Tim Atkinson's Blog, page 108
November 18, 2010
Are men pre-programmed to play around?
Of course, the answer is 'yes' - on one level, that is. Genetically speaking, blokes are made to play the field, sow their wild oats, increase the chances of passing on their immortal genes and every other sexist cliché going. But there are any number of our animal instincts (from peeing in the park to sleeping when we're shagged out) that we don't necessarily give in to. It's called civilisation; we could eat when we're hungry, sleep when we're sleepy and sh*g when we've horny but the demands of work, law, relationships and culture demand that we keep our baser instincts in some kind of order.
Anyway, all this talk of infidelity is inspired by novelist and screenwriter William Nicholson's recent article in which he said, essentially, that if all men could, they would. Well, speak for yourself Mr Nicholson. I'm going to stick my neck out (yes, I said NECK and nothing smaller Heather) here and make the point I don't think Mr Nicholson appreciates, at least according to the coverage he's been given - namely that yes, sex is a base and instinctive impulse; yes, we can (and do... I hope Jesus isn't listening) commit the sin of 'adultery in our hearts' (Matthew 5, 27-32) - but in a civilised, sophisticated and evolved society there's something more than an exchange of bodily fluids about a relationship, namely the willing surrendering of your most intimate self to another human being. In other words, trust. And commitment. And with another person.
To digress briefly, I've nothing fundamental against pornography. In years of teaching sex education at an all-boys grammar school I've had plenty of opportunities to discuss it with the most responsive audience. But although it might tick all of the physical arousal boxes, there's always going to be something lacking: that is, the ultimate trusting intimacy with another human being. I'm not going to go into detail here, but consider this: is sex ever any better than with someone you know and trust (and love) without question? Does 'more' always equal better? Or are we - by virtue of our offspring's unfeasibily long period of parental dependance - actually genetically programmed to be monogamous, to make the most of what we've got and attain much higher planes of sexual pleasure as a result?
I'll leave it to you to decide. But in a week where one high-profile wedding has dominated the media agenda it's worth considering why we promise (if indeed we do) to 'forsake all others' when everything - from advertising images to sleb marriages - seems to suggest the opposite: that sex is merely another consumer product, a recreational activity, marketable and disposable along with the people it inevitable consumes.
Could you forgive and forget as Mr Nicholson suggests?
Anyway, all this talk of infidelity is inspired by novelist and screenwriter William Nicholson's recent article in which he said, essentially, that if all men could, they would. Well, speak for yourself Mr Nicholson. I'm going to stick my neck out (yes, I said NECK and nothing smaller Heather) here and make the point I don't think Mr Nicholson appreciates, at least according to the coverage he's been given - namely that yes, sex is a base and instinctive impulse; yes, we can (and do... I hope Jesus isn't listening) commit the sin of 'adultery in our hearts' (Matthew 5, 27-32) - but in a civilised, sophisticated and evolved society there's something more than an exchange of bodily fluids about a relationship, namely the willing surrendering of your most intimate self to another human being. In other words, trust. And commitment. And with another person.
To digress briefly, I've nothing fundamental against pornography. In years of teaching sex education at an all-boys grammar school I've had plenty of opportunities to discuss it with the most responsive audience. But although it might tick all of the physical arousal boxes, there's always going to be something lacking: that is, the ultimate trusting intimacy with another human being. I'm not going to go into detail here, but consider this: is sex ever any better than with someone you know and trust (and love) without question? Does 'more' always equal better? Or are we - by virtue of our offspring's unfeasibily long period of parental dependance - actually genetically programmed to be monogamous, to make the most of what we've got and attain much higher planes of sexual pleasure as a result?
I'll leave it to you to decide. But in a week where one high-profile wedding has dominated the media agenda it's worth considering why we promise (if indeed we do) to 'forsake all others' when everything - from advertising images to sleb marriages - seems to suggest the opposite: that sex is merely another consumer product, a recreational activity, marketable and disposable along with the people it inevitable consumes.
Could you forgive and forget as Mr Nicholson suggests?
November 16, 2010
A day in the life...
...of a stay-at-home dad and psychology teacher. Nothing special happened today; it was pretty typical really. My wife was on nursery-run duty this morning, so I went to school on the train. As I walked to the railway station the sun was just rising above the River Witham...
And the good thing about living in Hicksville is you can usually get a seat on the train. Which is handy for all that last-minute marking...
Then after a morning in the classroom it was home by car to collect Charlie. But it was such a lovely afternoon, we had a picnic lunch and enjoyed views like this...
We arrived home to the now ubiquitous red card from the postman. And the news that Kate Middleton is to marry Prince William. It couldn't happen to a nicer girl, even if she did 'moon' from the windows of the girls dorm while at Marlborough according to one schoolfriend.
And on that 'bum' note, I'd better sign off before I'm taken to the Tower.
So that was my day - how was it for you?[image error]
And the good thing about living in Hicksville is you can usually get a seat on the train. Which is handy for all that last-minute marking...
Then after a morning in the classroom it was home by car to collect Charlie. But it was such a lovely afternoon, we had a picnic lunch and enjoyed views like this...
We arrived home to the now ubiquitous red card from the postman. And the news that Kate Middleton is to marry Prince William. It couldn't happen to a nicer girl, even if she did 'moon' from the windows of the girls dorm while at Marlborough according to one schoolfriend.
And on that 'bum' note, I'd better sign off before I'm taken to the Tower.
So that was my day - how was it for you?[image error]
November 14, 2010
Sunday Supplement
First up today, some reading matter. Although Charlie's a little young to be Google-whacking or perfecting the skills of Japanese paper-folding, I've been sent a couple of books which are likely to come into their own in the years to come. First, there's Fun and Games for the 21st Century Family, in which Steve Caplin and Simon Rose bring home-made family entertainment up-so-date with over 200 new, exciting and creative ideas from Google racing to geocaching, code breaking to filmmaking. The idea is simple: all those 21st century gadgets no home is now without (think mobiles, SatNavs, laptops, MP3 players, camcorders, and the like) and which can be the scourge of family-life are put to good use as the source of endlessly creative and energetic family-friendly forms of entertainment. I remember similar things in my day using matchboxes, cardboard tubes and car-number plates. And if you're feeling nostalgic, there are some blasts from the past in this book too. But if your kids need surgery to be separated from their iPods, this book could be a boon to family harmony. And I've one copy to give away. Leave a comment below and we'll use one of the games to select a winner next week.
Simpler pleasures come in the form of Fly Origami Fly in which Mari and Roshin Ono give you instructions plus all the paper you need to make over 30 brilliant flying objects and animals all of which can be made in minutes. And even the ancient art of origami gets a 21st century with projects including origami rockets, space shuttles and other flying objects.
In other news we've been trialling the Phillips light-therapy wake-up light for about a week, waking up to our own mini-sunrise and dawn chorus. It's early days, but whether it's auto-suggestion or not it does seem to make me feel a little less groggy first thing in the morning. At least, that is, if it's allowed to work its wake-up magic before Charlie climbs into bed telling me it's time to get up. Which he did yesterday morning. At half-past five.
Although the clocks went back a couple of weeks ago, we're not quite as daylight-deprived as the inhabitants of a town called Longyearbyen, in Norway (within the Arctic Circle and with four months of almost total darkness every year). Anyway, the people of Longyearbyen are doing their very own trial of the Wake-up Light and tracking their progress on a dedicated Facebook page. If it helps them get out of bed in a morning, it'll surely help anyone.
Finally, don't you ever see a blog and wonder where the name came from? Or puzzle over a particular bloggers pseudonym? Well in an occasional series starting today, I plan to reveal all. First up, it's Julie B who blogs at The Sardine Tin. I'll let her tell the story.
I often get asked if the meaning behind my blog name is that I have a large family squashed into a small house! I have to laugh and tell people that no, actually this is not the case. The real story is that it is based on a favourite quote of mine by Alan Bennett; "Life is rather like a tin of sardines - we're all of us looking for the key". As my blog is a random collection of the thoughts going round in my head (recent subjects ranging from terrorism to sandwiches), it seemed quite apt. I also had two further criteria, namely that it would be memorable (which I hope it is), and that the twitter ID would be available!
So now you know. Next week it's: BareNakedMummy. But probably not with pictures... sorry!
Simpler pleasures come in the form of Fly Origami Fly in which Mari and Roshin Ono give you instructions plus all the paper you need to make over 30 brilliant flying objects and animals all of which can be made in minutes. And even the ancient art of origami gets a 21st century with projects including origami rockets, space shuttles and other flying objects.
In other news we've been trialling the Phillips light-therapy wake-up light for about a week, waking up to our own mini-sunrise and dawn chorus. It's early days, but whether it's auto-suggestion or not it does seem to make me feel a little less groggy first thing in the morning. At least, that is, if it's allowed to work its wake-up magic before Charlie climbs into bed telling me it's time to get up. Which he did yesterday morning. At half-past five.
Although the clocks went back a couple of weeks ago, we're not quite as daylight-deprived as the inhabitants of a town called Longyearbyen, in Norway (within the Arctic Circle and with four months of almost total darkness every year). Anyway, the people of Longyearbyen are doing their very own trial of the Wake-up Light and tracking their progress on a dedicated Facebook page. If it helps them get out of bed in a morning, it'll surely help anyone.
Finally, don't you ever see a blog and wonder where the name came from? Or puzzle over a particular bloggers pseudonym? Well in an occasional series starting today, I plan to reveal all. First up, it's Julie B who blogs at The Sardine Tin. I'll let her tell the story.
I often get asked if the meaning behind my blog name is that I have a large family squashed into a small house! I have to laugh and tell people that no, actually this is not the case. The real story is that it is based on a favourite quote of mine by Alan Bennett; "Life is rather like a tin of sardines - we're all of us looking for the key". As my blog is a random collection of the thoughts going round in my head (recent subjects ranging from terrorism to sandwiches), it seemed quite apt. I also had two further criteria, namely that it would be memorable (which I hope it is), and that the twitter ID would be available!
So now you know. Next week it's: BareNakedMummy. But probably not with pictures... sorry!
November 12, 2010
Psychology Friday... What would YOU do?
I'm running late. Nothing unusual about that, nor the fact that - as I march up the nursery drive to collect Charlie - other parents are already driving away, their offspring safely strapped in car-seats. Except one. I only notice when the car is level with me, but one little boy about Charlie's age is sitting proudly on his mummy's knee as daddy pulls off into the traffic. It would've been hard for me to intervene. I was on foot; the car was moving, to say nothing about what might have happened if I'd started gesticulating wildly as they drove away. I did once politely (I thought) point out to a motorist that he was driving the wrong way down a one-way street and nearly got run down for my trouble, so I'm no have-a-go hero. But what should I have done? What would you have done?
Now have a look at this clip.
When I was showing it a couple of weeks ago to my psychology class they were shocked, not that anyone would do such a thing because they knew it wasn't really happening; that it was part of an experiment. No. What shocked them was that so few people intervened. But when Irving Piliavin conducted an experiment into bystander intervention in 1969 he found a mere 50% of fellow passengers would come to aid of someone 'in distress' on the New York subway. Interestingly, that percentage increased if the apparent patient was elderly and appeared to be wealthy. But if he appeared drunk, hardly anyone would look up from their newspaper. If he was black and 'drunk', forget it. Over 30% of fellow-passengers actually got up and moved to a different carriage when someone near them needed helping.
So far, so predictable. People are reluctant to get involved, especially of they perceive some risk to themselves. But where does duty begin and self-interest end? The case of a baby, helpless, alone in the car, cries out for bystander intervention. As does the case of the front-lap passenger toddler.
I resolved to quietly have a word with the parents next time I saw them. But what would you have done?
Now have a look at this clip.
When I was showing it a couple of weeks ago to my psychology class they were shocked, not that anyone would do such a thing because they knew it wasn't really happening; that it was part of an experiment. No. What shocked them was that so few people intervened. But when Irving Piliavin conducted an experiment into bystander intervention in 1969 he found a mere 50% of fellow passengers would come to aid of someone 'in distress' on the New York subway. Interestingly, that percentage increased if the apparent patient was elderly and appeared to be wealthy. But if he appeared drunk, hardly anyone would look up from their newspaper. If he was black and 'drunk', forget it. Over 30% of fellow-passengers actually got up and moved to a different carriage when someone near them needed helping.
So far, so predictable. People are reluctant to get involved, especially of they perceive some risk to themselves. But where does duty begin and self-interest end? The case of a baby, helpless, alone in the car, cries out for bystander intervention. As does the case of the front-lap passenger toddler.
I resolved to quietly have a word with the parents next time I saw them. But what would you have done?
November 10, 2010
Wordless Wednesday
Well I was speechless actually...
Imagine (as they say) my surprise when - having returned from an abortive trip to the Sorting Office to collect a package addressed to my son (what do you mean, you've no ID for him? Haven't you got his birth cirstickifut?) - I returned from work to find this on the mat.
Sometimes it just doesn't seem worth going out to work.
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November 8, 2010
Lord, preserve us!
Or if not The Lord, then at least the British Library. Out of the blue I received an email last week. It looked like this:
Remarkably, it isn't a hoax. Apparently the British Library is ensuring sites like mine aren't lost in the ether of ephemera that is the internet. As they say, 'Thousands of UK websites have been collected since 2004 and the Archive is growing fast.' Visitors can, '...see how sites have changed over time, locate information no longer available on the live Web and observe the unfolding history of a spectrum of UK activities represented online. The Archive contains sites that reflect the rich diversity of lives and interests throughout the UK.' Including, apparently, the random jottings of stay-at-home dads.
Which reminds me, I have yet to reply. Not that I'm having any doubts about agreeing. Far from it! Although it does rather make your fingers linger slightly longer over the computer keyboard knowing that what you are about to write is likely to be preserved ad infinitum, read by the scholars of the future and picked over for the tiniest clue about what life was like as a dad in the twenty-first century. It's makes each post rather like burying a time capsule: what to include? What to leave out? And why?
Of course, as they've already selected the site they're well aware of the eclectic range of topics that my bird-like brain alights upon to turn into a blog-post. But the concept of having your words read long into the future, when the world you inhabit no longer exists, when the things you hold dear no longer have meaning and the very medium you write in is as outdated as a typewriter is as fascinating as it is frightening. I'm going to give some thought to what I'd like to tell my readers of the future. And I'm asking for your suggestions, too. What should we tell a historian of the future about blogging, parenting and writing? Can we know now, in the middle of it all, what will be important in fifty or a hundred years time? And what, if anything, would you like to edit out?!
Remarkably, it isn't a hoax. Apparently the British Library is ensuring sites like mine aren't lost in the ether of ephemera that is the internet. As they say, 'Thousands of UK websites have been collected since 2004 and the Archive is growing fast.' Visitors can, '...see how sites have changed over time, locate information no longer available on the live Web and observe the unfolding history of a spectrum of UK activities represented online. The Archive contains sites that reflect the rich diversity of lives and interests throughout the UK.' Including, apparently, the random jottings of stay-at-home dads.
Which reminds me, I have yet to reply. Not that I'm having any doubts about agreeing. Far from it! Although it does rather make your fingers linger slightly longer over the computer keyboard knowing that what you are about to write is likely to be preserved ad infinitum, read by the scholars of the future and picked over for the tiniest clue about what life was like as a dad in the twenty-first century. It's makes each post rather like burying a time capsule: what to include? What to leave out? And why?
Of course, as they've already selected the site they're well aware of the eclectic range of topics that my bird-like brain alights upon to turn into a blog-post. But the concept of having your words read long into the future, when the world you inhabit no longer exists, when the things you hold dear no longer have meaning and the very medium you write in is as outdated as a typewriter is as fascinating as it is frightening. I'm going to give some thought to what I'd like to tell my readers of the future. And I'm asking for your suggestions, too. What should we tell a historian of the future about blogging, parenting and writing? Can we know now, in the middle of it all, what will be important in fifty or a hundred years time? And what, if anything, would you like to edit out?!
November 6, 2010
Remember, Remember
Not quite the fifth of November any longer, but this is how we marked the occasion last night
Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone4
Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone4
November 4, 2010
Dulce et Decorum est
Ninety-two years ago today the poet Wilfred Owen was killed, just one week before the Armistice and the end of the carnage that was World War One. Dulce et Decorum est is the title of one of the most famous pieces of war poetry ever written, one composed while Owen was hospitalised at Craiglockhart near Edinburgh under the care of the psychiatrist W.H.Rivers. Another of Rivers' patients - Captain 'Mad Jack' Siegfried Sassoon - was admitted to the same hospital thanks to a letter he had written deploring the Dulce et Decorum est pro patria mori (How sweet it is to die for one's country) sentiments of the public back at home in Blighty. The two met; the older - published - poet (Sassoon) gave the younger man some tips; both resumed active service on the Western Front, one - Owen - never to return. Pat Barker wrote what is possibly the best Booker prize-winning novel ever about it, The Regeneration Trilogy; if you haven't read it, I can recommend it.
But this post isn't about that. As part of a course I've been studying, I've been asked to read some extracts from a story and a screenplay called Nella Last's War by Victoria Wood. Set in World War Two, it confounds your expectations by casting the mother in the role of 'my son must fight for King and Country', while the father wants the boy to stay safe at home, and gets teary-eyed at the thought of his son going overseas. Which rather set me thinking about my own reaction should - God forbid - anything of a similar nature happen in our family. And I think I might be with the father on this one.
There. I've said it. But I'm also going to say that I'm no pacifist: some battles need fighting and I'm in awe and full of admiration for those who volunteer to do our fighting for us. And for their families. Going to war, putting your life on the line, can never be easy. But my heart goes out for all those who are left behind doing the vacuuming, folding clothes, glancing at photographs and waiting. Any parent who has struggled (and it is a struggle) through the early years of a child's life will know what I mean. That hard work, those nappies, the washing, the sleepless nights; it's all done for love. And them growing up won't dilute it. How can you watch a child you've safely seen to adulthood going off to war? I can't imagine it. Well, I can; but it doesn't help.
So as Remembrance Day approaches spare a thought not only for the heroes, but for their families. And if Horace doesn't mind (and my old Latin teacher can stand it) let's change that quote from the ridiculous to the sublime: not Dulce et Decorum est pro patria mori, but Dulce et Decorum est pro familia mori.
But this post isn't about that. As part of a course I've been studying, I've been asked to read some extracts from a story and a screenplay called Nella Last's War by Victoria Wood. Set in World War Two, it confounds your expectations by casting the mother in the role of 'my son must fight for King and Country', while the father wants the boy to stay safe at home, and gets teary-eyed at the thought of his son going overseas. Which rather set me thinking about my own reaction should - God forbid - anything of a similar nature happen in our family. And I think I might be with the father on this one.
There. I've said it. But I'm also going to say that I'm no pacifist: some battles need fighting and I'm in awe and full of admiration for those who volunteer to do our fighting for us. And for their families. Going to war, putting your life on the line, can never be easy. But my heart goes out for all those who are left behind doing the vacuuming, folding clothes, glancing at photographs and waiting. Any parent who has struggled (and it is a struggle) through the early years of a child's life will know what I mean. That hard work, those nappies, the washing, the sleepless nights; it's all done for love. And them growing up won't dilute it. How can you watch a child you've safely seen to adulthood going off to war? I can't imagine it. Well, I can; but it doesn't help.
So as Remembrance Day approaches spare a thought not only for the heroes, but for their families. And if Horace doesn't mind (and my old Latin teacher can stand it) let's change that quote from the ridiculous to the sublime: not Dulce et Decorum est pro patria mori, but Dulce et Decorum est pro familia mori.
November 2, 2010
Nightmare on Bed Street
Random facts from an insomniac wireless listener
1. In Jakharta they're passing a law making it illegal not to exclusively breast-feed Indonesian babies for the first six months;
2. The US mid-terms are looking bad for President Obama, bit the Republican Tea Party phenomenon might just be the last gasp of the older generation of American voters. Two years ago, and for the first time in it's history, more people under the age of thirty voted than people over sixty;
3. CBeebie's Andy presents schools radio programmes in the middle of the night. And so does Mr Justin Tumble;
4. The moon - far from being made of cheese - is actually made of earth, our earth, part of the planet that sheered off after a catastrophic meteor collision several million years ago.
And talking of the moon, that was the answer to the mystery-photo question last Saturday. Lots of people guessed correctly; many said 'the Moon' in one form or another but it was neither Harvest Moon nor partial eclipse but the full-moon last Monday evening rising over the sea at Robin Hoods Bay. We spent a very pleasant day there in half-term last week, and sat as it got dark watching ships on the horizon. At first we thought the ghostly orange glow was another of them, but as it rose huge and orange from the water it started to resemble one of the many Halloween lanterns decorating the shops and houses of this tiny Yorkshire fishing town.
I don't seem to recall having the same difficulty sleeping last week. No doubt I was lulled by the ebb and flow of the sea. Anyway, thank-you BBC World Service for keeping me entertained and informed last night.
What do you do when you can't sleep?
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
1. In Jakharta they're passing a law making it illegal not to exclusively breast-feed Indonesian babies for the first six months;
2. The US mid-terms are looking bad for President Obama, bit the Republican Tea Party phenomenon might just be the last gasp of the older generation of American voters. Two years ago, and for the first time in it's history, more people under the age of thirty voted than people over sixty;
3. CBeebie's Andy presents schools radio programmes in the middle of the night. And so does Mr Justin Tumble;
4. The moon - far from being made of cheese - is actually made of earth, our earth, part of the planet that sheered off after a catastrophic meteor collision several million years ago.
And talking of the moon, that was the answer to the mystery-photo question last Saturday. Lots of people guessed correctly; many said 'the Moon' in one form or another but it was neither Harvest Moon nor partial eclipse but the full-moon last Monday evening rising over the sea at Robin Hoods Bay. We spent a very pleasant day there in half-term last week, and sat as it got dark watching ships on the horizon. At first we thought the ghostly orange glow was another of them, but as it rose huge and orange from the water it started to resemble one of the many Halloween lanterns decorating the shops and houses of this tiny Yorkshire fishing town.
I don't seem to recall having the same difficulty sleeping last week. No doubt I was lulled by the ebb and flow of the sea. Anyway, thank-you BBC World Service for keeping me entertained and informed last night.
What do you do when you can't sleep?
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
October 29, 2010
Saturday Review
Have you any idea what this is?You could be forgiven for thinking this was one of these...
After all, it is that time of year. Or perhaps it's something seen as a direct result of doing what he's done too much of? But no. It's neither pumpkin, nor punked-in...
...or anything else connected with trick or treating. Can you guess what it is? If you can, leave a comment below and you might stand a chance of winning this...
... a stunning Christmas Joy Hamper supplied courtesy of HamperGifts who provide a wide range of Christmas hampers, chocolate gifts, and champagne gifts.And that's not all. If your little darlings should get dirty trick or treating, you can try a bottle of this brand-new Ariel stain-remover gel with whitener. It's designed to help get stains out the first time you wash, and to work well at cooler temperatures to help save energy. Again, a comment - witty or otherwise - is all you need to leave in order to be in with a chance of winning.
Although we'll probably not be participating in the annual demand for confectionery, we might enter into the spirit of the evening by mixing some super Sodastream halloween mocktails. With names like 'Vampire Broth' and 'Witches Brew' these drinks should certainly get the party going.
Finally, Charlie's been asked to tell you what he thinks of this Roary the Racing Car Load-a-Raceday Truck set in which Roary comes with his own car transporter and new character, Loada, who transforms into a playset for all his push along friends.
As far as I can tell there's no mis-fuelling option. I just hope if Roary ever makes the same mistake as I did last weekend he'll be as well looked after as we were at Vantage Toyota, Scarborough.Happy Halloween!
