upset and angry and he was still telling me off as I drove him to school. His nose started to bleed and he got a huge splash of blood all down the front of his clean white shirt. By the time he got out of the car the passenger seat was littered with blood stained tissues and he looked as if he had been attacked.

Dave the cat was in the car with us because I had to deliver him to the vet for his teeth to be taken out. He had to be there at exactly the time that Sam had to be dropped at school in a different part of Northampton, so Sam had to be at school a bit early and Dave had to get there a few minutes late. It is so stressful having to deal with the traffic when you are in a hurry. As I pulled away from Sam's school I could hear Dave being sick in his cat carrier, he is always travel sick, but I'd hoped he would be OK today because he had been starved (much to his disgust). I had to clean his carrier up before I could take him in to the vet, it isn't easy to do that in a Micra! Dave decided to hide under the front seat and it was a real struggle to get him out. I hope he forgives me for getting his teeth done, it should make him a lot more comfortable when it is done.

Communication Skills

Robbie and Sam both have a tendency to provide too much information. Sam restricts his enthusiasm to his favourite subjects, but Robbie will talk at length about absolutely anything and I often have to tell him to stop talking because it makes me totally exhausted. Interestingly both Sam and Robbie are less good at communicating essential information that they really need to share. Robbie has been in the dog house countless times for failing to tell me he would be late, and Sam tends to announce at the last minute that he has to have a certain item for school the following day – thank goodness for 24hr Tesco!

Sam walks home from school with his friend Ollie and one day last week they were extremely late and I was very anxious. Sam's phone was turned off – he has an infuriating habit of keeping it turned off unless he needs to use it, he says it preserves the battery! I had no idea where he was or why he was late and I was starting to panic. He finally appeared looking dishevelled and muddy and I thought for a moment he had been in a fight. He explained that he and Ollie had found a lost dog at the edge of the park, they had read the tag on it's collar and rang the number, it was an answering service and they had to get in touch with the owner and then the owner had to come out to fetch the dog. The boys stayed with the dog and played with it until the owner arrived. The lady was very grateful to get the dog back because he had been missing all day. The next day she rang the school to compliment the boys on their thoughtful and helpful behaviour.

I was really proud of Sam for being responsible enough to take care of the dog, I just wish he had remembered to let me know that he had been delayed so that I wasn't worried.

Genetic Engineering

Sam and Laura are back at school this morning, they only had Friday and Monday off school because Easter was so early. They have another school holiday coming up in a couple of weeks. Easter has been a bit of a non event for us this year, usually we go to Plymouth to visit family, but with such a short holiday that proved impossible. It is lovely to visit family, but when we had snow on Easter Sunday I was quite relieved that we were at home, it is bad enough driving to Plymouth in good weather, I've had miserable journeys in driving rain and fog before, but thankfully I have never encountered snow.

Sam must be growing, when he put his uniform on this morning his trousers were perilously close to becoming 'ankle bashers' and they will certainly not last until the summer. His blazer is also looking a bit short, but that will have to last for a while longer. I am annoyed about his trousers, I bought him three pairs of M&S trousers for the new school year, they had plenty of growing room (or so I thought) and I expected them to last until the summer, but it looks as if we will have to go shopping in the next couple of weeks. Hopefully it will not be as traumatic as the saga we had buying shoes recently. I think I wrote about the visit to the shoe shop, but that was just the tip of the iceberg, for the next couple of weeks he refused to wear his new shoes. He wore his old shoes and then when I removed those he sneaked out in black trainers, he claimed the new shoes were tighter around his ankle and we had to have a 'frank exchange of views' before he surrendered and went to school in his new shoes. I feel as if I am running a laundry at the moment, Emily is home from university and I have been sorting out all the stuff that no longer fits Sam so I have piles of washing. I know it is mad to wash clean clothes before passing them on for recycling but I can't help it.

Robbie was late home from work again yesterday. He told me he had some exciting news and he had a huge grin on his face. He had been in contact with Wendy, his cousin from USA and she had met up with cousin Bobbie who reminded Wendy that various family members had worked for a well known company building locos. As you can imagine Robbie provided me with a full account of the various classes of loco that the company built, but I will spare you the details. He was delighted by this news and he has decided that trains must be in his genes! I wonder what is in my genes, endurance perhaps?

Interesting Choices 13.03.08

I mentioned The Grinch in my last post and it reminded me of a very odd conversation I had with Sam the other day. He told me that at school he had to prepare and deliver a presentation on someone who had made a significant contribution to society. Sam had decided that everyone would talk about Winston Churchill and people like that so he chose someone less obvious. His first idea was Hugh Hefner, I had never heard of him, but Sam patiently explained that he was the creator of the Playboy empire. I asked what he had done for society and with an almost straight face Sam said that he must have made a lot of men very happy! I couldn't help wondering about the women, but It wasn't appropriate to address that question at the time.

Sam went on to explain that his friend decided to talk about Hugh Hefner so he chose Quentin Tarantino. That was another person I had never heard of, I ventured a guess that he may be a ballet dancer, but Sam assured me that he was an actor and film director, I guess that explains it, I can't sit still long enough to watch a film. Sam assured me that his films were too grim for me anyway, but he said Robbie would know all about him. It is nice to know that my son is capable of original thought, but when there was a world full of people to chose from I can't imagine why he seriously believes that those two people made a significant contribution to society! You may be wondering what the Grinch has to do with all this, well he cropped up at the end of the conversation. Sam said that he regretted his choice and he wished he had chosen Dr Seuss because then he could have done the presentation in rhyme. I wonder who I would have chosen!

Getting Old 03.03.08

Robbie and the children do a pretty good job of making me feel old, but just in case I hadn't got the message Radio 4 managed press the point with a program about one of my childhood favourites, Paddington Bear, who is celebrating his 50th Birthday this year! I first encountered Paddington Bear at School. As a young child I loved to be read to, and in those far of days when the government were too busy dealing with other matters to meddle with education, my school nurtured a love of books that has remained with me ever since.

When I first started school at the age of four I wasn't to keen on learning to read. We had little red check gingham bags which hung on the backs of our chairs to hold our reading books. The reading books were deeply uninspiring, they were about Dick and Dora, their friends May and Jesse and their dog Gyp. I suspect those books came out of the ark and as a child growing up in the 1960's I didn't know anyone called Dick or Dora and certainly not May or Jesse, I didn't identify with them and I couldn't care less about what the words meant because it was so boring. We had better reading books later on, I think those were called Wide Range Readers, finally there was something worth reading and suddenly I could read.

School lunch was a very formal affair with all sorts of rules to be observed, but afterwards we had a period known as ‘rest’. It was one of my favourite parts of the school day; we all went to the school hall and rested on rugs while stories were read to us. I was introduced to The Borrowers, Milly Molly Mandy, Dr Doolittle, Sam Pig, 101 Dalmatians, The Country Child, The Moomins, My Naughty Little Sister and my dear old friend Paddington Bear. I loved them all and I can remember them very clearly so many years later, but the strange thing is that I never grew out of Paddington. I can picture myself in my college room working at my desk listening to my favourite Paddington story on my casette player and laughing out loud at his antics. I have gone on to share his exploits with my own children and I have a feeling he will still be going strong for many years to come.

The Painstaking Process of Packing. 16.02.08

This was written on Thursday morning.

The packing for Austria continues, I think Sam is more or less ready now - and I am totally exhausted! Last night I labelled all his clothes and got everything folded ready to be put into his case, I still have a couple of pairs of jeans to turn up and a few things to iron, but that shouldn't take too long. Last night I took Sam out to buy the ingredients for his packed tea, etc. He is surprisingly rigid in his ideas about packed food, if it should be hot he will not eat it cold, so that rules out sausage, sausage rolls and all sorts of other things. He likes BLT sandwiches, but not unless they are very cold, the same goes for yoghurt, and similar things so we can't pack anything like that. In the end he bought a couple of cereal bars, some wholemeal snacks, some fruit and a jelly. According to Sam the only thing that will stay at it's optimum temperature on the coach is honey, but he can't bear to eat it in sandwiches, so today I have to pop out and get him a mini pot of honey and some Rivita and he will have to take a knife and do it himself! I don't suppose he will starve, so I'm not going to worry about it.

His school is making the arrangements excessively complicated. I have to deliver Sam in full school uniform with his luggage and his regular school bag. He has to do a full day at school but he can change into his own clothes at lunchtime, I then have to wait outside school at 3.35 collect his school bag and school clothes. It is potty, it is all about putting ticks in boxes so that the school can meet the government's mindless targets, there is no consideration for parents or pupils.

Saturday morning.

Well, my hopes of being almost ready for the trip proved very wide of the mark. Sam was allowed to take a rucksack and a small pillow as hand luggage and the rucksack needed to contain his packed food. He had packed his own bag and it was already bursting at the seems before I had even attempted to pack his food. I had to investigate but when I attempted to move the bag I could hardly lift it. I removed assorted unnecessary 'essentials' but I was speechless when I found that Sam had packed his safe complete with combination lock! I have worked with enough probation clients over the years to have picked up a few 'skills' and managed to open the safe to reveal to pens, a lip moisturiser stick and a selection of sweets. Much to Sam's disgust the safe was 'grounded' but he took most of the contents. He and I conducted a bit of a war of attrition regarding the packing, I packed, he re-packed, I put it back as I left it and he modified it again. This continued several more times, the main argument centred around a a 4 gang extension lead, three jars of honey and a years supply of Lynx toiletries that Sam was determined to take! He is so like Robbie sometimes! We also had a bit of a performance regarding his passport and health card, but finally he and his luggage was safely delivered to school. I returned at the end of the school day to collect Sam's school clothes and bag and as I left the boys were boarding the bus ready for their very long journey to Austria.

To Ski or Not to Ski. 14.11.07

I think Robbie must have had a marginally better day at work today. I didn't really get much chance to talk to him because we had to go to a meeting at Sam's school about a ski trip that Sam is going on in February. Laura went on a ski trip a few years ago, but I don't think she enjoyed it very much. I am not sure what Sam will make of skiing, but I think he will enjoy the experience of visiting different places and trying new things.

I don't understand why all the men in my life are so obsessed with clothes and shopping. Even Sam loves shopping, the highlight of his evening seemed to be reading the ski wear catalogue and selecting his favourite hat's, goggles and bags. He has a fascination with bags, just like you know who. No doubt he will need a hat and goggles, maybe a bag too, but I think we need to start with more down to earth stuff like a ski suit, thermal socks and gloves. On second thoughts, perhaps we need to start with a second mortgage!

All Dressed Up 07.11.07

Sam came home from school feeling deeply aggrieved. Apparently the much detested cross country running has been 'repackaged' and is now timetabled as 'run for fun'. Fun implies a degree of choice and enjoyment but 'run' most certainly does not! Sam confirmed that the new lesson was indistinguishable from cross country, in fact it was so bad that he almost collapsed. Some things never change! My school successfully inoculated me against sport, athletics, swimming, music and latin and now in these allegedly enlightened times Sam's school is doing exactly the same thing to him. Exercise is important, but you can't bully people to exercise, the only way is to encourage them and make it genuinely enjoyable

My schooldays began in the 1960's when times were changing fast - but my school clung to outdated rules and traditions. Our uniform was rigidly enforced, panama hat, blazer, white gloves and gingham dress in summer and Harris tweed coat, winter hat, navy gloves, blouse, tie, skirt and cardigan in winter. We had indoor shoes and outdoor shoes as well as plimsolls and dancing shoes, so much of our day was taken up with changing our shoes. Our regulation hanging purses provided ample opportunity to strangle ourselves, but if we survived until break time they often came undone as we ran around playground causing grazed knees. After break the classroom always smelled of TCP!

Rules were strongly enforced, hat, gloves and outdoor shoes were obligatory when outside, even on a hot summer day. At the end of the school day we had to be checked by a teacher before leaving to ensure that we had our hats and gloves on. We were not allowed to eat in the street under any circumstances, that was an unforgivable sin. We had to participate in a number of ceremonies and rituals each year, church service on Ascension Day, Speech Day, Harvest Festival, Sports Day and the Carol Service. That all sounds very innocent until you consider that we spent days learning how to walk and how to shake hands so that we would be able to accept a winners ribbon on sports day. Harvest Festival and Ascension Day required days of practice and the carol service required us to learn to sing in Latin! I detested all the fuss and those early school memories have inoculated me against all forms of pomp and circumstance. I like things plain, simple and unpretentious.

With that in mind I was very interested to read Jan's blog today. She wrote a fascinating entry about the state opening of parliament and all the ritual and custom involved. Jan quite rightly pointed out how special our traditions are. I found it quite thought provoking as I had never really considered it before, I would be sad to see our traditions lost, but on the other hand it seems a bit ridiculous. It all seems a bit 'Emperor's New Clothes' a lot of pomp and very little substance. I found myself feeling sorry for the Queen, I'm sure she would rather be at home with her feet up watching Judge Judy instead of meeting a load of weird old men wearing tights and fancy dress. She has to sit there and read a speech written by someone else about all the 'good' intentions of her government. This year it wasn't even news, the prime minister announced it all last month. The Queen must have seen so many failed ideas repackaged and dressed up to seem more acceptable to the public. On that subject I wonder why the European Constitution springs so readily to mind! In the end cross country running cannot be made more palatable just by giving it a new name, and schoolboys know when they are being conned - I suspect the British public know when they are being conned too!