I normally have little time for the whackjob conspiracy theorists. Knowing as many civil servants as I do I fully believe that the Government's power for cockup knows no bounds (sorry civil servant friends!). But when you start to see the decisions being made that have been made in recent times, or that have come to light in recent times, it makes me wonder just what on earth is going on.
We have a person who stole a bottle of water from Aldi. Sent to prison. We have a person who made a nasty joke about a footballer on the internet. Sent to prison. We have a person who made a nasty joke about a (presumed) dead little girl on the internet. Sent to prison. We have a man who liked looking at pictures of gay men performing kinky sex acts on each other. Thankfully was in front of a sensible jury, but he had his whole private life splashed across every single newspaper.
And then on the other hand we have a man who has allegedly sexually abused tens, if not hundreds, of little girls. No further action taken against him. Everything hushed up. We have a man who called his partner every name under the sun and systematically beat her and abused her for seven months. Punished by spending a little over one working week picking up litter. A senior public official who stole £30,000 in fraudulent expenses. He was asked to pay it back and no more was said about it.
Either these people have been protected because of who they know (or what they know about who they know), or they have been protected because raping little girls, or stealing taxpayers money, or beating the living crap out of your girlfriend doesn't matter. And I honestly can't decide what's worse. In some ways I hope the whackjob conspiracy theorists are right about funny handshakes, because the alternative- that the people who have appointed themselves as protectors of society- don't give a monkey's about the poor, the weak, the vulnerable. The alternative quite simply is that the self-appointed guardians don't care about guarding those who cannot defend themselves.
The depressing truth is that I don't believe in the conspiracy theories, I believe that the vulnerable are simply ignored in this "democratic" country of ours. They are dismissed when they allege they've been abused, sent packing with a flea in their ear and stories of how they must have liked it really. They have what little income and possessions they have taken from them. And if they lash out in the only way they know how- a bit of petty theft here, a tasteless joke there- then they're locked in a cage in the blinking of an eye. It doesn't matter, they're not really people. Or so say our all-knowing masters.
Maybe I'm getting softer now I'm a father, maybe I've always been a wet lefty liberal (much to the chagrin of my Thatcher-loving mother). But I see what is happening in this country and I really don't like it. Not one little bit. The question is, what do we do about it?
It's easy to slate the Tories- and I do, all the time- but Labour are just as bad, if not worse. It was a Labour government that gave ATOS the contracts with demands to kick people off benefits. It was a Labour government who "reformed" disability benefits by making it harder to get any. It was a Labour government that privatised our hospitals. It was a Labour government who locked people in cages for months despite having no evidence they'd done anything wrong. It was a Labour government who taxed the poor more and the rich less. Labour, the party set up to protect the vulnerable, just carried on the Thatcherite kicking spree. Bizarrely enough, in a lot of ways we can trust the Conservatives more: at least they're honest about screwing the poor and lining their own pockets instead.
So politics is clearly not the solution. I don't just mean votes either. I mean protesting, demonstrating. Labour ignored a million people and turned Iraq into glass anyway. We can't trust them.
Answers on a postcard I think. I'd leave the country and move somewhere else if a) I had a job I could take with me and b) the countries I could move to were any better.
Thursday 11 October 2012
Friday 5 October 2012
Gone Swimming
It's been a funny week or two, all in all.
Nothing- absolutely nothing- ever happens in the village on the outskirts of Newcastle where I live. It's the sort of place where a broken down bus brings a crowd. So when it was a little bit soggy last week I didn't think much of it. I was away in Yorkshire visiting my parents and it was moderately moist, and that was about it.
Imagine my surprise to come back to the village to this:
My house is about a quarter of a mile away from here, possibly even closer to the river Tyne than these flats are. Luckily my house wasn't built on top of a culvert by a disused mine, but still. It's been a strange week for where I live; the only way from one side of the village to the other has been on the old railway line, now a cycle path.
So that's what I've been doing.
I live in Newcastle and work in Durham and normally the commute is a joy to behold: a smelly unreliable Stagecoach bus, a crappy CrossCountry train and then a walk in the rain to work. It beats trying to drive along the A1 Gateshead Bypass along with the rest of Tyneside, but not by much (at least on the train I can drown my sorrows in gin). The buses can't get through the village and whatever semblance of a timetable they once had has completely gone out of the window. So after taking 90 minutes to get from my house to Newcastle station, a distance of about six miles, I decided it was time for a change. And to finally use that bike properly.
And well, commuting by bike is better than I thought it would be. Riding from work to the station in Durham is a traffic snarled nightmare, and I can only take a bike on EastCoast if I book a fortnight in advance, but the ride along the river home is splendid. So much nicer than sitting on that bus, full of farting sixth form schoolboys drenched in Lynx, and if I'm going to be in the rain I'd rather be moving than standing around swearing about Brian Souter. It's been a genuine pleasure to be doing it and I know that it's a good way of turning back into a normal shape after a few weeks of too many beers and pies. Even if I did "accidentally" stop off at the Free Trade Inn during a ride last weekend:
And then also accidentally go and see the Smoke Fairies as well:
The only flaw in my plan so far has been Freshers' Fair. It's too busy to be able to lounge around with a nice healthy lunch (or indeed any lunch at all) but this year was slightly better than most. Domino's Pizza had a stall, as did Krispy Kreme donuts, and despite liking neither they beat having nothing to eat at all. And yes, I didn't have to take an entire box of donuts back to the office (even if the sabbs nicked most of them), but they were offering them. I'm from Yorkshire and can't say no to freebies or bargains.
So the "change back from being a blimp" plan isn't going quite as well as anticipated. And I'm off to meet my dad tonight to consume a few hop-based beverages too, so there goes that plan for another week.
Just remind me I'm supposed to be training for a marathon, yeah?
Nothing- absolutely nothing- ever happens in the village on the outskirts of Newcastle where I live. It's the sort of place where a broken down bus brings a crowd. So when it was a little bit soggy last week I didn't think much of it. I was away in Yorkshire visiting my parents and it was moderately moist, and that was about it.
Imagine my surprise to come back to the village to this:
My house is about a quarter of a mile away from here, possibly even closer to the river Tyne than these flats are. Luckily my house wasn't built on top of a culvert by a disused mine, but still. It's been a strange week for where I live; the only way from one side of the village to the other has been on the old railway line, now a cycle path.
So that's what I've been doing.
I live in Newcastle and work in Durham and normally the commute is a joy to behold: a smelly unreliable Stagecoach bus, a crappy CrossCountry train and then a walk in the rain to work. It beats trying to drive along the A1 Gateshead Bypass along with the rest of Tyneside, but not by much (at least on the train I can drown my sorrows in gin). The buses can't get through the village and whatever semblance of a timetable they once had has completely gone out of the window. So after taking 90 minutes to get from my house to Newcastle station, a distance of about six miles, I decided it was time for a change. And to finally use that bike properly.
And well, commuting by bike is better than I thought it would be. Riding from work to the station in Durham is a traffic snarled nightmare, and I can only take a bike on EastCoast if I book a fortnight in advance, but the ride along the river home is splendid. So much nicer than sitting on that bus, full of farting sixth form schoolboys drenched in Lynx, and if I'm going to be in the rain I'd rather be moving than standing around swearing about Brian Souter. It's been a genuine pleasure to be doing it and I know that it's a good way of turning back into a normal shape after a few weeks of too many beers and pies. Even if I did "accidentally" stop off at the Free Trade Inn during a ride last weekend:
And then also accidentally go and see the Smoke Fairies as well:
The only flaw in my plan so far has been Freshers' Fair. It's too busy to be able to lounge around with a nice healthy lunch (or indeed any lunch at all) but this year was slightly better than most. Domino's Pizza had a stall, as did Krispy Kreme donuts, and despite liking neither they beat having nothing to eat at all. And yes, I didn't have to take an entire box of donuts back to the office (even if the sabbs nicked most of them), but they were offering them. I'm from Yorkshire and can't say no to freebies or bargains.
So the "change back from being a blimp" plan isn't going quite as well as anticipated. And I'm off to meet my dad tonight to consume a few hop-based beverages too, so there goes that plan for another week.
Just remind me I'm supposed to be training for a marathon, yeah?
Sunday 23 September 2012
The times they are a-changing
It's been a little while since I've blogged here. Really blogging has been the last thing on my mind. Everything has gone a little bit weird really.
The running has ground to a halt. I did the Great North 10k and did it in a pretty good time of 67 minutes. I was aiming for doing it in less than 70 minutes and was really proud to have beat that target. I also raised £250 for the Children's Heart Unit Fund at the Freeman Hospital in Newcastle, a charity close to my heart (excuse the pun) for saving my sister in law's life. All in all it was a good day's work.
But since then I've been seriously struggling for motivation. I've completely ground to a halt and lost quite a bit of my fitness, which is extremely irritating. This has really been due to my personal life, which is the real subject of this blogpost.
I'm effectively no longer married. My wife has moved out and gone back to her parents. This is somewhat of a cliche. She's been away more than she's been home since march as she took a job away, near where her parents live. So half the week she was here with my daughter and the other half of the week she, er, wasn't. This wasn't exactly an ideal living arrangement but there we go.
However since my last post she's now decided she doesn't want to live with me at all. It's all very amicable and theres nobody else but still. We've been together for over 11 years, since before we both started at university (indeed I travelled to see her most weekends in my fresher year whilst she was still in sixth form...). I don't quite know how to be single, it's all a teensy bit of a culture shock. Playing on the Xbox undisturbed has its advantages but after about two evenings it loses its sparkle. Just a bit.
I don't think things will be resolved. That's ok. However I don't quite know where to move on from here. Neither of us are from the north east and our lives have been very intertwined. We both have a few friends from work and a few mutual friends, but I certainly don't have a massive social circle up here. That's never been an issue, between work and Rosie and rebuilding the house I've not had the time for a large social circle. I've had enough to do. Its always been last buses and quiet nights in the pub and home with a chip supper. Nightclubs are no fun when youre not interested in the cattle market and either your mates are (evenings spent holding their drinks) or dancing round your handbag as a bloke looks plain stupid. I've never been on the leash but meeting new people is tough if you've not done it for so long.
Firstly, adjusting to being a non resident parent where my daughter is 70 miles away is going to be really tough. My in laws are both being really supportive which helps, but without a car it's tough to really pop over (its about three hours on a bus and similar on a train). That's a big disadvantage. But even worse is being home alone when I've been used to a full house, because Rosie has a certain presence, shall we say. The cats are pining which makes them more irritating than normal. The rest of the house is just too damn quiet. And why is cooking for one more expensive than cooking for three? It makes no bloody sense.
And secondly, tied in with the rest, is wondering where and how I'm going to meet someone else. I'm 29, I'm too young to sit on a shelf gathering dust. My friend has charmingly said I'm a bizarre mix between a teenager (appearance is king) and an old duffer who just wants a quiet glass of port and some cheese. A colleague suggested I should be more like Christian Grey, which quite frankly I think is an insult. I wouldn't use cable ties. Ahem. Though I'd happily hit anyone who talks about their inner goddess. Again, ahem.
It's not that I don't know how to flirt, it's that I don't know how to flirt when it actually has some risk. Flirting as sport is one thing, flirting to attract is quite another. I've tried a couple of times with people who seemed cool and made a right dog's dinner of it all. Hopefully practice makes pretty, though I'd rather not get too practised. A friend of a friend talks about going on "fanny hunts" when he's had too much beer and basically he's a tit. He looks ridiculous and we all laugh at him, so at least I have the self awareness not to do that. But hey. It's tough. I'm all rusty.
My best qualities generally are all a bit "boring". I'm honest and practical and a good ear and faithful. Something you'd like in a spaniel. My sense of humour is dry enough to mop spills and often comes across as simply plain tactless to strangers. I try and tone it down and just end up banal instead. Offensive or dull? Tough choice.
Hmm this has been a bit introspective for an open blog post. An well. This is who I am, and I think it's what makes me good at my job and good as a father. Even if they irritate me sometimes (my kid and the kids at work) I understand the same things. It helps, at least sometimes.
Does anyone have any hot single friends? ;0)
The running has ground to a halt. I did the Great North 10k and did it in a pretty good time of 67 minutes. I was aiming for doing it in less than 70 minutes and was really proud to have beat that target. I also raised £250 for the Children's Heart Unit Fund at the Freeman Hospital in Newcastle, a charity close to my heart (excuse the pun) for saving my sister in law's life. All in all it was a good day's work.
But since then I've been seriously struggling for motivation. I've completely ground to a halt and lost quite a bit of my fitness, which is extremely irritating. This has really been due to my personal life, which is the real subject of this blogpost.
I'm effectively no longer married. My wife has moved out and gone back to her parents. This is somewhat of a cliche. She's been away more than she's been home since march as she took a job away, near where her parents live. So half the week she was here with my daughter and the other half of the week she, er, wasn't. This wasn't exactly an ideal living arrangement but there we go.
However since my last post she's now decided she doesn't want to live with me at all. It's all very amicable and theres nobody else but still. We've been together for over 11 years, since before we both started at university (indeed I travelled to see her most weekends in my fresher year whilst she was still in sixth form...). I don't quite know how to be single, it's all a teensy bit of a culture shock. Playing on the Xbox undisturbed has its advantages but after about two evenings it loses its sparkle. Just a bit.
I don't think things will be resolved. That's ok. However I don't quite know where to move on from here. Neither of us are from the north east and our lives have been very intertwined. We both have a few friends from work and a few mutual friends, but I certainly don't have a massive social circle up here. That's never been an issue, between work and Rosie and rebuilding the house I've not had the time for a large social circle. I've had enough to do. Its always been last buses and quiet nights in the pub and home with a chip supper. Nightclubs are no fun when youre not interested in the cattle market and either your mates are (evenings spent holding their drinks) or dancing round your handbag as a bloke looks plain stupid. I've never been on the leash but meeting new people is tough if you've not done it for so long.
Firstly, adjusting to being a non resident parent where my daughter is 70 miles away is going to be really tough. My in laws are both being really supportive which helps, but without a car it's tough to really pop over (its about three hours on a bus and similar on a train). That's a big disadvantage. But even worse is being home alone when I've been used to a full house, because Rosie has a certain presence, shall we say. The cats are pining which makes them more irritating than normal. The rest of the house is just too damn quiet. And why is cooking for one more expensive than cooking for three? It makes no bloody sense.
And secondly, tied in with the rest, is wondering where and how I'm going to meet someone else. I'm 29, I'm too young to sit on a shelf gathering dust. My friend has charmingly said I'm a bizarre mix between a teenager (appearance is king) and an old duffer who just wants a quiet glass of port and some cheese. A colleague suggested I should be more like Christian Grey, which quite frankly I think is an insult. I wouldn't use cable ties. Ahem. Though I'd happily hit anyone who talks about their inner goddess. Again, ahem.
It's not that I don't know how to flirt, it's that I don't know how to flirt when it actually has some risk. Flirting as sport is one thing, flirting to attract is quite another. I've tried a couple of times with people who seemed cool and made a right dog's dinner of it all. Hopefully practice makes pretty, though I'd rather not get too practised. A friend of a friend talks about going on "fanny hunts" when he's had too much beer and basically he's a tit. He looks ridiculous and we all laugh at him, so at least I have the self awareness not to do that. But hey. It's tough. I'm all rusty.
My best qualities generally are all a bit "boring". I'm honest and practical and a good ear and faithful. Something you'd like in a spaniel. My sense of humour is dry enough to mop spills and often comes across as simply plain tactless to strangers. I try and tone it down and just end up banal instead. Offensive or dull? Tough choice.
Hmm this has been a bit introspective for an open blog post. An well. This is who I am, and I think it's what makes me good at my job and good as a father. Even if they irritate me sometimes (my kid and the kids at work) I understand the same things. It helps, at least sometimes.
Does anyone have any hot single friends? ;0)
Tuesday 10 July 2012
Training
I wish I could say that training has been going well since my last post. I'm not entirely sure I can, which is a pity. I've had a few cold sores which always leave me shattered and I've been able to get out or get to the gym a few times, but it has been a real struggle.
However, I should really look on the positives of what I have achieved so far. I've now knocked about six minutes off my seven mile round trip from here to Wylam and back, down to about 1h20. It's still really too slow for a marathon pace, as 5mph (about 11min30 per mile) won't get me round very quickly at all, but it's a distance and a speed I could have only dreamed about two or three years ago. I now know and feel comfortable with the distance and, rather than going into my Great North 10k race next weekend with trepidation, I'm rather looking forward to it. I'll be slow, and be overtaken by pretty much everyone, but I know I'm going to make it.
Speaking of the Great North 10k, my runner's pack came this morning. It's quite exciting really, my first proper race. I nearly had kittens when I saw the "sweeper" car will mop up anyone who runs at less than 12 minutes per km, until I read it properly, but as a kilometre is quite a lot shorter than a mile I think I might just manage it.
The thing I've been enjoying about my running at the minute is just being outside, looking at things I'd normally tear past in the car or on the bus. I'm lucky where I live in that there are loads of lovely riverside footpaths to run along, but I'm having more fun running along the footpaths in the areas reclaimed after 100 years of heavy industry. Just down the road from me there used to be a massive coal-fired power station and a coalmine. It's such a pleasure to run round the old coal mine, the paths are quite good, the terrain is interesting and there's never anybody about. It's the same running around the site of the old power station, it's interesting to see the old and the new meeting in such a way. Even the run from here to Wylam takes me past the cottage where George Stephenson was born, there's so much history and it's really actually quite fascinating to see it up close, on foot.
Having looked on a map to see where is 26 miles from here- essentially the boundaries are Rothbury and the Durham Dales- I think I may well be seeing slightly more of this history between now and April.
There's just one last thing*: does having fish and chips for tea count as a healthy balanced diet for a run?
* I lied. The absolutely last thing is some begging for money. You can sponsor me for the Great North 10k or the London Marathon at virginmoneygiving.com/arctictroll. I'm running the Great North 10k in aid of the Children's Heart Unit Fund at the Freeman Hospital, and the London Marathon in aid of YouthNet and Age UK.
However, I should really look on the positives of what I have achieved so far. I've now knocked about six minutes off my seven mile round trip from here to Wylam and back, down to about 1h20. It's still really too slow for a marathon pace, as 5mph (about 11min30 per mile) won't get me round very quickly at all, but it's a distance and a speed I could have only dreamed about two or three years ago. I now know and feel comfortable with the distance and, rather than going into my Great North 10k race next weekend with trepidation, I'm rather looking forward to it. I'll be slow, and be overtaken by pretty much everyone, but I know I'm going to make it.
Speaking of the Great North 10k, my runner's pack came this morning. It's quite exciting really, my first proper race. I nearly had kittens when I saw the "sweeper" car will mop up anyone who runs at less than 12 minutes per km, until I read it properly, but as a kilometre is quite a lot shorter than a mile I think I might just manage it.
The thing I've been enjoying about my running at the minute is just being outside, looking at things I'd normally tear past in the car or on the bus. I'm lucky where I live in that there are loads of lovely riverside footpaths to run along, but I'm having more fun running along the footpaths in the areas reclaimed after 100 years of heavy industry. Just down the road from me there used to be a massive coal-fired power station and a coalmine. It's such a pleasure to run round the old coal mine, the paths are quite good, the terrain is interesting and there's never anybody about. It's the same running around the site of the old power station, it's interesting to see the old and the new meeting in such a way. Even the run from here to Wylam takes me past the cottage where George Stephenson was born, there's so much history and it's really actually quite fascinating to see it up close, on foot.
Having looked on a map to see where is 26 miles from here- essentially the boundaries are Rothbury and the Durham Dales- I think I may well be seeing slightly more of this history between now and April.
There's just one last thing*: does having fish and chips for tea count as a healthy balanced diet for a run?
* I lied. The absolutely last thing is some begging for money. You can sponsor me for the Great North 10k or the London Marathon at virginmoneygiving.com/arctictroll. I'm running the Great North 10k in aid of the Children's Heart Unit Fund at the Freeman Hospital, and the London Marathon in aid of YouthNet and Age UK.
Wednesday 20 June 2012
Running. And running
I've gradually been getting more interested in running. I started off going to the gym to lose a bit of weight and get a bit fitter for when R made an appearance. I didn't see the point of the treadmill. I tried the treadmill one day, could barely run five minutes, didn't see the point. I tried it again another day, could barely run ten minutes, started to vaguely see the point. But didn't want to go anywhere outside where I could be seen.
Now a charity I've done a lot of work with in the past are one of the official charities of the 2013 Virgin London Marathon. I was approached to run for them and I volunteered. So now I've got the challenge of running a marathon.
Actually, this is pretty exciting.
I'm having to take training a bit more seriously. From the stage where I was massively overweight and unfit I can now run 11k. I'm slow- very slow- but I can do it. It is such a buzz to be able to do something I couldn't ever do before. I want to do more, more, more. I'm still overweight and unfit but I can do things other people can't do. People seem genuinely impressed at me managing the distance.
I still think that I am very possibly completely mad for agreeing to do this, although bizarrely I now find the fundraising target more intimidating than the distance. I know I can do a quarter marathon a full nine months before the event. If I keep training I'll be fine, I'm sure I will. Extremely slow, no doubt, but that's not my target. My target is to get round the course, I don't care too much about the time, I know I'm not at the level of the good amateur runners who can run it in less than four hours. If I get round in five I'll be ecstatic.
My first challenge now is to run the Great North 10k next month. I'm doing it for me but asking for sponsorship for a fantastic charity- the Freeman Hospital's Childrens Heart Unit Fund- as an excuse to get some cash for them as much as anything. I'm running for my own pleasure- something I never thought I would do a year ago- but want to make some money for a deserving cause too. That place saved my sister-in-law's life on more than one occasion, it means so much to my family.
The obligatory sponsorship link for that is here: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/arctictroll
As for the big event, the London Marathon, I'm running it as part of a team. The charity is YouthNet, an online charity supporting young people, and I've done work with them for 12 years now. Both working with them in terms of raising money and awareness, or just sharing my knowledge, but also as that dreaded term "service user". The community helped me when I was at my lowest, it probably kept me alive, and now with my family it's time to repay the favour. They're developing a new project to help people- young and old- combat loneliness using social and online tools in conjuction with Age UK and I just think the whole thing is fantastic. I'm running the marathon as a team of "young runners" (flattery gets one everywhere, I've not been called young for years now!) who have used the service in the same way as I have.
Again, anything you might be able to spare would be wonderful. I'll be asking several thousand times more in the next nine months, don't you worry (and don't you DARE block me either), but the link's here: www.virginmoneygiving.com/team/TheSiteRunsForIt.
In the meantime, this blog I think will mostly become a whingefest about how hard the training is. I want to keep the optimism for posterity; well, for a 20 mile run in the snow in November, anyway.
Now a charity I've done a lot of work with in the past are one of the official charities of the 2013 Virgin London Marathon. I was approached to run for them and I volunteered. So now I've got the challenge of running a marathon.
Actually, this is pretty exciting.
I'm having to take training a bit more seriously. From the stage where I was massively overweight and unfit I can now run 11k. I'm slow- very slow- but I can do it. It is such a buzz to be able to do something I couldn't ever do before. I want to do more, more, more. I'm still overweight and unfit but I can do things other people can't do. People seem genuinely impressed at me managing the distance.
I still think that I am very possibly completely mad for agreeing to do this, although bizarrely I now find the fundraising target more intimidating than the distance. I know I can do a quarter marathon a full nine months before the event. If I keep training I'll be fine, I'm sure I will. Extremely slow, no doubt, but that's not my target. My target is to get round the course, I don't care too much about the time, I know I'm not at the level of the good amateur runners who can run it in less than four hours. If I get round in five I'll be ecstatic.
My first challenge now is to run the Great North 10k next month. I'm doing it for me but asking for sponsorship for a fantastic charity- the Freeman Hospital's Childrens Heart Unit Fund- as an excuse to get some cash for them as much as anything. I'm running for my own pleasure- something I never thought I would do a year ago- but want to make some money for a deserving cause too. That place saved my sister-in-law's life on more than one occasion, it means so much to my family.
The obligatory sponsorship link for that is here: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/arctictroll
As for the big event, the London Marathon, I'm running it as part of a team. The charity is YouthNet, an online charity supporting young people, and I've done work with them for 12 years now. Both working with them in terms of raising money and awareness, or just sharing my knowledge, but also as that dreaded term "service user". The community helped me when I was at my lowest, it probably kept me alive, and now with my family it's time to repay the favour. They're developing a new project to help people- young and old- combat loneliness using social and online tools in conjuction with Age UK and I just think the whole thing is fantastic. I'm running the marathon as a team of "young runners" (flattery gets one everywhere, I've not been called young for years now!) who have used the service in the same way as I have.
Again, anything you might be able to spare would be wonderful. I'll be asking several thousand times more in the next nine months, don't you worry (and don't you DARE block me either), but the link's here: www.virginmoneygiving.com/team/TheSiteRunsForIt.
In the meantime, this blog I think will mostly become a whingefest about how hard the training is. I want to keep the optimism for posterity; well, for a 20 mile run in the snow in November, anyway.
Saturday 21 April 2012
Hippy or just old-fashioned?
I'm never sure whether people see my wife and I as hippies or old fashioned oddballs or what. I don't care, we just do still get odd looks sometimes for the way we do things.
Take R's birth, and the preceding pregnancy. R was born at home, E didn't want to be in hospital unless it was necessary. E didn't use much in the way of painkillers during labour; a bit of gas and air and paracetamol. None of it was especially planned or deliberate, but when we mention the home birth we get such weird looks. Our friends find it utterly bizarre we did it.
With R, we used a big old Silver Cross pram. Again, people thought it odd we didn't buy new ( especially the bus drivers when we got on the bus with that thing..,) but we didn't see the point.
I think the thing that gets me most is the odd reactions people give because we do our shopping in the market, rather than in Tesco. I go to the greengrocer for the veg, the butcher for the meat, the deli for the cheese and ham and eggs. It's seen as such an odd thing to do now, even though the market is cheaper, better quality and everyone we use regularly know us by name. Now I know we're lucky in Newcastle, the Grainger Market is one of the best and oldest indoor markets in the country, but still. It makes me sad to see the queues of people in Tesco, all waiting to buy overpriced shite, whilst the local and independent market sits waiting for them over the road.
I'm not sure what these things really make me. A Yorkshireman probably. I prefer to recycle, shop local, use the bus. I like the routine of going to the market with R then getting tea and cake. She's such good company. Ok, i also loved the attention that the Silver Cross brought (though R loved it more). But I find it quite sad that more people don't share in this pleasure anymore, it's all self service checkouts admonishing you for scanning too quickly or not quickly enough.
I think others see us as old fashioned hippies for this, which is the biggest shame of all. I don't want to see the world turn into one giant Tesco, everything disposable with no style or substance.
Now then, where's me flat cap and whippet?
Take R's birth, and the preceding pregnancy. R was born at home, E didn't want to be in hospital unless it was necessary. E didn't use much in the way of painkillers during labour; a bit of gas and air and paracetamol. None of it was especially planned or deliberate, but when we mention the home birth we get such weird looks. Our friends find it utterly bizarre we did it.
With R, we used a big old Silver Cross pram. Again, people thought it odd we didn't buy new ( especially the bus drivers when we got on the bus with that thing..,) but we didn't see the point.
I think the thing that gets me most is the odd reactions people give because we do our shopping in the market, rather than in Tesco. I go to the greengrocer for the veg, the butcher for the meat, the deli for the cheese and ham and eggs. It's seen as such an odd thing to do now, even though the market is cheaper, better quality and everyone we use regularly know us by name. Now I know we're lucky in Newcastle, the Grainger Market is one of the best and oldest indoor markets in the country, but still. It makes me sad to see the queues of people in Tesco, all waiting to buy overpriced shite, whilst the local and independent market sits waiting for them over the road.
I'm not sure what these things really make me. A Yorkshireman probably. I prefer to recycle, shop local, use the bus. I like the routine of going to the market with R then getting tea and cake. She's such good company. Ok, i also loved the attention that the Silver Cross brought (though R loved it more). But I find it quite sad that more people don't share in this pleasure anymore, it's all self service checkouts admonishing you for scanning too quickly or not quickly enough.
I think others see us as old fashioned hippies for this, which is the biggest shame of all. I don't want to see the world turn into one giant Tesco, everything disposable with no style or substance.
Now then, where's me flat cap and whippet?
Tuesday 27 March 2012
Time flying away
And so spring comes once again. The clocks have gone forward, the daffodils are out. Let's just hope that, for once, we're not having our summer in March and April, as I'd quite like a summer during the summer this year.
We've only been in our house six years but we're starting to get there with it at long last. The kitchen is now painted, the yard has been fixed up and painted, the rubbish from the building work has finally gone in the skip. My fire pit is back out of the shed and I have big logs of wood to set fire to in it. It's really quite nice to sit out in the yard and think about a job well done. At least for now, the trouble with these houses is that something else always needs doing.
It's actually been enjoyable doing the painting and the lifting, it's been good to take my mind off the stresses of life with a bit of manual labour. Taxing enough to have to concentrate but not so much that it needs a lot of thought. Brainless activity followed by a well earned glass of wine is just what the doctor ordered. Probably.
I'd love to know where the time goes. If you find it, could you let me have it back?
We've only been in our house six years but we're starting to get there with it at long last. The kitchen is now painted, the yard has been fixed up and painted, the rubbish from the building work has finally gone in the skip. My fire pit is back out of the shed and I have big logs of wood to set fire to in it. It's really quite nice to sit out in the yard and think about a job well done. At least for now, the trouble with these houses is that something else always needs doing.
It's actually been enjoyable doing the painting and the lifting, it's been good to take my mind off the stresses of life with a bit of manual labour. Taxing enough to have to concentrate but not so much that it needs a lot of thought. Brainless activity followed by a well earned glass of wine is just what the doctor ordered. Probably.
I'd love to know where the time goes. If you find it, could you let me have it back?
Saturday 17 March 2012
Weekends in the sunshine
Last weekend saw the first signs of spring on the horizon and, even better, I had a long weekend booked off work.
Firstly we went to The Alnwick Garden where we saw some fountains
and we had a splash in all the water.
We got just a little bit soggy
Firstly we went to The Alnwick Garden where we saw some fountains
which we could even run through
and we had a splash in all the water.
We got just a little bit soggy
and then we drove home.
Sunday, the weather was even better so a trip to Beamish Museum, a place all northerners will remember from their schooldays. We went to the sweet shop, had a lovely picnic, rode on some trams
saw some horses and met a lovely lady feeding some hens.
We even had time to have a pitstop on the way back.
Thursday 23 February 2012
On Welfare Reform
Something that's been tickling me for ages is how many people seem to think that the Government's welfare reforms actually will make things better for vulnerable people.
I'll start by admitting something quite uncomfortable: there's quite a bit of it I agree with. I cannot live in the Lake District- where my wife is from- or Central London because I cannot afford it. I therefore don't see why people who have never worked should be able to live there, their rent paid for by me. I had to move somewhere cheaper because of my wage, my wife the same, so I don't see why everyone else shouldn't. That's life. As for the argument about it affecting "larger families": good. I have one child because my house is too small for more, and I cannot afford a bigger house. I have one child because I can only afford one child. If another person wants five or six children then fine, that's their choice. Providing they pay for them. If they don't then that's their problem.
However when you look deeper into things, the populism of that viewpoint starts to unravel.
Take the reform into the "new simple" Universal Credit. The way the benefit is calculated is amazing: you take a personal allowance, an allowance for children, an allowance if you're unable to work (very different to being disabled) and an allowance for your housing costs. You then have a disregard on your income of anywhere between £700 and £9000, depending on your circumstances. Unless you have housing costs, in which case that disregard is removed at the rate of £1.50 for every £1 of housing costs help you get. After the disregard you lose 65p of benefit for every £1 you earn. Confused? I am, and I'm an experienced welfare benefits specialist adviser.
When the policy idea first came out of one Iain Duncan Smith's "think tank", they reckoned that the minimum to help "hard working families" was a reduction in benefit of 55p for every £1 earned; I'd expect it to be a smaller reduction than that, unless taxation is radically altered. So the Government have added 10% to that and expect people to swallow that? The fact that people have, willingly, seems to justify Governmental pessimism about the nation's intelligence.
It gets even better with Personal Independence Payments (PIPs), the replacement for Disability Living Allowance. This new benefit will help disabled people live their lives and engage fully in society, apparently. There's a checklist of things they expect you to be able to do and, if you can't, you get points. Points mean prizes. So far so good. What is surprising is what they award points for and how they define things.
Take dressing. If you cannot dress the top half of your body, you get four points. But if you cannot dress the bottom half of your body, you get three points. You need at least eight points to get the lowest rate support or twelve for the higher rate. So, at least according to this Government, a disabled person can engage fully in society whilst wearing no pants. I'll let you know whether that ever stands up in court as a defence to indecent exposure.
Similarly, take "bathing". If you cannot bathe then you get a shedload of points; if you can, you don't. But they take bathing to mean washing your face, torso and underarms. If you can wash yourself in an armchair using baby wipes then you're ready to engage in society without any help. And the smell of your feet will guarantee you a seat on the bus, so all's well that ends well. And because you're not wearing any trousers the drizzle on the wind will wash everything else down there.
The moral of the story? Don't be so harsh on the man on the bus with cheesy feet and no trousers, the Government have told him that he's fine to be out in society. After all, bankers' bonus pots and Vodafone's profit and loss account are far more important. Remember how we're all in this together, folks.
I'll start by admitting something quite uncomfortable: there's quite a bit of it I agree with. I cannot live in the Lake District- where my wife is from- or Central London because I cannot afford it. I therefore don't see why people who have never worked should be able to live there, their rent paid for by me. I had to move somewhere cheaper because of my wage, my wife the same, so I don't see why everyone else shouldn't. That's life. As for the argument about it affecting "larger families": good. I have one child because my house is too small for more, and I cannot afford a bigger house. I have one child because I can only afford one child. If another person wants five or six children then fine, that's their choice. Providing they pay for them. If they don't then that's their problem.
However when you look deeper into things, the populism of that viewpoint starts to unravel.
Take the reform into the "new simple" Universal Credit. The way the benefit is calculated is amazing: you take a personal allowance, an allowance for children, an allowance if you're unable to work (very different to being disabled) and an allowance for your housing costs. You then have a disregard on your income of anywhere between £700 and £9000, depending on your circumstances. Unless you have housing costs, in which case that disregard is removed at the rate of £1.50 for every £1 of housing costs help you get. After the disregard you lose 65p of benefit for every £1 you earn. Confused? I am, and I'm an experienced welfare benefits specialist adviser.
When the policy idea first came out of one Iain Duncan Smith's "think tank", they reckoned that the minimum to help "hard working families" was a reduction in benefit of 55p for every £1 earned; I'd expect it to be a smaller reduction than that, unless taxation is radically altered. So the Government have added 10% to that and expect people to swallow that? The fact that people have, willingly, seems to justify Governmental pessimism about the nation's intelligence.
It gets even better with Personal Independence Payments (PIPs), the replacement for Disability Living Allowance. This new benefit will help disabled people live their lives and engage fully in society, apparently. There's a checklist of things they expect you to be able to do and, if you can't, you get points. Points mean prizes. So far so good. What is surprising is what they award points for and how they define things.
Take dressing. If you cannot dress the top half of your body, you get four points. But if you cannot dress the bottom half of your body, you get three points. You need at least eight points to get the lowest rate support or twelve for the higher rate. So, at least according to this Government, a disabled person can engage fully in society whilst wearing no pants. I'll let you know whether that ever stands up in court as a defence to indecent exposure.
Similarly, take "bathing". If you cannot bathe then you get a shedload of points; if you can, you don't. But they take bathing to mean washing your face, torso and underarms. If you can wash yourself in an armchair using baby wipes then you're ready to engage in society without any help. And the smell of your feet will guarantee you a seat on the bus, so all's well that ends well. And because you're not wearing any trousers the drizzle on the wind will wash everything else down there.
The moral of the story? Don't be so harsh on the man on the bus with cheesy feet and no trousers, the Government have told him that he's fine to be out in society. After all, bankers' bonus pots and Vodafone's profit and loss account are far more important. Remember how we're all in this together, folks.
Monday 13 February 2012
Up to the rigs and down to the jigs in London Town
It's been a while since we have been away, so we trekked off to London this weekend. Ostensibly it was to visit the Queen (not really) but really it was to go see Sodbaby's Godmother M and comprehensively quality test her cocktail cabinet.
Well, Sodbaby had a wonderful time. She saw the Queen's house ("who's the fairest of them all? ME"), she saw lots of squirrels, she saw some lions and tigers at the Zoo. She saw Peter Pan's big clock at Westminster. She made friends on the train, friends on the bus, friends on the tube (city types playing boo FTW), friends in the canteen at HM Treasury. And she was spoiled rotten by M and her husband, who Sodbaby decided should be called The Postman.
There's just something about that girl and I'm really not sure what it is. She's clever and pretty (I'm her father, I would say that) bit that's not it. She just has presence, she makes friends everywhere, she gets strangers on rush hour tube trains playing with her. I don't know how she does it. I'm so proud of her. As her Godmother says, she's skipped the Princess stage and gone straight for Empress.
It was wonderful to get away and so nice to see old friends. It's this sort of weekend that makes me sad all my friends are scattered to the four winds. I just don't get to see everyone as often as I'd like. The only positive is at least that having a friend in every town saves on hotel bills, and I'm enough of a dab hand at rail tickets to snaffle a bargain. It's just finding time to see everyone.
On a tangent, Sodbaby will be two next month. She's not really a baby anymore, as anyone who knows her will testify. Ideas on what to call her? She thinks ma'am will do but I'm not quite ready for that yet...
Well, Sodbaby had a wonderful time. She saw the Queen's house ("who's the fairest of them all? ME"), she saw lots of squirrels, she saw some lions and tigers at the Zoo. She saw Peter Pan's big clock at Westminster. She made friends on the train, friends on the bus, friends on the tube (city types playing boo FTW), friends in the canteen at HM Treasury. And she was spoiled rotten by M and her husband, who Sodbaby decided should be called The Postman.
There's just something about that girl and I'm really not sure what it is. She's clever and pretty (I'm her father, I would say that) bit that's not it. She just has presence, she makes friends everywhere, she gets strangers on rush hour tube trains playing with her. I don't know how she does it. I'm so proud of her. As her Godmother says, she's skipped the Princess stage and gone straight for Empress.
It was wonderful to get away and so nice to see old friends. It's this sort of weekend that makes me sad all my friends are scattered to the four winds. I just don't get to see everyone as often as I'd like. The only positive is at least that having a friend in every town saves on hotel bills, and I'm enough of a dab hand at rail tickets to snaffle a bargain. It's just finding time to see everyone.
On a tangent, Sodbaby will be two next month. She's not really a baby anymore, as anyone who knows her will testify. Ideas on what to call her? She thinks ma'am will do but I'm not quite ready for that yet...
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