Hmmmm

I seem to do the same thing each night/weekend – think or experience something that I think is blog worthy, then when I get to the create post option, all sense and ideas desert me.

Is that blogger’s block? Or perhaps my subconcious telling me that it isn’t relly worth blogging about?

The weekend was spent mainly in our own garden, enjoying the sunshine whilst tidying the garden.

I enjoyed sitting out with Mrs Zilla, once the godzookies were in bed, just chatting about life, reminiscing and drinking some good wine.

Then again I also enjoyed the high powered water pistols we bought too!

Sometimes I walk around the house and find it hard to believe that it’s mine (well at least 60% of it is mine, the rest I still owe the bank for!).

I guess it’s because it’s a grown up house if that makes sense. It’s a family house.

Yes, I know that I’m a family man in his 30s, but most of the time in my head I’m around 23, so it feels kind of weird to have the house, car, kids set up.

This probably makes little or no sense, and I have no idea why I should still feel this way.

Perhaps my own senses of achievement and accomplishment aren’t strong enough for me to realise that I am crashing towards middle age.

I don’t think it’s fear of assessing where I am at. When I sit down and coldly assess things, I’m happy with my children, I like my house, my surroundings and even my job for most of the time. My career has constantly moved on, I’ve been working at the same place for 13 years now, and been getting fresh challenges along the way.

Perhaps my lack of awareness was highlighted recently by events at school.

I was taking godzooky 1 to and from school due to Mrs Zilla’s broken ankle. As a result I saw the fevered worry of some other parents as to their progeny’s school report.

A brief outline of the school structure might help here.

Children start off in Reception class.

Most then move to Year 1, although there is also an option of Year1/2. This is a class for the gifted Reception pupils and also a holding class for those not deemed bright enough to move from Year 1 to Year 2.

So recent parental fears have focussed on whether their child will end up in Year 1/2 or move on to Year 2.

I found myself amazed that what I had thought were rational, normal people were getting so concerned over which class their child ended up in.

To me the utmost important thing is that Godzooky 1 enjoys going to school. If he’s happy, then he will surely do better, that seems like common sense to me.

The ultimate proof of this is a boy who went staright from Reception to Year 1/2. He has gone from being a top performer to being one of the worst.

Does my attitude of caring more about Godzooky 1’s happiness than his academic prowess make me a good or bad parent?

As it happens he is near the top of reading, writing and maths anyway. I prefer him to be happy and near the top, than for me to push him and him be top in subjects and miserable.

Perhaps again I am drawing on my own experiences too much. I was very able at school, but didn’t push myself, to my parents annoyance. To me that seemed the right way to be.

Watch me change my attitude over the next couple of years!

Hmmmm

I seem to do the same thing each night/weekend – think or experience something that I think is blog worthy, then when I get to the create post option, all sense and ideas desert me.

Is that blogger’s block? Or perhaps my subconcious telling me that it isn’t relly worth blogging about?

The weekend was spent mainly in our own garden, enjoying the sunshine whilst tidying the garden.

I enjoyed sitting out with Mrs Zilla, once the godzookies were in bed, just chatting about life, reminiscing and drinking some good wine.

Then again I also enjoyed the high powered water pistols we bought too!

Sometimes I walk around the house and find it hard to believe that it’s mine (well at least 60% of it is mine, the rest I still owe the bank for!).

I guess it’s because it’s a grown up house if that makes sense. It’s a family house.

Yes, I know that I’m a family man in his 30s, but most of the time in my head I’m around 23, so it feels kind of weird to have the house, car, kids set up.

This probably makes little or no sense, and I have no idea why I should still feel this way.

Perhaps my own senses of achievement and accomplishment aren’t strong enough for me to realise that I am crashing towards middle age.

I don’t think it’s fear of assessing where I am at. When I sit down and coldly assess things, I’m happy with my children, I like my house, my surroundings and even my job for most of the time. My career has constantly moved on, I’ve been working at the same place for 13 years now, and been getting fresh challenges along the way.

Perhaps my lack of awareness was highlighted recently by events at school.

I was taking godzooky 1 to and from school due to Mrs Zilla’s broken ankle. As a result I saw the fevered worry of some other parents as to their progeny’s school report.

A brief outline of the school structure might help here.

Children start off in Reception class.

Most then move to Year 1, although there is also an option of Year1/2. This is a class for the gifted Reception pupils and also a holding class for those not deemed bright enough to move from Year 1 to Year 2.

So recent parental fears have focussed on whether their child will end up in Year 1/2 or move on to Year 2.

I found myself amazed that what I had thought were rational, normal people were getting so concerned over which class their child ended up in.

To me the utmost important thing is that Godzooky 1 enjoys going to school. If he’s happy, then he will surely do better, that seems like common sense to me.

The ultimate proof of this is a boy who went staright from Reception to Year 1/2. He has gone from being a top performer to being one of the worst.

Does my attitude of caring more about Godzooky 1’s happiness than his academic prowess make me a good or bad parent?

As it happens he is near the top of reading, writing and maths anyway. I prefer him to be happy and near the top, than for me to push him and him be top in subjects and miserable.

Perhaps again I am drawing on my own experiences too much. I was very able at school, but didn’t push myself, to my parents annoyance. To me that seemed the right way to be.

Watch me change my attitude over the next couple of years!

Dante’s Inferno

So here’s a little test I stumbled across, to discover which circle of hell I might well end up in:

The Dante’s Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 – Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Moderate
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 – The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 – Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante’s Inferno Hell Test

Not sure what to make of all that, but it looks like I’m in trouble!

Dante’s Inferno

So here’s a little test I stumbled across, to discover which circle of hell I might well end up in:

The Dante’s Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 – Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Moderate
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 – The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 – Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante’s Inferno Hell Test

Not sure what to make of all that, but it looks like I’m in trouble!

At Last

The camera finally works!

So here are picture from the zoo:

The kids love the lemur feeding, as the cute little critters take the fruit out of your hand.

They have the run of the park, and they have priority over you (the lemurs that is!)

Any lying on the floor sunbathing should be left alone and negotiated without disturbing them.

They form raiding parties to attack the picnic areas. If it isn’t nailed down they’ll have it. One made off with a green dummy that Godzooky 3 had! I guess it thought it was fruit. I have a lovely mental image of lemur still sucking on this everlasting grape!

The tiger feeding is quite spectacular:

They put the meat at the top of the poles, not just for the spectacle, but because they want the tigers to work for their food, as they would in the wild.

It’s a very ethical wildlife park. They have formed close bonds with Sumatra to help conserve the tigers and sell gifts from the area, to give the local people an alternative income to killing the tigers for skins/body parts.

At Last

The camera finally works!

So here are picture from the zoo:

The kids love the lemur feeding, as the cute little critters take the fruit out of your hand.

They have the run of the park, and they have priority over you (the lemurs that is!)

Any lying on the floor sunbathing should be left alone and negotiated without disturbing them.

They form raiding parties to attack the picnic areas. If it isn’t nailed down they’ll have it. One made off with a green dummy that Godzooky 3 had! I guess it thought it was fruit. I have a lovely mental image of lemur still sucking on this everlasting grape!

The tiger feeding is quite spectacular:

They put the meat at the top of the poles, not just for the spectacle, but because they want the tigers to work for their food, as they would in the wild.

It’s a very ethical wildlife park. They have formed close bonds with Sumatra to help conserve the tigers and sell gifts from the area, to give the local people an alternative income to killing the tigers for skins/body parts.

It’s Official

I am getting old.

My body is starting to rebel against me. Or does that mean that my body is a teenager?

Last night at football I managed to strain my thigh muscle. Ten minutes from the end.

I NEVER get any major muscle injuries.

I’ve tweaked the odd calf and hamstring, but by the next day been right as rain.

Normally I can run off any niggles, and I did attempt this last night. I think I made it worse by attempting an audacious volley shot. Then I had to go in goals for the rest of the game.

I put ice on it as soon as I got home, and that helped slightly.

Today I still feel like someone is digging a blade into my thigh. I’ve checked under my desk for malicious dwarves, but the truth cannot be ignored: I am injured.

My legs were certainly warm enough last night, it was scorchio in the sun.

I now dread ending up like some of the older guys who play, they seem to pick up injuries on a constant basis, swapping ancecdotes about recovery times and the size of swellings (oo-er!)

So it looks like a few weeks out for me.

I’ll just do a search for walking stick websites, I may be needing them shortly….

It’s Official

I am getting old.

My body is starting to rebel against me. Or does that mean that my body is a teenager?

Last night at football I managed to strain my thigh muscle. Ten minutes from the end.

I NEVER get any major muscle injuries.

I’ve tweaked the odd calf and hamstring, but by the next day been right as rain.

Normally I can run off any niggles, and I did attempt this last night. I think I made it worse by attempting an audacious volley shot. Then I had to go in goals for the rest of the game.

I put ice on it as soon as I got home, and that helped slightly.

Today I still feel like someone is digging a blade into my thigh. I’ve checked under my desk for malicious dwarves, but the truth cannot be ignored: I am injured.

My legs were certainly warm enough last night, it was scorchio in the sun.

I now dread ending up like some of the older guys who play, they seem to pick up injuries on a constant basis, swapping ancecdotes about recovery times and the size of swellings (oo-er!)

So it looks like a few weeks out for me.

I’ll just do a search for walking stick websites, I may be needing them shortly….

Sports Day

Yesterday was Godzooky 1’s sports day.

All families invited to attend, cheer on their progeny and partake of a picnic on the school field.

The sports were the usual fayre:

Egg and spoon race
Sack race
Running race
Bean bag relay race
Running with a Quoit on your head race (I’m ignorant of any technical term for this)
Skipping race
and finally the Crab race (not a competition to pick up the earliest recordrd STD, but two children link arms back to back, then run sideways down the course!)

Godzooky 1 put up a respectable showing, winning the running race, the egg and spoon and the relay race.

His dismal showing in the skipping race was matched by other male competitors. They lacked the natural coordination and grace required to excel at this one!

The Fathers’ race saw me finish in the top 10, which I was pleased about. Some of these guys had started having kids early, so were in their early 20s. Thankfully I am nowhere near the oldest dad, so there were easy pickings for me too!

Of course at his age winning is everything, and he didn’t share my happiness at such a placing. I like to think I am leading by example, and he will come to recognise my effort!

One thing made a lasting impression on me yesterday.

All the staff gathered at the end and I noticed (for some reason) that there were no male teachers. The only male members of staff were the Headmaster and the caretaker.

The predominant characteristics of the teachers were that they were young blonde ladies.

Call me cynical, but methinks the headmaster is cultivating his own personal harem.

I prefer brunettes personally, but yesterday I was beginning to see how a smarter career choice could improve my working surroundings dramatically!

Sports Day

Yesterday was Godzooky 1’s sports day.

All families invited to attend, cheer on their progeny and partake of a picnic on the school field.

The sports were the usual fayre:

Egg and spoon race
Sack race
Running race
Bean bag relay race
Running with a Quoit on your head race (I’m ignorant of any technical term for this)
Skipping race
and finally the Crab race (not a competition to pick up the earliest recordrd STD, but two children link arms back to back, then run sideways down the course!)

Godzooky 1 put up a respectable showing, winning the running race, the egg and spoon and the relay race.

His dismal showing in the skipping race was matched by other male competitors. They lacked the natural coordination and grace required to excel at this one!

The Fathers’ race saw me finish in the top 10, which I was pleased about. Some of these guys had started having kids early, so were in their early 20s. Thankfully I am nowhere near the oldest dad, so there were easy pickings for me too!

Of course at his age winning is everything, and he didn’t share my happiness at such a placing. I like to think I am leading by example, and he will come to recognise my effort!

One thing made a lasting impression on me yesterday.

All the staff gathered at the end and I noticed (for some reason) that there were no male teachers. The only male members of staff were the Headmaster and the caretaker.

The predominant characteristics of the teachers were that they were young blonde ladies.

Call me cynical, but methinks the headmaster is cultivating his own personal harem.

I prefer brunettes personally, but yesterday I was beginning to see how a smarter career choice could improve my working surroundings dramatically!