Tim Atkinson's Blog, page 85

Eric Joyce and me... the truth!

Poor Eric! Whatever the precise nature of the offences alleged to have occurred late on Wednesday evening in the House of Commons, it can't be pleasant being the Honourable Member for Falkirk at present.



It's a little known fact that Eric and I go back a long way. And I've a lot to be grateful to Eric for. We shared student digs briefly in London in the eighties. It was Eric who strode out and single-handedly prevented the escape of a would-be hit-and-run driver who had hit my car and was about to do a runner. Thanks, Eric. And it was Eric who broke into my ground-floor room for me when I arrived back from Yorkshire without my key. I owe you one, Eric.



Eric was also a good bloke to have in your tutorials. Never afraid to speak his mind (good training for a politician) he was also a pretty sharp cookie and not averse to running intellectual rings around the tutors. Thanks again, Eric. Those spats were the only thing that kept me awake at times.



I don't think he drank much in the time I knew him. But then, he was training hard - judo was his thing, I seem to recall. Clearly that came in useful later on. For whereas I did the normal thing that people do when they've trained to be a teacher - i.e. teach, in a school - Eric joined the Army. Ok, so it was the Education Corps. But still. He was the only one who did.



And then I rather lost touch with him. A few years ago (while still in uniform) he got into a spot of bother writing a pamphlet for the Fabian Society and I had that odd 'I know him' moment when I heard that familiar Scottish burr on the Today programme, and later when I saw him - a picture of imperturbability before Jeremy Paxman - on Newsnight. Thanks for that, Eric.



So while all around are tutting-this and whispering-that, I'm here to say - here's to the good times, Eric. And if you want a character witness...

What have you given up for Lent?

Today is Ash Wednesday (if you didn't know it) - No Smoking Day if you're in Ireland! (Don't you just love their sense of humour?)



Anyway, having wrestled with suggestions and ideas ranging from cigarettes, ironing (I don't smoke and hardly iron) to swearing and cider, I've decided to give up the latter for the next forty days. And not just cider - all alcoholic beverages completely.



Those of you that know me well will appreciate how much of a sacrifice this is. It's not that I'm dependent or anything (would I admit it if I was?) but I find the question of what to drink instead so impossible to answer that I end up reaching for the corkscrew or bottle opener.



This is going to present me with a serious - if not intractable - difficulty for the next forty days. I mean, what is there of any interest, flavour, thirst-quenching zip and stomach-warming zap in the soft-drink market? I know there's nothing - nothing - like a glass of cold water on a hot day when you're really thirsty. But what do I drink until the weather turns warmer? Yes, there's tea (in ever-increasingly flavours) and hot milk, cocoa, coffee (in an ever-increasing list of silly names) but what else is there at wine o'clock apart from, well, wine?



I need your help. I've tried coke (the carbonated beverage...!), juice, cloudy (and clear) lemonade, ginger beer, cream soda, dandelion and burdock and all manner of other things and nothing quite hits the spot. Maybe nothing will? But if you've any suggestions I'd be very grateful for them.



Meanwhile, I'll have to live off the fat of my own 'shrove' Friday which was last week at the Luton Beer Festival. There - in addition to filling up pancake-fashion on all manner of soon-to-be-banished beverages - I saw this sign, and liked it.







And if things get really bad there's always Sunday. Did you know Sunday isn't technically part of Lent? Count the days between now and Easter and you get a few more than forty. It seems that Sunday is a rest day in more ways than one, and this particular one might just see me through the season.

A Night at the Opera

I've never written an opera review before. I've never been to the Royal Opera House before, either. I have seen Mozart's Don Giovanni. I've even sung bits of it myself. And I've listened to recordings and watched DVD productions.



But...



Nothing could have quite prepared me for the magic of the Royal Opera House production on Thursday evening. For power, for theatre, for beauty, for music, for well... opera, it was an event hard to beat.



I must confess that, at first, I'd hoped Gerald Finley would've still been singing the title role. But that was due entirely to not ever having heard Erwin Schrott before. Ladies (or others less impressed than I am with a sumptuous, dark chocolate bass-baritone) should be aware that's there's plenty to impress about the Uruguayan singer as well as his voice. Interviewers use such phrases as 'too damned handsome for his own good'; 'electrifyingly sexy'; they refer to his 'gym-toned features' and suggest he could have had a career as a male model if he'd chosen to. All that and a voice to die for, too. Ladies, Google him. Gents, admire from afar. And if you've ever like me aspired to be a singer, curse the fates that this one man has been dealt all the aces.



Some people think opera is elitist; it's certainly expensive. But the spectacle, the drama and the (un-miked) vocal performances are every bit as exciting as any number of West End musicals. Come to think of it, the ticket prices aren't even that bad when you compare the two. And the tunes - yes, tunes - are so darned good.



If you've not been, don't be put off; don't imagine it's about stuffy oldies frowning above their glasses at anyone who dares to hum along. Or cough. Or laugh. (Well, they don't encourage audience participation at the ROH but then, with such tremendous operatic voices as these on show, you wouldn't want to miss what's being sung on stage. Personally, I've never found the idea of singing along to your favourite vocalist all that easy to understand anyway. After all, they're the ones you're paying to hear.



But no matter. The opera. Quite simply, one of the best night's at the opera ever. Ok, I could have quibbled with some of the tempi set by the conductor. And - if I'm honest - the famed versatility of the ROH Orchestra wasn't quite all that it could be. And the revival director needs her bottom spanked for insisting that the Don (Schrott) sing the champagne aria while squashed beneath a flight of stairs.



But these are mere bagatelles compared to the bravura singing of Erwin Schrott as the womanising, cheating, murdering Giovanni himself - aided and abetted in his serial seductions and more than matched in vocal quality by his Baldrickesque sidekick, Leporello (Italian tenor Alex Esposito).



The ladies were by turn heart-rending, feisty, passionate and coquettishly seductive as a trio united by their various brushes with the eponymous cad. Poor Donna Anna (Carmela Remigio) - whose failed seduction  followed by the murder of her father is what kick starts the action - finds an unlikely ally in Donna Elvira (Ruxandra Donose), the only woman really to love Giovanni and, therefore, the only one he spurns.



But in the eye-flutteringly flirtatious performance of American soprano Kate Lindsay (Zerlina) there's a sense in which the Don might have met his match - if only she weren't being pursued by her fiancé Masetto (Matthew Rose).



The dénouement is one of the most dramatic in all opera (if still requiring a hearty suspension of disbelief) as the murdered Commandatore rises from the grave to secure the retribution that his son-in-law to be Don Ottavio (Pavol Breslik) seems unable to achieve. With flames whose heat we could feel, Don Giovanni is dragged to hell for his misdeeds and the remaining characters sing a rather unnecessary little chorus reminding the audience that a fate worse than death is what literally awaits all who misbehave as he has done.



Or is it? Because in this production as the final curtain falls we catch a brief glimpse of the Don in Hell, the arms of a naked girl wrapped round his neck.



Maybe Giovanni really does have the last laugh and virtue is - ultimately - unrewarded.



Either way, it makes one Hell of a Night at the Opera!

Kids and illness: how sick must they be to miss school?

Today's post is by Jo Middleton is an award-winning blogger, mum of two daughters, freelance writer and marketing consultant. She lives in Bristol and loves sharing stories of family life, dating disasters and random musings on her blog, Slummy single mummy. Today, she's writing about when the kids are off sick.



I hate it when my kids are off sick, and will often send them in 'feeling sick' with a spoonful of calpol. When they are at home, I insist on constant bed rest, to make the day as dull as possible. Is this fair, or am I being cruel?

There are plenty of aspects of parenting that I do well. I'm happy to go on trips to the cinema, I can talk openly about delicate issues, and I don't mind the odd game of Sylvanian Families, but one thing I am really not good at is dealing with sick children.



I know I should probably be sat at their bedside, mopping their fevered brows and helping them sip from a mug of homemade chicken broth, but I just can't. When it comes to illness, I just have no sympathy – I just want them better, back at school, and out from under my feet.



When I was a child, my mum used to make staying home from school a real treat. Any sign of a sniffle and we could tuck ourselves up under a duvet on the sofa with a bit of Richard and Judy, and enjoy big bowls of tomato soup with grated cheese on top. When being sick is so much fun though, where's the incentive to get better?



While my stay-at-home-mum was able to take care of us without having to worry about work, my full time self-employment means a child at home really is a headache, for them and me, and so I try to discourage sickness as much as possible. I ensure a day off is as dull as possible, so that they're soon begging to go back to school, if only so they can sit upright.



"Bed rest!" I'll declare with mock concern whenever one of my daughters is ill. "It's the only way. If you're not well enough for school you'll need complete bed rest. All day. You can get up to go to the toilet, but other than that you'll have to remain lying down at all times. I will bring you water and plain toast and you're allowed to read."



This approach soon filters out the really poorly from those who are just hoping to watch a bit of Cash in the Attic.



What's your approach to sick kids? Are you in the 'tough love' camp or do you think I'm horribly cruel and uncaring?

The Reserves

Happy Birthday CBeebies!

Did you know CBeebies is ten years old this week? Nor did I. It all began so long ago when my eldest daughter was just slightly younger than Charlie is now. Which means I've been watching it, on and off - and more on than off - for a decade.



We try not to. As adults, we're probably in a tiny minority of people who could just about get away without a Tv, we watch so little. That's not because we're doing holier-than-thou cultural diversions like singing madrigals or playing string quarters or reading Proust. It's because we're too tired. Most decent telly lasts about an hour - I record plenty of it. Then - once the kids are in bed, once the dinner pots are done, once the toys are tidied up and once any homework has been supervised - we just flick through the Sky + planner and give up.



But although our lack of telly goggling is largely involuntary, I do try to ration the amount the kids watch. Because I think they should be doing something else as well as watching telly. But the thing about CBeebies (this is not a sponsored post, honest) is that it's so darned good. It's difficult to be discriminating when the quality is so consistently high. And - here's the rub - it actually inspires my brood to go and 'switch off the television set and do something less boring instead.' So what's not to like?



Well, there's Waybaloo of course. But enough of that. We've all got our bête noire and that's mine. (I thought children's programmes had moved on from the coy 'kiddies' voiced characters talking in the third-person, but no matter.) Personally, with the benefit of my rose-tinted spectacles, I think you've got to go a long way to beat Trumpton. Or Bod, or Mary, Mungo and Midge. Or Hector's House. Or Mr Ben.



But enough nostalgia. Well, no actually. Because this coming weekend CBeebies is celebrating by showing some classics of the station now not often seen. Things like Big Cook, Little Cook (not one I miss, personally - give me Katy and her 'slippy, dippy soap anyday') and Boogie Beebies. Jackanory Junior is on, I think, as is Carrie and David's Pop Shop slipped in amongst the regular schedule.



There's been quite a discussion on the CBeebies Facebook page about the celebration. In among programmes that were never part of the CBeebies schedule (Playschool, Playbus) or even part of any BBC channel (Rainbow) there's been a roll call of such long-gone delights as Brum, Higgledy House, Barnaby Bear (and Becky, of course), The Bobinogs and my own personal favourite, Story Makers.



Personally, I think they should devote an entire weekend to parents' choice of past CBeebies programmes. The children could amuse themselves doing things inspired by Mr Maker or Louie or Squigglet or similar while we amused ourselves with gone-but-not-forgotten gems.



So here's a challenge - what would your ideal CBeebies birthday schedule be? There are a few ideas to start you off in the video below. Maybe if enough of us show interest we can persuade them to run it, as a one off?



After all, in terms of hours watched, we must be their core audience!

Snow joke

I made an important discovery about human nature yesterday. I discovered something profound and fundamental about our personalities. Everyone else has probably know about this for ages, but it has only just occurred to me. We all need our own personal epiphany, after all. And the truth of even the most commonplace experience is never so valid as when it happens to us. And this 'Eureka' moment has just happened to me.



So what is this discovery, I hear you ask? What is this revolutionary insight?



It is this.



The world divides into just two types of people. Not introvert/extrovert; forget passive/aggressive; don't think intuitive/impulsive. Fundamentally, people can be separated according to one straightforward characteristic - they're either makers or breakers; creators or destroyers; builders or wreckers.



I suppose even I have known this, deep down, for some time. After all, there were always those bigger boys on the beach who - after you'd spent all day crafting your best-ever sandcastle creation - would amuse themselves by trampling over it. Well they've all grown up now and are probably trampling all over people's dreams.



Like me you probably had certain friends whose toys were always broken, kids who took more pleasure in smashing things to bits than putting them together. They're now almost certainly taking similar pleasure in breaking promises or else dismantling relationships or old cars or television sets or the economy or something.



It's true, isn't it? You either make things or you break them. The undoubted truth of this psychological insight occurred to me yesterday whilst building a snowman. Here he is. He's called Bernard. (The snowman, that is). Nice, isn't he?







Thankfully, Bernard survives in the safety of our back garden. I was tempted to put him in the front for all the world to see (especially as the boulder of snow had grown so big I wasn't sure I could roll it round to the back of the house). But I opted for safety. And I'm glad I did.



Because we weren't the only ones building snowmen yesterday. All morning people filled the park opposite making ever more elaborate snow creations. By lunchtime there must have been a dozen or more, some over seven feet tall (I saw one woman sitting on her partner's shoulders placing the head atop their joint creation). Then the makers went home for a well-earned Sunday lunch. And the breakers emerged from their flea-infested pits. And by the end of the day there wasn't a single snowman left intact.



Which I think is rather sad. Yes, I know the snow is melting and the tide will always wash away our sandcastles. Ultimately, all our earthly creations are ephemeral. But I wonder whether being an instinctive maker or breaker influences your outlook on life in general, your attitude to other people, your respect both for yourself and the planet?



Or is smashing snowmen up just damned good fun?



Are you a snowman maker or a snowman breaker?

What a load of rubbish!

Who'd have thought recycling could be so good, so cheap and so much fun?



As my regular reader will tell you, I've signed up for The Rubbish Diet - Karen Cannard's plan to slim my bin with the ultimate aim of achieving a zero-waste week at the end of the eight-week challenge.



So far, so good.








Does my bin look big in this?






And now - the pièce de résistance - this little beauty (above) will not only provide me with free compost and put an end to the ridiculous amount of biodegradable food waste we at present send to landfill, but the item in question was a bargain, a snip, a steal at just £5 - five pounds! - in Wilko the other day.



And if that isn't enough to send you in search of your own compostarium, or if putting your potato peelings to good use isn't your idea of fun, just take a toddler along and convince him (or her) that they can walk around the store with the compost bin on their head, dropping to the floor (à la Toy Story 2) whenever a dangerous-looking shopping trolley heads their way...







Honestly, I had no idea being so green was going to be such good fun.

Let's hear it for the Dads...

You've got to love CBeebies. I do. I know there's Alex, but he improves with keeping. And there's Waybaloo. The less said about that the better. But really, there's lots to like and precious little to complain about.



But complain I did. I complained about a month ago about the links on the CBeebies Grown-ups blog. They linked to mums; they linked to grandmas. There were crafty links and bloggy links and useful links and entertaining links. But there were no dads links. It was as if they imagined their entire audience was female.



I politely pointed out that - as one of a growing number of stay-at-home dads - I'd appreciate the odd father-centred link. And then I forgot all about it.



So when an email came out-of-the-blue agreeing, apologising and inviting me to suggest some dads links I was both surprised and pleased. Oh, and I happily obliged. They're up there now on the CBeebies Blog for all to see.



As is my guest post for them, kicking off a week celebrating all things 'dad' and highlighting resources for us fathers. There'll be posts from Sid and Alex (both dads themselves) later in the week and the whole thing is going to culminate in a special 'dads only version of the Friday 'who's watched most CBeebies' quiz.



And being the stereotypical competitive alpha male that I am, I'm taking that last event very seriously indeed.



So if you'll excuse me, I've got to put the telly on.



Only joking.



Or am I?

Sunday Supplement

It's Sunday and time once again for the round-up of reviews and recommendations that is the Bringing up Charlie Sunday Supplement.



First, baby monitors. I'm on my own with two kids every day. With the best will in the world you can't keep your eye on them for every second and now and then (shock, horror!) I have to leave them unattended. It's never for long and always while I do something else like start cooking supper, hanging out the washing or even going to the loo.



I've tested baby monitors with a camera before, not all that successfully. But the new Kid Cam from UK technology company Storage Options is a bit different. For a start, it's made by a firm not known for its baby monitors; second, it comes with two wireless cameras and a split-screen facility which allows you to see what's happening in two different places (say, a baby's bedroom and a toddler's playroom). That's a real bonus. Third it's entirely wireless, and fourth - it comes supplied with both permanent mounting brackets and strong, suction cup mountings that allow you to experiment with different locations. And that's important. I've discovered, for instance, that our kitchen is something of a wireless blackspot for all manner of transmissions, from monitor signals to WIFI. Being able not only to wall mount the screen (as well as cameras, of course) in order to keep it out of the way of whatever I'm cooking but to easily change the location to improve reception is a real bonus. Oh, and I forgot to say how easy it is to set up. And that you can use it in the car (there's an in-car charger available) and garden.







Next, a top secret assignment. Listen very carefully. I shall say theesss onli wance. The 'top secret' Ministry of Letters - an ordinary-looking postbox in the shadow of Big Ben, but in reality the place where all the words in the world are made - has just launched Operation Alphabet.







It's the story of little Charlie Foxtrot who has started school with a bad case of 'alphabetaheebeegeebees'. Fortunately, the Special Alphabet Service (S.A.S) is on hand and they embark on a top secret mission to find Charlie, teach him the alphabet and open his mind to a love of letters and stories.



Like an increasing number of books, Operation Alphabet is, well, more than just a book. It's an interactive website, a couple of YouTube videos as well as a poster, a blog and - coming soon - a show. The aim is not only to help teach children the alphabet but to make it fun and to inspire a lifelong love of language. As they say in their manifesto song...





Our mission, friends, is clear and true -

To help boys and girls like you!

To show how wonderful words can be -

All from the humblest A, B, C.





Finally, a little more about backache. Or more specifically, how to avoid it. As I mentioned in Friday's post, I attended a briefing for parents given by the British Chiropractic Association last Saturday. The aim was simple - to give us a little more information about looking after our backs, from the rudiments of good posture to lifting babies safely. Here's a short video, starring Dr Tim Hutchful, with some of the main messages. But don't forget the one I've already mentioned. Brushing your teeth standing on one leg isn't some kind of bizarre adult game to play whilst sharing a bathroom. It's actually a simple way of improving the decompression of your spine. Preventive exercise, in other words. And something you can do without going to the gym. It really was one of the most useful and interesting sessions I've attended and you can find out more by visiting the British Chiropractic Association website.



So, until next month, consider your Sunday well and truly supplemented. And for the sake of your back, don't forget to brush your teeth.