Far out to sea there is a mast of polished ash, skewering a tar-baked hull into the waves. The man at the helm looks a bit like me. Is it me? It's hard to tell who's beneath the oilskins and sou'wester. It's hard to tell. It's hard to tell whether the little boat is seaworthy, it's hard to tell. Hard. Whoever he is, he doesn´t need a compass or navigational charts. He needs a sextant!
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| Angle Grinder |
Any voyage, especially one into which you were press-ganged, is more likely to succeed when you can acquire the right kit.
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| Purser (even the lips) |
In charge of procurement,a young crew member surveys the deck.
I couldn't love my son any more, even in my imagination. It may not be good for him. It might be suffocating. I don't think so though.
lots of love
affection
games
encouragement
limits
clarity
honesty
Some key words I give to myself from a novice father to a novice father.
I think I need to stop chastising myself. Protestant baggage, that's what it is. Somewhere along the road to self-improvement there is a stumbling block and it's a big one. One can see it because it's right in the middle of the path, but it must have some magnetic properties because I fall over it on every journey I make.
"But I get up again"
Four seasons in one day: Is there a more beautiful song anywhere in my head?
The Spring is doing it´s big-headed regeneration boogie. The flox look like a cartoon explosion and the cherry trees are in blossom. It always strikes me as slightly wierd the way cherry flowers smell like a kind of heady drug, subtle but unique. They don't really smell much like cherries, like orange blossom doesn´t really smell like marmalade.
There are lots of fun looking birds about too. plenty of yellow and red and British racing green.
I had a meeting with the school psychologist last Friday. The psychologist, Loreto and I. Jacob isn´t really adapting to school too well. Of course he´s still only three, but when I have to leave him in the school in the morning it's always traumatic. He weeps heart-wrenchingly. He's insecure.
The meeting was held in the school in the lady psychologist's boxy office. I kept my mouth shut for the first ten minutes, but Loreto was interrupting almost from the off, accusisng his teacher of shouting at him and his father of keeping him at the school for longer than necessary. She was insulting and rude and managed to cry quite a bit too.
Jacob told me that he didn't want to be with his mum because she shouted at him. So if that's not irony it´s certainly hypocracy. On Monday when he and I were eating, he asked me if he could get down from the table, gave me as big spontaneous kiss on the lips and said, "daddy is the best". Of all the presents I have ever been given in my life, I'm getting the nicest now. What money can't buy.
All HEADINGS are there in the ether. And laziness prevents me from doing more.
Today's ode:
I think I need to stop chastising myself. Protestant baggage, that's what it is. Somewhere along the road to self-improvement there is a stumbling block and it's a big one. One can see it because it's right in the middle of the path, but it must have some magnetic properties because I fall over it on every journey I make.
"But I get up again"
Four seasons in one day: Is there a more beautiful song anywhere in my head?
The Spring is doing it´s big-headed regeneration boogie. The flox look like a cartoon explosion and the cherry trees are in blossom. It always strikes me as slightly wierd the way cherry flowers smell like a kind of heady drug, subtle but unique. They don't really smell much like cherries, like orange blossom doesn´t really smell like marmalade.
There are lots of fun looking birds about too. plenty of yellow and red and British racing green.
I had a meeting with the school psychologist last Friday. The psychologist, Loreto and I. Jacob isn´t really adapting to school too well. Of course he´s still only three, but when I have to leave him in the school in the morning it's always traumatic. He weeps heart-wrenchingly. He's insecure.
The meeting was held in the school in the lady psychologist's boxy office. I kept my mouth shut for the first ten minutes, but Loreto was interrupting almost from the off, accusisng his teacher of shouting at him and his father of keeping him at the school for longer than necessary. She was insulting and rude and managed to cry quite a bit too.
Jacob told me that he didn't want to be with his mum because she shouted at him. So if that's not irony it´s certainly hypocracy. On Monday when he and I were eating, he asked me if he could get down from the table, gave me as big spontaneous kiss on the lips and said, "daddy is the best". Of all the presents I have ever been given in my life, I'm getting the nicest now. What money can't buy.
All HEADINGS are there in the ether. And laziness prevents me from doing more.
Today's ode:
