Oh dear, I recently read that there are all sorts of increased health risks for children of older fathers. The title may be overplaying it but there is definitely enough material here to make me look more closely at my child.
The article I read in Psychology Today written by Paul Raeburn, who has written extensively on the effects of older fathers on their children, asserts that there are lots of areas to be concerned about.
Allegedly research shows that in a child of a father over 40 there is a sixfold increase in the chance of autism while that increases to ninefold for fathers over 50.
This 'Advanced Paternal Age' has links to all sorts of birth defects such as cleft lip and palate, water on the brain, dwarfism and miscarriage. Now we can add another to the list which includes higher instance in prostrate cancer in boys of older fathers, schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. That's 'Decreased Intellectual Capacity'.
I am worried enough as it is when it comes to my own intelligence but to think that my older fathering has diminished my poor boy's chances of a decent IQ is actually quite hard to take. The only light at the end of the tunnel is that the child can 'catch up' later and fulfil its intellectual potential.
Presumably that catch up is as a result of the decreased period that the child is under the father's parentage as people as old as me will die earlier than younger parents. At last, an advantage of being older on top of an earlier inheritance.
In all seriousness, this is a concern. Particularly in the context of our search for a suitable first school for the might, it has now biased my thinking to giving our boy the best education we can afford.
Bang goes the concept of Early Retirement. Any retirement is looking a decreasingly likely option.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday 19 May 2011
Monday 16 May 2011
School Time?
My son, Scott, is just 14 months old and it's fair to say that of the many things on his mind right now, school is not one of them. Frankly, until this weekend, it wasn't on mine either.
My wife had been hit by a case of 'Bad-Mother-itis' after someone had asked her if she had put Scott's name down for a school yet. Both of us looked at one another and frowned. He's only 14 months old for goodness sake. However, in a sharp lesson we found that many parents are putting their child's name down at a school almost as soon as he or she is born such is the competition for places at good schools these days.
So in the blind panic that knee jerk reactions can cause, we found ourselves attending the Open Day of the nearby Prep School, York House near Croxley Green. Actually, it's near nowhere as it is a school set in its own grounds and sports a long drive down to an old redbrick building with a clock tower that looks like the set of 'Tom Brown Schooldays'.
Why, when we have several other schools to see (most of which are not private), did we choose to look at the most expensive Prep School in Hertfordshire first (OK, I am guessing here but I reassure myself that if there is another more expensive then I will be shocked), I don't know?
First of all we were late. Then I felt under dressed in jeans and a jumper. I felt even my swanky car looked cheap. But when we crossed the threshold we were met by both Head and Deputy Head Master who both shook us warmly by the hand just hard enough to see if they could hear the coins jangle in my pocket and I was reminded that these places are not just schools, they are businesses. We passed the first test and were passed onto a well groomed Asian pupil called Hassan to show us around. I work with many young people who are intelligent and good at the their jobs but who lack some diction. This kid was just 13 and he had better elocution that most company executives.
Hassan had more badges on his blue blazer than an experienced Morris Dancer which were for every sport conceivable. As we looked around the fantastic buildings and Kindergarten, he casually asked me if I played cricket. First, the assumption that I still played rankled a little. Then when I smugly said I used to play for a local league team, he asked 'Which county'?
County!? I was a bit part player for Hemel Hempstead but was proud of my minor achievements. Thank God he didn't ask me about rugby. In reply to all this he pointed to a spotty young kid in the other room and said he played for Middlesex. I suddenly realised how pathetically inadequate my life had been.
I also realised, as I surveyed each superbly equipped classroom and spoke to every toothy teacher, that a young child could get no better start in their life educationally to spend as much as 10 years at this place.
This taught me two things: 1) We had made a tragic mistake by coming to see York House first. It now muddles our thinking and sets unrealistic expectations for any other school we see. I mean, I can't think that a Primary School in our area will not only not have its own swimming pool but it certainly will not be able to have Kayak lessons in there. The only upside was that Scott slept most of the tour and so I reason that what he didn't see, he won't miss. 2) If we were to send our as yet unborn child and Scott to such a school for all of 10 years then we will have paid as much in fees as our current mortgage. Yes, it's that much.
By quirk of fate, I went to a Prep School as my father worked mainly abroad on assignments for BP who then paid the lion share of fees for any UK schooling as mostly boarding was required. I went to Craig-y-Nos school in Uplands, Swansea which has since relocated to the Gower Peninsula and was recently attended by my nephew, Matthew. When I went there it was a converted townhouse and was run by a Headmaster with a stutter called Ernie Walters and its only sporting prowess was cricket. We won the Under 11 Swansea District Cup but I missed the Final at St Helens because I finished term early to visit my parents somewhere abroad. My point here, was that Prep schools have moved on.
The problem I have with York House, apart from the potential drain on income, is that Prep Schools are usually a pre-cursor to a full private education. I subsequently attended Christ College, Brecon which is a fantastic school if you like rugby but this was only because my parents were abroad so much of the time. Scott will hopefully have us close at hand and so I don't envisage a need for boarding school or private school for that matter.
The problem maybe catchment areas. I don't know enough about local secondary schools around us but I know that Watford Grammar has a superb reputation while Verulam in St Albans is the feeder school to my old rugby club, Old Verulamium - and that's good enough for me. But we are not in the catchment area for either and I can't see ourselves moving into St Albans and sacrificing the peace and quiet of our current location for the hubbub of the City Centre and no parking or garden. The dogs would never forgive me.
But then, there was the Science lesson. As we entered the Kindergarten to look around its excellent facilities, we saw a group of boys led by a balding teacher who was conducting a science lesson in the yard. He had a foot pump and an inverted pop bottle a third filled with water with a rubber hose its neck connecting it to the pump and a boy was taking his turn to hold it in place as air was pumped in. As the teacher told the pupils that pressure was building and the molecules were gaining more energy, that energy had to have somewhere to go. And he was right. The bottle left its launchpad via the thrust of the ejecting water being forced out by the pressurised air. The child underneath was soaked. That experiment alone could have sold the whole place a thousand times over.
Who would have thought that the thought of schools for a 14 month old who can't even talk yet let alone read would cause such panic and hysteria?
As one parent put it to me over the weekend, this is just the start.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
My wife had been hit by a case of 'Bad-Mother-itis' after someone had asked her if she had put Scott's name down for a school yet. Both of us looked at one another and frowned. He's only 14 months old for goodness sake. However, in a sharp lesson we found that many parents are putting their child's name down at a school almost as soon as he or she is born such is the competition for places at good schools these days.
So in the blind panic that knee jerk reactions can cause, we found ourselves attending the Open Day of the nearby Prep School, York House near Croxley Green. Actually, it's near nowhere as it is a school set in its own grounds and sports a long drive down to an old redbrick building with a clock tower that looks like the set of 'Tom Brown Schooldays'.
Why, when we have several other schools to see (most of which are not private), did we choose to look at the most expensive Prep School in Hertfordshire first (OK, I am guessing here but I reassure myself that if there is another more expensive then I will be shocked), I don't know?
First of all we were late. Then I felt under dressed in jeans and a jumper. I felt even my swanky car looked cheap. But when we crossed the threshold we were met by both Head and Deputy Head Master who both shook us warmly by the hand just hard enough to see if they could hear the coins jangle in my pocket and I was reminded that these places are not just schools, they are businesses. We passed the first test and were passed onto a well groomed Asian pupil called Hassan to show us around. I work with many young people who are intelligent and good at the their jobs but who lack some diction. This kid was just 13 and he had better elocution that most company executives.
Hassan had more badges on his blue blazer than an experienced Morris Dancer which were for every sport conceivable. As we looked around the fantastic buildings and Kindergarten, he casually asked me if I played cricket. First, the assumption that I still played rankled a little. Then when I smugly said I used to play for a local league team, he asked 'Which county'?
County!? I was a bit part player for Hemel Hempstead but was proud of my minor achievements. Thank God he didn't ask me about rugby. In reply to all this he pointed to a spotty young kid in the other room and said he played for Middlesex. I suddenly realised how pathetically inadequate my life had been.
I also realised, as I surveyed each superbly equipped classroom and spoke to every toothy teacher, that a young child could get no better start in their life educationally to spend as much as 10 years at this place.
This taught me two things: 1) We had made a tragic mistake by coming to see York House first. It now muddles our thinking and sets unrealistic expectations for any other school we see. I mean, I can't think that a Primary School in our area will not only not have its own swimming pool but it certainly will not be able to have Kayak lessons in there. The only upside was that Scott slept most of the tour and so I reason that what he didn't see, he won't miss. 2) If we were to send our as yet unborn child and Scott to such a school for all of 10 years then we will have paid as much in fees as our current mortgage. Yes, it's that much.
By quirk of fate, I went to a Prep School as my father worked mainly abroad on assignments for BP who then paid the lion share of fees for any UK schooling as mostly boarding was required. I went to Craig-y-Nos school in Uplands, Swansea which has since relocated to the Gower Peninsula and was recently attended by my nephew, Matthew. When I went there it was a converted townhouse and was run by a Headmaster with a stutter called Ernie Walters and its only sporting prowess was cricket. We won the Under 11 Swansea District Cup but I missed the Final at St Helens because I finished term early to visit my parents somewhere abroad. My point here, was that Prep schools have moved on.
The problem I have with York House, apart from the potential drain on income, is that Prep Schools are usually a pre-cursor to a full private education. I subsequently attended Christ College, Brecon which is a fantastic school if you like rugby but this was only because my parents were abroad so much of the time. Scott will hopefully have us close at hand and so I don't envisage a need for boarding school or private school for that matter.
The problem maybe catchment areas. I don't know enough about local secondary schools around us but I know that Watford Grammar has a superb reputation while Verulam in St Albans is the feeder school to my old rugby club, Old Verulamium - and that's good enough for me. But we are not in the catchment area for either and I can't see ourselves moving into St Albans and sacrificing the peace and quiet of our current location for the hubbub of the City Centre and no parking or garden. The dogs would never forgive me.
But then, there was the Science lesson. As we entered the Kindergarten to look around its excellent facilities, we saw a group of boys led by a balding teacher who was conducting a science lesson in the yard. He had a foot pump and an inverted pop bottle a third filled with water with a rubber hose its neck connecting it to the pump and a boy was taking his turn to hold it in place as air was pumped in. As the teacher told the pupils that pressure was building and the molecules were gaining more energy, that energy had to have somewhere to go. And he was right. The bottle left its launchpad via the thrust of the ejecting water being forced out by the pressurised air. The child underneath was soaked. That experiment alone could have sold the whole place a thousand times over.
Who would have thought that the thought of schools for a 14 month old who can't even talk yet let alone read would cause such panic and hysteria?
As one parent put it to me over the weekend, this is just the start.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday 12 May 2011
The Sum of all Fears
Following on from some of my thoughts yesterday, what could be worse than losing a young child?
I may be thoughtless here but I heard on the radio today that the little girl that was caught in the cross fire of a London shooting a few weeks ago is said to be recovering but it is now confirmed that the bullet paralysed her and she will never walk again.
Hearing that moved me to tears as I drove the car. I can't think of anything worse than a child being maimed at such a young age and having to face the rest of their life in a wheelchair. The child's name is Thusha Kamaleswaran and she was shot in the chest in a shop in Stockwell in March.
In another radio snippet, there was a story about criminals and victims facing one another in order to get some kind of closure for the victim while the criminal can rightly feel remorse for the crime they committed. Admittedly this was related to burglary but the aim was to justify not sending the criminal to jail as most burglaries are committed by young people and therefore they might shape up without having to go to prison and mix with hardened criminals.
In principal, I don't disagree with the latter. But of the six people so far arrested for the attempted murder of Thusha, only one is not a teenager, and he's just 20. The rest are 17-19 and there is one suspect aged 14.
I am not sure of my point here. But if I were the parent of little Thusha I am sure that forgiving would be far from my mind and I tend to forgive most things easily.
There is an argument, however, for terrorists and murderers to have to confront the enormity of their actions. Bin Laden will never have to face up to that and in the minds of his followers he's up there with his gaggle of virgins right now, whooping it up. That's a victory to him and his cause. If only he could have stood and faced the loved ones of those who died in 9/11 and allowed them the opportunity to stare him in the eye or ask him where in all the Koran does it say that you murder innocent people to perform Jihad? Perhaps it would have given some semblance of closure but maybe, just maybe, Bin Laden himself might have seen how totally absurd his actions were.
I digress. The fact is that for no good reason, a small child aged just 5 has to now face the prospect of living all her life at the most extreme disadvantage.
I cannot even start to contemplate how I would feel if this little girl were my daughter. But I know how I feel about the people who shot her.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I may be thoughtless here but I heard on the radio today that the little girl that was caught in the cross fire of a London shooting a few weeks ago is said to be recovering but it is now confirmed that the bullet paralysed her and she will never walk again.
Hearing that moved me to tears as I drove the car. I can't think of anything worse than a child being maimed at such a young age and having to face the rest of their life in a wheelchair. The child's name is Thusha Kamaleswaran and she was shot in the chest in a shop in Stockwell in March.
In another radio snippet, there was a story about criminals and victims facing one another in order to get some kind of closure for the victim while the criminal can rightly feel remorse for the crime they committed. Admittedly this was related to burglary but the aim was to justify not sending the criminal to jail as most burglaries are committed by young people and therefore they might shape up without having to go to prison and mix with hardened criminals.
In principal, I don't disagree with the latter. But of the six people so far arrested for the attempted murder of Thusha, only one is not a teenager, and he's just 20. The rest are 17-19 and there is one suspect aged 14.
I am not sure of my point here. But if I were the parent of little Thusha I am sure that forgiving would be far from my mind and I tend to forgive most things easily.
There is an argument, however, for terrorists and murderers to have to confront the enormity of their actions. Bin Laden will never have to face up to that and in the minds of his followers he's up there with his gaggle of virgins right now, whooping it up. That's a victory to him and his cause. If only he could have stood and faced the loved ones of those who died in 9/11 and allowed them the opportunity to stare him in the eye or ask him where in all the Koran does it say that you murder innocent people to perform Jihad? Perhaps it would have given some semblance of closure but maybe, just maybe, Bin Laden himself might have seen how totally absurd his actions were.
I digress. The fact is that for no good reason, a small child aged just 5 has to now face the prospect of living all her life at the most extreme disadvantage.
I cannot even start to contemplate how I would feel if this little girl were my daughter. But I know how I feel about the people who shot her.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Wednesday 11 May 2011
In This Day and Age?
Did you know that each one of us in Britain is on average caught on CCTV at least 70 times a day? And did you know that as long ago as 2006 there was over 1 CCTV camera for every 14 people in Britain - well above the average for any developed country in the world?
Shocking to know in some respects. All the more shocking is that people still commit crimes despite the presence of so many cameras. Perhaps not very many of these cameras are actually looking for serious crime - many are looking for petty offenders like people over staying at a car park or for what we are putting in our bins (I kid you not).
Why do I mention this? Well, it is alleged in a village not far from us there has been two instances of a single grey car attempting to snatch a young child. In both instances the target was a young girl but from descriptions it appears to be the same car. If there are so many cameras about it is a wonder that these people try to commit such crimes, knowing that their number plate can not only be filmed but recognised too and matched against databases.
It sends a shudder down the spine of any parent, no matter what age. The overwhelming urge to protect a child and ensure it suffers no hardship at the hands of evil people comes to the fore at such times and it makes you wonder just what you would do if someone attempted to abduct your own child.
Topically, I see that a book by Kate McCann is available and is being serialised in one of the dailies. I have lost track as to when Kate and Gerry's daughter, Madeleine, was allegedly abducted in Portugal but again this brings back evocative memories of a very disturbing time - and it felt terrible even though we had yet to become parents.
But what was equally disturbing was the McCann's apparent demeanour and specifically the rather odd and indifferent behaviour by the mother, Kate. I read a very interesting Sunday Times article at the time written by a psychologist and it explained that the reason why so many people seemed to distrust her version of events on that fateful night as she and her husband revelled at a nearby restaurant was because she seemed so unmotherly, pristinely turned out and calm. More recently, the full series of questions that were put to her when she was designated as an 'arguedo' or suspect in Portugal, were published and she chose to answer only one of all the questions, most of which were really quite straightforward and pertinent to little Madeleine's disappearance. That the family refused to go back to Portugal to re-enact the events of the night was more perplexing as experience has shown such reconstructions often serve to jog memories and create new leads.
I suppose the primal fear for my child in me rages against any would-be wrong doer. I cannot fathom what it would be like to lose our wee one but I am certain that I would not be out at my usual restaurants or playing tennis for a long while after.
I used to be against all these security cameras but if they save just a few lives, they get my vote.
Just turn them away from petty crime and focus on real crimes.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Shocking to know in some respects. All the more shocking is that people still commit crimes despite the presence of so many cameras. Perhaps not very many of these cameras are actually looking for serious crime - many are looking for petty offenders like people over staying at a car park or for what we are putting in our bins (I kid you not).
Why do I mention this? Well, it is alleged in a village not far from us there has been two instances of a single grey car attempting to snatch a young child. In both instances the target was a young girl but from descriptions it appears to be the same car. If there are so many cameras about it is a wonder that these people try to commit such crimes, knowing that their number plate can not only be filmed but recognised too and matched against databases.
It sends a shudder down the spine of any parent, no matter what age. The overwhelming urge to protect a child and ensure it suffers no hardship at the hands of evil people comes to the fore at such times and it makes you wonder just what you would do if someone attempted to abduct your own child.
Topically, I see that a book by Kate McCann is available and is being serialised in one of the dailies. I have lost track as to when Kate and Gerry's daughter, Madeleine, was allegedly abducted in Portugal but again this brings back evocative memories of a very disturbing time - and it felt terrible even though we had yet to become parents.
But what was equally disturbing was the McCann's apparent demeanour and specifically the rather odd and indifferent behaviour by the mother, Kate. I read a very interesting Sunday Times article at the time written by a psychologist and it explained that the reason why so many people seemed to distrust her version of events on that fateful night as she and her husband revelled at a nearby restaurant was because she seemed so unmotherly, pristinely turned out and calm. More recently, the full series of questions that were put to her when she was designated as an 'arguedo' or suspect in Portugal, were published and she chose to answer only one of all the questions, most of which were really quite straightforward and pertinent to little Madeleine's disappearance. That the family refused to go back to Portugal to re-enact the events of the night was more perplexing as experience has shown such reconstructions often serve to jog memories and create new leads.
I suppose the primal fear for my child in me rages against any would-be wrong doer. I cannot fathom what it would be like to lose our wee one but I am certain that I would not be out at my usual restaurants or playing tennis for a long while after.
I used to be against all these security cameras but if they save just a few lives, they get my vote.
Just turn them away from petty crime and focus on real crimes.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Friday 18 March 2011
To MMR or Not?
Yesterday was a big day. Dad was in the doghouse for not being able to attend Scott's MMR jab but, with or without him, the jab went ahead with a full booster too.
This was after twice postponing the jab as Scott was not in chipper health on both of the previous two appointments, which we were told was essential. The wee one was very brave and took his injections stoically and with little fuss. Afterwards he was his usual self and we then attended our eldest's nephew's 18th birthday do. Scott was the life and soul of the party, crawling around persistently and making everyone smile with his antics. He even fell asleep on the way home which augured for a normal evening.
That's where reality and the hopeful fiction of 'he may show a few symptoms' differed. He had a most unrestful night. Having gone to sleep at around 9pm, which was late for him, he was awake again before we went to bed, then again at midnight, and every hour after. At around 2.30pm, after administration of Calpol and it's ibuprofen equivalent, we sat playing with him on the bed sipping cups of tea. That's how awake he was.
We did get him back to sleep but he was up at 7am prompt and is slightly grumpy and weary - just like his dad. This is all bad enough but then there is the MMR furore to deal with.
MMR has got a very dodgy history. In Japan, having the mumps, measles and rubella vaccine together, or MMR, has been banned and they are now done separately.
It all started when the MMR vaccine was mandated in 1994 for all children. Since then, unequivocally, there has been a spike in the instances of autism diagnoses. Many of the diagnoses occurred just months after the administration of the MMR jab - so was there a connection?
The situation was not helped when a gastroenterologist (Dr. Andrew Wakefield) made some pretty profound claims in the Lancet where he proposed from his study of MMR immunisation, bowel disease and autism that there was an interaction between the viruses (as they are administered live in the MMR serum) which could 1) have an impact on a child's immune system, 2) lead to persistent infection in the gastrointestinal tract and 3) lead, in the long run, to possible brain damage and autism.
He caused a massive scare. Since, he has left his post after it was discovered his work was 'fatally flawed'. The fact that all the patients he did his study on already had gastrointestinal illness made his subjects non-random anyway but that group sampled was ridiculously small too. From that, no real conclusion could be made despite the fact that the measles virus was found in the gut in all cases.
The controversy remains. Our goddaughter had quite serious bowel illness when she was young - I have no idea if this was on or around when she had her MMR jab. But all parents question most things in relation to their child's safety and this is a very hot issue.
We have made the plunge and we are watching our little one like a hawk. We expected him to show symptoms of illness - they say for up to two weeks - but we had not expected him to be so 'rough' so soon after the jab.
The household is on high alert.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
This was after twice postponing the jab as Scott was not in chipper health on both of the previous two appointments, which we were told was essential. The wee one was very brave and took his injections stoically and with little fuss. Afterwards he was his usual self and we then attended our eldest's nephew's 18th birthday do. Scott was the life and soul of the party, crawling around persistently and making everyone smile with his antics. He even fell asleep on the way home which augured for a normal evening.
That's where reality and the hopeful fiction of 'he may show a few symptoms' differed. He had a most unrestful night. Having gone to sleep at around 9pm, which was late for him, he was awake again before we went to bed, then again at midnight, and every hour after. At around 2.30pm, after administration of Calpol and it's ibuprofen equivalent, we sat playing with him on the bed sipping cups of tea. That's how awake he was.
We did get him back to sleep but he was up at 7am prompt and is slightly grumpy and weary - just like his dad. This is all bad enough but then there is the MMR furore to deal with.
MMR has got a very dodgy history. In Japan, having the mumps, measles and rubella vaccine together, or MMR, has been banned and they are now done separately.
It all started when the MMR vaccine was mandated in 1994 for all children. Since then, unequivocally, there has been a spike in the instances of autism diagnoses. Many of the diagnoses occurred just months after the administration of the MMR jab - so was there a connection?
The situation was not helped when a gastroenterologist (Dr. Andrew Wakefield) made some pretty profound claims in the Lancet where he proposed from his study of MMR immunisation, bowel disease and autism that there was an interaction between the viruses (as they are administered live in the MMR serum) which could 1) have an impact on a child's immune system, 2) lead to persistent infection in the gastrointestinal tract and 3) lead, in the long run, to possible brain damage and autism.
He caused a massive scare. Since, he has left his post after it was discovered his work was 'fatally flawed'. The fact that all the patients he did his study on already had gastrointestinal illness made his subjects non-random anyway but that group sampled was ridiculously small too. From that, no real conclusion could be made despite the fact that the measles virus was found in the gut in all cases.
The controversy remains. Our goddaughter had quite serious bowel illness when she was young - I have no idea if this was on or around when she had her MMR jab. But all parents question most things in relation to their child's safety and this is a very hot issue.
We have made the plunge and we are watching our little one like a hawk. We expected him to show symptoms of illness - they say for up to two weeks - but we had not expected him to be so 'rough' so soon after the jab.
The household is on high alert.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Monday 14 March 2011
Catch Up
The last few weeks have been a real roller coaster. The sense of anticipation of a new addition to the family in July has been overshadowed by wee Scott having dreadful sleep patterns which were first caused by a bug he had. Since catching the bug, he has got into a routine of waking more frequently and then asking for his mum rather than dad and so the burden of nighttime care has been evenly split. This means that both mum and dad get very interrupted sleep and we are both exhausted in the day times.
Just when I thought my lot was bad, though, I see the terrible scenes in Japan and the ongoing effects of the earthquake and Tsunami and I can see that our hardship is nothing compared to that of those affected by this terrible natural disaster. In fact, put into context, we wake up to see our lovely son, refreshed from 'sleep' and his sunny smile just makes all that tiredness seem very worthwhile.
The fact is, I often think our lot is bad but there is plenty that goes on in the world where people have unbearable suffering for many reasons which makes our little homeward issues absolutely trivial. In fact, we should be thankful we have such things to worry about, and for the most part, we are.
However, here's an interesting thing. The Consultant who delivered our baby and will deliver our second also, has more skill in his little finger than most people will accumulate in a lifetime. If he had applied that incredible skill to pressing buttons on a computer and working in the City, he would have been far better off. In fact, it would have taken his accumulated pay from before the time of the Battle of Hastings to have earned as much as Bob Diamond did just this year. And Diamond is the man who almost bankrupted his company and needed to go to the Middle East and sell shares at knock down prices to keep his bank from going out of business. In most business circles, that would be abject failure given the kind of money he risked for his shareholders by bad business practice but instead his rises again to fill his pockets. If our Consultant had made just a minor slip up or failure, he would never be able to practice his craft again in his lifetime, by comparison. Fred Goodwin did and he walked away with - well you know the story.
That would be the difference between responsibility and accountability.
Today in Sandei, Japan, the likes of our Consultant and his medical colleagues will be the most valuable people in the world and the likes of Bob Diamond will be looking to limit their losses and then make a handsome profit on the plight of the people there.
That's how wrong we have got the whole thing and that's enough to drive people who get expert help, from brilliant people who care, absolutely crackers.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Just when I thought my lot was bad, though, I see the terrible scenes in Japan and the ongoing effects of the earthquake and Tsunami and I can see that our hardship is nothing compared to that of those affected by this terrible natural disaster. In fact, put into context, we wake up to see our lovely son, refreshed from 'sleep' and his sunny smile just makes all that tiredness seem very worthwhile.
The fact is, I often think our lot is bad but there is plenty that goes on in the world where people have unbearable suffering for many reasons which makes our little homeward issues absolutely trivial. In fact, we should be thankful we have such things to worry about, and for the most part, we are.
However, here's an interesting thing. The Consultant who delivered our baby and will deliver our second also, has more skill in his little finger than most people will accumulate in a lifetime. If he had applied that incredible skill to pressing buttons on a computer and working in the City, he would have been far better off. In fact, it would have taken his accumulated pay from before the time of the Battle of Hastings to have earned as much as Bob Diamond did just this year. And Diamond is the man who almost bankrupted his company and needed to go to the Middle East and sell shares at knock down prices to keep his bank from going out of business. In most business circles, that would be abject failure given the kind of money he risked for his shareholders by bad business practice but instead his rises again to fill his pockets. If our Consultant had made just a minor slip up or failure, he would never be able to practice his craft again in his lifetime, by comparison. Fred Goodwin did and he walked away with - well you know the story.
That would be the difference between responsibility and accountability.
Today in Sandei, Japan, the likes of our Consultant and his medical colleagues will be the most valuable people in the world and the likes of Bob Diamond will be looking to limit their losses and then make a handsome profit on the plight of the people there.
That's how wrong we have got the whole thing and that's enough to drive people who get expert help, from brilliant people who care, absolutely crackers.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Saturday 19 February 2011
Feeling Rough
I have been a bear with a sore head lately. Poor Scott has had really poor sleep lately and has developed a trend to waking up about 1am and then bawling his eyes out so that he has to sleep with mum and both of us are on tenterhooks as he lies between us. This then can last several hours or even the whole night. While we have tried to alternate responsibility, we are both shattered and it leads to unnecessarily frayed tempers, which is pretty unusual for me.
This morning, I felt a bit better until I read Barclays Bank paid just £113m in Corporation Tax last year when the bonus pool was £3.4bn. I mean, how stupid are we, really? Why do we put up with such nonsense and allow fat and happy people to take advantage of our lives, our money, our tax and our prospects for work when all they do is lie, cheat and make money out of thin air then lose?
You see, that's an example of daft angst for no reason other than tiredness.
But here's the bright side. On Thursday, Scott was one year old and he loved his day with family. My brother and he wife travelled all the way from wales to see him while we we inundated with my wife's family for the evening and cake cutting. Scott was in his element, surrounded by all the people he loves and he loved all his presents.
Today, we have a wider party and some 30 people will be coming including y elder sister and husband on their way through to Heathrow for a holiday and folks from near and far too. We have hit Costco and frankly the 2nd Battalion the Parachute Regiment could turn up and we would still have leftovers. I raided Sainsburys for beer, wine and soft drinks last night as well and let's hope there is a thirst amongst guests or we ill be drinking until Christmas.
This has been the best part. As I speak, he is delightfully playing in his Playpen with his new toys while mum gets some rest with little lump growing at a grand old rate.
Suddenly, I fell better. And that's been the pattern of things. s that normal? I have no idea.
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This morning, I felt a bit better until I read Barclays Bank paid just £113m in Corporation Tax last year when the bonus pool was £3.4bn. I mean, how stupid are we, really? Why do we put up with such nonsense and allow fat and happy people to take advantage of our lives, our money, our tax and our prospects for work when all they do is lie, cheat and make money out of thin air then lose?
You see, that's an example of daft angst for no reason other than tiredness.
But here's the bright side. On Thursday, Scott was one year old and he loved his day with family. My brother and he wife travelled all the way from wales to see him while we we inundated with my wife's family for the evening and cake cutting. Scott was in his element, surrounded by all the people he loves and he loved all his presents.
Today, we have a wider party and some 30 people will be coming including y elder sister and husband on their way through to Heathrow for a holiday and folks from near and far too. We have hit Costco and frankly the 2nd Battalion the Parachute Regiment could turn up and we would still have leftovers. I raided Sainsburys for beer, wine and soft drinks last night as well and let's hope there is a thirst amongst guests or we ill be drinking until Christmas.
This has been the best part. As I speak, he is delightfully playing in his Playpen with his new toys while mum gets some rest with little lump growing at a grand old rate.
Suddenly, I fell better. And that's been the pattern of things. s that normal? I have no idea.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Monday 24 January 2011
Facing Up To The Age Thing
My wife and I were chatting about this just last night. We are both very excited about the fact we will have our second child in July. I will be 52 in November. Our little boy is just 11 months old. Sobering facts.
While there is no doubt that I am young at heart and having children makes you feel younger, I am very aware that I am not as physically fit as I was even a few years ago and that I will be over 60 when my little boy and new one will be around 10 years old. This is the sort of age when I will be ferrying them back and fore to school, meant to be kicking a ball about, having trekking holidays, camping trips - you know the sort of things you see in an advert for visiting Wales.
The fact is that I will be called 'late middle aged' by some kind people but reality is that I will be far less able to be a normal dad compared to someone half my age. I will have less job prospects, less time before I qualify for a bus pass and probably call modern music rubbish.
It's bad enough me thinking about that, but what will it be like for my young children when other kids joke about them being picked up by their granddad who is in fact their father? When I was kid it was a rarity to see older parents, nowadays at least it seems more acceptable and numerous. But it still does not take away the thought of how we will all cope with it.
Will my children resent the fact I am an older dad, a curmudgeon, not able to play in the dads v kids football match, am less fit, forget things more easily and not know who the winner of X Factor is but know who Champion the Wonder Dog is? I worry about all that. I think it is part of being an older dad.
I still haven't started my fitness regime, again. Prior to 50 I was a regular, even obsessive, gym-goer fitter than when I was actually playing rugby each weekend. Now, after an excessive Christmas and inactive New year, I have put on a few more pounds and feel unfit and heavy. Now is the time to seize the bull by the horns, when I have a bit of time on my hands. Sadly, excuses get in the way. My wife needs more attention, being pregnant, so I take more care of my little boy. I have injured the ligaments in one hand, would you believe, by attempting to play golf. So my gym comeback will have to wait a little longer, although I have pointed out to myself that cross trainers require less use of the hand.
Mix all this together and you get some feel for the constant reminder the body and mind gives of age. Many people say that since they turn 40 or 50 they feel no different. That was not the case with me and having children, new ones, at that age makes you acutely aware of your physical limitations beyond a certain age and, in many respects, your mortality.
That's a final issue that crops up now and then. I am not at all comfortable, as I guess most are not, with the notion of death and finality. But it has a new dimension now. Death will surely rob me of some of the best moments I could have had (does that make sense?), like watching my son graduate, possibly, or get married, have grandchildren. I have to face facts, it is unlikely I will see any of those things.
Still, even though the little one has been up 4 times in the night as he has a little tummy problem and so I feel pretty drained, it is true to say that, while he keeps fully aware of my age, he also helps me fight back the ravages of time.
His smiling face makes me want to behave like a 10 year old and invariably I do. Long may that feeling continue.
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While there is no doubt that I am young at heart and having children makes you feel younger, I am very aware that I am not as physically fit as I was even a few years ago and that I will be over 60 when my little boy and new one will be around 10 years old. This is the sort of age when I will be ferrying them back and fore to school, meant to be kicking a ball about, having trekking holidays, camping trips - you know the sort of things you see in an advert for visiting Wales.
The fact is that I will be called 'late middle aged' by some kind people but reality is that I will be far less able to be a normal dad compared to someone half my age. I will have less job prospects, less time before I qualify for a bus pass and probably call modern music rubbish.
It's bad enough me thinking about that, but what will it be like for my young children when other kids joke about them being picked up by their granddad who is in fact their father? When I was kid it was a rarity to see older parents, nowadays at least it seems more acceptable and numerous. But it still does not take away the thought of how we will all cope with it.
Will my children resent the fact I am an older dad, a curmudgeon, not able to play in the dads v kids football match, am less fit, forget things more easily and not know who the winner of X Factor is but know who Champion the Wonder Dog is? I worry about all that. I think it is part of being an older dad.
I still haven't started my fitness regime, again. Prior to 50 I was a regular, even obsessive, gym-goer fitter than when I was actually playing rugby each weekend. Now, after an excessive Christmas and inactive New year, I have put on a few more pounds and feel unfit and heavy. Now is the time to seize the bull by the horns, when I have a bit of time on my hands. Sadly, excuses get in the way. My wife needs more attention, being pregnant, so I take more care of my little boy. I have injured the ligaments in one hand, would you believe, by attempting to play golf. So my gym comeback will have to wait a little longer, although I have pointed out to myself that cross trainers require less use of the hand.
Mix all this together and you get some feel for the constant reminder the body and mind gives of age. Many people say that since they turn 40 or 50 they feel no different. That was not the case with me and having children, new ones, at that age makes you acutely aware of your physical limitations beyond a certain age and, in many respects, your mortality.
That's a final issue that crops up now and then. I am not at all comfortable, as I guess most are not, with the notion of death and finality. But it has a new dimension now. Death will surely rob me of some of the best moments I could have had (does that make sense?), like watching my son graduate, possibly, or get married, have grandchildren. I have to face facts, it is unlikely I will see any of those things.
Still, even though the little one has been up 4 times in the night as he has a little tummy problem and so I feel pretty drained, it is true to say that, while he keeps fully aware of my age, he also helps me fight back the ravages of time.
His smiling face makes me want to behave like a 10 year old and invariably I do. Long may that feeling continue.
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First Christmas
This year was my son's first Christmas. The build up was interesting as a branch of JoJo Maman Bebe suddenly opened in St Albans, almost at the entrance to the car park we use - I fear it was no coincidence considering the amount we have bought from this excellent chain. It makes me wonder whether real estate by that car park is going to sky rocket as various baby outlets vie for a share of my wife's purse. I must look up who the landlord is and see if I can invest and get some money back.
Christmas was all the more special this year. We got the decorations down and made up the tree and Scott's eyes were a joy as he looked at the glowing lights, tinsel and baubles. We would sit and night and I would tell him stories by the tree and I swear he seemed to understand every word although my wife rightfully puts it down to the prompts I give him. He's not really a boy genius like most dads think their little boys at this age.
Christmas is special in our house anyway as the two dogs, border collies, love opening presents and when they see the tree go up, they know what's happening. This heightened the atmosphere and when Christmas day came, little boy and dogs had a wail of a time opening presents. There weren't many Christmas Carols played on TV or radio this year so we played a CD on Christmas morning and sang along to the music with the words in a book and my wife and I cried our eyes out for no reason. I don't think Scott registered anything but it didn't matter.
We always spend the day at my wife's parents and Scott's twin cousins were there and so we had a lovely time. Having a large family helps in all sorts of ways but its the sense of belonging and kin that our little boy has seems to bring him alive whenever he sees a relative. It's amazing, but we said of my wife's sister's kids too, children seem to know someone is a blood relative instinctively and the love is immediate, deep and given with no strings attached.
We have a toy mountain to deal with after Christmas Day and subsequent visits to relatives. The little one has walkers, the Chicco one that makes him wander around like a Dalek, a little wooden pushcart with blocks in it, a playpen like a prison cell, several wooden block sets for inserting shapes in holes but still his best toys are our ceramic chess set and metal coaster set which have been there since time immemorial. In fact, he seemed to get more fun out of the paper on most presents.
But this year was very special. My wife and I have waited a long time for this special moment and this was as much our moment as his. To see his little face on Christmas Day wondering at presents, laughing with family, eating turkey and sprouts with gusto and playing with anything not nailed down was hard to describe.
It was indeed the Most Wonderful Time.
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Christmas was all the more special this year. We got the decorations down and made up the tree and Scott's eyes were a joy as he looked at the glowing lights, tinsel and baubles. We would sit and night and I would tell him stories by the tree and I swear he seemed to understand every word although my wife rightfully puts it down to the prompts I give him. He's not really a boy genius like most dads think their little boys at this age.
Christmas is special in our house anyway as the two dogs, border collies, love opening presents and when they see the tree go up, they know what's happening. This heightened the atmosphere and when Christmas day came, little boy and dogs had a wail of a time opening presents. There weren't many Christmas Carols played on TV or radio this year so we played a CD on Christmas morning and sang along to the music with the words in a book and my wife and I cried our eyes out for no reason. I don't think Scott registered anything but it didn't matter.
We always spend the day at my wife's parents and Scott's twin cousins were there and so we had a lovely time. Having a large family helps in all sorts of ways but its the sense of belonging and kin that our little boy has seems to bring him alive whenever he sees a relative. It's amazing, but we said of my wife's sister's kids too, children seem to know someone is a blood relative instinctively and the love is immediate, deep and given with no strings attached.
We have a toy mountain to deal with after Christmas Day and subsequent visits to relatives. The little one has walkers, the Chicco one that makes him wander around like a Dalek, a little wooden pushcart with blocks in it, a playpen like a prison cell, several wooden block sets for inserting shapes in holes but still his best toys are our ceramic chess set and metal coaster set which have been there since time immemorial. In fact, he seemed to get more fun out of the paper on most presents.
But this year was very special. My wife and I have waited a long time for this special moment and this was as much our moment as his. To see his little face on Christmas Day wondering at presents, laughing with family, eating turkey and sprouts with gusto and playing with anything not nailed down was hard to describe.
It was indeed the Most Wonderful Time.
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Saturday 22 January 2011
First Birthday Approaches
On 17 February, little Scott will be one. It seems to have gone by in a flash and I can't seem to remember what life was like before him. Now the discussion turns to two subjects - 1) what do we do for his first birthday and 2) when do we get him christened?
We have had an invite already to one of the NCT class first birthdays. Phil and Pauli's baby, Dylan, was born on 2 March and his party will be on 5 March. When they told us about the party, I had to admit we hadn't even started to think about Scott's birthday and immediately we started to think if we were bad parents for not doing so. The other subject of christening was another point for debate.
We will get round to organising a party for Scott's birthday, I'm sure. Probably family and maybe a select band of close friends, NCT perhaps on the Saturday closest.
The christening? Well that's a different matter. We are godparents to several children - one of whom I have not seen for about 16 years which is dreadful on my part (he's 19 now). The problem is not so much which church do we do the christening at but who do we select as godparents?
If we were to repay the compliment on selection then we would have to have several children to accommodate the situation. But reality bites, Scott will have probably 3 godparents and we have to filter down the possibilities and that means some people may get their noses put out of joint.
Age is a factor here. After all, being a 50 year old means that most of my friends and family are the same age and part of the point of being a godparent is being around during the child's formative years and possibly more. Wouldn't younger people be better equipped for such a job? Then again, the easiest pick would be my wife's sister. We are godparents to all three of her boys and proud to be so. We have also been a big part of their lives as they grow up, the eldest now being 17. My wife's sister is slightly younger then my wife so the age factor is not so acute.
In contrast, my elder sister, who would be a great choice, is two years older than me and lives some 200+ miles away. However, there would be no doubting that she would be a wonderful godparent. Then comes the potential disappointments - my brother, who is 13 years older than me and is, in fact, one of my godparents, would likely be disappointed, even feel snubbed, if he did not make the selection list. My younger sister is not baptised herself and I understand is eliminated on that technicality, even though she would make a wonderful godparent.
There are more to choose from my wife's side which means it is unlikely that any more than one of our friends would be a potential godparent. We know this will cause some issues but I guess it's one of those things that can't be helped. Knowing how to deal with it and what you say to people will be something we will have to learn along the way.
As for timing, well this could be dangerous. It's a bit nippy and rainy at the moment so now is not a great time although a christening beyond Scott's first birthday sounds a bit unusual. The fact is we are now in the prime 6 Nations zone and there are games played on a Sunday.
Oops, slipping into pre-dad thinking there. Any Sunday would be perfect but it would be nice to have a ray of sunshine and a little warmth for the photos if nothing else. Springtime - that's the ticket.
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We have had an invite already to one of the NCT class first birthdays. Phil and Pauli's baby, Dylan, was born on 2 March and his party will be on 5 March. When they told us about the party, I had to admit we hadn't even started to think about Scott's birthday and immediately we started to think if we were bad parents for not doing so. The other subject of christening was another point for debate.
We will get round to organising a party for Scott's birthday, I'm sure. Probably family and maybe a select band of close friends, NCT perhaps on the Saturday closest.
The christening? Well that's a different matter. We are godparents to several children - one of whom I have not seen for about 16 years which is dreadful on my part (he's 19 now). The problem is not so much which church do we do the christening at but who do we select as godparents?
If we were to repay the compliment on selection then we would have to have several children to accommodate the situation. But reality bites, Scott will have probably 3 godparents and we have to filter down the possibilities and that means some people may get their noses put out of joint.
Age is a factor here. After all, being a 50 year old means that most of my friends and family are the same age and part of the point of being a godparent is being around during the child's formative years and possibly more. Wouldn't younger people be better equipped for such a job? Then again, the easiest pick would be my wife's sister. We are godparents to all three of her boys and proud to be so. We have also been a big part of their lives as they grow up, the eldest now being 17. My wife's sister is slightly younger then my wife so the age factor is not so acute.
In contrast, my elder sister, who would be a great choice, is two years older than me and lives some 200+ miles away. However, there would be no doubting that she would be a wonderful godparent. Then comes the potential disappointments - my brother, who is 13 years older than me and is, in fact, one of my godparents, would likely be disappointed, even feel snubbed, if he did not make the selection list. My younger sister is not baptised herself and I understand is eliminated on that technicality, even though she would make a wonderful godparent.
There are more to choose from my wife's side which means it is unlikely that any more than one of our friends would be a potential godparent. We know this will cause some issues but I guess it's one of those things that can't be helped. Knowing how to deal with it and what you say to people will be something we will have to learn along the way.
As for timing, well this could be dangerous. It's a bit nippy and rainy at the moment so now is not a great time although a christening beyond Scott's first birthday sounds a bit unusual. The fact is we are now in the prime 6 Nations zone and there are games played on a Sunday.
Oops, slipping into pre-dad thinking there. Any Sunday would be perfect but it would be nice to have a ray of sunshine and a little warmth for the photos if nothing else. Springtime - that's the ticket.
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Friday 21 January 2011
A World Fit For Our Kids
I don't know how many times I got texted and emailed when the heavy snows were about with the pithy line, 'Global warming, my arse.' I even perpetuated it by sending around a text saying, 'The Conference on Global Warming has been cancelled due to heavy snow.' Ha, ha.
Many of my good friends are massive sceptics when it comes to the environment and believe it is some sort of conspiracy that perpetuates the myth that humans affect the world in which they live, as there if there is instant financial gain in saying that. Without delving into the facts, a simple appraisal says that in the earth's 13 billion year history, there has never been an intelligent species like man and in the last 100 years or so we have invented things that have polluted our environment from smoke to gases to radio active bombs that have not been in the natural order of things before. Just as when Mount St Helena exploded had profound environmental effects and was a natural phenomenon, so too when Chernobyl melted down, radioactive rain poured on the sheep of North Wales.
To think, in this short time, man has not had an affect on the environment is surely illogical for those reasons alone.
Putting our heads in the sand does not help even if some of the facts are wrong. The point is that as parents, our first priority should be giving our kids a future, yet we behave so differently. Yes, we want them to learn to read and write but what point would that be if future generations face a world so badly polluted that it becomes less sustaining of life.
Somehow, the environment and the future of the planet must get some credence. Just as the Cold War threatened the world we found a way to get round it when national differences are put to one side. Perhaps the same can happen again when the United States stops worrying about how much oil China needs.
Again, as I watch my little boy play in the safety of his playpen, I hope that the wider world will be as safe and as welcoming to him in the future.
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Many of my good friends are massive sceptics when it comes to the environment and believe it is some sort of conspiracy that perpetuates the myth that humans affect the world in which they live, as there if there is instant financial gain in saying that. Without delving into the facts, a simple appraisal says that in the earth's 13 billion year history, there has never been an intelligent species like man and in the last 100 years or so we have invented things that have polluted our environment from smoke to gases to radio active bombs that have not been in the natural order of things before. Just as when Mount St Helena exploded had profound environmental effects and was a natural phenomenon, so too when Chernobyl melted down, radioactive rain poured on the sheep of North Wales.
To think, in this short time, man has not had an affect on the environment is surely illogical for those reasons alone.
Putting our heads in the sand does not help even if some of the facts are wrong. The point is that as parents, our first priority should be giving our kids a future, yet we behave so differently. Yes, we want them to learn to read and write but what point would that be if future generations face a world so badly polluted that it becomes less sustaining of life.
Somehow, the environment and the future of the planet must get some credence. Just as the Cold War threatened the world we found a way to get round it when national differences are put to one side. Perhaps the same can happen again when the United States stops worrying about how much oil China needs.
Again, as I watch my little boy play in the safety of his playpen, I hope that the wider world will be as safe and as welcoming to him in the future.
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Prospects
A cursory glance at the Business section in yesterday's Daily Telegraph saw two opposing headlines - 1) Goldman Sachs employees are to earn an average of £269,000 of pay and bonus this year and 2) unemployment levels in the youth population has reached record levels - the Lost Generation' as some refer to it of kids with no prospects. The thought that may link these two headlines was Lord Adair's comment on banks who said they largely 'dealt in products that served no social purpose'.
You see, the problem with being over 50 is that you become much more of a curmudgeon - the sort of person that your 20+ year old child might look at and say, 'Here goes dad again on his hobby horse. He's so out of touch.' And as I write this blog entry, my son's face is covered in bovril and he is playing peekaboo with his bib. Being a curmudgeon is not a good thing in bringing up an 11 month old baby, I would venture to say.
That said, it's a real point that so much of what we call success and acceptable serves no real purpose to society at large. If we look at the schools system, one of my nephews failed to get certain grades at A level interims in the Lower Sixth that he was told he could not go onto A levels at that school. Rejection at that age is not healthy, and how we have got to league tables of kids and schools under a then sitting Labour government is beyond me.
But what it all means, as we ponder the fact that there aren't enough university spaces for British kids and if they get there they clock up immense debt, is that we are loading the dice against kids from an early age. I fear for the prospects for little Scott and my unborn child as in another 10 to 15 years this whole situation will only get worse and prospects will decrease.
Why do we heap pressure on kids at such an early age? Is it character building? Does it prepare them for the real world? I don't think so, because the employment laws now mean it is so difficult to get rid of under performing employees that our labour pool is going down in terms of performance not up while the opposite is happening in our kids. Again, somehow, the standard bearers of the common people, Oxford-educated Labour men, brought all this in.
I sit here looking at my little one as he plasters a piece of buttered toast on his head. I just hope that the education system and society give him the chances his sunny little face deserves. For that to happen, we do have to stop this patently dangerous and unnecessary polarisation in wealth that goes on which we all underwrite. If the money could be spread more evenly, we could have more schools, more opportunity for our young and they don't deserve to be victimised because we adults got it so badly wrong. I don't subscribe to the bankers' view that if they didn't earn so much money then we wouldn't have the standard of living we have - because it is so badly wrong.
Curmudgeon time has ended, it's back to chasing the little fellow around the floor with a policeman's hat on. Just don't get me started on the environment but maybe I'll tackle that tomorrow.
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You see, the problem with being over 50 is that you become much more of a curmudgeon - the sort of person that your 20+ year old child might look at and say, 'Here goes dad again on his hobby horse. He's so out of touch.' And as I write this blog entry, my son's face is covered in bovril and he is playing peekaboo with his bib. Being a curmudgeon is not a good thing in bringing up an 11 month old baby, I would venture to say.
That said, it's a real point that so much of what we call success and acceptable serves no real purpose to society at large. If we look at the schools system, one of my nephews failed to get certain grades at A level interims in the Lower Sixth that he was told he could not go onto A levels at that school. Rejection at that age is not healthy, and how we have got to league tables of kids and schools under a then sitting Labour government is beyond me.
But what it all means, as we ponder the fact that there aren't enough university spaces for British kids and if they get there they clock up immense debt, is that we are loading the dice against kids from an early age. I fear for the prospects for little Scott and my unborn child as in another 10 to 15 years this whole situation will only get worse and prospects will decrease.
Why do we heap pressure on kids at such an early age? Is it character building? Does it prepare them for the real world? I don't think so, because the employment laws now mean it is so difficult to get rid of under performing employees that our labour pool is going down in terms of performance not up while the opposite is happening in our kids. Again, somehow, the standard bearers of the common people, Oxford-educated Labour men, brought all this in.
I sit here looking at my little one as he plasters a piece of buttered toast on his head. I just hope that the education system and society give him the chances his sunny little face deserves. For that to happen, we do have to stop this patently dangerous and unnecessary polarisation in wealth that goes on which we all underwrite. If the money could be spread more evenly, we could have more schools, more opportunity for our young and they don't deserve to be victimised because we adults got it so badly wrong. I don't subscribe to the bankers' view that if they didn't earn so much money then we wouldn't have the standard of living we have - because it is so badly wrong.
Curmudgeon time has ended, it's back to chasing the little fellow around the floor with a policeman's hat on. Just don't get me started on the environment but maybe I'll tackle that tomorrow.
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Wednesday 19 January 2011
Being A Dad At 50
So what has it been like, being a Dad at 50+?
This last year has been a whole new ball game to start with. Life revolves around His Lordship and that has been a huge culture change, the biggest since I met my wife some 18 years ago. Although we still do lots of the things we used to do like go to restaurants, it's fair to say that we rarely go out in the evenings and we have babysitters only twice so far in the last 11 months. We have had two holidays, one in Crete with my wife's family which was great and one in Spain which was mixed with business and not so brilliant. Neither provided any real relaxation.
That's the obvious part. The second is that whenever we enter a room, automatically one or other of us 'Has the Conn', i.e. we are in charge of the little one as he moves around at will, particularly since crawling. We are now elevating all items which could be of use to him in every room while watching him like a hawk for crashing into corners of tables or chairs.
While this is normal for any parent, it's actually a huge change for a 50 year old, steeped in tradition of just sitting down and relaxing or playing with the dogs. It means that you rarely relax and you also find that you have little time, when you are in charge, to do anything from make a cup of tea to answer a telephone call to send an email to go to the loo. It's that all-consuming and that's a massive culture change, particularly for a 50 year old guy who was used to do pretty much as he wanted.
The big result of all this is that fatigue is major part of your life. Even as I write, I have to get up very early in the morning and stay up late just to catch up on things like doing my accounts, writing blogs, emails or even just reading things. With getting up in the middle of the night a routine that cannot be changed, it means that interrupted sleep is all you get. This builds up and I don't care what anyone says, for a 50 year old it really begins to drag you down. It would help if I could allocate time to go to the gym, but that really is unrealistic as in the order of priorities in the house these days, personal fitness is not near the top. Even walking the dogs has been cut down as time just gets consumed plus in the Winter the concern about excess dirt coming into areas where the little one is crawling is high.
Then there is the general worry. As you get older, the chances of your career ending or changing dramatically are much higher and this is an underlying pressure. Back in 2006, I took the decision to work on contracts and I have had an excellent run on this in the main. However, this produces a high degree of pressure as I cannot afford to take holidays as time off is unbillable and to take a break between contracts is a false hope as you spend any such time worrying how you are going to get another contract.
Lob in the concern of having a child and the pressure starts to intensify as the overwhelming urge is to provide for the family in terms of bringing in the 'bread'. With my wife on unpaid maternity (she is self-employed), this doubles that underlying pressure. As she is again pregnant, it means that we are probably looking at two years on a single income, which is a precarious one. This is a pressure that sometimes manifests itself in short temper as I feel the need to do something about it, either to change back to permanent employment or to find more lucrative contracts (which is nigh on impossible). All this magnifies as each day passes, as I know that no matter what legislation is in place, there is a very active discrimination of 50+ year olds in my kind of work and market sector. It means you have to work harder to prove your worth and that means not just doing the hours but going well beyond.
Here's another curious thing and this may just be me. Sometimes when I am out with Scott alone, I am acutely aware of my age. I see young mothers and fathers with their children and I dwell on the fact that by the time my boy will be in his teens and wanting to kick a ball with me or ask me to bowl to him in the nets, I will already be in my sixties - grandfather not father age. I get a very real feeling that I will create a stigma for my son (and new one on the way) that I saw when I was young and at school at a time when older parents were very rare. This may be unfounded but I guess being 50+ I am of the era when older parents were less prevalent whereas the modern era is different. This does gnaw away at me and I also feel the nagging little concern when I am with my friends who, while they are genuinely delighted for us, clearly feel having another child is just going a step too far at our age. Or at least that's how I play it in my mind.
When I consider all the apparent downsides listed above, it does not even slightly tilt the balance against what we have. Little Scott is not only precious but he does help me feel younger in his presence even if I get aware of my age in some respects when chasing him around. The fact is, I have always been a kid at heart and now I have the perfect excuse to behave like one. A 50+ year old behaving like a child does look daft, but I don't care about that.
I have been busy, when I have the time, writing up the bedtime stories I tell Scott and I have started a blog at http://babyscottstories.wordpress.com to keep them safe for him now and in the future. My mother always urged me to write and Scott has given me that perfect driver to do so. Whether they are any good or not is neither here nor there to me. In general, he hangs on my every word and, as every dad knows, that won't last too many years!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
This last year has been a whole new ball game to start with. Life revolves around His Lordship and that has been a huge culture change, the biggest since I met my wife some 18 years ago. Although we still do lots of the things we used to do like go to restaurants, it's fair to say that we rarely go out in the evenings and we have babysitters only twice so far in the last 11 months. We have had two holidays, one in Crete with my wife's family which was great and one in Spain which was mixed with business and not so brilliant. Neither provided any real relaxation.
That's the obvious part. The second is that whenever we enter a room, automatically one or other of us 'Has the Conn', i.e. we are in charge of the little one as he moves around at will, particularly since crawling. We are now elevating all items which could be of use to him in every room while watching him like a hawk for crashing into corners of tables or chairs.
While this is normal for any parent, it's actually a huge change for a 50 year old, steeped in tradition of just sitting down and relaxing or playing with the dogs. It means that you rarely relax and you also find that you have little time, when you are in charge, to do anything from make a cup of tea to answer a telephone call to send an email to go to the loo. It's that all-consuming and that's a massive culture change, particularly for a 50 year old guy who was used to do pretty much as he wanted.
The big result of all this is that fatigue is major part of your life. Even as I write, I have to get up very early in the morning and stay up late just to catch up on things like doing my accounts, writing blogs, emails or even just reading things. With getting up in the middle of the night a routine that cannot be changed, it means that interrupted sleep is all you get. This builds up and I don't care what anyone says, for a 50 year old it really begins to drag you down. It would help if I could allocate time to go to the gym, but that really is unrealistic as in the order of priorities in the house these days, personal fitness is not near the top. Even walking the dogs has been cut down as time just gets consumed plus in the Winter the concern about excess dirt coming into areas where the little one is crawling is high.
Then there is the general worry. As you get older, the chances of your career ending or changing dramatically are much higher and this is an underlying pressure. Back in 2006, I took the decision to work on contracts and I have had an excellent run on this in the main. However, this produces a high degree of pressure as I cannot afford to take holidays as time off is unbillable and to take a break between contracts is a false hope as you spend any such time worrying how you are going to get another contract.
Lob in the concern of having a child and the pressure starts to intensify as the overwhelming urge is to provide for the family in terms of bringing in the 'bread'. With my wife on unpaid maternity (she is self-employed), this doubles that underlying pressure. As she is again pregnant, it means that we are probably looking at two years on a single income, which is a precarious one. This is a pressure that sometimes manifests itself in short temper as I feel the need to do something about it, either to change back to permanent employment or to find more lucrative contracts (which is nigh on impossible). All this magnifies as each day passes, as I know that no matter what legislation is in place, there is a very active discrimination of 50+ year olds in my kind of work and market sector. It means you have to work harder to prove your worth and that means not just doing the hours but going well beyond.
Here's another curious thing and this may just be me. Sometimes when I am out with Scott alone, I am acutely aware of my age. I see young mothers and fathers with their children and I dwell on the fact that by the time my boy will be in his teens and wanting to kick a ball with me or ask me to bowl to him in the nets, I will already be in my sixties - grandfather not father age. I get a very real feeling that I will create a stigma for my son (and new one on the way) that I saw when I was young and at school at a time when older parents were very rare. This may be unfounded but I guess being 50+ I am of the era when older parents were less prevalent whereas the modern era is different. This does gnaw away at me and I also feel the nagging little concern when I am with my friends who, while they are genuinely delighted for us, clearly feel having another child is just going a step too far at our age. Or at least that's how I play it in my mind.
When I consider all the apparent downsides listed above, it does not even slightly tilt the balance against what we have. Little Scott is not only precious but he does help me feel younger in his presence even if I get aware of my age in some respects when chasing him around. The fact is, I have always been a kid at heart and now I have the perfect excuse to behave like one. A 50+ year old behaving like a child does look daft, but I don't care about that.
I have been busy, when I have the time, writing up the bedtime stories I tell Scott and I have started a blog at http://babyscottstories.wordpress.com to keep them safe for him now and in the future. My mother always urged me to write and Scott has given me that perfect driver to do so. Whether they are any good or not is neither here nor there to me. In general, he hangs on my every word and, as every dad knows, that won't last too many years!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Dad For a Day
For the next few weeks, while I am waiting for a new contract to begin, I will be the exclusive parent on each Wednesday, maybe a few more days per week. While it is a great bonding time with wee Scott, I have succumbed to impulse buying.
You see, today is a typical example. I dropped my wife off at the station and have spent the rest of the day in St Albans. Immediately, while ambling around town, I have bought a new set of golf irons, having only the previous Wednesday bought two hybrid woods. In two weeks I have spent around £250 on a hobby I play no more than half a dozen times a year on average.
And they say women waste money. Note, I said 'They say'. I certainly wouldn't say such a thing. No.
There followed lunch and little Scott was superb eating bread, fishcake, haricot beans and peas, followed by a good slug of milk. He napped this morning for no more than 30 minutes and then again he has slept from around 2.15 until now (3.45) which is good for him. Mind you, considering he was up three times in the night, I'm not surprised.
As he slept, on impulse, I went and had my eyes tested and bought two pairs of reading glasses. Supposedly, it was one pair and the other free at £99 but somehow, with the eye test and assorted 'value added extras' which I have no idea about, it came to £144.
So my experience of exclusive parenting so far has been nearly £400 in impulse purchases plus two lunches.
Have I enjoyed it? Too right, I have. Scott is a pleasure to be with and even in his most difficult moments, usually at bedtime, he is a never far from being totally endearing. In fact, he eats well and has a sunny disposition most of the time.
The best part about the Wednesdays and others days so far is the time to bond. My job has meant that I have travelled a great deal over the last year and so I have spent many nights away as well as those when I leave too early and get home too late to get a great deal of interaction. These parenting days have been superb for balancing that to some small extent and Scott and I have become the best of pals as well as father and son. Well as much as you can do so with an 11 month old.
The other thing is that the wee man is a little babe magnet. I don't know how many times ladies of all ages have stopped and talked to me while he has flirted outrageously. I also get a strange kindred spirit with the mums around as we struggle through the crowded market streets, soothe crying babies or administer emergency bottles. I am a long way from being accepted by such mums but I feel I'm beginning to earn my spurs.
Here's a point for all dads who are in my situation for either short or long periods. What's with the poor changing accommodation for dads? Very few restaurants have good changing facilities anyway but many cater for mothers only and so the facilities are in the 'Ladies' and there are none in the 'Mens'. Fortunately, I can highly recommend Carluccio's and Loch Fyne's as good exceptions to that observation.
So back home to walk the dogs with Scott in the BabyBjorn (a must for any parent, brilliant device)' then put the supper on before picking mum up from the station.
It may be just one day a week for now but being the only parent for the day gives a great taste for just how incredibly demanding a Mum's job really is while giving maximum bonding time. I can't recommend it enough on both counts.
If only I could curb the darn impulse buying.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
You see, today is a typical example. I dropped my wife off at the station and have spent the rest of the day in St Albans. Immediately, while ambling around town, I have bought a new set of golf irons, having only the previous Wednesday bought two hybrid woods. In two weeks I have spent around £250 on a hobby I play no more than half a dozen times a year on average.
And they say women waste money. Note, I said 'They say'. I certainly wouldn't say such a thing. No.
There followed lunch and little Scott was superb eating bread, fishcake, haricot beans and peas, followed by a good slug of milk. He napped this morning for no more than 30 minutes and then again he has slept from around 2.15 until now (3.45) which is good for him. Mind you, considering he was up three times in the night, I'm not surprised.
As he slept, on impulse, I went and had my eyes tested and bought two pairs of reading glasses. Supposedly, it was one pair and the other free at £99 but somehow, with the eye test and assorted 'value added extras' which I have no idea about, it came to £144.
So my experience of exclusive parenting so far has been nearly £400 in impulse purchases plus two lunches.
Have I enjoyed it? Too right, I have. Scott is a pleasure to be with and even in his most difficult moments, usually at bedtime, he is a never far from being totally endearing. In fact, he eats well and has a sunny disposition most of the time.
The best part about the Wednesdays and others days so far is the time to bond. My job has meant that I have travelled a great deal over the last year and so I have spent many nights away as well as those when I leave too early and get home too late to get a great deal of interaction. These parenting days have been superb for balancing that to some small extent and Scott and I have become the best of pals as well as father and son. Well as much as you can do so with an 11 month old.
The other thing is that the wee man is a little babe magnet. I don't know how many times ladies of all ages have stopped and talked to me while he has flirted outrageously. I also get a strange kindred spirit with the mums around as we struggle through the crowded market streets, soothe crying babies or administer emergency bottles. I am a long way from being accepted by such mums but I feel I'm beginning to earn my spurs.
Here's a point for all dads who are in my situation for either short or long periods. What's with the poor changing accommodation for dads? Very few restaurants have good changing facilities anyway but many cater for mothers only and so the facilities are in the 'Ladies' and there are none in the 'Mens'. Fortunately, I can highly recommend Carluccio's and Loch Fyne's as good exceptions to that observation.
So back home to walk the dogs with Scott in the BabyBjorn (a must for any parent, brilliant device)' then put the supper on before picking mum up from the station.
It may be just one day a week for now but being the only parent for the day gives a great taste for just how incredibly demanding a Mum's job really is while giving maximum bonding time. I can't recommend it enough on both counts.
If only I could curb the darn impulse buying.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Resuming The Thread
It's been a long while since I lasted posted here. That's what fatherhood does, I suppose, grab your time and make you prioritise. Between working, fathering and trying to get some sleep there is less time and certainly less inclination to do other things which may be less important.
Is this a symptom of being an older date? Do younger dads, with more energy and a sunnier outlook on life, have more time or prioritise better? That's a good question.
Let's review things. I am now 51 and my little boy Scott is less than a month short of his first birthday. He has experienced his first Christmas, he has 4 razor sharp teeth which he likes to keep in good shape by biting my nose, he can crawl at a fearful pace, he stands up at every opportunity, he laughs, claps to order, High Fives', and flirts with women appallingly.
The dogs get on fine with him, with the bitch, Cari, dotes on him. We have had zero problems of jealousy or lack of hygiene (that's been a running battle) but there is contention for time as the dogs love their walks and interaction.
We have bought thousands of pounds worth of stuff from clothes to sterilisation units to food to bottles to toys, babybjorns, two prams, two car seats, playpens, walkers, I could go on and on. The generosity of others leaves me short of words when it comes to well wishes and gifts.
And Scott has gone digital. He has his own Twitter account at scottedunn and his collection of bedtime stories are on http://babyscottstories.wordpress.com where I have tried to remember the stories I make up for him. Who knows, maybe that will get published some day.
What has it been like, this last 10 or so months? Hard work. I can't remember ever being this tired and we have had but two nights which I can even tell you the dates of when he has slept right through without waking up for a top-up of milk and a cuddle. But it has been a joy. I guess it must be harder for a 50 year old and I worry more about keeping working and the money coming in but, between us, my wife and I have done well. He's a thriving, healthy, happy little boy who is wickedly funny and into all things dubious. He has been a life changing ball of fun.
And here's the rub. My wife is around 14 weeks pregnant with our second child. How about that for a showstopper? Like London buses, we have waited so long for one baby to arrive, there appears a second almost immediately. Of all the lovely mummies we have met at our NCT classes who are considerably younger than my wife, she is the only one who is pregnant again.
The plus side - we have some experience and plenty of kit ready. The downside - our house will never accommodate two toddlers and two dogs. Money will be an issue when we need a new home. On the really big plus side - it's a dream come true.
I'm going to try and keep this blog going over the next few months and catch up a bit on the past and tell you what it has really been like for a 50+ year old dad.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Is this a symptom of being an older date? Do younger dads, with more energy and a sunnier outlook on life, have more time or prioritise better? That's a good question.
Let's review things. I am now 51 and my little boy Scott is less than a month short of his first birthday. He has experienced his first Christmas, he has 4 razor sharp teeth which he likes to keep in good shape by biting my nose, he can crawl at a fearful pace, he stands up at every opportunity, he laughs, claps to order, High Fives', and flirts with women appallingly.
The dogs get on fine with him, with the bitch, Cari, dotes on him. We have had zero problems of jealousy or lack of hygiene (that's been a running battle) but there is contention for time as the dogs love their walks and interaction.
We have bought thousands of pounds worth of stuff from clothes to sterilisation units to food to bottles to toys, babybjorns, two prams, two car seats, playpens, walkers, I could go on and on. The generosity of others leaves me short of words when it comes to well wishes and gifts.
And Scott has gone digital. He has his own Twitter account at scottedunn and his collection of bedtime stories are on http://babyscottstories.wordpress.com where I have tried to remember the stories I make up for him. Who knows, maybe that will get published some day.
What has it been like, this last 10 or so months? Hard work. I can't remember ever being this tired and we have had but two nights which I can even tell you the dates of when he has slept right through without waking up for a top-up of milk and a cuddle. But it has been a joy. I guess it must be harder for a 50 year old and I worry more about keeping working and the money coming in but, between us, my wife and I have done well. He's a thriving, healthy, happy little boy who is wickedly funny and into all things dubious. He has been a life changing ball of fun.
And here's the rub. My wife is around 14 weeks pregnant with our second child. How about that for a showstopper? Like London buses, we have waited so long for one baby to arrive, there appears a second almost immediately. Of all the lovely mummies we have met at our NCT classes who are considerably younger than my wife, she is the only one who is pregnant again.
The plus side - we have some experience and plenty of kit ready. The downside - our house will never accommodate two toddlers and two dogs. Money will be an issue when we need a new home. On the really big plus side - it's a dream come true.
I'm going to try and keep this blog going over the next few months and catch up a bit on the past and tell you what it has really been like for a 50+ year old dad.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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