Of course with 16 year olds, you get the hormones… the moodiness… the constant demands for money… the vast tranches of time when they’re lolling about making the place look untidy, or just unconscious…

But you also get moments like this:

I watched him on Saturday, playing with little Sweeney (Mad Uncle Ali’s girlfriend’s little fella)  in the sunshine at the cricket club.  He bowled, fielded and batted for hours… he played football, he spent quite a lot of time making out shapes in the clouds:

… and still more retrieving the cricket ball from under the fence. Later, little Sweeney stayed the night here.  The Prof was out with friends.  The little chap just couldn’t go to sleep… ‘is Sam back?  Is Sam back?…)  He has endless patience.  A gentle spirit that he certainly didn’t inherit from me (or his Dad)…

He’s not complained too much about being away from COD Black Ops for a whole two weeks…  it helped that he spent the whole of Sunday getting sweaty at paintball with his mate Steve – they came back filthy, bruised and knackered.  But still smiling.

He’s hugely different from his brother, but their differences make them who they are, and we love them both.  We’re so proud.  Happy birthday, Sam xx

Picture the scene: back-to-school Monday has finally dawned.  If you listen quietly, the collective sigh of thousands of relieved mothers can be  heard drifting across the lough.  It is cold.  At 7.40am on the dot, Gorgeous Lou from next door arrives, perfectly groomed and pristine (you can set your watch by her – the child is a miracle) and we bundle into the ratty but perfectly serviceable Volvo and head to the bus stop, arguing about who actually is sitting in the spot where the dog was sick in the car the other day (I washed it.  I did, honest).

The frost is twinkling in the car headlights, but there is a light drizzle too – an odd combination.  We turn left at the four-way cross and start to head down the steep hill to the Nine Eye Bridge (thanks to Poppy’s Mum for not rolling her eyes when I asked for an explanation for its name – it has nine arches over the lough, apparently) on the way to the bus stop.  Suddenly in front of us, it is all ahead stop: tail lights and… slightly more mysteriously… headlights can be seen, as well as people.  The next ten minutes go something like this:

• A helpful man in slippers appears at #1′s window: ‘it’s nothing more than an ice rink’, he warns us.
• We all panic as, with perfect timing, the car in front of us begins to slip sideways
• Helpful Man in Slippers and various other people decide that the best thing to do is for the cars at the top of the hill (us) to try and turn round, lessening the risk of them sliding into those stuck further down.
• #1 gets out to help and I take the chance to reiterate the fact that if he hadn’t left his school coat lying about someone wouldn’t have nicked it and he wouldn’t now be freezing in his jumper and he’s having a laugh if he thinks I’m buying him another one.
• The white car in front of us goes first, aiming for reverse, but actually achieves a very graceful slide sideways towards the hedge.
• Helpful Man in Slippers and #1 attempt to guide us backwards into a driveway by aiming to get two of the wheels onto the grass verge.
• It becomes apparent that slippers aren’t very good for grip.
• It becomes touch and go whether it will be us, or Helpful Man in Slippers, now being helped by #1, who will end up sliding down towards the bridge first.
• We try to reverse but go nowhere, the wheels hopelessly skidding on the slick black ice, then, with a jolt, we ended up slipping sideways too.
• Gorgeous Lou, from her usual spot in the back seat, emits an involuntary whimper.
• ‘If we start sliding’, adds the Death Wish Child helpfully, ‘we could tip over the bridge and into the lough’.
• I throw the ‘shut the f*ck up’ death glare to the Death Wish Child  in the back seat.
• Helpful Man in Slippers and #1 try to guide me into the driveway by  yelling such useless phrases such as: ‘hard right… not that hard… now left… no!  Yes! but lefter than that…’

Eventually we got turned around and after another false start when we tried to slow down and warn someone else and couldn’t get started again, limped back home and tried the other way around the lough with more success.  Abandoning all hope of catching the bus, and with the ‘gung ho’ spirit of those that have cheated a watery tipping-over-a-bridge type death, we decide to drive to school

Result = a grand total of two hours for the school run.  We probably owe Helpful Man in Slippers a bottle of something too.

So just before we wrap up 2010, I thought you might be interested to hear about the Disreputable One and his poor tractor.  The ancient cricket club tractor has been part of our lives for as long as I can remember.  It’s cut the cricket pitch, trimmed the local verges and dragged gang mowers around the school field since I was teeny (I gained much kudos from waving to my Dad out of the classroom window as he trundled noisily around the playing field, belching out clouds of black smoke behind him).  When I was tiny I used to bag lifts around the cricket pitch on his lap (probably totally against Health and Safety, but hey), and my sons did the same.

Sadly, during a recent chat with the Disreputable One (mostly centred on the state of his grandson’s wedding vegetables (‘will he be able to carry on the Disreputable dynasty?’) he mentioned that the ancient yellow peril is on its last legs.

I was very interested, then, to hear about a great new way to do wondrous things for your community.  I like the Co-operative.  Their ethical approach is very appealing and their Cooperative Membership Fund gives everyone the chance to do something really brilliant.

Basically, the fund is made up of donations given by members who can choose to give a percentage of their profit-share into a big pot.  This year, the Co-operative members have donated £1.2 million to local communities.  You don’t have to be a charity, just a group that would like the extra cash (from £100 up to £2000) to do something special for the place where they live.

And so to the small print:

To get a grant, a group (you don’t have to be a charity) must be aiming to carry out positive work in the community and must address a community issue, provide a long-term benefit to the community, support co-operative values and principles and ideally be innovative in its approach.

So a slightly newer yellow tractor that keeps a little village tidy, its cricket team hitting the odd six and its children merrily kiss-chasing on a summer’s day would seem to be the perfect candidate.

So what about you?  Do your local Brownie pack need some new equipment?  Does your football team need some swanky new kit?  Maybe you’ve even got an old Disreputable One who needs a new tractor?  Click here and apply.  Bexley Swimming Club did:

Dad, get your application in now!

Sponsored Post

Share hosted by Wikio

So it’s been a pretty mixed summer.  We had plenty of sunshine early on (in fact, nearly melting in my conservatory/oven became such a regular feature that I abandoned it for good for a while), but lately it’s been rainy and a bit miserable. Typical British weather.

Still, I managed to take this snap of #1 bowling at a cricket match (note his Grandad, my Disreputable Dad, complete with ancient baggy shorts, taking his umpire role very seriously).  This was the annual parents vs kids end of season cricket match.  Myself and Madame Turtle, my impossibly glamorous niece, were the scorers.  Needless to say between chatting and comparing manicures, we probably missed a few balls.  The sun did come out, but later the clouds rolled over and hid it away.  Still, it didn’t spoil the fun, as you can tell.

I’ve decided to enter it in the Lloyds TSB British weather photographer of the year competition.  I doubt it has a chance (although please do vote for me!), but I reckon boiling grey clouds above a beautiful green cricket pitch is probably about as English as it gets, don’t you?

You can vote for me (and enter your own shots) here:

http://www.lloydstsbweathercompetition.co.uk

About the competition:

The competition runs from 13th April to 20th September 2010.  12 finalists will be chosen in November.  You can enter as many photographs as you wish, although they must be taken in the United Kingdom and you must be a UK resident aged 18 or over.  There’s also a £100 weekly prize for the photograph with the most ‘favourite’ votes.  The 12 finalists will have their photographs displayed at a public exhibition for a week and the overall winner wins £10,000!  What have you got to lose?

Sponsored Post

Share hosted by Wikio

De Brevren made this video together. #2 did the skating and the editing (with help from his big bro), #1 did the filming and because he’s The Mad Professor, somehow knows tricks to get over the YouTube audio copyright restrictions too (shhh).  I might be biased but I think it’s quite good.  Although mothers of small boys everywhere will be buttock clenchingly aware that the child is moments away from several broken bones.  The song is Witchcraft by Pendulum.

My kids were both huge fans of the Percy Jackson books.  My oldest, the Mad Professor in particular had read, nay devoured, and loved all the books, and was adamant he wouldn’t like the film, so when we got the review copy I didn’t hold out much hope.

But do you know what?  It was fabulous.

There aren’t many PG films these days packed with such adventure and excitement – there were enough scary bits to have us all hiding behind our cushions, and enough thrills and spills to keep even our resident cynic entertained (unsurpisingly, it’s from the same director as Harry Potter & The Philosopher’s Stone).  Add in a cracking cross-country road trip, the odd sword fight, a trip to the underworld and some jaw-dropping special effects and you’ll see why we were so impressed.

Percy Jackson (Logan Lehrman) is a cool enough teenager to impress even my jaded teens, and his funky protector: half goat, half human Grover (played by the fabulous Brandon T Jackson) had us laughing out loud.  Bring in a love interest in the form of Annabeth, daughter of Athena and kick-ass swordswoman to boot (Alexandra Daddario), and you’ve got enough to keep most kids interested.  Oh and there’s Sean Bean for us big girls too!

Other highlights include a chilling performance by Uma Thurman as Medusa, and  Steve Coogan as a fantastically evil Hades.

We loved it, giving it an all-round English Towers thumbs up and a pretty darned impressive 8/10.

Percy Jackson & The Lightening Thief is out today on Blu-ray and DVD.

We were whooshed to Stoke on Trent in less than an hour from Milton Keynes on the rather swish Virgin ‘leany train’ (yes, I’m sure it has a proper name too), and met up with fellow bloggers Jen, Rachael and Josie, plus Dan and Kate from Kitchen Critic.

During the journey, we established ground rules for the trip. These included:

1. No smutty jokes – there will be small children present
2. No wrestling amongst the crockery
3. No naughty words on mugs.  Yes, a drawing of a willy is considered naughty.

Here’s our fabulous day in pictures:

I am pleased to report that not only did we have a lovely family day out, but there was no smut, no wrestling, and I think no willies, but when our mugs arrived from Emma Bridgewater I’ll have to check.

If you’re ever in Stoke I’d thoroughly recommend a free factory tour (book in advance!) and a trip to the Potteries Museum where you’ll find a fascinating retrospective of Emma Bridgewater products stretching back the full 25 years (on now until 26th September, entry is free).

And now the thank yous:

Thanks to the lovely Jamie, and all the staff at Emma Bridgewater for a fabulous day out (sorry about all the sniggering – it’s Josie’s fault).  Thanks to the lovely Eb for organising the day, lovely chats and listening to me panicking about train times.

And finally, special thanks to the Death Wish Child and his new camera for all the wonderful pictures (I rent him out y’know…weddings, christenings…).

They’re messy.  And often smelly.  They’re noisy, they argue, they snigger, they stay up too late, have last minute shouty homework panics, fill the house with mates and when they’re hungry my kitchen looks like it’s been attacked by a plague of locusts..

But that day?  That day they danced down the aisle because that’s what they thought would make the day really perfect.

They even wore suits.  Okay, so they insisted on red Converse to complete the outfit, but suits all the same.

They welcomed our friends and family, chatted and laughed, decorated cars, held the ring, sang hymns, didn’t giggle, shook hands, directed traffic.  They behaved like proper gentlemen…

Look at my lovely boys.

God, I am proud.

This post is an entry for Tara Cain’s Gallery: Week 15.

So Thursday, then, dawned bright and gorgeous.  Perfect weather for cramming yourself into full body armour, a helmet and goggles, and firing small missiles at your fellow man.

No, I’m not going mad.  It was The Brethren’s paintballing party (yes, yes, several months after their actual birthdays but then I never pretended to be organised).

Here’s a little précis of my highlights:

• #1 stomping back to the safe zone with a totally orange visor having been hit smack in the face with a paintball (head shots don’t count, but you have to leave the game if you can’t see – taking your goggles off mid-games is illegal – paintballs can travel at speeds of 100mph).
• #2 struggling into body armour about five times too big for him, insisting hotly that it was fine before finally being persuaded to go and get the right size.
• The manager offering to lend me a hi-viz so I could go and take some photos of the action ‘although I can’t guarantee you won’t get shot’.  Er, no thanks.
• The full body armour photos afterwards.
• The fact that #1′s mate grabbed a smoke grenade and hurled it back (a long career in the forces awaits this fella)
• Comparing bruises between rounds (they might be gelatine skinned but they still bloody hurt if they miss the body armour).

Special thanks to Olly and Sarah at International Paintball Group (ipg.uk.net) and the fantastic staff at Delta Force, Hemel Hempstead for making our day so enjoyable.

Secondly, I’d like to point out that my oldest child is taking full advantage of the magnets. How educational!