tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81159395684713518162024-02-19T13:12:09.312+00:00Fathers Are Not CoolFathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-50635776588352167042015-03-23T17:40:00.001+00:002015-03-23T17:40:10.959+00:00let's play a game.this week i will carry out a little experiment on twitter. <div>
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<div>
i will be copying and pasting random phrases, changing any person into 'brand', and tweeting them with #SocialMediaMarketing. </div>
<div>
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<div>
will engagement increase?</div>
Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-57875910777905027152015-03-06T14:00:00.004+00:002015-03-06T14:02:23.584+00:00it can't be done. they said.<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“This
is it. This is it. This is it”, he says to himself. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“I’m
not ready. I’m not ready. I’m not ready”, he thinks to himself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He
takes a deep breath. He remembers that someone, somewhere, once told him that
it was a good way to slow down your heart rate. His heart, which is battering
against his sternum, slows down. Slightly. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Now!”
he says and thinks to himself. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He explodes into movement, bounding forward. As
his legs accelerate his mind runs. Back to when he first discovered what he
wanted to do with his life. Back to the first moment he knew that he had no
choice in the matter as it was his destiny. And no-one was going to stop him,
not even himself. They tried, though. The other kids at school. His parents.
His brothers and sisters. Every single one of them told him it couldn’t be
done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It could. And if it couldn’t he
was about to find out. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This
thought drives him forward. Every muscle in his body contracts and relaxes in
quick succession as they thrust him forward. He is now nearing maximum
velocity. He is nearly there. He now focuses on his target. He hears all the
voices of the doubters in his head. If only they could see him now. The voices get
louder and louder. His legs move faster and faster. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“IT CAN'T BE DONE. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">IT CAN'T BE DONE. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">IT CAN'T BE DONE.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">” the voices are now
screaming.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“YES
IT CAN!” he shouts as he shuts his eyes and jumps. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jimmy
the weasel grew up being told he would never fly. Lectured by his elders about his wild imagination. Bullied by his peers because he saw possibility
where they saw futility. But he knew. Or rather, he was chosen. He was put on
this earth for this sole reason.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He
opens his eyes. The world below him is getting further and further away. He is
airborne. He is flying. He is doing what he has been destined to do. He has
only one thing to say to those who lacked faith in him and in personal dreams….<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">….<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">…..<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">…...<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">….....<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">….......<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">…..........</span><span style="font-family: Source Sans Pro Light;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-89137902536367019222014-12-09T21:16:00.001+00:002014-12-10T11:47:34.801+00:00zoella bad. penguin badder.<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, a book has been ghostwritten but
this time the short reign of peace that existed after the last online furore
(Russel Brand vs The Sun, anyone?) has been broken. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, a book has been ghostwritten
and the inaudible screeches of the ever-suffering online population come
spewing out of the screen toward me. Engulfing my otherwise uneventful daily
visit to Twitterlandia. I want to make a comment as I, too, will have two deluded tweenage daughters (maybe more) in ten years time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">First, the book was ghostwritten. You
know what, who cares? Not the first time it was done.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Second, we have the
people-are-just-jealous crew versus
what-about-all-the-struggling-writers-trying-to-get-a-book-deal gang. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, there could be a degree of greenness, or
degreenness, in the fingertips of lesser known/unknown authors a.k.a.
‘I-keep-a-blog’ers as they click-click-clickety-click their views into the
virtual highway. However, it is 2014 and self-publishing has become a viable
avenue for getting noticed. If you have the touch and the determination, you
can get noticed. Sell a couple of thousand copies through this system and the
publishers will be knocking at your door. The good stuff always comes to the
surface, this is something I am adamant about but also something I need to
believe for my own sanity. I may be naïve but it is a small price to pay to
keep my mental health. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Third, there are screams of ‘no way
a tweenage-internet-idol wrote a book!’ What is this argument all about? It’s
not Catcher in The Rye, and it is not trying to be. And she is 24. Dylan Thomas
wrote and had ‘And death shall have no dominion’ published when he was 18. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fourth, the girl is taking a lot of
stick since the news broke. But, hey, she built a following on what those who
watched her ramblings via Youtube believed to be an open, honest (and perhaps
personal) relationship. She broke that trust but with the help of a publishing
house and its marketing strategy. Yes, leverage some of your hate in that
direction. A publisher once requested to take a manuscript off my hands if they
could put a Z-lister’s name to it. I said no. That was in 2010. Trust me, the
big boys had taken the manufactured ‘X-factor’ route long before Zoella logged
on to Youtube for the first time – but at least One Direction were manufactured
in front us, in the open. Her greed, be it financial or professional, led her
into the trap. And to think, all she had to do was say that it was ghostwritten
from the beginning. So, so simple. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fifth, yes, 78,000 copies were sold
in the first week. It broke all existing debut novel records. Let’s put that
into a more appropriate context: 1.3% of her Youtube subscribers bought it. One
point three percent. If I published my book today I reckon I could get five of
my followers to buy a copy. Yep, 8% of my following. Smashing her record out of
the water. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally, the girl was quite happy to
lap up the attention as the records fell around her. She always dreamt of
writing a book, who hasn’t? A couple of weeks ago she stood in front of the
lenses of the world, beaming, proudly clutching her book knowing the truth. Her
publishers stood by and were definitely high-fiving each other on a job well
done, because it is a high-fiving industry. And quietly, in the shadows, sat
the ghost clutching the non-disclosure agreement she had signed, legally-bound
to bring the secret to her grave. Which brings me back to the vlogger’s age.
She is 24. An adult who built a huge following by being open and honest. Clearly
she is a smart woman. There is no doubt about that. But, it is because she is a
smart woman it makes it that much harder to forgive her for deciding to go
along with the publisher’s suggestion. You have to take the good with the bad,
Zoella, that is just how life works. As for the publisher, just like when any
scandal occurs nowadays amongst the ranks of the powerful, they will throw out
some nonsensical non-answer to the pestering public and will hope everything
will settle down. Why should they worry? There will be another ‘celebrity’ to
market their wares down the line. And so the circle continues. Remember Pippa’s
party book flop? Ah well, you win some you lose some.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, it is this consistent attitude
by those who hold the reins that the public is stupid that is the real issue I
have. This saga is just another example. We have a duty to stand up for one
simple moral: don’t lie to us, don't undermine our intelligence.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That is all. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">p.s. My 11-year-old niece, for
once, decided to listen to her old uncle and would like a refund of the £12.99
she spent of her hard-saved pocket-money on ‘Online Girl’ as the description she
was given when she made the purchase does not fit the product – Sales of Goods
Act 1979, Law 1.01. Yeah, she is making a mini-stand. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">p.p.s. I am looking forward to Twitter’s
reaction to Zoella’s inevitable ‘coming clean’ vlog but I am sure there will be other
occurrences to ‘outrage’ the good folk in the Twitter-sphere before then.</span><span style="font-family: Source Sans Pro Light;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-64375902991820320732014-10-20T13:22:00.002+01:002014-10-20T13:22:38.132+01:00back in the roomthis blog will resume shortly.<br />
<br />
si si?Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-35055615086396756832011-09-28T12:00:00.001+01:002011-09-28T12:02:06.689+01:00we are all potty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9s1Nc5jElYvDXs__AhBXrSMIPeWqSwSH3F0HjWBmjv5dwcmG1AFK_BoDKBtx1IHcMg3UIUmj58WiGeIYDGcNOR9kiW1n-mMmaRB2oo1r3DMJMm5Uxbrk2INLuN20ANBV39inSYJuIgm0/s1600/gorbals+children+health+toilet1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9s1Nc5jElYvDXs__AhBXrSMIPeWqSwSH3F0HjWBmjv5dwcmG1AFK_BoDKBtx1IHcMg3UIUmj58WiGeIYDGcNOR9kiW1n-mMmaRB2oo1r3DMJMm5Uxbrk2INLuN20ANBV39inSYJuIgm0/s1600/gorbals+children+health+toilet1.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">maybe we would have waited longer to start the 'training' but at nineteen months and with a new little stranger in the house there was no choice. it was time.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">now, you can look up how to go about it - the internet is at your finger tips - and you will be told a million different methods. all these methods state, in way too many steps, how to get your child to sit, poop and then how to wipe the kid ('instilling cleanliness' is the term one site used). after flicking through some websites i decided that it was best to phone my mother. she had nine children, so her advice could only be worth while. after all i am pretty sure that all my adult brothers and sisters are now out of nappies. she must have done something right. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">her method is quite simple: get a potty - not one of those 'toddler loo seats' (another gimmick for parents to buy) as children usually have a hard time getting up on to a toilet by themselves - and a book. put the potty in the bathroom. fair enough. put the book beside the potty. during the day give the child nappy-free time, the little ones are like clockwork so you should know when their bowels kick off. pretty simple but now here is the trick: you have to go to the toilet with the child. lead by example and all the rest. so on our first attempt, i disappeared into the bathroom with my little buddy and we both got comfortable, me in my seat, her in hers. after half and hour of reading, we got up, instilled cleanliness and, proud as the judge who imprisons corrupt politicians, we brought the potty to mummy. "good girl" she exclaimed on seeing the big, steamy result. so, potty training can be quite fun and apparently easy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">my wife, however, never questioned how such a little girl produced such a big result. not to worry, as I have taken it upon myself to look after the 'potty training' and she need never know. wives are happiest when they see results, right? </span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-85946487883032395722011-08-17T11:15:00.002+01:002011-08-17T11:22:59.670+01:00who's there, spit?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">if you are over one-year-old and your parents spend money on you from time to time, you will probably have received a copy of eric hall's <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Whos-There-Spot-Eric-Hill/dp/0141501405">"who's there, spot?"</a>. for those of you not familiar with the yellow puppy who runs around wondering who is knocking on the door, who is in the tree, who is in the bath, well, the following is some of the text: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>someone is at the door, spot. i'll go, mom! knock, knock! who can it be? hello, spot! hello, helen! tweet, tweet! who is in the tree? we're hungry!</i> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">however, it is the little flaps that you can look under on each page, to see who is there, that is the main attraction. i not only like the book but i also know it of by heart. after all, i do read it four times a day. but i like it because it reminds me of a time when you would go outside to meet people. you know? when we, and little puppies, would physically move our hairy asses to interact with others. do you remember? but some people might prefer the times we live in. you know, a time when a city the size of london can be held under the thumb of a few teenagers thanks to their organization via social networks and mobile phones. it is for these people that i propose that mr. hall introduce "spit", spot's twin brother. a more in-tune puppy with the times that we are living in. you can tell the difference because spit has three marks on his back, while spot has, well, one.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">below is the completed draft for "who's there, spit?" enjoy!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeHdxcw1jGRzhduPSAh_7uSfPXgskT013u4H7_swc_EJk2rI8LlLTKqORzKU8ngCGej3mZbVwLB607NxOTk2mARGF3A6VoWnmVujwr6glF6fJ2rPdwp4KUTG2J8Hs8w2BrZWUi6AN5RA/s1600/spitdog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeHdxcw1jGRzhduPSAh_7uSfPXgskT013u4H7_swc_EJk2rI8LlLTKqORzKU8ngCGej3mZbVwLB607NxOTk2mARGF3A6VoWnmVujwr6glF6fJ2rPdwp4KUTG2J8Hs8w2BrZWUi6AN5RA/s400/spitdog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-47126974975223479342011-08-08T21:22:00.003+01:002011-08-08T23:03:58.638+01:00london's burning but the kids are alright<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkn4iR9ef_lZCErq_YSXVLlkqLl05z_2XMIgI6CIFoz3SEbnivQlKFn9aDH8MIwMmkG2VAkNdCvw9NTJw_TjwzXyZtz07q6m9AKns-O475cgXw-vV3kptIQ_tocAsKAcGRHqlwQY9PBEE/s1600/londonburning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkn4iR9ef_lZCErq_YSXVLlkqLl05z_2XMIgI6CIFoz3SEbnivQlKFn9aDH8MIwMmkG2VAkNdCvw9NTJw_TjwzXyZtz07q6m9AKns-O475cgXw-vV3kptIQ_tocAsKAcGRHqlwQY9PBEE/s320/londonburning.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">i am sitting here, like most londoners, watching the third day of riots unfold on the television. i live in N4 and in the last three days they have rioted in tottenham, hackney, enfield. basically all my neighbouring zones. all the shops here are boarded up, precautionary action, which meant i had to get turkish take-away. but what i want to share with you is not my opinion on the on-goings here in the english capital. i want to share with you my daughter's nursery weekly planner, it is sent to my wife but i requested that she forward to me this week's. she goes three days a week to a very pleasant - what i like to call - playgroup. i just don't like the word nursery. it is a house with girls and they look after lots of toddlers. a playgroup. in any case here is the weekly planner (sic):</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;">Dear parents,</span></span></span><br />
<div style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;"><br style="line-height: 17px;" /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;">Please find attached this weeks planner, sorry its late.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;"><br style="line-height: 17px;" /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;">You will notice all trips will be to Wray crescent, with all the riots and looting I feel it's best to keep the children very local to ensure there safety, if at any point I feel this is not a safe place to take the children I will cancel all trips until further notice, we will be cutting out afternoon strolls until order has been sort on this situation following a full risk assessment I feel the risks are far greater when children are on foot and we have all the local teenagers on school holidays.</span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><br style="line-height: 17px;" /></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;">This evening a few of our staff have reported some difficulty getting home due to trouble in both Holloway and hackney, I am confident at that moment that this will not affect us but cant rule this out, however I will keep up to speed with the news and any threats in our local area. and ask that you do too.</span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8115939568471351816&postID=4712697497522347934" name="_MailAutoSig" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;"></span></a></span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8115939568471351816&postID=4712697497522347934" name="_MailAutoSig" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;"></span></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8115939568471351816&postID=4712697497522347934" name="_MailAutoSig" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;"><br />
</span></a></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 17px;">Warm Regards</span> </span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-14480436185281685922011-08-07T22:57:00.000+01:002011-08-07T22:57:48.724+01:00new shoes, old me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaWgpr7SBGHPLXWpd7VdDLWWJR1QuqeqRdFFSnLac1QDxQBd-ChpNkxuplxuD7h_UbF0rlkhAuHRFzHL_AWjBJLs6WDF-vpCei87K-GCLsP7nwTdy5sQAAn9FceBudh-IbDTRNAG736E/s1600/56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaWgpr7SBGHPLXWpd7VdDLWWJR1QuqeqRdFFSnLac1QDxQBd-ChpNkxuplxuD7h_UbF0rlkhAuHRFzHL_AWjBJLs6WDF-vpCei87K-GCLsP7nwTdy5sQAAn9FceBudh-IbDTRNAG736E/s1600/56.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">it was time she got her first shoes. they keep your feet clean. and she has been walking now for a month or so. i never understood three-month-olds with shoes. i always knew she would get her first shoes when she started walking. when, if not? anyway, it was time for these shoes. we live in london. not only can you find every possible shoe for adults but also its miniature. and when all kids under ten months are already wearing converse, as are their forty-year-old parents, buying shoes may become a statement. personally i am glad that i don't have an adult-sized version of my first shoes which i still have. they are hanging over a mirror. they are hanging there because not only are they my first shoes but they look like a pair of first shoes from the 1920s. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">we went to jimmy's shoes. i recommend it. it has a very good selection. they have everything. the front of the shop was lined with all the miniatures of big people shoes. nike, adidas, converse and what not. you know the made-by-children-for-children products? it was while i looked at all these horrible sewn bits of plastic and rubber that i turned to the girl and said "have you got any start-rites?" and as the words slipped out i realised that i had become a father, but not any father. i had become <i>my</i> father. a lover of all things wooden, leather and metal. a hater of anything synthetic. but now i understand. i am not going to have my child's fast-growing foot in a pair of flat, heavy trainers because they look good. because they are fashionable. because they are cool. i am now officially not cool, and therefore i will take my children down with me. </span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-78263714999467117332011-05-14T00:24:00.002+01:002011-08-08T13:15:25.451+01:00subtle family planning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5IYvAWRFd_PEDSq-d6XM7aGevKxogDT_wH7QqlMCvuaNmtKKJz-MXkWIjfdjMVFmjCUpStEx9Q_O8S2GE0WDBer_fDCr2CxLwvuod3zYX-CKdhfVB3DgGLyjcVFHX_5IrJOKNjDnjis/s1600/57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5IYvAWRFd_PEDSq-d6XM7aGevKxogDT_wH7QqlMCvuaNmtKKJz-MXkWIjfdjMVFmjCUpStEx9Q_O8S2GE0WDBer_fDCr2CxLwvuod3zYX-CKdhfVB3DgGLyjcVFHX_5IrJOKNjDnjis/s320/57.jpg" width="299" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">so my sister, who has two children, has come to the conclusion that the only reason one cannot take children of a certain age in a car without the appropriate seating is because 'big brother' wants to keep our numbers down. any young family - if they have a car - will have a small hatchback, maybe a station-wagon but not a school bus, right? and how many baby-seats can you fit in the back? that's right, two or possibly - and with a bit of a squeeze - three. therefore, if you want to have more than two children under 135cm at any one time, well, you will have to stay at home and forget that road-trip to blackpool for the summer holidays, unless you take the train. but how annoying are children on trains?</span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-13368070507100247582011-02-20T11:25:00.000+00:002011-02-20T11:25:17.795+00:00the bird says 'would you all shut up?'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnLMn3FUlmuU6Bf9tZC81h213GAOEBOGB16peHUEm5Ydc4KWPxEnaw5Zofw53t9C1IXrIkWwvYTwZGZXIrcEoGDLXpdVC95UyUjxS4G_HCgtuUNXSFxhgb92alohnzsHEwGhj_Pf4rcU/s1600/no-children.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnLMn3FUlmuU6Bf9tZC81h213GAOEBOGB16peHUEm5Ydc4KWPxEnaw5Zofw53t9C1IXrIkWwvYTwZGZXIrcEoGDLXpdVC95UyUjxS4G_HCgtuUNXSFxhgb92alohnzsHEwGhj_Pf4rcU/s1600/no-children.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">it was time to get a book of nursery rhymes. not for the kid but for me. the kid is too small still to appreciate a nice book. i needed one to brush up on my rhyming skills. the kid enjoys clapping her hands to verses. i needed to get the verses right, right? i found a sweet little book for a fiver: '<a href="http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/products/helen+cumberbatch/the+nursery+rhyme+book/6075824/">the nursery rhyme book</a>'. it was nice to flick through it. i actually had quite a good strike rate, recalling seven out of ten rhymes. then on page 37 i found my favourite rhyme, i liked it when i was a kid and i like it even more now. word to the bird.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>a wise old owl</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>a wise old owl lived in an oak;</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>the more he saw the less he spoke;</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>the less he spoke the more he heard.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>why can't we all be like that wise old bird?</i></span></div>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-21300981119069620572011-02-17T02:22:00.004+00:002011-02-18T10:18:58.301+00:00leave them outside<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZYb2dK7_Ibhfq0CsxWzVGWcbcQiYjzHnQTmv9TF-ZiL7s0gM1FqXLgnOXtWpf8pFIsA1lU2c68z5mk8FzHu4D-ODy2TWVMYHtUVlDIjkXTZILWXREfjRWTYX4YGpUS8wEMqGubhK8Nw/s1600/no-children.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZYb2dK7_Ibhfq0CsxWzVGWcbcQiYjzHnQTmv9TF-ZiL7s0gM1FqXLgnOXtWpf8pFIsA1lU2c68z5mk8FzHu4D-ODy2TWVMYHtUVlDIjkXTZILWXREfjRWTYX4YGpUS8wEMqGubhK8Nw/s320/no-children.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">i read an <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-12440906">article</a> on the 'social battlefield' that is bringing children to a restaurant. it comes at a time when a new guide is leaving the printing press aimed at parents who want to take their toddlers and babies to eat out. a sorry state of affairs if those who should be leading by example need a guide. or is it just 'big brother' having his say, again? i don't want to go into the two very defined, opposing arguments: on one bank you have the parents - '<i>our kids running and screaming around the restaurant are just being adorable</i>' - and on the other all the childless adults - '<i>just the amount of drink and drugs we took last night are enough to render us sterile. we are hungover</i>'. so is there such a thing as having more of a right to dine out? </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">there are badly behaved children - in most cases i blame the parents - but there are also just as many hungover twats who believe they have priority to all amenities - maybe they were badly behaved children once upon a time. a child can only be taught how to best behave in public eateries if parents have access to these places but, as a parent, i will also try to avoid a sunday roast in soho. however it is wrong that when i walk into a place on a sunday afternoon in stoke newington i have to ask if they are 'child-friendly'. the answer is not to have 'child-friendly' places, every place that can be accessed by the general public should be, by default, child-friendly, or simply 'people-of-all-ages-friendly'. it would then be up to the owner to choose if he wants to be 'lazy-sunday-hangover-friendly'. that way, i don't have to drag a pushchair, child and three bags into every place on church street looking for someone who will feed us. the young 20-somethings with no baggage and a healthy pair of legs should be fit enough, even with a hangover, to find a suitable place where to get over their saturday nights in some peace and quiet. in any case, this seems to be only a british dilemma. the rest of europe quite enjoys welcoming children to their restaurants. maybe because they are less hungover most of the time. </span></div>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-28711965665451453562011-02-15T16:46:00.000+00:002011-02-15T16:46:53.567+00:00baby on board<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCiQMOMJo7l96ex05xKUks5q4W_CqZgiiqbc3ksM98c4CvOtCA2ridxo8K5dfcT2YPcVvHYJrUbtH3P2UO1hicpvPBI2L9fm8eGVRGEmip9Z6u2NJKN5JnteU1SLLzdfI8uzuTAZweyY/s1600/baby-on-board.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCiQMOMJo7l96ex05xKUks5q4W_CqZgiiqbc3ksM98c4CvOtCA2ridxo8K5dfcT2YPcVvHYJrUbtH3P2UO1hicpvPBI2L9fm8eGVRGEmip9Z6u2NJKN5JnteU1SLLzdfI8uzuTAZweyY/s320/baby-on-board.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">i had to take the tube yesterday. it was that crappy time, you know, rush hour. i let two trains by. too full. on the third train there was room. i boarded. the seats in the middle of the carriage were occupied by shoreditch "artists". you know the ones, kept in their london victorian conversions by daddy as their "careers" blossom. they laughed. they were cool. i was glad not to be one of them. beside them, barely able to keep her balance as the train hurtled through the tunnel beneath london town, stood a heavily pregnant woman. she, unnecessarily, was donning the 'baby on board' badge. however, both badge and belly seemed to be invisible to the uber-cool people sitting in their tight jeans and check-shirts even though they all watched as she had laboriously mounted the train. it was only when a very old, shaky figure of man, who was standing beside the gestating woman, asked for one of them to give up a seat did they budge. they did, however, only give up one seat. leaving the old man to do the next four stops clutching the pole to keep himself from falling. my stop finally came. i got up and offered the old man my seat. </span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-23710560648340018472011-02-03T00:47:00.001+00:002011-02-03T00:48:13.436+00:00'good' father<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">i was leaving work to pick up the kid from playgroup.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"where you going?", asks a colleague</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"to pick up the kid", i answer</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"ah, there's a good dad", he says.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">picking up your kid on time is simply part of being a father. now, if you don't go and pick up your kid that is when adjectives should be used. very negative adjectives.</span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-67295403176890105342011-01-21T02:14:00.005+00:002011-01-22T15:41:20.803+00:00flatheads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehi1_UFsAam1plbaBVZfxelxjvyIMAasRrTsH2wh_mXNkyuOZes4X1FHeypDOS7AUGPMhPr1WslAMvNDkOvgNR1GZI5P5UBZkgTTWOLvbS55Mu8EBKC1XlUzJaQrpVxrsC2g92HHpGC8/s1600/article-1211051-0647ABC0000005DC-162_468x255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehi1_UFsAam1plbaBVZfxelxjvyIMAasRrTsH2wh_mXNkyuOZes4X1FHeypDOS7AUGPMhPr1WslAMvNDkOvgNR1GZI5P5UBZkgTTWOLvbS55Mu8EBKC1XlUzJaQrpVxrsC2g92HHpGC8/s320/article-1211051-0647ABC0000005DC-162_468x255.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this is a helmet. no ordinary helmet, mind. this is a cot-helmet so your kid doesn't end up with a "flat back of head". that is, it is a means to keep the child's head round or, as i like to call it, just another crap gadget that parents will buy. my father was born in 1945 italy. at the time it was advised that babies should stay on their backs. he did end up with a flat back of the head. the way i see it is this: firstly, my father ended up with the head he has because he was left a lot on his back when his skull was still soft and, secondly, this gadget would have been more useful in 1945 italy. according to 1970s research apparently it was better to have babies on their bellies. therefore my conclusion is that research will keep contradicting itself in waves - at a rate of a new study every 30 years, in the end it does give some people a sense of existence - and if you don't want a flat-headed kid, well, pick it up every now and then. and if you can't be arsed, maybe a flat back of head is better than a flat face so remember to turn him every now and then.</span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-50534456888184884592011-01-18T01:04:00.003+00:002011-01-19T17:02:42.585+00:00liar, liar, pants on fire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxP3Wyyx4jmgiQ7fIOX-dHIjvHM1mHe17uVCw5PGDBA9G4g_x8kw5FI49FMFeJ47Dsj6F6EppisrBBeJOPU2dtc8UWGa2CNlsxW0y4qNzbzWNRIHnzYR3x4C5jShOS6w9e759UD-Sqs4/s1600/article-1211051-0647ABC0000005DC-162_468x255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxP3Wyyx4jmgiQ7fIOX-dHIjvHM1mHe17uVCw5PGDBA9G4g_x8kw5FI49FMFeJ47Dsj6F6EppisrBBeJOPU2dtc8UWGa2CNlsxW0y4qNzbzWNRIHnzYR3x4C5jShOS6w9e759UD-Sqs4/s320/article-1211051-0647ABC0000005DC-162_468x255.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">a survey carried out by the website <a href="http://www.netmums.com/">netmums</a> (a forum for stay-at-home-mums-of-one which was slated this week in 'the observer' for interfering with eastenders' cot-death plot) on 5,000 mothers suggests that these poor souls of women are under so much pressure to appear to fellow-mothers like perfect parents that they lie. the report goes on to say that mothers are often made feel "inadequate" when confronting parenting stories, hence the fibs begin. it is solely due to peer pressure as more than 9 out of 10 said they compare themselves with others at the nursery school gate and not with the "celebrity" mothers in the glossy magazines - the ones who have 4 nannies and see their kids once a month even though they live in the same house.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">i might be wrong but isn't that just classic female behaviour? with or without a kid? always going out of their way to outdo each other's achievements even if a little fib here and there is needed?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">in any case, the bbc bloggers went to see the parenting expert f<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">rank furedi - married to a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">nn furedi, the chief executive of british pregnancy advisory service, the uk's largest independent abortion provider - </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">w</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">ho states that parents were under "profound pressures" from society. he said that a culture of parenting "incites parents to lie and to turn child-rearing into a performance." is it not just in human nature to exaggerate and "perform" to others? nothing new there but he makes a valid point as there are many a parent who can only talk about the difficulties of having a child and how great they, as mothers, are. i have a nickname for such mothers: "netmums".</span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-39009894124350891252011-01-15T03:53:00.003+00:002011-01-19T23:20:18.192+00:00faces<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5KqzfXHKaJx5AP1A3AEK7K6FsdmVFW2IN1VwGY0Fwg6WACKkiP3cAbAMdSxD9n3bz80u4ILS4EuQ3cTVqxVLBqybEfofmtAIxgZfORa00orRL0mPqT6NK6XonVT2tNi2RuzdsJazBw0/s1600/article-1211051-0647ABC0000005DC-162_468x255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5KqzfXHKaJx5AP1A3AEK7K6FsdmVFW2IN1VwGY0Fwg6WACKkiP3cAbAMdSxD9n3bz80u4ILS4EuQ3cTVqxVLBqybEfofmtAIxgZfORa00orRL0mPqT6NK6XonVT2tNi2RuzdsJazBw0/s320/article-1211051-0647ABC0000005DC-162_468x255.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">nonetheless, in the first fifteen minutes you can try something. allegedly there is a part of the human brain that is active whilst in the womb. on entering the world nature kick-starts a lot of dormant organs needed for basic survival on the outside, starting with the lungs. nature also shuts down other parts of the body, mainly the belly-button. it is no longer the traffic route of nutritional supply and waste. she also shuts down – not immediately – this small part of the brain that now interests us. maybe it is the umbilical cord coordinator. whatever the case, it has another incredible function: it allows the newborn to imitate any facial expression you throw at it. in haste, you hear, as it doesn’t last long! you have the prime material, you have no excuses. bring the little, swaddled creature to about a foot from your face. shit, she does look a bit like me. weird. anyway, now pull a funny face. stick out your tongue. wink. frown. smile. try them all. this little thing in your hands will imitate exactly what you do, i kid you not. unbelievable. in the sense, i didn’t believe it either until i actually witnessed it for myself. a bit like becoming a father, you can’t ever know until you do.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"> </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18px;">photo by stephanie robin/kelley ryden</span></div>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-13782498452664682942011-01-14T17:26:00.002+00:002011-01-14T19:54:51.053+00:00so what is breast?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWzgz9AxXp5J2DXViroJzhokjGYBHkXafkvkoxO_CRirdSVIsyW5vNzM_8VZMKx2_2zYHVcubMQrQhyRK-tTjigzzJCDFv8DzxN-CUbs3n0GEGSnC8_-_pZttlMfv4X9ZkgyRnXOZxdc/s1600/493fb842d0c25b7b_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWzgz9AxXp5J2DXViroJzhokjGYBHkXafkvkoxO_CRirdSVIsyW5vNzM_8VZMKx2_2zYHVcubMQrQhyRK-tTjigzzJCDFv8DzxN-CUbs3n0GEGSnC8_-_pZttlMfv4X9ZkgyRnXOZxdc/s320/493fb842d0c25b7b_large.jpg" width="235" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">in 2003 the W.H.O. (who?) told mothers to breastfeed their offspring up to six months. in 2011 some experts, l<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">ed by a paediatrician from University College London's Institute of Child Health, say breastfeeding exclusively for six months may damage a baby's health and "reduce the window for introducing new tastes".</span> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">proof that only a mother, if she follows her instinct, really knows what is right. it is also evidence that new parents should avoid internet/books/articles on how to bring up their child.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the leading paediatrician obviously has no experience with a four-month-old. by that age they are sitting up, grabbing and very happy to try new tastes: bread, fruit, shoes, paper, wires etc. i believe both the 2003 and 2011 reports are only read by a certain type of parent i.e. the over-protective, over-anxious ones that will transmit their anxieties onto the child. you know the ones? they usually have very bitter breast milk.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">photo - israeli mother breast feeding her baby, 1964 by paul schutzer</span> </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-17421548157647646522011-01-13T00:44:00.003+00:002011-05-16T13:13:46.775+01:00white noise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIs-0W6SPZbIjp-MM6rbjas3vr6FBRJHqWhyOFUuOz_JU4gkfnsxsatbV3Jyr53MhXeoTAjLQjseLABtPK5DKziI_IwnirL6DNiRjquwirz3hwxZF7_zrtYpxrFj01PprTpTxANDpa0sQ/s1600/YORK001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIs-0W6SPZbIjp-MM6rbjas3vr6FBRJHqWhyOFUuOz_JU4gkfnsxsatbV3Jyr53MhXeoTAjLQjseLABtPK5DKziI_IwnirL6DNiRjquwirz3hwxZF7_zrtYpxrFj01PprTpTxANDpa0sQ/s1600/YORK001.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">yet another sleepless night? 2am feed? then again at 4? the baby doesn't stop crying? either does the baby's mother? according to new mothers it is because the kid is colic, guaranteed. you suggest that the sprog might be hungry. you are promptly told that you don't have a clue. now this is not the right time to explain your theory. the right time will be had whilst the baby is napping the next day and mother has a cup of tea in her hand. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">it is not only my theory, obviously, as someone has already come up with a contraption that deals with it. however, when i saw this little white machine (i didn't know that they existed previously) i was very excited as it was confirmation of something i have always maintained: for a newborn the world they enter is eerily quiet. after months spent in a swirling, bubbling, swooshing womb surrounded by belly gurgles and heartbeats, they come out to silence and cold and a place where womb walls don't exist. scary for anyone. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this little machine produces a constant stream of white noise. you turn it on when you put the baby down and you should have some very positive results. once upon a time fathers would go for a late-night drive with a sleepless baby, it wasn't the drive but the sound of the engine that did the trick, even if 30 minutes away from a desperate, weeping wife was a plus. some people find that turning on a vacuum cleaner or a hair-dryer soothes a frustrated child. once again, it is all down to the white noise they produce. since we got the machine even i sleep better. weird. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">if you can't find the machine, click this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHRlqGhWkNU">link</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> and stick your laptop beside the cot. it is 7 hours 54 minutes of vacuum noise kindly uploaded by some very tired father.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">and i have seen a colic baby, trust me, if your kid isn't crying 24/7 it is not colic. this machine also prepares the kid for later life, lots of white noise.</span><br />
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</span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-15699410889784200342010-12-16T00:15:00.001+00:002011-01-13T00:48:10.952+00:00hours of airport fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnbI2ayqnS6pSQJGRE_8CrRBSSOTZBOu96BDSBhL12KjH3yxYJb_FU7gqz5UMg57LuRbpjVQnwsQ2mnP51i6amjfqWeY5duv2nbZe8vej4AbwYvq1Q0xp3iFDpP2UtEYTJ3zKsjjHp2M/s1600/scan-it+box2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnbI2ayqnS6pSQJGRE_8CrRBSSOTZBOu96BDSBhL12KjH3yxYJb_FU7gqz5UMg57LuRbpjVQnwsQ2mnP51i6amjfqWeY5duv2nbZe8vej4AbwYvq1Q0xp3iFDpP2UtEYTJ3zKsjjHp2M/s320/scan-it+box2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">i know, let's take the most frustrating of procedures for all travellers and make it into a toy. "scan it" is exactly that: a toy airport security scanner. and it does actually exist. then again, it is probably a very realistic approach to parenting. yes, your kid is more likely to end up a security guard at the airport than composing the next great opera. so why not give them a head start? </span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-23070262157409194602010-12-15T01:52:00.002+00:002010-12-15T01:57:34.601+00:00on your bike<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">i got myself a new bike. well, it's an old bike - a 1974 Condor - but it is new to me. i haven't been on a bike in twelve years. the height of my physical activity in the last five years was a charity football game in 2006. i came on as a sub in the last five minutes. so it doesn't count. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">in any case, back to the bike. it was so good to be back in the saddle, bike-wise, and i realised that it is the same as having a kid. that is, "shit, i have done this before, i was once a kid. i know exactly what makes a kid happy because i was one of those". </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">so, on your bike!</span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-74564003422829205082010-12-14T22:21:00.005+00:002011-05-16T13:14:37.255+01:00a toy that you will like<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvoDHf5gn7ZfDsFM_ozVfPBH8FVPRLYsXzzY-PSBgaevpbFfUpzFdLS1B_paC12fJgckQPdCuvn9Hu5QNfzRn9BDwBnF4dOOzJ6pDZWQ9KjKeaGv2qLceiDbfo3J_RDBRhR-3M9q6Ma8/s1600/untitled.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvoDHf5gn7ZfDsFM_ozVfPBH8FVPRLYsXzzY-PSBgaevpbFfUpzFdLS1B_paC12fJgckQPdCuvn9Hu5QNfzRn9BDwBnF4dOOzJ6pDZWQ9KjKeaGv2qLceiDbfo3J_RDBRhR-3M9q6Ma8/s320/untitled.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this is an aesthetically simple and brilliant piece of design. not one stick touches another (thanks to some elastics) thus allowing the bobbles to slide up and down. but the real beauty lies elsewhere: if you stand on it, it won't break as it flattens itself completely. i don't even see my crawling baby at times - yes, she has taken some kicks to the head, by accident obviously - never mind all the toys strewn around the place. this is a toy that you will like (for its design and for the fact that it doesn't break when you stand on it) and the baby will enjoy because it has colours and things that move on it. you can find it <a href="http://www.manhattantoy.com/product/206914/200970/_/Skwish_Classic">here</a>. </span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-5560685081880907632010-12-12T01:42:00.002+00:002010-12-14T19:14:37.732+00:00options<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Honestly? Well, it</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> wasn’t all just sitting about waiting to go to hospital. I mean, a lot of it is, especially toward the end. But, as I discovered slowly and surely whilst Charlotte’s belly ripened, someone up there is very practical. It is not by chance that a pregnancy lasts nine months. As a matter of fact, it’s ruddy genius, by Jove! Especially in this day and age. Once upon a time maybe not so genius as having children was more of an obligation. That is, you learnt your trade from your father, became an apprentice by the time you were fifteen, married a fifteen-year-old girl when you were twenty, had children, took over your father’s place of work, trained your child until he was fifteen and so on and so forth. Everyone was happy, surely. And then what did we have to go and do? Give ourselves options, that’s what! It happened all very gradually. It is not as if we, as a species, woke up one morning and unpretentiously said ‘Fuck it, who needs simplicity and contentment? We want lots of options!’. It was a process. Some may say inevitable but that is a matter of opinion. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Nevertheless, we now find ourselves in a situation in which we have a very varied selection of everything. We don’t need a lot of these choices, you know, like breakfast cereals. You want Frosties? Just put sugar on your cornflakes! I say porridge for all! And if you don’t like it, go hungry! Even the most insignificant of quotidian actions will present us with a very assorted set of options. For example, ordering a coffee, right? In the past the bartender would ask you if you wanted sugar and milk or not. Therefore, you had a total of four choices: black, black with sugar, white or white with sugar – yes, for the more pedantic (and duller) of you, there is the fifth choice of not wanting the coffee, but then why the fuck did you go into the cafe’ in the first place? In any event, why not pop down to your local cafe’ right now? It doesn’t necessarily have to be a Starbucks as even the small businesses feel they have to keep up. Go down there, play the fool and ask them what they have in the line of coffees. Espresso, latte, macchiato, e<span class="apple-style-span">xtra coffee caramel frappuccino, double chocolaty chip frappuccino and twenty-one other types of frappuccini, not to mention decafs and iced-coffees. You have just woken up. You were just too lazy to make yourself a coffee at home because let’s face it, you make a shit coffee and, after all, the sun is shining so you decided to have your morning coffee out. It is in that exact moment that you are presented with your first forty-seven choices of the day. For a coffee? Even the most strong-willed of cafe’ frequenters will cave and try, at least once, every coffee on the menu’. Just those last four words are wrong: coffee on the menu’. A menu’ for coffees? Unreal. I take mine black with one sugar, by the way. Too many choices kill the imagination. I am rambling now. Willingly I will go back to the whole nine-month duration being very savvy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> The point I was trying to make was that having a child, which was once a pseudo-obligation, is now a choice. Actually, the fact that you get over the first trimester and announce it publicly will lead those around you to conclude that you went through a thousand choices to get that far. That’s the bottom line. We are so conditioned by the vast quantities of choices we have before us in everything we do that it may seem absurd that someone may not consider the choices but just follow his gut-instinct and do what he feels is right or, to put it differently, he was aware of the possible consequences of his actions. Basically, we have lost confidence in ourselves. You know, the idea that couples say ‘We are trying to get pregnant’ signifies, in the times we live, that they have made a very conscious choice and they assume that others actually give a damn. What do they want? A pat on the back? Is it only a very sick and highly indiscrete way of telling us that they are getting it on? If that is the case, well, I am constantly ‘trying’ to get Charlotte pregnant and when I am asked if we are ‘trying’ for a second I always have the same answer: even when she’s not looking. (to be continued very soon).</span></span></span></div>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-29486006248417112012010-12-09T01:48:00.003+00:002010-12-09T06:26:07.478+00:00it's good.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">you never know what being a father means. you learn every day. you probably are learning more than your kid. but those sleepless nights are worth it. god, the time she loses her breath when she sees you..'Papa'. it makes it all worth it. trust me.</span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115939568471351816.post-16859875197078588452010-12-08T00:16:00.002+00:002010-12-09T02:00:23.071+00:00don't phone your wife.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">if she is pregnant maybe you shouldn't phone her. some research done by the university of california suggests that microwave radiation emitted by handsets could damage your unborn baby's brain. how? apparently children exposed to mother's regular phone-use whilst in the womb are 30% more likely to turn out to be brats - whatever 'being a brat' means according to the researchers. are children not, by their very essence, meant to be naughty? or, at least, a bit cheeky? the survey involved some lengthy ethnographic work - a series of interviews to some 28,000 mothers broken down into four parts, that's right, via telephone. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">so, tell me, would you prefer an angry wife now because you don't call her or a slightly less naughty child in the future? either way, nothing a slap on the arse can't fix. </span>Fathers Are Not Coolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05327061560559758515noreply@blogger.com0