Panda song

What can I say, she loves pandas... This is audio only (with a pic at the beginning). A touch on the surreal side, though proud that she went to the bother of recording herself and uploading to YouTube. Love her. You'll all be singing it tomorrow...

Learn colours with Bing

In a slight departure from the usual intellectual discourse on this blog (!), I post here a never before seen piece of footage of Freya and Connie learning colours with Bing (think slightly slow but loveable bunny character who wears dungarees). If you need some kind of justification, you might consider this as a critical commentary on modern society and the nature of user-generated content on the web and what kids these days will happily watch for hours on end. Or you could just watch quietly and learn your colours. Up to you. :-)

Blind leading the blind

What do you find yourself thinking about on those occasions when you wake up at 3am and can't get back to sleep? Sometimes it's the strangest things. Freya is teething at the moment and so tends to wake in the night crying. After getting up to settle her, I found I couldn't get back to sleep as my mind starts to ponder some of life's questions. Tonight my mind decided to mull over this little engima...

Those of you who also have young children will more than likely be familiar with the BBC channel CBeebies. One of the more recent additions to the fine range of programmes on CBeebies is called Me too! set in the fictional city of Riverseafingal which is a kind of composite city made up of bits of cities from around the UK. Amongst the array of characters is Rudi who runs a fruit and veg stall on the market. Now the first time I saw Rudi, I thought "he's not a very good actor! He's not even looking at the woman he's supposed to be talking to...". I then I realised there was a good reason for that. He's blind. But what confused me is that at no point do they refer to him being blind. He goes about his business, selling fruit and veg and exploring the confusing hybrid town that is Riversea Fingal as if he can see perfectly well. This confuses me (it's even keeping me awake at night!) so surely it's going to confuse pre-schoolers.

I wish I could get back to sleep.

Bitch on heat

Today's card, the Ten of Swords, was supposed to predict endings:

Ten of Swords: The Ten indicates endings. In the suit of Swords, endings are dramatic, and may be shocking. However, on closer inspection of the facts, it's likely that this ending was predictable. A relationship or other arrangement is cut out of your life. The closure is harsh, but necessary; you will recover and be open to new opportunities sooner than you think.

Couldn't really find anything today that could relate to this. No endings, dramatic or otherwise. The only drama was when we were taking Rachel's parents' dogs, Daisy and Harry, for a walk in Shotover Park near where they live. We let them off their leads to let them have a run and explore the woods. Shotover seems to be popular with dogs and dog-walkers of all shapes and sizes, so it's a case of keeping a watchful eye as dogs greet each other in the way only dogs know how. Now, I'm not a dog-owner nor have I ever been (though I am an enthusiastic walker of Daisy and Harry when we visit and I can imagine maybe having a dog at some point in the future) so I'm not au fait with the etiquette between dog owners as one's dogs sniff the backsides of other dogs as they hello. I tended to opt for a facial expression that tries to convey the "that's dogs for you..." look. And, by and large, I think I achieved the look. This expression seemed to be serving me well right up until the point when Daisy was about to be humped by not one, not two, but three over-excited setters. The "that's dogs for you..." facial expression was quickly replaced by one of mild panic as I yelled out "Noooo!!" and reached to put the lead round Daisy's neck. Freya just peered out at me from her pushchair as if to say "spoilsport".

Ready for battle!

This is what my tarot reading for the week ahead came up with for today:

Knight of Swords: When the Knight of Swords arrives in a reading, he heralds a future battle that must be fought so that a resolution to a problem may be found. Dynamic and charming, he may come into your life for just a short period of time, but his verve is infectious: he brings enough energy and determination to meet the challenge with courage.

So I was all set for a battle of some sort today! A fight! Maybe even a "scrap" (does anyone use this term any more?), just like you used to get at school, in which me and my nemesis are surrounded by an over-excited crowd, clapping their hands in unison to the chant of "Scrap! Scrap! Scrap!..." just in case it wasn't clear to any of the onlookers exactly what was going on.

But, alas, it was not to be. No fight today. No arguments. Not even a bicker. Or a cross word. Freya, now a willful 15 month-old woddler, had had a rough night thanks to a combination of teething and an ear infection, but it was Rachel who got up in the early hours and saw to her allowing me to stay in bed as I was to be up early in the morning. Rachel was quite willing to do this (or at least said she was!) so no battle there.

Monday is my main teaching day with six hours of teaching. That all seemed to go off without a hitch, and no arguments, battles, or significant challenges that I can recall. By the time I got home around 7pm, Freya was bathed and ready for bed and Rachel had the dinner on (her own recipe lasagne... the best ever). So still no battles. I put Freya to bed and within 5 minutes she'd fallen asleep. A very relaxing evening lay ahead and an early night. Not a battle in sight.

Tarot nil points.

Happy Birthday!

A year ago today Freya (a.k.a. Fritz, Bella Boo, Baby Jesus, Bum Lord...) was born. Happy 1st Birthday Freya!! We love you to bits!

We had a little party to celebrate. Thanks to everyone who came. Special thanks to Birgit and Dave for the help, Sandra for the cake and Keith for the other food. Oh and Billy... sorry about the balloons.

My Name is Freya

Who am I? I have an answer to that eternal question... it would appear that I'm Freya. Not the answer I was expecting, granted, but an answer all the same. I discovered my identity this week when I took my baby daughter (who is coincidentally also called Freya...) along to Rhythm Time. Within minutes of arriving I had a sticker stuck to my chest announcing I was Freya! So there you have it.


I was the token dad there but I did my best to join in and to not feel like a complete pillock. I think I just about managed it. I definitely enjoyed it more than Lorraine seemed to. Lorraine was the helper who passed around and collected in the drums, tambourines, shakers, etc. for the babies to play with. She was also supposed to sing along with the songs and generally keep the atmosphere on an up. Instead she sat to one side looking like her cat had just been run over (maybe it had).

It turned out that this was Lorraine's final Rhythm Time, as she was about take up a new job as a clinical research nurse at the University of Manchester (the obvious career progression). I can't see her being missed.

By the way, a word of advice. If you ever find yourself going along to something like this, remember to take your sticker off before you go to the supermarket. Otherwise you will look like a pillock.

Special Delivery

The reason I am up at 6am is the same reason it has been more than three months since I last posted a blog. On the 18th October 2007, I became a father again. The baby (let's call her Freya, because that's her name...) made an appearance 5 weeks early and so caught us by surprise! Just 4 hours separated the immortal words "I think my waters have broken..." shortly after midnight and the arrival of our beautiful baby girl in the early hours of the morning. After the initial shock and denial ("You sure you haven't just wet the bed...?"), I think Rachel and I made a pretty good team. Cool, calm, and collected was the impression I was trying to give as Rachel tried to tell me what I should pack in her hospital bag from her vantage point of the toilet.

All was going well apart from the fact that I couldn't seem to get Rachel to leave the safety of the bathroom in order to get her into the car. She was far too busy making sure there were no excess foodstuffs in her stomach (we're talking both ends here...). An hour after I had first phoned the hospital and been told to bring Rachel in, I phoned again to explain the allure of the bathroom and was advised to call for an ambulance. As I dialled 999, I realised that I had never dialled 999 before, which I guess is a good thing.

I explained that Rachel seemed to be in labour (she was now experiencing contractions a few minutes apart) and that I was unable to persuade her into the car to get her to the hospital. The man on the other end of the line assured me that an ambulance was on its way and stayed on the line until it arrived. "Whatever you do...", he instructed, "don't let her sit on the toilet!" Now he tells me.

Another half hour passed before the ambulance arrived, at which point I think I relaxed knowing that Rachel was now in safe hands. Only the previous morning, at our first (and as it turned out our only) antenatal class Rachel and I had talked of our plans to have the baby at home. But that idea had involved a birthing pool, relaxation CDs, and candles. Not me being instructed over the phone what to do if the baby's head appeared in much the same way as the guy in the Airplane movies is talked through landing the plane!

We arrived at the hospital at around 2.30 and were taken straight to the delivery suite. From here on, things progressed quickly. Rachel was an absolute star (she even told me she loved me between contractions!). For a few moments, when the doctor and midwives seemed to think that things weren't progressing quite the way they would have liked, there was talk of an assisted delivery. But it seemed that the sight of the doctor in his mask and gowns brandishing a pair of forceps was enough to give Rachel the extra push (as it were) and within minutes we were the very proud parents of a gorgeous little girl, born at 4.23am weighing 5lb 10oz.

I know I am just a little bit biased, but she is absolutely gorgeous. If you don't believe me, look here. Cute, eh? She now weighs more than double her birthweight and is now generally sleeping through the night till around 6am. After her feed this morning she has gone back to sleep as has Rachel, but I was wide awake so I thought I'd take the opportunity to post my first blog since Freya was born.

To my sleeping beauties. x