Tim Atkinson's Blog, page 109
October 28, 2010
Deja View
A week ago Charlie and I were entertaining a BBC Look North reporter and preening ourselves at being the centre of a little meedja attention. Pride always comes before a fall, and we were gently reminded of our place in the grand scheme of things first when it appeared that 'news' might knock us off the TV schedules (who'd have thought that? News on a news programme...), then a day or two later when - no doubt still with my head still buzzing with our ninety seconds of fame - I nearly wrecked the engine of our (diesel) car by filling it with unleaded petrol en route to a friends wedding.
Anyway, the item was actually broadcast in all it's brevity last Friday; you might've caught it on iPlayer briefly. But in case you didn't - and as a reminder of how much can change in so small a time - here we are again. Charlie's the one using daddy as a trampoline; I'm the one with the wonky glasses...
And as for the car? Not as bad as I'd feared, fortunately. We're home; it works; we're solvent (just) and those very nice people at Vantage Toyota in Scarborough have even cleaned it inside and out for me. It looks lovely: sparkly and as good as new. Good job chaps. But seriously the most expensive car-wash I've ever been to...
Anyway, the item was actually broadcast in all it's brevity last Friday; you might've caught it on iPlayer briefly. But in case you didn't - and as a reminder of how much can change in so small a time - here we are again. Charlie's the one using daddy as a trampoline; I'm the one with the wonky glasses...
And as for the car? Not as bad as I'd feared, fortunately. We're home; it works; we're solvent (just) and those very nice people at Vantage Toyota in Scarborough have even cleaned it inside and out for me. It looks lovely: sparkly and as good as new. Good job chaps. But seriously the most expensive car-wash I've ever been to...
October 26, 2010
A Clash of Innocents
Sue Guiney's new novel A Clash of Innocents (Ward Wood £8.99) was released last month and to mark the occasion I subjected Sue to an interrogation some friendly questioning about the book, her writing, inspiration, family life an just about anything else I thought might be interesting. I do love talking to and reading about writers, especially 'proper' writers like Sue. I'm doing another OU writing course at the moment and I find almost any discussion of the writer's craft helpful and revealing. I don't know about you, but when I read an author interview, or listen to one on the radio or (rarely) see one on the television I always want to ask a different questions to the interviewer. So getting a chance to ask them of a writer of Sue's calibre was too good an opportunity to miss.
I began by asking Sue about her family, and how she went about juggling the demands of writing with the demands of family life?
I love this question because it gives me a chance to look in the rearview mirror, so to speak. I have 2 sons, 26 and 19 (yes, it really does happen). Neither of them live at home now, and that has been an incredible and sometimes painful shift. When the kids were little, I would look at my diary every Sunday to see what my upcoming week looked like – the usual chores of parenthood like doctor appointments, school meetings, errands etc. Then I would try to find morning blocks of time that weren't already scheduled that I could devote to writing. I could always find one. Sometimes there were two mornings in a week, rarely three. But the fact that they were so difficult to come up with made them even more precious, so writing was never hard. It was always the secret thing I did for myself. Sure, if something important to the family came up to interfere with my writing time (don't even get me started on school holidays) I would have to give up the writing slot. But just the act of trying to schedule it in gave it an importance in my life which, I believe, is crucial if you want to write. Writing is not easy. And so you have to say out loud to yourself – first and foremost – this is what I choose to do with my time and outside of my family, it must take priority. Now, once I became an "empty nester" last year I found that I had time like I'd never had before and so now it seems all I do is work, creatively when I can or, like now, the business of writing such as promoting your work. I've also learned that you can't successfully have one without the other. What I haven't learned to do very successfully yet is balance.
From a question about scheduling family and writing time I wondered whether Sue ever found inspiration in the things her family said or did. Did dinner table dialogue ever get a direct transfer to the page?
Do I have to be honest? Of course, I do. Okay, the answer is yes. Sometimes real life is just too good not to turn it into fiction, and some specific experiences I had did end up in the book. I won't tell you all, but I will tell you one – the scene where the young American volunteer tried to participate in the children's Khmer Traditional Dance class. I myself tried that – much to the hilarity of the kids themselves. It was just too good a scene not to include it. But I will say that although I might cannibalize my own life for my art, I won't cannibalize others. And no character is ever taken whole cloth from any individual I might know. My characters are amalgams of people I've met or imagined over the years. This is fiction, after all.
Having referred to the fact that 'A Clash of Innocents' is at least partly set in Cambodia, and knowing that Sue and her family spent time there some years ago I thought it would be interesting to find out more about what was clearly an important time.
We went to Cambodia with my younger son who was 15 at the time. None of us had ever been to Asia before and it was by far the most exciting trip we had ever planned. Unfortunately, our older son was in the middle of his drama school course and couldn't come with us, and that was hard too, namely that there was an important experience that the rest of us shared without him. But it was a difficult trip in many ways. Our accommodation and transport around Cambodia were far from deluxe. We were there with other families working in an orphanage and then building houses among one of the poorest communities. Everywhere there was poverty, disease, and even danger. This was definitely not a trip for the squeamish. In some ways, if the kids with us were younger it would have been easier. Sometimes younger kids have a greater ability to just muck in. Teenagers have needs that can't always be fixed with a sweetie. But that was one of the reasons why the trip was so important. We all got to learn about some harsh realities of life together. We helped each other and our own lives changed because of it. But they changed together and that was a great gift – especially to the parents, I think. At least it was to me.
Finally - and knowing Sue is a musician - I asked her the kind of question nobody ever ask a writer, but to which I always want to know the answer, namely whether she sometimes find herself thinking more in terms of musical as opposed to literary structures and whether there is anything to be gained as a writer (other than the obvious pleasure) from making music?
A fascinating question, Tim. I'm not sure that music has influenced structure all that much, except for the innate sense of building up and denouement, which can be seen to be like a crescendo and decrescendo. But I think music has definitely influenced my ear, especially in poetry but also in prose. Sometimes when editing I find that I miss problems of meaning because I get too lost in the cadence of a sentence. If it sounds good then I want to go with it – even at the cost of sense. Thank goodness for good editors. Yes, music does influence my sense of rhythm and pace. Can you write even if you aren't musical? Of course, but anything you do in life is always much better if music is a part of it, eh?
I began by asking Sue about her family, and how she went about juggling the demands of writing with the demands of family life?
I love this question because it gives me a chance to look in the rearview mirror, so to speak. I have 2 sons, 26 and 19 (yes, it really does happen). Neither of them live at home now, and that has been an incredible and sometimes painful shift. When the kids were little, I would look at my diary every Sunday to see what my upcoming week looked like – the usual chores of parenthood like doctor appointments, school meetings, errands etc. Then I would try to find morning blocks of time that weren't already scheduled that I could devote to writing. I could always find one. Sometimes there were two mornings in a week, rarely three. But the fact that they were so difficult to come up with made them even more precious, so writing was never hard. It was always the secret thing I did for myself. Sure, if something important to the family came up to interfere with my writing time (don't even get me started on school holidays) I would have to give up the writing slot. But just the act of trying to schedule it in gave it an importance in my life which, I believe, is crucial if you want to write. Writing is not easy. And so you have to say out loud to yourself – first and foremost – this is what I choose to do with my time and outside of my family, it must take priority. Now, once I became an "empty nester" last year I found that I had time like I'd never had before and so now it seems all I do is work, creatively when I can or, like now, the business of writing such as promoting your work. I've also learned that you can't successfully have one without the other. What I haven't learned to do very successfully yet is balance.
From a question about scheduling family and writing time I wondered whether Sue ever found inspiration in the things her family said or did. Did dinner table dialogue ever get a direct transfer to the page?
Do I have to be honest? Of course, I do. Okay, the answer is yes. Sometimes real life is just too good not to turn it into fiction, and some specific experiences I had did end up in the book. I won't tell you all, but I will tell you one – the scene where the young American volunteer tried to participate in the children's Khmer Traditional Dance class. I myself tried that – much to the hilarity of the kids themselves. It was just too good a scene not to include it. But I will say that although I might cannibalize my own life for my art, I won't cannibalize others. And no character is ever taken whole cloth from any individual I might know. My characters are amalgams of people I've met or imagined over the years. This is fiction, after all.
Having referred to the fact that 'A Clash of Innocents' is at least partly set in Cambodia, and knowing that Sue and her family spent time there some years ago I thought it would be interesting to find out more about what was clearly an important time.
We went to Cambodia with my younger son who was 15 at the time. None of us had ever been to Asia before and it was by far the most exciting trip we had ever planned. Unfortunately, our older son was in the middle of his drama school course and couldn't come with us, and that was hard too, namely that there was an important experience that the rest of us shared without him. But it was a difficult trip in many ways. Our accommodation and transport around Cambodia were far from deluxe. We were there with other families working in an orphanage and then building houses among one of the poorest communities. Everywhere there was poverty, disease, and even danger. This was definitely not a trip for the squeamish. In some ways, if the kids with us were younger it would have been easier. Sometimes younger kids have a greater ability to just muck in. Teenagers have needs that can't always be fixed with a sweetie. But that was one of the reasons why the trip was so important. We all got to learn about some harsh realities of life together. We helped each other and our own lives changed because of it. But they changed together and that was a great gift – especially to the parents, I think. At least it was to me.
Finally - and knowing Sue is a musician - I asked her the kind of question nobody ever ask a writer, but to which I always want to know the answer, namely whether she sometimes find herself thinking more in terms of musical as opposed to literary structures and whether there is anything to be gained as a writer (other than the obvious pleasure) from making music?
A fascinating question, Tim. I'm not sure that music has influenced structure all that much, except for the innate sense of building up and denouement, which can be seen to be like a crescendo and decrescendo. But I think music has definitely influenced my ear, especially in poetry but also in prose. Sometimes when editing I find that I miss problems of meaning because I get too lost in the cadence of a sentence. If it sounds good then I want to go with it – even at the cost of sense. Thank goodness for good editors. Yes, music does influence my sense of rhythm and pace. Can you write even if you aren't musical? Of course, but anything you do in life is always much better if music is a part of it, eh?
October 24, 2010
Sunday supplement
First, congratulations to newly-weds John and Helen. We were at their wedding yesterday in the spectacular setting of Bridlington Priory and it was a lovely occasion. The choir sang - as did the congregation, which doesn't always happen. Vows were exchanged, prayers offered and - our case at least - breath caught. Because we nearly didn't make it.
No, we nearly missed all this...
And you can hardly miss this, but we almost did!
I'm blaming Shell. You see, we stopped at one of their filling stations go fill up our (diesel) car with fuel. Confronted by an array of pumps and a bewildering amount of choice (oh, for ASDA and it's simple green and black hoses) we actually discussed which one we needed, so keen were we not to be conned into paying an extra 5p per litre for some super V option or whatever. Anyway, I appear to have chosen a very expensive option, and out car is now awaiting serious (and expensive) attention.
Gotta thank the boys to trust at Kwik-Fit Beverley, though, who here as helpful as could be given that the job was beyond the scope of their operations. And the AA (via ToyotaCare) who came within an hour to escort the car to a place of safety. And my dad who did the same for us. I wasn't quite singing Alfred Doolittle down the 'phone, but he did get us to the church on time. Thanks dad!
I'm not sure they deal with that kind of thing in two parenting books that I've recently been sent...
But in every other way they're both very useful additions to the parenting bookshelves. The New Father's Survival Guide even contains tips on how to make a bow-and-arrow, while 'Baby's Here' helps new parents with the 'who does what?' of a relationship. As far as I can tell, neither has a chapter on coming to the aid of grown-up sons who really should know better than to put the wrong fuel in their cars, but maybe some things can't be taught.
And after all, you never stop being a parent, do you?
No, we nearly missed all this...
And you can hardly miss this, but we almost did!
I'm blaming Shell. You see, we stopped at one of their filling stations go fill up our (diesel) car with fuel. Confronted by an array of pumps and a bewildering amount of choice (oh, for ASDA and it's simple green and black hoses) we actually discussed which one we needed, so keen were we not to be conned into paying an extra 5p per litre for some super V option or whatever. Anyway, I appear to have chosen a very expensive option, and out car is now awaiting serious (and expensive) attention.
Gotta thank the boys to trust at Kwik-Fit Beverley, though, who here as helpful as could be given that the job was beyond the scope of their operations. And the AA (via ToyotaCare) who came within an hour to escort the car to a place of safety. And my dad who did the same for us. I wasn't quite singing Alfred Doolittle down the 'phone, but he did get us to the church on time. Thanks dad!
I'm not sure they deal with that kind of thing in two parenting books that I've recently been sent...
But in every other way they're both very useful additions to the parenting bookshelves. The New Father's Survival Guide even contains tips on how to make a bow-and-arrow, while 'Baby's Here' helps new parents with the 'who does what?' of a relationship. As far as I can tell, neither has a chapter on coming to the aid of grown-up sons who really should know better than to put the wrong fuel in their cars, but maybe some things can't be taught.
And after all, you never stop being a parent, do you?
October 21, 2010
Look(ing) North
Now, I know what you're thinking. That Dotterel fellow... getting a bit above himself, isn't he? First radio, now telly. And tomorrow, more radio. Proper meedja slebrity an' all that... in his dreams. Well yes, actually. I mean, the bit about my dreams. Or maybe nightmares. Since getting the call yesterday asking if I'd like to be interviewed for our local BBC Yorkshire and Lincolnshire evening news programme it's been on my mind, waking and sleeping, and I'm sure explains last night's fitful rest. But no matter.
It's all been very pleasant, makes a change from the normal routine and Charlie's loved every minute. Not sure Amanda Thomson felt the same, but hey! He had a great time this morning pretending to be the cameraman. In between bouts of introducing each of his toys to the Look North viewers, that is. And I got to spout a bit about the blog, the MADs awards and life as a dad in what's still, round here, a woman's world.
The thing is, when I started this blog just over a couple of years ago I was firmly convinced it was going to be a minority interest. I'd written a novel that was just about to be published; I'd got a work-from-home writing job I could fit around looking after Charlie producing primary school text-books and high hopes of finishing any of the several other books I'd started at one time or another. And I'll let you into a secret: Bringing up Charlie was my 'second' blog, the one I thought would be my online diary, the one I thought would keep far-flung relatives up-to-date with Charlie's progress, the one I thought would be a nice little way to keep a record of my years as a stay-at-home dad. I had another blog, back then. One linked to a work of fiction I was writing. One I was convinced would become a blogging sensation. Only it didn't. And I not only found that writing a parenting blog was more interesting, I found other people were actually reading. I pretty soon gave up on the 'other' blog, and at pretty much the same time the parent-blogging world began to take off and I was getting PR requests to review stuff, invitations to attend press launches and generally more opportunities to have a good time (at someone else's expense!) than I'd ever had in twenty years of being a school-teacher.
In my Walter Mitty moments, I sometimes think it would be quite nice being a 'proper' journalist and working for the telly or a radio show. But then, it ain't all that it's cracked up to be, is it Amanda? A sudden drop in temperature and you end-up blow-drying your TV camera.
Oh well. Let's hope that it was worth it. You can judge for yourself on BBC One (Yorks/Lincs) tomorrow, or worldwide on Sky channel 977 or Virgin 858 or iPlayer.
I'll be the one behind the sofa.
It's all been very pleasant, makes a change from the normal routine and Charlie's loved every minute. Not sure Amanda Thomson felt the same, but hey! He had a great time this morning pretending to be the cameraman. In between bouts of introducing each of his toys to the Look North viewers, that is. And I got to spout a bit about the blog, the MADs awards and life as a dad in what's still, round here, a woman's world.
The thing is, when I started this blog just over a couple of years ago I was firmly convinced it was going to be a minority interest. I'd written a novel that was just about to be published; I'd got a work-from-home writing job I could fit around looking after Charlie producing primary school text-books and high hopes of finishing any of the several other books I'd started at one time or another. And I'll let you into a secret: Bringing up Charlie was my 'second' blog, the one I thought would be my online diary, the one I thought would keep far-flung relatives up-to-date with Charlie's progress, the one I thought would be a nice little way to keep a record of my years as a stay-at-home dad. I had another blog, back then. One linked to a work of fiction I was writing. One I was convinced would become a blogging sensation. Only it didn't. And I not only found that writing a parenting blog was more interesting, I found other people were actually reading. I pretty soon gave up on the 'other' blog, and at pretty much the same time the parent-blogging world began to take off and I was getting PR requests to review stuff, invitations to attend press launches and generally more opportunities to have a good time (at someone else's expense!) than I'd ever had in twenty years of being a school-teacher.
In my Walter Mitty moments, I sometimes think it would be quite nice being a 'proper' journalist and working for the telly or a radio show. But then, it ain't all that it's cracked up to be, is it Amanda? A sudden drop in temperature and you end-up blow-drying your TV camera.
Oh well. Let's hope that it was worth it. You can judge for yourself on BBC One (Yorks/Lincs) tomorrow, or worldwide on Sky channel 977 or Virgin 858 or iPlayer.
I'll be the one behind the sofa.
October 18, 2010
Parents' Week
Did you know it was Parent's Week this week? No, me neither. Do you know what Parents' Week is all about? Well you can find out more on the Family and Parenting Institute website. And if you didn't even know that such a thing existed, join the club. At least you didn't find out about it for the first time while listening to your name being trailed on the way to the BBC Lincolnshire studios yesterday morning. So that's why they've invited me onto Melvyn Prior's Morning Show! And I thought it was all to do with blogging.
Well, it was. A bit. But the invitation had clearly come as a result of it being National Parent's Week too. But as I didn't know, I wasn't really all that well prepared. So here's how the interview might have gone if I'd done some homework.
Is there anywhere better for a stay-at-home dad to live than in south Lincolnshire?
Er, yes. Actually, lots of places. But especially Sweden. And Norway. Because, if you can stand the long nights and the cold winters, you get to share with your child's mother a rather generous parental leave entitlement. In fact, in Sweden men are entitled to take more paternity leave than mothers if that's the way a family chooses to split it and it's as natural to see men pushing the baby buggies as they women.
What about the economic downturn? Has that made a difference?
Well, no doubt there are some dads for whom the recession means they get to spend a bit more time with their children, but woman are suffering more than men as a result of the global financial downturn according to Michelle Bachelet (former Chilean president and now UN Under-Secretary for Women). She's been studying the impact of the recession on women's rights in particular, and is afraid that many of the hard-won freedoms could be quietly curtailed as industry feels the pinch. Which is probably enough to ensure mums in the UK will never get the chance to take up to four years maternity leave, as happens in the Czech Republic.
So what next for you? Is it 'back to work' when Charlie goes to school?
Well it's already 'back-to-work' (albeit briefly) now that Charlie's started nursery. But with a sibling due in December, we've got some difficult decisions ahead. And that's the one thing I resent: the fact that it's so damned difficult to do right both by your kids and your career. No-one's asking for handouts or for preferential treatment. Just a situation where both parents can take time out with their children and not lose out in terms of a career and pension.
But of course, it'll soon be getting even harder. Once universal Child Benefit is scrapped there'll be even less of what little help some parents have to rely on. Ironically, some couples with twice the income will still qualify for Child Benefit. Which seems rather odd until you step back and consider why mums don't get to take more time off with their kids, or why UK dads still get a miserly five weeks paternity leave if they're lucky. Because the sooner we all go back to work, the sooner we're all paying tax again. And if we end up paying people to look after our children too, they'll be paying tax on what they're getting too. Tax on pay that's already been taxed. Tax times two.
You've got to be in it, to win it. Government, that is. Or Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs.
And you thought they were trying to be helpful when they gave you all those nursery vouchers.
If you want to hear what I actually said, you can do so on BBC iPlayer. You'll need to scroll forward to about 1 hour 30 to hear the two of us. Charlie was far more relaxed and at home in the studio than I was, offering his raisins to the presenter and having his picture taken in the 'hot seat'.
'That was nice daddy,' he told me as we were leaving the studio. 'Can we do it again?'
'Certainly Charlie,' I replied. 'How are you fixed Friday, about one p.m., the Peter Levy show?'
Sometimes I feel like I'm his agent. But if the Taxman's reading, Charlie doesn't pay me anything!
Well, it was. A bit. But the invitation had clearly come as a result of it being National Parent's Week too. But as I didn't know, I wasn't really all that well prepared. So here's how the interview might have gone if I'd done some homework.
Is there anywhere better for a stay-at-home dad to live than in south Lincolnshire?
Er, yes. Actually, lots of places. But especially Sweden. And Norway. Because, if you can stand the long nights and the cold winters, you get to share with your child's mother a rather generous parental leave entitlement. In fact, in Sweden men are entitled to take more paternity leave than mothers if that's the way a family chooses to split it and it's as natural to see men pushing the baby buggies as they women.
What about the economic downturn? Has that made a difference?
Well, no doubt there are some dads for whom the recession means they get to spend a bit more time with their children, but woman are suffering more than men as a result of the global financial downturn according to Michelle Bachelet (former Chilean president and now UN Under-Secretary for Women). She's been studying the impact of the recession on women's rights in particular, and is afraid that many of the hard-won freedoms could be quietly curtailed as industry feels the pinch. Which is probably enough to ensure mums in the UK will never get the chance to take up to four years maternity leave, as happens in the Czech Republic.
So what next for you? Is it 'back to work' when Charlie goes to school?
Well it's already 'back-to-work' (albeit briefly) now that Charlie's started nursery. But with a sibling due in December, we've got some difficult decisions ahead. And that's the one thing I resent: the fact that it's so damned difficult to do right both by your kids and your career. No-one's asking for handouts or for preferential treatment. Just a situation where both parents can take time out with their children and not lose out in terms of a career and pension.
But of course, it'll soon be getting even harder. Once universal Child Benefit is scrapped there'll be even less of what little help some parents have to rely on. Ironically, some couples with twice the income will still qualify for Child Benefit. Which seems rather odd until you step back and consider why mums don't get to take more time off with their kids, or why UK dads still get a miserly five weeks paternity leave if they're lucky. Because the sooner we all go back to work, the sooner we're all paying tax again. And if we end up paying people to look after our children too, they'll be paying tax on what they're getting too. Tax on pay that's already been taxed. Tax times two.
You've got to be in it, to win it. Government, that is. Or Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs.
And you thought they were trying to be helpful when they gave you all those nursery vouchers.
If you want to hear what I actually said, you can do so on BBC iPlayer. You'll need to scroll forward to about 1 hour 30 to hear the two of us. Charlie was far more relaxed and at home in the studio than I was, offering his raisins to the presenter and having his picture taken in the 'hot seat'.
'That was nice daddy,' he told me as we were leaving the studio. 'Can we do it again?'
'Certainly Charlie,' I replied. 'How are you fixed Friday, about one p.m., the Peter Levy show?'
Sometimes I feel like I'm his agent. But if the Taxman's reading, Charlie doesn't pay me anything!
October 16, 2010
Sunday supplement
Remember my Friday post about Charlie and his train crashes? Well, I've found - or rather, been sent (courtesy of HelloBabyDirect) - a solution. It's the Brio Little Forest Train set starter kit and it's far, far too good to be crashed. There's a Brio train-set at the Wednesday toddler group we attend, and it's always the go-to toy of choice for Charlie. It doesn't make a noise, sing a song, flash any lights or move on its own but that doesn't seem to matter. Simple (and gentle) pleasures seem to suit Charlie. And so I might surreptitiously put Thomas and Friend out to grass...
In other news, Christmas is coming. Yes, it's under ten weeks away and you'll no doubt be thinking about presents and pondering just what to get that certain somebody who has all the toys they'll ever need plus a bank account that's healthier than your own. Well, if they're aged between six and thirteen, curious about the world around them and keen to learn outside the classroom, National Geographic (NG) for Kids could be for them. And if you order using this code you'll get 35% off the annual subscription.
On the other hand, if there's a budding Jon Culshaw in the family then there's a chance to appear on TV if you can 'Do it Like Dolmio'. All you have to do is impersonate one of the Dolmio characters and upload your video. You can find out all about it here:
Finally, it's that time of year when our gardens need attention. Leaves are falling, the last flowers dying and the roses need pruning. And if you find your garden needing attention but you haven't the time to see to it yourself, I may have a solution. The ladygarden-ers:
Come on dear, the lawn needs cutting...
In other news, Christmas is coming. Yes, it's under ten weeks away and you'll no doubt be thinking about presents and pondering just what to get that certain somebody who has all the toys they'll ever need plus a bank account that's healthier than your own. Well, if they're aged between six and thirteen, curious about the world around them and keen to learn outside the classroom, National Geographic (NG) for Kids could be for them. And if you order using this code you'll get 35% off the annual subscription.
On the other hand, if there's a budding Jon Culshaw in the family then there's a chance to appear on TV if you can 'Do it Like Dolmio'. All you have to do is impersonate one of the Dolmio characters and upload your video. You can find out all about it here:
Finally, it's that time of year when our gardens need attention. Leaves are falling, the last flowers dying and the roses need pruning. And if you find your garden needing attention but you haven't the time to see to it yourself, I may have a solution. The ladygarden-ers:
Come on dear, the lawn needs cutting...
October 14, 2010
Psychology Friday... The Bandura Experiment
Let me tell you a story. When I was about eight or nine I had a friend. Yes, really. And he had pretty much all the toys I coveted. And at the time, those toys were Dinky cars - a fleet of the things, in just about every model Dinky ever manufactured. I used to love toy cars. I had a few myself, but my meagre pocket-money would never run to more than three or four but he - let's call him 'Dick' - had hundreds of the things. We used to 'play out' then; it was the seventies. I'd go calling for my friends, like 'Dick', and we'd be in each other's bedrooms brrming cars along he floor and inventing elaborate games involving - in his case - multiple pile-ups, mass attention of the emergency services and ultimately, the destruction with hammers of toys I could only dream of owning. I pretty soon gave up taking any of my own toy car collection to his house. In fact, I pretty soon stopped going round to his house at all.
Where 'Dick' got his violent tendencies I'll never know, but seeing the wanton destruction of toys I could only dream of owning left me with a rather strong aversion to seeing toys - any toys - being badly treated. (It also excused a few minor acts of 'liberation' from his bedroom, but no matter. 'Dick', if you're reading, I still have your Shelvoke & Drewery Dustbin Wagon safe, without so much of a scratch on the paintwork. If you've still got the box it must be worth a fortune.)
Fast-forward a few years (ok, more than a few) and I've been pleased to see the care with which Charlie plays with his toy trains. Until recently. Suddenly, out of the blue, we've had a spate of railway disasters the like of which the island of Sodor can seldom have ever seen. Thomas is lucky to have got away without busting his boiler; Percy, though, may not have been so lucky. And I've been puzzled by it. Maybe, I thought, all children go through such a stage. Perhaps my memory of doing so has faded? Or maybe I missed out on a 'disaster' movie phase of childhood play?
But then I began to take more notice of the DVD that Charlie has been watching recently. It's innocent enough: more 'Trouble on the Tracks' than 'Terror at Tidmouth Sheds'. And I remembered Albert Bandura, and his Bobo doll experiment. Basically, Badura sought to show that children who were shown some form of violence on film went on the play more violently with their toys. And what happens in 'Trouble on the Tracks' (not the real title!) is this: Thomas comes off the rails; he crashes into a line of troublesome trucks; he careers through the buffers; he pulls down Cranky the Crane. It's all innocent enough... then there was trouble, narrates 'man-of-a-couple-of-voices' Michael Angelis, while the lovely girls' choir trill a song about 'Surprises' coming in 'all shapes and sizes' and the crash-sequence gets repeated. The Fat Controller appears like God Almighty to pass judgement; the mess is cleared and the trains go on their merry way. On television, that is. In the 'real' world of our living room they bash into each other at breakneck speed; dustcarts crash the level-crossing gates and rubbish is strewn everywhere; Percy and Thomas are set on yet another unavoidable collision cause.
Am I witnessing my very-own playing out of Bandura's famous prophecy? Who knows. I'm not sure that the causal link has been established. But what do you think? Does seeing 'violence' on TV, in films or even childrens' DVDs begat violent behaviour? Has anyone noticed anything similar? Or is Charlie showing signs of the dysfunctional behaviour of 'Dick' all those years ago?
Like most things, there's more to the so-called link between what you see and what you do than meets the eye. But here, for any budding psychologists out there, is Albert Bandura to tell you more.
Where 'Dick' got his violent tendencies I'll never know, but seeing the wanton destruction of toys I could only dream of owning left me with a rather strong aversion to seeing toys - any toys - being badly treated. (It also excused a few minor acts of 'liberation' from his bedroom, but no matter. 'Dick', if you're reading, I still have your Shelvoke & Drewery Dustbin Wagon safe, without so much of a scratch on the paintwork. If you've still got the box it must be worth a fortune.)
Fast-forward a few years (ok, more than a few) and I've been pleased to see the care with which Charlie plays with his toy trains. Until recently. Suddenly, out of the blue, we've had a spate of railway disasters the like of which the island of Sodor can seldom have ever seen. Thomas is lucky to have got away without busting his boiler; Percy, though, may not have been so lucky. And I've been puzzled by it. Maybe, I thought, all children go through such a stage. Perhaps my memory of doing so has faded? Or maybe I missed out on a 'disaster' movie phase of childhood play?
But then I began to take more notice of the DVD that Charlie has been watching recently. It's innocent enough: more 'Trouble on the Tracks' than 'Terror at Tidmouth Sheds'. And I remembered Albert Bandura, and his Bobo doll experiment. Basically, Badura sought to show that children who were shown some form of violence on film went on the play more violently with their toys. And what happens in 'Trouble on the Tracks' (not the real title!) is this: Thomas comes off the rails; he crashes into a line of troublesome trucks; he careers through the buffers; he pulls down Cranky the Crane. It's all innocent enough... then there was trouble, narrates 'man-of-a-couple-of-voices' Michael Angelis, while the lovely girls' choir trill a song about 'Surprises' coming in 'all shapes and sizes' and the crash-sequence gets repeated. The Fat Controller appears like God Almighty to pass judgement; the mess is cleared and the trains go on their merry way. On television, that is. In the 'real' world of our living room they bash into each other at breakneck speed; dustcarts crash the level-crossing gates and rubbish is strewn everywhere; Percy and Thomas are set on yet another unavoidable collision cause.
Am I witnessing my very-own playing out of Bandura's famous prophecy? Who knows. I'm not sure that the causal link has been established. But what do you think? Does seeing 'violence' on TV, in films or even childrens' DVDs begat violent behaviour? Has anyone noticed anything similar? Or is Charlie showing signs of the dysfunctional behaviour of 'Dick' all those years ago?
Like most things, there's more to the so-called link between what you see and what you do than meets the eye. But here, for any budding psychologists out there, is Albert Bandura to tell you more.
October 12, 2010
Andrew Marr doesn't like me anymore...
Hey, have you heard? Andrew Marr thinks we're all "socially inadequate, pimpled, single, slightly seedy, bald, cauliflower-nosed young men sitting in their mother's basements." Well, that's what he told the Cheltenham Literary Festival anyway. Personally, I think Andrew Marr's a boring, jug-eared wind-bag so desperate for a story that he'll even consider asking the (then) prime minister if he's popping 'happy' pills. (A rumour, incidentally, he seems to have picked up on a blog somewhere.)
But no matter. I'm not angry (or drunk for that matter, or in a basement - I don't have a basement. And neither does my mother). But don't you (that's you, dear blog-reader, fellow-blogger and social media expert) rather think the 'lady' doth protest too much? Blogs aren't newspapers, nor bloggers journalists. And no-one this side of the blogging fence seems to suggest otherwise, as far as I can tell. But my, don't the dear old members of the print and broadcast media - the 'so-called' professionals - seem to get their accredited, sub-edited knickers in a twist about the popularity of so-called 'citizen' journalism? Why, if I were other than a rational, level-headed parent-blogger I might suspect that they were all a tiny bit afraid of something. And if I were a journalist I might go stirring up trouble in the hope of landing myself a story.
I have a sister. (I know, I know.) And she works for a newspaper. But not as a journalist. I'll spare your gentle ears from some of her more forthright opinions on the members of the fourth estate; suffice to say she has firm views about what keeps the newspaper industry going. And it isn't journalism.
But Mr Marr, of course, receives his considerable salary not from the filthy lucre of the ad-man, but from the license-fee payer. Of which I'm one.
And is that any way to speak to your employer?
But no matter. I'm not angry (or drunk for that matter, or in a basement - I don't have a basement. And neither does my mother). But don't you (that's you, dear blog-reader, fellow-blogger and social media expert) rather think the 'lady' doth protest too much? Blogs aren't newspapers, nor bloggers journalists. And no-one this side of the blogging fence seems to suggest otherwise, as far as I can tell. But my, don't the dear old members of the print and broadcast media - the 'so-called' professionals - seem to get their accredited, sub-edited knickers in a twist about the popularity of so-called 'citizen' journalism? Why, if I were other than a rational, level-headed parent-blogger I might suspect that they were all a tiny bit afraid of something. And if I were a journalist I might go stirring up trouble in the hope of landing myself a story.
I have a sister. (I know, I know.) And she works for a newspaper. But not as a journalist. I'll spare your gentle ears from some of her more forthright opinions on the members of the fourth estate; suffice to say she has firm views about what keeps the newspaper industry going. And it isn't journalism.
But Mr Marr, of course, receives his considerable salary not from the filthy lucre of the ad-man, but from the license-fee payer. Of which I'm one.
And is that any way to speak to your employer?
October 11, 2010
Something for the weekend
Or from it. Something unexpected, something uplifting, something sustaining. And something simple. Some sunshine, some sea air and some scrummy fish n' chips. Sunday lunch chez Dotterel doesn't normally look like this...
In fact, I'd spent the first part of the morning preparing the veg to accompany the beef I'd bought on Friday. But then we'd seen the weather and had second thoughts. And why not? Ok, it might be bracing...
...but on a day like yesterday it's also balmy, beautiful and brilliant fun.
Any more fares?
I 'ad that jolly fisherman in the back of my bus once....
Thought you said this was the sea-side, daddy?
So, what did you get up to this weekend?
Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
In fact, I'd spent the first part of the morning preparing the veg to accompany the beef I'd bought on Friday. But then we'd seen the weather and had second thoughts. And why not? Ok, it might be bracing...
...but on a day like yesterday it's also balmy, beautiful and brilliant fun.
Any more fares?
I 'ad that jolly fisherman in the back of my bus once....
Thought you said this was the sea-side, daddy?
So, what did you get up to this weekend?
Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
October 8, 2010
Psychology Friday... How far would you go? The Milgram Experiment
'One theory is that people learn things better when they get punished...'
Chilling words, but there's worse to come. Faced with a situation where you're told to inflict pain of increasing intensity on another person, most of us think we'd do the decent thing and decline. But Milgram's classic 1961 experiment showed that a shocking 65% of people keep on doing as they're told, in spite of warnings, screams and - most ominously of all - an eerie silence. Maybe people were more obedient back then? The 'just obeying orders' atrocities of the last war were, after all, still fresh in the memory (and were the inspiration, in part, for Stanley Milgram's study).
But no. The BBC repeated the experiment just last year and found that - of the twelve participants - only three were prepared to stop.
Here's a clip from the original experiment; if you can't be bothered with the preamble, fast-forward to about ten minutes to see the experiment in action. And as you watch, ask yourself this: how far would you go? And how could you be sure?
Chilling words, but there's worse to come. Faced with a situation where you're told to inflict pain of increasing intensity on another person, most of us think we'd do the decent thing and decline. But Milgram's classic 1961 experiment showed that a shocking 65% of people keep on doing as they're told, in spite of warnings, screams and - most ominously of all - an eerie silence. Maybe people were more obedient back then? The 'just obeying orders' atrocities of the last war were, after all, still fresh in the memory (and were the inspiration, in part, for Stanley Milgram's study).
But no. The BBC repeated the experiment just last year and found that - of the twelve participants - only three were prepared to stop.
Here's a clip from the original experiment; if you can't be bothered with the preamble, fast-forward to about ten minutes to see the experiment in action. And as you watch, ask yourself this: how far would you go? And how could you be sure?
