Tim Atkinson's Blog, page 107

Wordless Wednesday...choo! choo!

Meldrew Monday

In a new and occasional series of Monday morning moans I'm going to start with something of an obsession: using your mobile phone while driving. In fact not merely using it, but texting on it. And not merely driving (in a car, say) but leaning with your elbows on the steering wheel of an enormous HGV while both thumbs tap out a message on your mobile phone. I've seen it, all too often. Once, I was traveling by coach and therefore at the cab height. Horrendous. Frightening. Appalling. I recently drove back from school and counted seven lorry drivers on their 'phones. And then on Saturday, in freezing fog and the remains of all that snow, we took the Santa express to Peterborough on the Nene Valley Railway. But not before passing 'thumb man' on his mobile. Shocked? I suppose we were, but not surprised. Not any more.



What I don't get is why so-called professional drivers should risk their livelihoods (not to mention the safety of other road users as well as their own freedom should they cause an accident and thereafter be convicted) when the cost of a hands-free kit is so small. And I know what you're going to say: I should be looking at the road. And I am. But a large part of it consists of several tons of metal coming in the opposite direction while under the so-called control of a texting lorry driver.



Car drivers are as bad, I'm certain. But my eyes are magnetically, hypnotically and irresistibly drawn to the horrifying spectacle of the loony in the lorry. I was taught to drive (many moons ago) by an army instructor who was big on watching and second-guessing the intentions of other road users. And it's never left me. And neither do the images of carnage when my imagination takes over.



I simply don't believe it. I DO NOT BELIEVE IT!



So there's my Monday moan. Am I on my own? I doubt it. So come on, get it off your chest. Let's have a moan together, and then maybe we'll all feel better.



Your turn...

Saturday Review

Well, been quite a week eh?



I know you've probably all had snow, but the stuff here has been happening to me. And anyway, doesn't it look pretty?







In spite of a white-out, freeze-up and all the other wickedness the weather has thrown at us, the post's been getting through. In fact, I even saw a postie wearing shorts. I'm not kidding - in the snow! I refrained from appraising the fellow of my opinion on the grounds that he must've been well 'ard, but I bet you can guess. I mean.... shorts! And short shorts. In the snow!



And that's not all. I got an email this weeks from the Post Office asking if they could give one of you ('lucky readers') I think they called you - so now you know) 50 quid! Here's what it said....





Win a £50 Post Office Gift Card



Bringing Up Charlie and Post Office® have teamed up to give you the chance to win a £50 Post Office gift card just in time for the January sales! Redeemable at over 17,000 outlets across the UK including Argos, Currys, Topman, the Post Office® gift card  is very flexible and will be your new best friend when hitting the shops in the new year. 



You don't have to spend it all at once,or all in one store, how you use the card is completely up to you. You can use it to shop at your favourite stores, have a great day out or enjoy a once-in a-lifetime experience.



You may be surprised to see just how many services the Post Office® offer, such as competitive savings accounts with their online saver being awarded Moneyfacts 'Best Buy' savings rate.



So now you know.



Anyway, to enter simply leave a comment below and I'll choose the winner by a process of random selection in a week's time. It really is that simple!



Finally, we're putting up the decorations this weekend. We've waited long enough. If I'd had my way the tree'd have gone up in October. Anyway, while we do so we'll be listening to this:





It's by Sophie Barker again, just like the nursery rhyme disc and it's rapidly becoming one of my favourite Christmas CDs (along with Maddy Prior, The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic and Sir David Willcocks, so she's in good company).



Anyway, I've gone on long enough. It's time to deck them halls...

Dishing the dirt

Can it really be true? Can teens be too clean? The empirical evidence of my nose when in close proximity to the boys of a certain local grammar school suggests not. In my experience - traveling to work by train - teenage boys all emanate an overpowering aroma of either Lynx, crisps (of the most disgusting flavour) or farts. Or sometimes all three. I don't think they're in much danger of being 'too clean for their own good' as the University of California claims.



Anyway, Fairy knows a thing or two about keeping clean. In fact, Fairy Non Bio has just won Gold in the Best Baby Friendly Detergent category while Fairy Fabric Softener has won Silver in the Best Baby Friendly Fabric Conditioner category at the Practical Parenting awards. Not only that, they'd like to celebrate by offering a month's supply of Fairy Non Bio and Fairy Fabric Softener as well as £50 worth of Mothercare vouchers to to one lucky reader, plus a month's supply of Fairy Non Bio and Fairy Fabric Softener for one runner up. As usual, to enter all you have to do is leave a comment. Actually, that's not all you have to do. That's far too easy. What I'd like to know is this: what 'smells like teen spirit' for you? Are there any Proustian aromas that transport you back to teenage-dom? And what do you think of the so-called 'hygiene hypothesis'? Is cleanliness next to Godliness? Or should we follow Dirt Girl and go get grubby?

Snow joke

I made it. Work, that is. School was open; most of the students attended. And although a few complained they didn't get a 'snow day' most didn't seem to mind. There was one boy on the train this morning moaning loudly, 'what's the point of snow if you don't get a day off school?' as if the purpose of winter weather was to let him lie in bed. I imagined him listening resentfully the local radio station read out the names of all the schools that were closed, cursing as it became clear his wasn't on the list. I'd been listening to the same thing myself just yesterday. Although, not teaching on a Monday if had no interest in the outcome. What did amuse and then annoy me was the number of callers 'phoning in to say how swift they thought the school's were to close their doors, how work-shy the teachers all must be and how 'it would never have happened in their day.'

Well, maybe. But I bet when they trudged through ten foot snow drifts in the good ol' days it was to a local school. What many people (conveniently) forget is that - thanks to twenty years of cuts - thousands of children now have to travel long distances by bus, even in towns and cities. And in many cases (certainly in rural Lincolnshire) it's the bus companies whose decisions determine school closures - not the teachers. But since when did the truth get in the way of a good story, eh?

While we're at it, why not make invidious comparisons to Scandinavian countries. I bet their schools don't close and the trains all run on time. But then given the amount of snow they get they'd have to, wouldn't they? Or else they might as well just hibernate for six months every year. After all, they get an awful lot of snow, much more than we do.

I must admit I actually quite like it. Not because it might get me an extra day off, but because it changes things. It's unusual; it makes things look and feel and sound completely different. Because it's unusual. Which is why no matter how accurate the weather forecast, we're never quite prepared.



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Sunday supplement

I've been sent a few things, as a blogger, that have only been on loan. Normally I'm quite content to try things out for a week or two and tell you what I think before I give them back. No-one would expect to keep a car they'd tested (although if you're reading this and you've got one, I'm not refusing). And there have been some things I've been glad to see the back of (see 'This Sucks'). But although I've only used it once (so far) and have it for a few more weeks, I can see the day the Tefal Acti-Fry goes back is going to be a sad one. Now I'm no gadget man. I know, the two go almost hand in hand but I'm as happy doing things by hand as by machine. I am, however, keen on two things: price, and health. And not in that order, either. I've already started making home-made oven chips instead of paying silly money for the frozen ones. But I've shied away from deep-fat friers well, because of all that fat. So the promise of a pan of home-cooked chips for just a teaspoon full of oil was just crying out for some empirical validation. Here are the results.



First, peel and chip your spuds



Add to the Tefal Acti-Fry; add oil... just a teaspoon, mind!



Set the timer



Cook..



And eat... It really is that simple. And the chips are wonderful - light and fluffy on the inside, yet delicately crispy on the outside. As it's Sunday, I'm going to try doing my roast potatoes in them. Because - unlike many a deep-fat frier - this thing'll do a lot more than merely cook a plate of chips. I'll let you know how we get on.



So much for 'in corpora sano'. If 'mens sana' is more your thing, this book might be the thing for you.



It's a fascinating trawl through the sometimes murky world of children's nursery rhymes, and I've got a copy to give away (leave a comment below and it could be you). And when I say fascinating, I'm not kidding. Did you know, for example, that the 'Old Women who Lived in a Shoe' wasn't a woman at all, but a King (George II) or that 'Mary, Mary' might have nothing whatsoever to do with gardening (I'll spare the winces of any male readers by refraining from informing you what 'cockshells' were used for!) or even that that absurd rhyme about a mouse scampering up a clock is actually about 'Hickory Dicky' Richard Cromwell (son - and brief successor - of Lord Protector Oliver)?



Albert Jack also has some interesting ideas about the well-known rhyme 'Ride a Cock Horse' which it turns out might have nothing to do with Banbury Cross but refer to Lady Godiva riding through the streets of Coventry wearing nothing but her weddings rings (on her fingers) and bells on her toes which were to remind the inhabitants of the city that they'd promised to spare her blushes by turning their backs as she passed. All except a boy called Tom, that is. Hence the phrase, 'peeping Tom'.



Which leads nicely to the second in my occasional series revealing all about my fellow bloggers and their blogging names. Because today's subject is 'Barenakedmummy'! I'd better let her take up the story...



Can I just clear something up, I'm not naked in any way shape or form. No wait come back!! I mean, have you tried writing a blog post when your laptop is burning your legs - no? - well I have and that is why I am clothed. So, why the name I hear you say... well as my memory is crap at the best of times its either 



I was listening to the Barenaked Ladies on the radio and thought 'Barenaked Mummy' that's catching, or
I wanted somewhere where I could bare my soul, not hide behind anything, become naked so that emotions could be shown and I was a mummy, or
none of the above and I really am a nudist!! 
Anyway I am Barenakedmummy or, if commenting on other people's messages, BNM, and if you do want to see me without my clothes on, then you'll have to come over. And be disappointed. But I may even fit another vlog in before Christmas, if only to make some more choccy-rocky fans happy!! 



That would certainly make me happy, although I haven't got a clue what 'choccy-rocky' is. But listen to BNM say it - go on! Anyway, now you know... maybe a little more than you wanted to!



Enjoy your Sunday.

Psychology Friday: Piaget

Everyone who's ever trained as a teacher or studied child psychology will have heard of Jean Piaget. For year's his work has formed the basis of many commonly-held opinions about child development and his theories of education have influenced governments and schools across the globe.



He was actually a biologist (publishing over twenty papers on molluscs, of all things) but it's for his ground-breaking work in child psychology that he's best known. In fact he's often placed on something of a pedestal by many people. Equally, there are plenty keen to topple him.



Out of sight is out of mind



One of the foundation stones of Piaget's developmental theories is the idea that young children - under the age of one year - lack what he called object permanence. In other words, when things are out of sight, they might as well just not exist. Now when we grown ups close the curtains, we don't think that the street outside just disappears. Asking how you can be sure might kick-start your career as a philosopher, but most of us take it for granted. Except for young babies. Before the age of about eight months babies won't search for something even if they've seen you hiding it. It's said that Piaget own seven-month-old daughter Jacqueline inspired this discovery, when daddy Jean noticed she made no attempt to find a plastic duck even though she'd seen where it had gone.



'Do' try this at home



So, here's a psychology experiment you can try for yourself:





Take one child (under the age of eight or nine months) and hide one of their toys. Let them see you do it; make sure they know where the toy is hidden. Now watch what happens.
Next take a child over the age of one and repeat the experiment. What difference (if any) do you see?


Piaget concluded from further experiments and observations that children don't start to think about things they can't see until a later stage in their development. It's a lovely game to play for anyone at home with tiny children. Don't believe me? Have a look at Lucille - first at six months, then at ten - and see the difference.





That Piaget was on to something!

Wordless Wednesday

Although there are a lot of 'em in here...




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Musical Monday: St Cecilia

As some of you know, I like to think I'm a bit of a musician. Although not trained (beyond pseudo-grade six piano) I've been fortunate enough to be among the backing singers for Sir Paul McCartney and Lesley Garrett, to sing several times at the BBC Proms and to perform at Notre Dame, Paris and Chartres Cathedrals. I'd recommend anyone with an interest in music to become a singer: you get sit behind a professional, trained and fully paid-up orchestra and make recordings and broadcasts as well as sing with big star soloists and work with conductors of almost God-like status. And all for a bit of warbling, albeit in tune (mostly) and following the dots quite closely. It really is a wonderful way to piggy-back a pro-musical career: you get the glory, and none of the hard work. Well, hardly. Anyway, today is the feast day of the Patron Saint of music, one Cecilia by name who legend has it staved off martyrdom (temporarily) by singing God's praises. Jolly well done, I'd say.



Nearer to home, one William Byrd (sometime organist of Lincoln Cathedral, where I occasionally do some of my singing) wrote eight reasons why everyone should sing, which I reproduce below:



1. It is a knowledge easely taught and quickly learned, where there is a good Master and an apt Scoller.

2. The exercise of singing is delightfull to Nature and good to preserve the health of Man.

3. It doth strengthen all parts of the brest, and doth open the pipes.

4. It is a singular good remedie for stammering in the speech.

5. It is the best meanes to procure a perfect pronunciation, and to make a good Orator.

6. It is the onely way to know where Nature hath bestowed the benefit of a good voyce; which guift is so rare as there is not one among a thousand that hath it; and in many that excellent guift is lost because they want Art to express Nature.

7. There is not any Musicke of Instruments whatsoever comparable to that which is made of the voyces of men, where the voyces are good and the same well sorted and ordered.

8. The better the voyce is, the meter it is to honour and serve God therewith; and the voyce of man is chiefely to be employed to that ende.



He also wrote this sublime five part mass, which it has been my pleasure to perform.





And to sum up, he said:



Since singing is so good a thing,

I wish all men would learne to sing.



And we might add, women. And children. In fact, everyone. It's been shown that singing releases endorphins, helps the breathing, eases anxiety and depression and gets people moving.



So what are you waiting for?



Get singing!

Saturday Review

You can tell it's getting close to Christmas, can't you? Carols and Christmas trees in all the stores, the festive lights turned on in towns and cities up and down the country and - if you're a blogger - a veritable avalanche of emails offering opportunities to review all manner of items in the hope that they'll be added to somebody's Christmas list. Actually, I'm not averse to getting those emails. At least not if they get my name and sex right. They always seem to find my blog 'amazing', 'marvelous', and 'fantastic' (even if some of them haven't read it) and heap on the superlatives until my ego is well and truly massaged. I swear one of them last week called me 'delicious'. Or was that my blog?



But I digress. A couple of weeks ago I offered one lucky reader the chance to win a Christmas hamper. Then last weekend I told you all about Simon Rose's new book, Games for the 21st Century Family. Well, Simon's kindly offered a signed copy of the book to another lucky reader. And what better way of deciding who then by using one of Simon's hi-tech games? So, by process of logical deduction, mathematical precision and cunning erudition (ok, we made numbers out of all the bloggers names and the fastest one to be de-coded became the winner - it's called Zebra 93272 and it's on page 136) the winners were *drumroll*...



LakesSingleMum (the book)

and

DomesticGoddesque (hamper)

Congratulations!



If you'd both like to email me I'll set in motion the train of events that will see your respective prizes winging towards your different abodes. But wait! There was another prize. I almost forgot the bottle of brand-new Aerial Stain-Remover Gel with Whitener. Mind you, as I never did get the sample that the PR promised me (no doubt whilst sweet-talking me about what a 'fab' blog I've got) I'm not sure I hold out much hope. Anyway, a swift game of 'rock, paper, pixels' (p.86) eliminated all but the Bloggertropolis himself, Steve. Well done Steve. Those whites will soon be whiter than white! If such a thing is possible.



I'm almost too tired after all that excitement to tell you about these goodies. Suffice to say they're all well worth putting on someone's Christmas list (I've seen them) and so I'm going to leave you with a nice picture and a link to a longer review.



First, a deliciously retro book with, as one blogger said, a 'deliciously retro cover'...





Next, the Best Counting Book Ever. Bold claim, but also a boldly and brightly illustrated book...





And finally, this. I must declare an interest in this last book: I'm its editor. Remember the creative writing e-course earlier this year? Well, this is the anthology, published yesterday and already raising plenty for Children in Need. And conveniently, you can order your copy right here and now, without leaving this blog. See that little 'add to cart' button on the right? That's all you need; it's as simple as that.





I suppose, as my own PR, I ought to be sending sycophantic emails to myself about that book. In fact, I might just do that. At least I'd get my own name right.



Have a great weekend!