Tim Atkinson's Blog, page 84

World Poetry Day

It's World Poetry Day today and I've been inundated by at least two requests to share one of my own poetical musings.



It's not something I do, often. Poetry, in Wordsworth's famous definition consists of 'emotion recollected in tranquillity.' I have plenty of emotion; just not so much tranquillity. And my attitude to sharing verse is a bit like that towards letting your children play on the road... far too risky.



But who dares, wins as they say. And although it's not a medium I often use or share, poetry does give me immense pleasure. I love the work of Philip Larkin; admire Hardy; recite whole chucks of A.E. Houseman.



When I am inspired (or less feared) I find my other great passion - for music - frequently stirs whatever poetry remains within me. So it is with this offering, entitled 'Spem in Alium' after the forty-part motet by Thomas Tallis variously described as a birthday gift to Elizabeth 1st (on - what else - her fortieth) or more realistically a plea for her to spare the life of the Catholic Duke of Norfolk.





"Spem in alium numquam habui praeter in te, Deus Israel" 

I have no hope in any but in you, God of Israel



A thread of silver, spun in darkness:

A lone voice crying in a wilderness

Of silence. One small light, one harbour

Shining in the distance; then another

And another: calling for an answer.

Wave on wave of sound builds

Adding substance to the plea

To save our brother.

Cries for mercy: plea on plea,

Yea forty times a plea:

Have mercy, King of Glory,

Majesty, My Lady

Be not angry.

Spare us, Mary;

Pardon our iniquity.

Happy Mother's Day

You did remember, didn't you? You didn't forget it? Did you?



Oh well, if you're up early and you're quick there might be time to save the day. Help is at hand right here:






And a very Happy Mother's Day to all mums everywhere!

What a mess!

I was idly speculating on Twitter this morning about the blog topics I was considering. A sponsored post that had been scheduled for today was cancelled so I was mulling over a few ideas.



There was a range of options. I have a book to plug, a vaccum to review, some pans to give away and some ranting to do. About dog poo.



Dog poo actually got the vote, largely thanks to the power of Potty Mummy and the 35,000 wild dogs on the streets of Moscow but also to @ihearthmuthahood. A couple of people (@Missy_B83 and @PippaD) suggested I should combine all the topics in a single post and maybe even create a short story out of them.



But you know what? I'm not going to. I'm not going to write about any of them. Who wants to read about dog poo? I don't; I spend half my life avoiding it on the school run and cursing the irresponsible, anti-social and incompetent owners who allow their dogs to defecate in the middle of the pavement.



If I had my way I would bring back the dog licence, charge at least £200 a year and use the cash to pay for some of those wonderful street cleaners they have in Paris who ride around on scooters sucking the stuff up into an enormous vacuum cleaner. (I'd be tempted to do the job myself - the Vax Mach Air Reach that I've been trialling certainly has the hose length and suction power. Perhaps I could attach it to the pushchair?)



I could write a book about it. But like I said, who'd want to read about that? Far better to get stuck into some Writing Therapy. And if that inspires you to have a go yourself, my new 'how-to' guide to Creative Writing will set you on your way quite nicely.







Which only leaves the saucepans, really. Denby saucepans, to be precise. I'm giving away this fantastic four-piece stainless steel set (rrp £120) courtesy of Palmers, the independent East Anglian department store which is celebrating its 175th birthday this year.



All you have to do is come round to my neighbourhood and clear up all the dog mess. No, seriously. To be in it to win it you can do any one (or all) of the following:




Tweet a link to this post
'Like' (or even buy!) my new book (or any of the old ones, I'm not fussy - this one's only 99p)
'Like' my brand-new (well, it's not 175 years old) author page on Facebook if you haven't done already



Leave me a comment telling me which method(s) you've opted for and I'll put you into the virtual hat, the one I'll be pulling names out of next weekend.



Good luck. Happy reading and jolly clicking.



Oh, and mind where you're walking.

Honey I Shrunk the Bin

For the last eight weeks I've been on a diet. A rubbish diet. No, not one of those faddy foodie things that makes huge claims for your waistline but that doesn't work. The rubbish diet, the 'slim-your-bin' campaign run by the Queen of everything Green, Karen Cannard.



And guess what? Unlike those funny, faddy calorie counting things that fail - it's worked. My 'green' bin (which isn't green at all except for the colour) - the one that goes to landfill - is now approximately half as full as it was when I started.



So what have I done? Well, it's not been rocket science. Thrown less stuff away, I suppose. Ok I've cheated a bit, putting mountains of trash into the neighbours' bins, but still... (Only joking Karen!)



Seriously, I've been amazed at how much difference just a little effort has made. We recycle carriers as bin bags; we're using fewer of them anyway not only because we're generating less waste but because we take our own shopping bags to the supermarket; and I'm composting peelings and the like which - rather surprisingly - otherwise have to go into our landfill bin. But then, Boston doesn't distinguish itself in the rubbish stakes by being bottom of the county recycling league. (I was blissfully unaware of the existence of a recycling league. What a great way to give going green a bit of mass appeal, eh? Presumably we'll soon have teams of fans cheering on the bin men and travelling to away tips for the local dustbin derby in the future.)



I feel I've 'done my bit' as they say (whoever 'they' might be). I've not achieved the zero waste target set for the final week of the challenge, but I've changed some of my rubbish habits and acquired a lovely warm glow of self-righteousness into the bargain. Today - two days before our fortnightly collection - there are just three lonely looking bags of rubbish and plenty of space.



I can actually see the bottom of my wheelie bin. Which is a good thing.



Even if it does mean I can see that it needs cleaning.




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Sunday supplement

A week today and it'll be 'you-know-what'. You don't know what? Then let me tell you, but I'll have to whisper because this post is all about what you can buy the mum who wants nothing but deserves everything - your mum, in other words. So don't let her see it!



I've been trying out a couple of online photo services lately, and if you're quick - i.e. get your order in today - I'm told that there might still be time to get something for Mother's Day. And what better gift than a family portrait? We had a photoshoot earlier in the year (my mum's Christmas present) and using Bonusprint I've ordered a canvas print of one of the shots for next Sunday. I'm impressed with the quality: the colours are true and in spite of enlargement the picture remains pin sharp. If I had one small complaint it's that the website isn't the easiest to work with. Ordering the canvas without (apparently) selecting a 'crop' option proved less than straightforward, although I'd been spoilt (perhaps) by the Albelli site which is certainly the easiest to work with.



For a start, you download some dedicated software so you can fiddle 'off-line' and get things just right before you upload your order. This is especially useful when (as I did) you're creating a photo book. There's a range of sizes and templates and again the quality is excellent.







I've never ordered a product like this before. In the past I've selected the photos I've wanted and had them printed at Boots or at a supermarket before putting them into my own album. But there are always those pics you wish you could crop or adjust; those that you print because of just one feature and the big advantage of making your own photobook is that by using frames and having more than one photo per page you can get just the effect you want.



Of course, you could always 'forget the flowers and chocolates' and buy mum a truly life-saving gift. UNICEF is offering a range of gifts that will help a mum on the other side of the world to save

the life of her hungry child. A nutritional UNICEF Inspired gift delivers life-saving supplies to the children who need it most, cost as little as £12, and can be accompanied by a personalised greetings card.



Finally, we know that mums love Morrison's (and so does this dad!) and I was lucky enough to be invited to the launch of MFest last Friday. Tickets are now on sale for the two-day festival of music and food which includes such luminaries as The Human League, Texas and Matt Cardle as well as demos by celebrity chef Aldo Zilli. Going to work at Morrison's HQ on Friday involved leaving your desk and being granted a sneak preview of performances by Paul Heaton (Housemartins, Beautiful South) and The Jam - or what's left of it minus Paul Weller. And what's left of it is pretty good on this evidence. If you couldn't go to work for Morrison's on Friday, here's what you were missing. And maybe mum might like a ticket for the real thing...

What are we fighting for?

I'd already planned to write something for International Women's Day today. Why not? And as the father of two daughters and a former teacher at a girls' school I've more than a passing interest in the subject.



Then there was this - the single biggest fatality for the British military in Afghanistan since 2006. And this - Afghan President Mohammad Karzai's plan to turn back the clock on women's rights. Finally, yesterday, (thanks to a link on Facebook) I read this - the best and worst places to be a woman.



'Men are fundamental, women are secondary,' says the President of Afghanistan, for whose government our troops are currently dying. Although since the invasion the place of women has improved (57% of women and girls now go to school) there are real fears that with the scheduled withdrawal of Western troops and with Karzai cosying up to the Taliban it will be shortly be back to 'business as usual' for Afghan women.



Business as usual under the Taliban was simple: women were banned from working or even leaving the house unaccompanied throughout the 1990's. Yes, the 1990's. Not the 1890's or the 1790's or the 1690's. Twenty short years ago Afghan girls didn't go to school; Afghan women couldn't sit in Parliament; an Afghan woman couldn't be a judge.



Things have improved. Isn't that what we're fighting for? But the place of women, the rights of Afghan girls to an education, the right's of women to teach them are still by no means secure. According to the Afghan Ministry of Education, between March and October 2010 twenty girls' schools were either bombed or burnt down and over 120 students and teachers killed. Anonymous, threatening 'night letters' are routinely sent to working women, including one to a teacher in a girls' school which read: "We warn you to leave your job as a teacher as soon as possible otherwise we will cut the heads off your children and shall set fire to your daughter."



I'm not sure, turning back the clock, if the invasion of Afghanistan was such a good idea. (I'm certain the invasion of Iraq wasn't.) As has been shown - and continues to be shown - in the case of the Arab uprisings, a little subtle military support here, some diplomatic pressure there, can help the people themselves achieve a whole lot without the need for an invasion of ground forces.



But at least this invasion seemed to be changing lives for the better. According to the Independent on Sunday's investigation Afghanistan isn't actually the worst place in the world to be a woman. That badge of dishonour goes to Yemen. But it is the most dangerous. And with Karzai's latest attempt at placating the Taliban, that's hardly likely to change much in the near future.



Which rather begs the question - what are we fighting for?

La donna è mobile

Yes, I know it's a horrible pun and a mistranslated one at that. But I couldn't resist the play on words to accompany our own fickle little lady's latest milestone. And this short film is for granny too, recovering from a recent back operation (get well soon!) and unable to see Eloise's progress for herself.

Sunday Supplement

An eclectic mix of reviews this morning, beginning with a timely addition to our medical box.



When Tommy Tippee asked if we'd like to test out their Closer to Nature digital ear thermometer we had no idea that within a day or two of its arrival we'd be putting it to regular use every couple of hours as Eloise succumbed to one of those mystery viral infections that brings a sudden increase in temperature and attendant complications - ranging in this case from crankiness to the desire to sleep for large parts of the day.



Using any kind of thermometer on a small child and being sure of getting an accurate reading is likely to be problematic. Holding the probe - any probe - into whichever orifice it is designed to be inserted for the required length of time can be tricky. So you want a gadget such as this to be as quick and easy to operate as possible. As quick and easy, in fact, as if you've just taken it out of the box for the first time in a bit if a hurry because you've just discovered your child running a temperature and you want to find out precisely what it is.



As a means of road-testing an essential piece of nursery equipment, it's got to be pretty effective. But next time I'd be happy to wait or to try out something without having such an immediate medical need. Thankfully Eloise's temperature is back to normal, a fact I can vouchsafe thanks to the ease of use and accuracy of the Tommee Tippee device..







Next, boots. Boots made for walking. For walking quite a long way every morning to nursery, in fact. Being a one-car family (and being the one without it for most of the time) my daily commute involves legging it on Shanks's pony up to four times daily. (Charlie's pre-school doesn't provide all-day care, necessitating collection at the end of the morning and delivery again for the afternoon session!) What I need, I need hardly tell you, is stout shoes - I prefer boots, in fact, with some ankle support - and Josef Seibel have supplied a rather smart pair for me to try out on this daily pound. I can tell you that they're comfortable and smart; I can tell you that they're stylish; I can tell you that I like wearing them and that they seem robust. What I can't tell you is where to find a pair for yourself and what I can't do is show you a picture because the pair they've sent seem mysteriously absent from their website.



There's no such problem with the little Lego box that Charlie's been reviewing this week. Here's a picture of what he's been playing with...







And here's a short clip of him playing with it.









This little box is good because it comes with a set of four templates and Charlie has become adept at both sorting the right bricks and then assembling each of the creatures. Furthermore, as you'll have seen, he doesn't stop there but uses his imagination to combine the bricks into new objects of his own making. It's a big hit and the set can be had for as little as £14.99 on Amazon - money well spent considering the endless hours of fun it's provided.




You can see what we're going to be doing for the rest of the weekend. 




Have a good Sunday.

Nature v nurture

Remember this - my review of Don Giovanni? We had such a wonderful night at the opera we bought the DVD.



Little did we know who'd be asking to watch it - and one scene in particular - the most.



It seems we might, inadvertently, have spawned an opera buff. Or even potential opera singer. Certainly, performer. Which really begs the ancient question - is it nature or is it nurture?

What's your favourite bedtime story?

No, not yours per se. Not as such. As in, what's on your bedside table; what do you read before turning out the light. No. A recent twitter conversation with - among others - @anniephoto, @Mrs_Rev, @mumstheboss, @adventuretogs and @tiddlyompompom set in train one of those discussions you don't really consider (well, I didn't) until it suddenly become the most immediate and interesting and inevitable topic ever to have crossed your mind.



In this case, the subject for cogitation was favourite bedtime stories to read aloud. Not even, necessarily, those we admire or enjoy for the quality of writing or the story or the literary merit. Not even, especially, those that appeal because of the magic of our own childhood memories.(This latter can, in fact, have the opposite effect. I have very fond memories of having the Beatrix Potter books read to me as a child, but was rather disappointed when I started reading them to Charlie.)



Anyway, books with gruesome twists, grotesque characters, grimly fascinating settings and all the gory details. Who else, of course, but the late, great Roald Dahl. For entertainment, for fun, and for the chance to give full reign to my inner Thespian, I can't beat The Twits. I'm delighted Charlie's now old enough to appreciate Roald Dahl. And even more pleased that it gives me a chance to do all the voices all over again.



In fact, I'm thinking of hiring myself out. Or making a story tape. I could probably do The Twits from memory. YouTube clips to follow, I promise. In the meantime, though, I'd like to know what you love reading to your children?