In At The Deep End

It’s taken a while and I’m still not sure it’s right, but here it is:

I am from tracing paper toilet roll (”Now Wash Your Hands Please”), from the ZX Spectrum and tobacco packed tightly in a pipe.

I am from the bungalow near The Hall, with the treehouse by the field (tall golden ears stretching into the distance, a hunter’s playground).

I am from the nettles I found (painfully) under a log, the bougainvillea and red hot pokers by the roadside, from yesterday, today and tomorrow.

I am from keeping a stiff upper lip and getting on with things, from a brave or foolish mother whose name was whispered if spoken at all and a perfect brother much mourned but barely mentioned, from Granny Green and the Grooms.

I am from teaching and shopkeeping, from using your hands and using your head.

From “look after your sister” and “you’re a goodie-two-shoes”. I am from never being good enough, or being too good.

I am from Methodism, from local preaching, reading, singing and getting involved. I am from making a difference, even when it seems nothing can change. I am from God filling the gaps, holding me tight, from seeking and finding and being given with open hands.

I’m from Kitwe and Norfolk, from mealie-meal and mangoes and braais in a 50-gallon drum, from tea in china cups (or mugs for the garden) and Norfolk shortbread.

From the houseboy who fed us half his ration and blew on hurts to make them better, the teetotal grandmother who downed a glass of Bols and choked, and the nanny whose dog chewed dominoes and had to be carried down the stairs he gambolled up so happily.

I am from the boxes and bags I don’t need but can’t let go of because everything else I failed to guard has disappeared, from the gold earrings preserved as a memento and “lost” by a jealous stepmother, from the family tree in the family Bible which no-one will admit to wanting but all will fight bitterly to keep when Poppa dies, from my mother’s long ponytail which turned out to be the same shade as my grown-up hair, from the happy memories I try, and fail, and try again, to make for my children because I have so few of my own.

I finally got around to doing this, and then nearly bottled out of actually posting it. If you want to see how these things should really be done, look at one by Jax or Merry and I’m sure Katy could do a better one too. If you fancy doing one yourself, and to see the original poem it’s modelled on here are some instructions.

I am from the cul-de-sac and the main road, from Araldite and the S-shaped skid mark I made with my trike.

I am from the hard and slippery parquet floor lit with light from the French windows.

I am from the mock orange bush hidden in blossom, the yellow daffodils on a green lawn that I tried to miss when I flew from the swing.

I am from shunning service station food and eating in the carpark from orange stacking lunchbox trays, each with a drum kit of tupperware lids and a little inkwell of tomato ketchup. From Chris and Joan and not many others.

I am from maths from Dad and cuddles from Mum and Buddy Holly tapes played in the car.

From being too southern, too spotty, too poor at sport and too clever.

I am from “You’re not getting me in that dump again”, from being washed clean under a gushing tap, from slowly, fitfully building a relationship that I sometimes stretch like elastic. From mind and heart and song and quiet.

I am from two different commuter belts, home-grown tomatoes and really short mince pies.

From the end of the holiday on the boat, Dad’s spanner slipping and smashing his glasses. From the drive home with the boat behind the car, Mum reading the signs and Dad negotiating town centre traffic by feel.

I am from home cine film free from Dad’s work showing holidays on the beach, and a photo of a happy but squashed Daddy being a bus to two sons, a daughter and a nephew pinned up next to black work words on white work paper.

Somehow the CHEF sports day got missed out last week (I think i was too busy being steamed up about the LEA visit!), so I’m going to blog it now, then fiddle the date to get it in the right place
It was a stinking hot day and we were late because of waiting around for aforementioned LEA meeting, then picking up K and rushing over to Cherry Hinton Park - still haven’t found a route which feels sensible! - in a boiling hot car was not a good start. We got to the car park to find that there was one beautifully shady space left, all the rest being in full sunlight, but that we could not get to it because of a bin lorry parked in the way! Decided to get everything ready before unstrapping children and fortunately by the time that was done and we had waited and grumbled for just a few minutes the lorry was on the move and we could get to the space. A few minutes well spent, it turned out later!
The sports day was great! Really laid back, with Chris doing his usual combination of fun, enthusiasm and just enough scariness to keep everyone on the hop :mrgeen: J joined in with everything (except for one wobble when an activity seemed to need a partner and he was sure nobody would want to be his ) and generally had a whale of a time, K joined in when he felt like it and L wandered around trying to be like the big boys and girls - and also spent a fair amount of time riding an enormous bike (rather bigger than her!) and actually getting it moving I, meanwhile, was able to have lovely chats with real grown-ups under the shade of the trees, enjoying a cool breeze - definitely a good place to be on such a hot day.
Once the organised activities and the picnic were over we bowed to pressure from the children to move across the park to the paddling pools, where Helen and I paddled in the shade, chatted and tried to keep our children more or less covered up and/or in the shade. The ice-cream van did a brisk trade
The boys and L paddled and swam in tee-shirts and pants, so when the time came to go we were able to just pop off wet underwear and put on clean dry pants, trousers and socks - which L and K promptly soaked by going back into the pool while I was getting J changed *groan*
Then we made our way back to our nice cool car (see - those few minutes waiting for the space were well worth it!), with a minor detour into the woods, a brief pause to rescue SB from a tree, a couple of arguments as to how long was reasonablt play when each extra minute playing meant about 10 extra minutes in traffic on the way home… the usual sort of thing really

On Friday we went along to the end of a Friday Club meeting to see if we would like to join. It might have been more helpful to have gone to the whole thing, but K had special things on at preschool so we just went for the picnic at the end and the chance to meet the other families. It’s a group of Christian HE (or flexi) families who meet fortnightly for various structured activities and then a picnic and it sounds great. It should give J and K a bit of structure and togetherness (working with other children), which I know J is missing and I think K will miss once he is no longer at preschool, but in a very friendly and low-key environment. I’m hoping it will also help J with some of his ponderings about God. School, for some reason I haven’t quite fathomed, was very destructive of his faith and he has become very antagonistic towards religion, which I find difficult as I am his Sunday School teacher at least half the time; hopefully this will give him a chance to discuss things with another adult and to see that other children are Christian too (we have only three families at church with children so he is very much in the minority there). At the least it may stop him rubbishing K when he makes statements about his beliefs.
The mothers also meet on Mondays (fortnightly or monthly, not sure) for prayer and mutual support, as well as to plan the Friday sessions, so I went along to that meeting this week and found it immensely helpful. We went round the group talking about our concerns and then had a time of prayer. I can’t remember the last time I did that and there is something so special about sharing prayer together and hearing others pray for you.
There is only one more Friday meeting this term, then a break until September, so we’ll try to get to all of that last one. I really hope this works out (we’re kind of on trial for now) as I can see that many good things could come of it

Scissors, paper, bomb!

It’s turning into a bit of an arms race

Well, we went to the library at 9:45 (15 minutes before meeting) and spent some time choosing books in the children’s section, then went to desk and asked about the reading mission leaflet we’d found and signed up for that. This brought us to a couple of minutes after 10 so we rushed upstairs to the cafe, where we were supposed to be meeting, to find one lady there, who we thought might be our inspector, but turned out not to be. We bought drinks and snacks and sat down to wait.
25 minutes later I phoned Bob to check that I definitely had the right time and place. He was sure it was 10am in the cafe so we waited a bit longer. A friend arrived to look after L and stayed to chat instead (thank goodness!). We waited some more.
At 10:45 Bob phoned to say that he had rung the LEA office and they said the EWO should definitely be there by now and the LEA lady might be running late. My friend approached the lady sitting the other side of the cafe just to check it wasn’t her - and thereby made some poor candidate waiting for her interview even more nervous! We waited. My friend took L to the toilet, but J and I didn’t dare leave in case the LEA lady and EWO should arrive.
At 11:00 I phoned K’s nursery to warn them that we would almost certainly be late picking him up.
At 11:05 Bob phoned again to say that the LEA lady had phoned him in confusion and with apologies. She had been at the library from 9:50, apparently, and the EWO from 10, but they had been looking for a man so hadn’t seen us
You see, all contact with the LEA so far has been from me or from Bob and me together EXCEPT the phone calls Bob made to confirm the meeting and to bring it forward from 10:30 to 10 so that we could get to HE group sports day. Obviously that meant that it would be a man they needed to meet in the library and although they could hardly have missed seeing a woman with a 6 year-old boy had they been anywhere near the library front desk between 9:45 and 10 or the library cafe from 10:02 (it only opened at 10) onwards it doesn’t seem to have occurred to them to approach us and just check whether we were the ones they should be meeting
Seriously unimpressed!
She said they would contact us in September with a view to rearranging the meeting. I feel like telling her to get stuffed! I suppose at least I should be glad that they obviously have no great concerns about J’s welfare, or they would want to see us sooner Gives us more time to prepare anyway!

Chad Vader, day shift manager. Some mild language, but nothing bleepable.

Plus on ThinkGeek: Artoo Potatoo and Darth Tater.

Wednesday has always been Bouncearound day
We’ve been going since J was about 4 months and it really feels like home. The boys both love it, despite the fact that J is two years older than just about any other child there, and their favourite bit is tidy-up time, when they get to help the chaplaincy assistants do big manly things like dismantling the indoor climbing frame
Now, however, there is an interloper on the Wednesday morning front! J and K have been invited to attend reading mornings with a friend, while L gets to play with the friend’s little brother. Oh how torn we are! For now, we can just about manage to attend the reading morning and then rush back for B-A-R - arriving in plenty of time for the all-important tidy-up! In fact, up until now it has been just J, while K was at preschool, and we have rushed across town to pick K up and the legged it to B-A-R. This is what we did this week and it worked well, except that we had to leave the reading morning early because there was a coffee morning at preschool which we wanted to support - and J was not impressed at having to miss several minutes of “The Wind in the Willows”. Still, this was the last B-A-R until September so I have promised him he will be able to stay and play after the next reading session.
The big problem is that the reading mornings are to be expanded to include snack, play and then a science session as well. This will be from September, which is great as K will no longer be at preschool so they will both be able to do it It is also great because it will replace the science sessions J used to do with a local childminder who is now too busy It is not great because it means no more B-A-R J is very excited about the reading and science, but so upset about the B-A-R that he refused to let me say that it would be his last session so that he could get the goodbye present and best wishes they normally offer to leavers. He is adamant that we will make it back somehow, sometime! I should perhaps add that the B-A-R organisers are similarly keen that we should go back and have said that if we don’t make it to regular meetings they will make sure we get details of special events, parties and so on. I really hope we can make it work somehow. It’s been such a big part of all our lives and I’d like L to end up feeling the same way about it that J and K do.

Anyhoo, this Wed, after dropping K off, driving to the reading morning house, doing tables in the car while we waited not to be too early then J reading while L trampolined, rushing back to preschool coffee morning, heading over to B-A-R and staying until tidy-up (deep breath!) we made our way slowly back across town, buying out Evolution on the way (which left us carrying some seriously unwieldy packages ) and then choosing silk paints but failing to find any silk (making do with calico for now, until they get lining silk back in) and panicking as we neared our car 5 minutes after the parking had expired and saw a traffic warden (fortunately the car had still been legal when she passed it and she chose not to lurk!)…. we realised we may be trying to cram too much in
It didn’t stop us opening up the paints when we got home and making a start on the calico painting though

I managed to miss the proper one as it was on the one morning a week that I can’t make and K doesn’t go in and then his teacher and I just haven’t quite managed to arrange to see one another - not high priority as I knew there was nothing much wrong anyway.
So with next week being end of year we met today. She gave me his personal profile and folder of memories at the same time and then basically just talked me through them and it was actually almost embarrassing! She is a lovely person and K is in her first ever class of her own (iyswim) but even knocking off a few degrees for overenthusiasm it was a seriously proud mummy moment
She talked about how sensitive he is, how caring (mentioned incidences like when a friend bumped his head and K went in unprompted to ask for an icepack then took it to friend and looked after him), she said she uses him as a role model quite often in the class (not so sure how much of a good idea that one is!) because he picks things up quickly and then the others can follow his example, how bright he is etc etc.
I’m sorry - this sounds like so much boasting! I may come back and edit but I wanted to get it all out first
The thing is that K is lovely. We always knew he was lovely and it is something people always comment on, but tbh he is often in J’s shadow, particularly academically, so in a way I guess we tend to find ourselves thinking of him as a bit of a nice but dim (that’s not quite what I mean, but I can’t think of a better way of putting it) and it was lovely to hear him being praised in such a well-rounded way and for achievements as wide-ranging as thinking of others, making sensible decisions, coming up with good ideas, recognising numbers and letters, teaching other children how to do things…
I’m almost overwhelmed!
Have to treasure these moments, as he will be HE from next week on, so this may be the only proper report he gets!
ISTR J was often used as a teacher’s model too, and was praised for his ability to help other children learn how to do things. Teaching runs in my family for generations - I guess there’s no escape

What a great evening! The film was very very good and it was lovely to be out with a friend just doing grown-up things and having real adult conversation We had an unexpected bonus afterwards too, as it turned out Graham Fellowes (alias John Shuttleworth) and Martin Parr (who shot the film) were there and they did a question and answer session at the end of the film, which was fab!
Note to self: must do this sort of thing more often!