It's Just Semantics

Last night Newsnight did feminism.  They did feminism in two short films and a 5 minuite discussion with 4 white, middle class, well spoken, highly educated women. The films were interesting.  A black woman discussed how black women are objectified into bottoms, sticking in the air in music videos and a white singer talked about her run-in with the press after her shirt slipped at a concert and she accidentally exposed a (what looked like a bra-covered) breast.  Then the presenter talked about the EveryDaySexism project on Twitter and the guests were asked to comment.

The Every Day Sexism project was started as a way for women to talk about sexism, equality and women's rights.  It is a place where women can say that actions of a man made them feel uncomfortable or that they feel they have been unfairly treated just because of their gender.  This site makes for depressing and quite uncomfortable reading.  It makes you realise that many women do not feel equal and they definitely don't feel safe.

The first question that the presenter asked her three guests was, "Would you call yourself a feminist?"  And there began the only thing that seemed worth talking about.  They discussed the semantics of a word.  You can only answer the question if you have a clear idea what the word means and as a word feminism means so many different things to different people it becomes a circular argument.  The Daily Mail Journalist said that she wasn't a feminist because women had won the war already.  Women went to University, had educations and so 'job done' no need for feminists any more.  I understand her point of view.  I'm pretty happy with my life.  I don't feel opressed. The Long Suffering Husband and I work as a team in the house.  I have a job that I love and do not feel a man doing my job would be paid more or treated in a different way.  But I can't help feeling that I'm just lucky.  If I wanted to be a CEO of a large organisation, or I was poor, or had a husband who didn't believe that men and women were equal, or lived in a different country then things might be different.

Let's just stop arguing about a word.  Women in the whole world should have equal rights to men and men in the whole world should have equal rights to women.  And all gender's have the right to feel safe and not threatened by each other. It's a human rights issue.

Thank you for the suggestion Universe, I'll consider it.

"There is no such thing as reading too much"  This is what I tell the Long Suffering Husband as dirty clothes and dishes pile up around us and we dine on a paket of biscuits for tea.
"Reading improves the mind," I tell the dog, as he crosses his legs and dreams of a nice long walk.

Beside my bed I have a pile of about 9 novels that I've been meaning to read but just haven't been able to get into.  There were 9 but already that number is down to 6 and I am beginning to wish the week was longer.  If I were less of an all or nothing kind of person it wouldn't be a problem.  I would be able to read and work but I fear that moment.  You know that moment? The moment when nothing else matters except the story.  You can't put the book down.  No one can talk to you.  The house could explode and you wouldn't notice. It's the moment when commuters live in fear of missing their stop.  I have been known to walk home from school, a train station or the beach still reading because I'd reached that moment.

Einstein thought that you could read too much after a certain age because it diverts you from your own creative persuits and makes you lazy.  He didn't specify what that age was but I think I might have reached it.  I am definitely lazy when I'm on a reading spree.  I don't think that reading makes me less creative, though.  It makes my brain work overtime.  I wake up in the middle of the night with ideas that I just have to write down, which are unfortunately both illigible and unintelligable in the morning.

The last book I read kept referring to an author I had heard of in another novel but who I thought was made up.  I was told by a rather serene Taoist once that if you hear something three times then the Universe is really trying to make to sit up and take notice.  He said that books that are recommended by three people are very important for you to read.  So when I started reading the last novel the author, Kurt Vonnegut's name kept popping up and I wondered if maybe he was a real person after all.  The way he was talked about in both this book and the last was as a literary genius and I had never heard of him before.  Then actual book titles were mentioned.  I know someone had mentioned Slaughterhouse 5 before.  After my three hints from the Universe I thought I might need to check this out.  The problem is though, that the characters in the books I've been reading who like Kurt Vonnegut are slightly odd self-obsessed teenage boys.  Would I be able to relate in the same way that they can?

Then I was taking a break from my reading by reading my Twitter feed and Letters of Note posted this letter.
http://www.lettersofnote.com/2013/10/make-your-soul-grow.html

I like the idea of my soul growing, so I clicked the link.  Kurt Vonnegut.  There he was again.  Ok Universe, I'm listening.  But this is terrifying.  Kurt Vonnegut has written 15 novels, 10 books of short stories, a play, 4 novellas and 11 non-fiction books. Do I have room on my bedside table?

Can I have another couple of weeks off work to get through all of these?

Opinion Makers

Having worked in Market Research, I know that some interviewers make up answers to questions that they don't want to ask their interviewees.  On a questionnaire for a toilet paper company there was a question about how often the respondant had sex and there was no way that I, as a kid studying for A levels, was going to ask anyone that question so I just left it blank but when I asked the other interviewers how they got on with the question their answers ranged from making up a number that was impossible, to asking the person and reducing the number by half because they knew it would be an exageration.

Today I saw The Opinion Makers at The Mercury Theatre in Colchester, which is a new musical based in a market research company, with researchers who make up the data. I really liked it and so did my son.  The Long Suffering Husband, unfortunately missed a lot of it, as he was overcome by the warmth and dark and had a little snooze.

It has made me think about public opinions and what makes things popular.  It doesn't make sense to me that a new comedy musical with tickets selling at £12 each wasn't full.  Even more surprising when you factor in the cast, which consisted of Julie Atherton, Daniel Boys, Justin Edwards, Stacey Ghent, David Mountfield, Benjamin Stratton and Mel Giedroyc.  With a cast that features West End musical stars and famous people off the telly you would think they couldn't go wrong and the theatre would be full for every performance.  And it should be.  If my opinion counts for anything you should go and see it.

Before I saw it I was a bit worried about it.  Julie Atherton, who I have stalked on Twitter since I saw her in Avenue Q, tweeted this:

Then before the show started a representative from the theatre apologised as a member of the cast, Benjamin Stratton had been taken ill and wouldn't be performing.  Checking Twitter in the interval, I discovered that he had banged his head during the first performance and it turns out it's quite difficult to perform with concussion.  This was a shame, as I love watching actor-musicians who manage to combine the skill of playing, singing and acting without dropping their instruments.

Fairly soon after it started I was convinced that this small but brilliant cast were an absolute joy to watch.  Julie Atherton has the most fantastic voice and the lullaby alone is worth going to see the show for. Daniel Boys is another West End star, who gives a fantastic performance and the TV stars Justin Edwards and Mel Giedroyc are able to fill the stage with comedy just with a twitch of the face or by lifting an eyebrow.  Bake Off fans will be pleased to know they even managed to squeeze a soggy bottom reference in.

I wouldn't review a musical without mentioning the band, which were brilliant.  A good show always makes you covet something that you've seen.  For the woman sitting next to me, it was the blue tartan bed covers but for me it was the Alto Flute (such a beautiful sound)

After the show, my son was waiting for us in Cafe Nero, while we finished a bit of shopping and he texted that some of the cast had come in.  He was really excited to not react but listen (he really does take after me) to their conversation.  Apparently, someone else had banged their head and they were laughing about Mel's coffee order because it was low calorie with extra cream and sprinkles.  You don't get that in the West End.

Life's Too Short for Bitches

From the title of this blog you are probably expecting a rant about how women should be nicer to each other. You would be forgiven for thinking that someone has upset me but the truth is that it's the end of an eight week half term and I just don't have the energy to be upset by anyone or anything. At the end of such long half terms it can take all a teacher's creativity just to keep the children awake, whilst still doing the usual panicking about whether paperwork is up to date, plans are in place for next term, in the hope that they can have some time off over the next week. 

My complete lack of energy is always helped by owning a dog. Dogs are brilliant for your mental health. They are always pleased to see you, even when you are so grumpy all the humans in your family have placed a 3 mile exclusion zone around you. Dogs force you into the outside world. Having to go for a walk twice a day is a surprising energy booster. When you'd much rather be in bed, the big brown eyes persuade you to explore the big outdoors. Even a short walk seems to lift the spirits. You find out what the weather is really like, sometimes you can watch the sun rise or set or see the stars or some natural beauty and you can be totally alone in your thoughts or talk to other dog walkers.

I love my dog walks but I watch other dog walkers and think that I am so lucky that my dog is a boy. Every day, I see people standing in fields or on grass verges, clutching a plastic bag, scanning the floor for hours. As I approach they always shrug and say, "it must have been a wee!" Female dogs have the same position for both acts but with a boy dog you are never fooled into looking for a wee. They stand there on 3 legs,  defiantly balanced against thin air or scrunch themselves up in a crouch that says, "Don't bother me! I'm busy!"

Dog walks are great but I really don't have time for a bitch. 

All Good Things Must Come to an End

I'm feeling very sad today.  Yesterday I baked a stale cake.  Yes, honestely, it tastes stale.  I don't know how I did it.  Maybe too much flour, maybe I didn't beat the butter enough, maybe the eggs weren't as fresh as they could be (although cake never really works with very fresh eggs), or maybe the oven was at the wrong temperature.  It probably looks OK but it tastes stale.  This isn't the first baking disaster I've had recently and I am beginning to worry that my cake making skills have deserted (pun intended) me for a younger more energetic model.   This thought coincides with the fact that the Great British Bake Off is coming to an end.

The sensible part of my brain has told me not to worry, that like my baking skills the Bake Off will be back but there is a deep sense of foreboding nagging away.

We are told that this is the most popular series EVER (Sorry Michael Gove I would fail my SPAG test and I don't care - capitals are good for emphasis) and that series 5 will be on BBC1.  I've been worrying for some of this series about what it's becomming. It used to be an amateur baking competition.  I used to watch and be inspired to try making something.  I watched last week's canapes thinking, "Oh for goodness sake just open a packet of crisps!" And don't get me started on that horrible jelly brain thing.  The criticism that the contestents have to face has become something else as well and that will only get worse on BBC1.  What amateur baker would put themselves up for that kind of abuse?

This morning a top celebrity chef tweeted about the Bake Off, seemingly criticising  the winner.  I was hoping that he was just guessing (although it didn't sound like it) and then the person angrily responded also implying that she was the winner.  With so much attention on the programme it is hardly surprising that leaks like this happen.

The only way this series can survive is if they find a way of letting us taste the baking.

I'm sure that would have saved Ruby from much of the online abuse she has suffered.  People I know don't like Ruby.  I pointed her out as the annoying young one who quotes philosphy after the first episode.  She is, however, favourite to win and so she appeals to lots of people.  The online suggestion that Paul Hollywood fancies her has to be rubbish.  I've never seen any evidence of that in his body language. We see a lot of flirtatious body language from her but he seems perfectly able to resist. He feels a bit sorry for her and is a bit protective towards her, like he would a daughter and he enjoys eating her baking.  Maybe if we could taste it, then those of us who find her annoying would fancy her in the same way.  The way the series is edited doesn't help her either.  She is pretty.  She has an elfin boy look that the media loves and the camera is always showing us close ups of her biting or licking her lips, or looking coyly out from under her eyebrows.  We never see shots of Frances licking her lips and it can't be that she doesn't (it's a baking competition) but I don't suppose she looks so pretty when she does it. If I'm honest  I don't want Ruby to win.  You see, I can't identify with her.  She is too new for me.  It's like she's just been born onto the programme.  "Whoops look at me, who knew I could bake?" I think it's that attitude that people find annoying.  Maybe she is amazingly talented but no one believes that she isn't practising until 2am every night and if she isn't then there is nothing that we can learn from her.  Would I buy a book by Ruby?  Probably not and that's quite sad because her ambition is to be a food writer.

Kimberley, hasn't attracted much attention at all.  She doesn't get much camera time but I have always thought she was a dark horse.  Quietly and competently working away, producing good looking baking.  I would like to bake some things that she bakes although I am slightly put off because I don't think I have her skill.  I would like Kimberley to win.

Frances has been accused of being style over substance and for TV that suits us just fine.  We want to see pretty cakes and good ideas.  I would buy a book that Frances had written without hesitation.  It would be full of great ideas that I could try and have fun doing it.  Her matchbox cheese straws were an inspiration and she could win just for that as far as I'm concerned but what if her food tastes really horrible?  You see we need to be able to taste this programme.  It's just not fair that we can't.

Frances Quinn has a blog - I will read that until she writes a book

Maybe my love affair with this programme is over?  Maybe I will never be able to bake a good tasting cake again?  Maybe someone will always spoil the end? Maybe it won't be as good on BBC1?  Maybe my cookbook shelf will collapse with all the books I have to buy after each series?  Maybe I'm worrying too much?

A Song for every Occasion

A Song for Every Occasion is the title of a hymn book we use at school but it is seriously lacking.  It has songs for going back to school, leaving school, Harvest, Christmas, Easter, Valentines Day and Mother's Day but there are things that happen in school that are just not included.  

My children have always joked that there is no situation that I can't think of a song for and even the dog has songs that he responds to.  In the morning I sing, "Good morning, good morning, good morning Bailey boy.  Good morning, good morning to you."  Today, I shared with the foundation class that when he goes missing on a walk, usually with his head in a bush I sing, "Oh where oh where has my little dog gone Oh where oh where can he be?  With his ears cut short and his tail cut long, oh where oh where can he be." He has nearly always come back by the time I finished singing.   I think they thought I was a bit mad, but they'll get used to that.

Today in year 1 we sang From a Tiny Ant.  This was unplanned but we needed a song and there was nothing in Songs for Every Occasion.  As the children were sitting on the carpet listening to an 'Old School Hip Hop' song a child handed me something.  The something was small and alive, it wriggled in my palm.  It was given to me by a child not known for their quietness.  He said, "It's a tiny ant and I found it in her hair!"  So we sang.  "From the tiny ant, from the tiny ant.   To the elephant, to the elephant," while I squashed it and put it in a pot to 'let outside later.'

This evening I have been singing an adapted version of a song I've been doing with year 5 & 6 about the ancient Greek marathon,  "Cause tiny ants get everywhere and boy that's bound to itch."

Maybe it's time to write our own school Songs for Every Occasion.  We have already started as one class has begun to write a song for assembly to sing to children getting good work certificates.  My favourite so far has been, "You may not be my mate but you did very great.  What did you do?  Help the teacher find a pen that's blue or the infants go to the loo?"

Cinderella

There is talk of putting on a staff panto at our school this year, using a script I wrote a decade ago.  It was my first panto and is missing many of the later political elements of Goldilocks and the Three Blairs but I remember writing a Fairy Godmother who couldn't rhyme (because rhyming's not my thing) and Buttons who couldn't sing (because singing is).  There is a list in the staffroom of the characters and staff are being encouraged to put their names against who they would like to play.  Despite the use of my old script, I'm not in charge of this in any way and am even unsure about whether to take part, as I think my acting days are over (and were hideous when they were alive).  I haven't put my name down and when I looked on Friday the only character left that could be played by a woman was Cinderella.  I am too old for Cinderella.  I know the world has changed but I don't think anyone would believe in a  42 year old (ahem!) Cinderella wondering if she'll go to the ball.

How I look after my morning face has settled

The idea has been nagging at me all weekend though and I just can't stop thinking about writing a modern day cautionary Cinderella tale.  Fairy stories were used as warnings for children:  Beware the possible wicked stepmother and the evil step sisters. Don't upset the witch or she'll send you to sleep for 100 years or try to eat you and don't eat too much or your parents will take you out into the forest and abandon you to aforementioned witch.  These tales probably aren't too relevant to children today but maybe there is a place for a cautionary tale for stepmothers. I know of women who suddenly find themselves partly responsible for someone else's children and are so in fear of becoming the Wicked Stepmother they become the Cinderella doormat character instead.  These days the man has remarried not because his first wife has died but because he got a bit bored of her or she of him and so the Stepmother has the real mother to contend with.  I'm getting excited now.  I can see real panto potential.

Modern day Cinderella can be left to do all the chores (after she comes back from work), while her husband, children and step children laze around on the sofa or shout at their friends through their headphones on the internet.  She could be menopausal and irrational and have to strip to her bra and pants halfway through the ironing.

A lunch I saw in the bin this morning - a bit worried about the inhaler!

She could make sandwiches for everyone to take to work/school only to find them shoved in a public bin, while she is out walking the dog that her husband insisted would be a good thing to cement the new family ('Everyone will love to walk it, darling. No, you won't have to do all the work!) Dog's are so much fun to write in panto. This dog would only be understood by Cinderella, everyone else would just hear annoying barking.  Her escape prince would have to be someone from the telly.  Someone who has no hair on his body but loads on his head.  Someone who doesn't have children or appear to be grumpy and irritable - ever.  He would have muscles on his muscles and own a small private island where she could live completely uninterrupted and alone (after she had divorced him for his money).  The wicked witch could be her own conscience or even the first wife and Holly, Claudia,Tess or even Dermot O Dreary  could be the fairy Godmothers. She could obsess over the fact that she has lines on her face and bags under her eyes and the fact that it takes her face 1/2 an hour to settle into place when she gets up in the morning.  She could avoid trampolines and strategically cross her legs when she laughs or sneezes.

Yes, this is great.  I'm sensing huge potential here.

What?
"Have I got things I should be doing?" you ask.
Of course I have.
You don't think Id be writing this rubbish if I didn't.

The Booker Prize is to be announced this week, if I keep procrastinating like this I could have an entry for next year's prize.

Protect the Children

Today, I had to ask my teenage son what the pin code was so that I could watch a film on Sky and realised that it's all the wrong way round.  The pin is meant to stop him accessing things we don't want him to see, not to stop me watching films from the eighties but he's the only one that can remember the code.  This incident made me think about misguided ways we try to protect our children in society.

Paul Dacre, the editor of the Daily Mail, was given nearly 2000 words in the Guardian today to defend his running of the 'Milliband's father hated Britain' story.  He was on a 'proper rant'.  There was no sign of any kind of apology and felt that giving Miliband 1000 words to respond was a huge demand that he had given in to.  Then he used the rest of the article to claim his paper was being hounded out of print  by left-wing Tweeters who live in London and the BBC.  He is clearly a man who is very frightened of Press Regulation and whilst I will never buy the Daily Mail I don't want to see it banned.  I would like it to think more carefully about some of the things it prints but  the world needs the Daily Mail.  We do need to read an article by Sarah Vine at the end of every summer holiday, where she tells us how much her children and husband have annoyed her.  We need to know that when Mr Gove isn't at work he is driving his wife crazy by doing stupid things like ordering crisps and coke from Ocado.  However, Paul Dacre made a fatal error in his article.  He claimed that the world needs the Mail because of it's campaign to stop paedophilia.  This made me think that this was another example of misguided protection of children, from the paper that has the sidebar of shame, with sexy schoolgirls, caption's Heidi Klum's 8 year old daughter's picture saying, "Mum's not the only leggy beauty in the family now."

I am a fan of a good nonsense song and I know lots and share them frequently with the children that I teach.  The sillier the words the better and if they are slightly risky the children enjoy them even more.  I love teaching keeping a pulse by singing,

 "Down in the Jungle where nobody goes a great big gorilla was picking his nose, 

He picked it and he flicked it and he through it up high and where it landed the person would die."  They have to pass the Gorilla snot around the circle in time to the song and they love it.

A fact of life - Gorillas like to pick their nose

Or adding an even trickier element of left and right by chanting, 

"Left, left, I had a good home and I left.  I left my wife and 48 kids.  Left them at home without any gingerbread.  Left because I thought it was right. Right, right, opsidaisy. Love is the only way left."

What am I teaching them?

Occasionally, a parent will ask, "What are you teaching my children?"  but I never think they are seriously trying to stop me using silly songs.

This week, however, I took part in Sing Up's wonderful live webinar training and they taught the nonsense song Step Back Baby.  I've used this song several times and the kids enjoy the rhyming elements.  I use it to teach pattern and the structure of music, pulse and just as a general warm up. Then some of the comments from other teachers shocked me. People were saying that they couldn't teach the song in their school or they think the song would give the children nightmares.  I went through the lyrics again:

"Not last night but the night before

Step back baby step back

24 robbers were at my door

Step back baby step back

Opened the door and let them in

Step back baby step back

Hit them on the head with a rolling pin

Step back baby step back

I picked up the frying pan

Step back baby step back

You should've seen the way those robbers ran

Step back baby step back

Some flew east and some flew west

Step back baby step back

Some flew over the cuckoos nest

Step back baby step back."

I always thought it was just a silly song and never even considered that it was about robbers and promoted violence.  I shouted at my computer,  "Change Robbers to Badgers and make it a topical song about culling."  Maybe these teachers have never heard what children do to songs when left to their own devices.  If you listen to children singing in the playground or remember your own playground songs then you know they sing about things you couldn't possibly teach them.

One of our school's favourite warm ups is Joe,

"Hey! my name is Joe and I work in a button factory

And one day my boss came up to me

He said, 'Joe!' I said,'Yo'

'Are you busy?' I said, 'No'

'Can you push this button with your right hand?"

Then he asks him to push with left hand, right leg, left leg head and then Joe finally says, 'Yes' to the question, 'Are you busy?'

Jo hard at work in her knicker factory (for Ellie)

When I teach it, it's always a button factory but I know that other children have changed it to knicker factory.  Maybe I should never have taught it, just in case the children decide to sing about pants. But on the other hand I think I'll just carry on and one day one of them might write the next Gangnam Style, Ice Ice Baby or Who Let the Dogs Out.

Birthdays and The Archers

I have been listening to the Archers for more than 40 Birthdays now.  I'm probably an Archers Addict (there is a club but I'm not a member).  Increasingly, I have thought that the one of the writers must live in my home town, as little excerpts of my life, funny things I've read in the local paper or conversations I've overheard in the pub slip into the odd episode and I have found myself identifying with Lynda Snell.

If you haven't heard the Archers then let me describe Lynda to you.  She is an interfering busy body, who inspires love and hate in equal measures but whatever you think about her she certainly gets things done.  Even the actress who plays her doesn't like her very much.  She says of her, "Lynda's deeply deluded, big on self-regard, low on self-awareness, has no sense of humour and a deep-down insecurity"

Lynda Snell - a woman who knows about beige cardigans

However, I quite like her.  They're wrong about her sense of humour I'm sure.  It's just a dry wit.  You only had to hear her discussing the possiblity of menopause with Vicky Tucker to realise that. It turned out that Vicky was pregnant and obviously as she was old then her baby was born with Down's Syndrome.  Lynda likes gardening, is still regarded as an outsider even though she moved from Sunningdale in 1986, she has Llamas called Wolfgang, Contance, Sallieri (Mozart references), she puts on great shows in the village and keeps her husband under the thumb.  She has her finger on the pulse of everything cultural.  Grayson Perry (real person, although does his best to appear like a character) loves her and was very excited when she campaigned to get someone from Ambridge on the 4th Plinth.

This week she was banging on about Jane Austen and I was just waiting to hear some of my own recent rants.  I didn't hear any because she only wanted to have a Christmas Production of readings from Jane Austen, which I agree with everyone else would be amazingly dull but this week I was ranting that Alexander McCall Smith had been asked (by whom I'm not sure) to re-write Emma.  I know that Lynda would agree with me that this is absured.  Emma was perfectly well written by Jane Austen in the first place and the character wouldn't 'benefit being handled by a man'  I'm in favour of great literature inspiring others to write and Jane Austen has already inspired too many to mention (just as Shakespeare has) but it is a bit patronising for people to be asked to re-write her books.

I don't know how Lynda Snell spends her birthdays, when her birthday is or how old she is meant to be.  I like to think that she has an October birthday because all the best people are born in October and that like me she knows that age is just a number and has picked one she likes and stuck with it.  I am 42 and always will be, although I did like my son's suggestion that I was 40 plus VAT.  I expect Lynda is far too busy to stop and have a birthday.  She has to run Grey Gables almost single handedly, save the badgers, walk the footpaths to make sure Brian Aldridge hasn't blocked them again, find a cast for her latest production, remove the pollen from her garden and go to parish council meetings.

Today,  I turned down lunch with my mum (sorry mum) because I, like Lynda, was just too busy.  It was my own fault.  I had enjoyed the nice weather and been to the allotment, dug too much and then been unable to move over the weekend and so today (even though it's a day off) I simply had to do some work.  I have no lessons planned for this week and that is a dangerous position to be in in a class assembly week.

The problem is, I'm not like Lynda.  I'm not nearly as organised.  It was another sunny day.  I was in a good mood.  I had my hair cut, walked the dog, read lots of book (books are the greatest part of a birthday I think), and made myself a birthday cake.  It is the custom to take cakes into work for your birthday and so I decided to make myself a big cake to take in tomorrow.  An allotment cake seemed the obvious choice and I had so much fun doing it.  I kept thinking things like, "Oo, I could make strawberries.....no.....they're out of season."
It took me all day and it was great fun.  I don't think I've had a better birthday in years.

Allotment Cake inspired by Fiona Cairns - the Royal Wedding Baker

Tomorrow is going to be an interesting day at work.  I wonder how the children will respond if I say, "I'm sorry that I have nothing planned for today's lesson and I haven't marked last week's work but it was my birthday and so I made cake but you can't have any because I put it in the staff room at 8.30 and it was all gone by 11!" ?

Advice for Sons

I've never been a great believer that you should give advice to your son that you wouldn't give to your daughter and vice versa.  I have told both my children that 'No' means no, even if you want it to mean yes; putting bleach in the toilet after a poo stops your partner being disappointed in you; if you drink too much and end up doing something you regret you should try not to give that thing so much power it stops you getting on with the rest of you life and learning not to do it again; work hard; be nice to people; laugh often and if the water looks like this after you have washed the kitchen floor you probably need to do it more often.

Other people seem to feel differently and if you search the internet you can find lists of advice for daughters and sons that are not at all similar.  Today, I overheard a man giving advice to his 6 year old son, that I don't believe he would have given to his daughter. He was frog-marching his little boy, clad in a football kit, down the footpath from the park giving him a lecture about not leaving the pitch to go to the toilet.  The little boy was sobbing slightly and the Dad continued, "I mean you know that you have to play the match so you go to the toilet before you start."  The little boy protested that he didn't want to go before the match started but the Dad was not swayed by the argument.  He said, "Come on! Never let the team down!  You can't leave the game in the middle.  You cost us the match.  You're a waste of space and I'm surprised if they'll let you on the team again - I wouldn't."  I could be wrong but I suspect that he calls his daughter 'princess' and lets her wrap him around her little finger.

Whilst, I'm not a fan of seperate advice for sons the optician gave my son a piece of advice that was absolutely brilliant but is also not advice I can pass onto my daughter.  My son had asked for an eye test, not because he was having trouble seeing but because his friends had all had one and he felt a bit left out.  The optician was quite happy to give him the full works and explain everything to him, as she went and when she tested his colour vision he made a slight mistake on one of the numbers.  She turned the card to me and I got it right immediately.  She said, "Now, listen to this piece of advice it will be interesting in terms of your vision but also be useful for your whole life.  You made a mistake on that number and your mum saw it immediately and that's because women have better colour vision than men.  Yes, you heard right, ALL women see colours better than men, so when you have just got dressed and your wife or girlfriend says that the shirt doesn't go with the trousers go an change because she is right, you just can't see it."

Eyebrows

There is something inherently funny about eyebrows. 

As virtually bald creatures, the ability to grow hair in a perfectly curved line above each eye is quite a trick. What's even more amazing is that those little bits of fluff on our face can communicate a whole range of emotions without us having to say a word. I am reminded of the puppet Spitting Image made of Roger Moore and For Your Eyebrows Only.

People without eyebrows look odd. When I was at university it was common to see permenantly surprised boys wandering around campus. It was a favourite game of the rugby club to de-eyebrow any lad who couldn't keep up with the drinking, who fell asleep or passed out.

Eyebrow fashions come and go for women. One minute they're natural, then they are virtually plucked to death or shaved off and drawn in. People may be talking about me behind my back but I have never touched my eyebrows. I think it was one of my mum's arty friends that put me off. She was quite an old lady (I thought) but she had died her hair a vivid orange colour, which was better than the blues and pinks that were popular with other old ladies and poodles at the time, and instead of real eyebrows she had a single orange line drawn above each eye. The girl on Educating Yorkshire has become a minor celebrity for shaving hers off and drawing big black wedges in their place.

Men seem to be allowed to have ugly or messy eyebrows. Although, the monobrow is no longer tolerated, the large bushy, continually growing eyebrows seem to be very popular on powerful older men. The extra long grey hair jutting out at an obtuse angle is worn like a badge of honour.  It says, "look at me. I have superhuman power, I can command the minions with one twitch."

Today, I gave a lump of blue tack to a child who was struggling to sit still and listen. He divided it and made it into two long thin worms, which he attached to his face as eyebrows. Blue tack eyebrows are hilarious. I was trying so hard to ignore him too.

Teacher's Strike

Today some teachers are on strike.

This means that some children are out enjoying the sunshine, some teenagers are playing computer games or watching unsuitable horror films, some parents are getting to spend some time with their children, some people in government are briefing the press about 'lazy teachers' and some teachers are sitting at home doing school work;  catching up on marking or planning and not being paid.