Hair Today

I’ve never been too fussy about the way I look.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not like Catweazle but I’m comfortable just being clean shaven and my hair being tidy.

My girls however are different matter.

They both love new haircuts and new clothes and most other things with the word “new” in front of them. They’ve started experimenting with make-up (sometime with hilarious results) and *cough* perfume too (often with eye-watering results).

When I was small I hated the barber’s (hairdressers were for women then). The standard was “short back and sides” and the clippers felt horrible on my scalp. In my teens I had more control and allowed it to grow into a mop.

Unfortunately curly,wavy hair does have a tendency to grow out rather than down so I eventually settled on a short hair cut.

As a young adult I’d never know what to say to barbers. It was almost like a comedy – line/ “What would like me to do sir?” I’d say “Well I’d rather like you to cut my hair please.”

On the rare occasions I ventured into the modern shops I was appalled at the at the foppishness of the boys washing my hair and appalled at the price I had to settle up after the deed.

I eventually found a “hairdresser/barber” who offered decent cuts for not much. You had good conversation, local papers to read, and they remembered you when you came back in. I went to that barber for 20 years and saw his boys go from hair sweepers for pocket money to married men.

When the new Rock development appeared in town the shop disappeared under a pile of rubble and eventually lots of shiny new shops. I tried some other hairdressers but it wasn’t the same.

Now I use clippers on myself and Gill trims the back (she always jokes about shaving rude words into the back of my head).

Heather had her hair cut? styled? today. I think she looks very grown up and,well, gorgeous.

Before (a bit wet) and After.

Life! Don't talk to me about life.

Marvin the Paranoid Android made me laugh the first time I heard him drone on the radio series of Hitch hikers Guide to the Universe. It was 33 years ago and I would go to bed early to lie and listen to the series on my old clock/radio.

His permanently depressed state really tickled me. He had a brain the size of a planet and no task was able to occupy the smallest part of his intellect. This meant he was constantly bored and depressed.

They used him as a general purpose ship’s robot and at one point he had to wait for millions of years for his owners to turn up.

As a fluffy young teenager bouncing along on a glittery cloud of optimism this character, was my antithesis. So he made me laugh.

However, in the intervening decades Life has happened.

My glittery cloud has evaporated. My bounce has petered out and I am now somewhat “de-fluffed” by circumstances.

I don’t think I’m Marvin now but I do experience life with a little less zest than my adolescent self.

I try to look for the good in people and am generally disappointed. Faults and weaknesses are easy to spot. I have to work to see the good in people and know in my heart that eventually folk let you down. Because they’re human?

Trading off my well paid but mega-stressful service job for a semi-retired existence in a supermarket has paid dividends. I have time and energy for family and for the interesting bits of life that come along.

They offered me a manager’s job a while ago but I stuck to my guns and think I’m in the right place.

My recent change of job has enhanced my quality of life: being with a better manager; shorter hours; far less physical work.

But overall the old noggin isn’t doing enough. I don’t read as much as I used to. I rarely learn new work skills.

I need to get the cogs working again and so need a plan.

Maybe a new language?

Maybe forcing myself to find time to read again. (Gill’s getting me a pseudo-kindle)

Perhaps all this Marvin-esque thinking is down to the big 5-0 coming up in a few years.

Don’t know.

It might be an effect of my old Dad going into hospital the other day and my younger brother’s heart attack earlier this year.

Either way it needs sorting.

I’ll let you know.

Scary Times and a scary shirt Friday 27 May

Got a call at 7am this morning from Mum to say Dad was in hospital with pneumonia.

Occasional updates through the day told me he was stable then on his way home.

He’s 85 and this was a bit of a scare.

Aspirational Pneumonia – where you breath in food etc.

Home and resting now.

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We’re celebrating the 21st birthday of George, the Asda Walmart clothing brand. It’s named after George Davies the first chief designer.

They told us we could choose one item of clothing to wear for our shifts between now and Monday.

So I chose this modest little number.

after the review - one more year

Well that was interesting.

We’ve all decided that Ashley should stay in mainstream education for one more year.

We’ve been advised to go and have a look at the new super duper Special Needs Primary school which opens at Christmas so that we’re best advised.

We’ve been assured that the Special School Question is always on the table but that his progress has been superb over the last year.

He may receive an ipad to help with communication.

He will be “gently lowered” into the new class rather than just going all day. He’ll start in Nursery and spend progressively longer spells in class.

We’ve come away sure in ourselves that these folk have his best interests at heart.

Several specialists were there and they all seemed to know him really well.

They listened to our points of view and we’ve come away a bit better informed.

Pub Lunch now methinks.

Decisions decisions

First of all thanks to all those folk who have contributed to our thinking on this blog and others and on FB.

We are having a Review in the morning to talk about Ashley and need to put the Question on the table “when will Special school be appropriate for him?”.

The school want him but we can’t see him staying there for another 5 years. The Specialists have pointed out that Physio, OT and a lot of Technology and specialist knowledge await him at SS.

However, he has mobile able peers around him every day and one-to-one care inschool.

It’s a toughy but we are coming down on the side of keeping him in mainstream school for another year.

BUT, we need to keep this discussion open. There feedback is essential for us to make the right decision when the time comes.

The work they’ve done has been excellent but that gap is widening between him and the other 5 year olds and we wonder when he will become distanced from his classmates.

9am GMT tomorrow. Wish us luck.

Decision Time?

We need to decide (as always) what will be best for Ashley’s education.

Special School has always been an option but we went with Inclusion in our local school. He has a brilliant carer who has given him intense physio to get him standing and walking with a frame.

He has benefited from being with 4 and 5 year olds who have given him visible targets for his physical development.

However the gap between him and his peers (they turn 6 before September) is getting wider.

We visited our town’s Special School about a year ago and were impressed by their work (just not the fabric of the buildings!) They move into a new purpose built school in September.

He wouldn’t have one-to-one care but his work would be tailored to his ability along with similarly challenged kids.

We’re happy about our decision to have him stay in school but question the benefit he would get in the next few years.

The medicos all think Special School is a good idea. School want to keep hold.

How do you decide?

What questions do you ask yourself?

This is a toughy and all input’s welcome.

Friday 13th

I’ve never been superstitious and consider the observance of this day as hooha perpetuated by a story-hungry media.

Luck is a nonsensical notion and often comes from ignorance blended with coincidence.

You make choices in life (consciously or not) which contribute to where you are today. Life happens to you and you deal with it.

It’s just silly to sum up points in time as lucky.

They’re not. They just happened.

Some people say they feel lucky that such a thing happened. They don’t. They feel happy that it happened. You don’t feel luck.

I resent people being referred to as lucky, especially if it’s me. It infers a lack of control and a propensity for having good things happening to you.

I don’t feel lucky. I’m not lucky…. and I’m not unlucky.

I feel joy when my little boy calls out “Daddy” and asks for “Cuggles”.

I feel pride when my girls come home with their accomplishments etched on a certificate or a glowing report card.

I feel unbridled, tear-jerking love for my kids each and every day of my life.

I still feel passion and unending love for my wife and my heart still skips a beat when she comes home from the shops. I love to watch her sleep and am thankful for her being able to keep me together.

But lucky. No. (and unlucky, no)

So Friday 13th? Bollx