My little girl!

I'm so proud of my little girl. I love her so very much. She is clever, bright and works really hard to progress. However, she has always found English difficult. It started with her speech and progressed to difficulties with reading and writing. Each year she has continued to excel in Maths, Art and Science whilst falling further behind in English.

This has culminated in a series of tests to check if she is Dyslexic. Whilst the final results are awaited, it has been confirmed that she has difficulties with sequential learning and visual recognition. This means that she finds it hard to place letters in the correct order and it can be difficult for her to read words, remember them and place them in her writing.

I used to feel unable to help my child but now I'm empowered. I still don't know how to help but I will learn.

Oh, and did I say that I was proud of my little girl and love her so very much!

1) How to make J's 4th birthday & 2) How to make my day.

How to make J's 4th Birthday

Less Toys R Us and more,

Rob u Blind,

But worth every penny to see the smile on his face when he opens it,

Happy Birthday J. I love you lots,

To Infinity and Beyond!

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2) How to make my day,

Two tickets see Madness in concert on 11th December 2010,

One Step Beyond!

The reason I'll be wearing my poppy with pride this year.

Before I met my stepfather Remembrance Sunday was a time to remember the sacrifices that had been made by others to safeguard our freedom. That would change when I met him.

I first met my stepfather when I was 20. I'd often wondered what I would do when I met the man that had come into my life and tore my family apart. The man that had destroyed my image of the perfect family. The marriage wrecker! When I finally did meet him I shook his hand, talked to him and we became friends. In time we would become a lot more. I guess I was lucky to have a father that actively encouraged me to have a relationship with my stepfather.

My stepfather used to be in the 2nd Battalion, The Parachute Regiment. Standing at 6ft 4" he is an imposing figure - hard as nails but, as I would find out, soft as shit. Being an ex soldier Remembrance Sunday means a lot to him. Each year he buys little crosses from the British Royal Legion, one for each local member of his Battalion that had passed away, and plants them in the local memorial park. One year I helped him write the names on the crosses. Half way through I stopped and asked him if he knew any of the names.The answers would go something like this,

"He dropped into Arnhem. Nice chap, I met him a few times. He had some amazing stories to tell."

"I did basic training with him. He became a medic. Nice chap."

"I didn't know him but he was a nice chap."

 I then asked him about a name I'd just written and he replied,

"He was my mate. He was on a routine four man patrol when the jeep he was travelling in was hit by machine gun fire. He turned the jeep into the gunfire so that his mates could get out. He was killed instantly." At this point my stepfather was welling up so I didn't press him any further, but a little while later I saw a photograph of this four man patrol. I recognised one of the men as a much younger version of my stepfather. I realised then that if this man hadn't given his own life, my stepfather wouldn't have been here today.

As I learnt about the person behind the name he became real to me. I learnt about the family that had been left behind. His wife, his parents and his children and I began to realise just how much this brave man had really sacrificed.

This year, as the fighting continues, my stepfather will be buying more crosses then last year. 

As well as the dead, there are also the living that are left with terrible injuries, such as those my stepfather visits at Selly Oak Hospital. Young men that have lost limbs, in many cases numerous limbs, but that get up and carry on with their lives. Brave men - much braver than me!

That is why I now consider Remembrance Sunday to be a time to remember, and say a massive thank you, to the very brave and courageous servicemen and women that have, and continue to, put their lives on the line to safeguard our freedom. 

Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)?

I have, on at least two separate occasions. How about you?

Happy Thoughts!

When I was going through the darkest days of my divorce I found that I couldn't bear to stay in the house on my own. Thus, I found myself spending far too much time in the pub drinking, a habit that wasn't good for either my health or my wealth.

So, I sought an alternative. An activity that would enable me to escape my thoughts, lift my mood and make me feel better about my situation. I enjoyed it so much that I still do it today. Whenever,

a) I'm missing my kids, friends, family or the lovely lady,
b) I'm feeling stressed,
c) My head is starting to feel fuzzy or,
d) I'm just feeling low,

I strap on my trainers and take myself off for a run. I don't go fast but I do manage to keep putting one foot in front of another until I end up back where I started from. I love running and I would like to take you with me. So, put your trainers on and come along (metaphorically speaking):

I start here at the canal outside my house;

I then run past the horses at the riding school;

By the time I arrive at the water sports centre my mind is starting to clear;

When I arrive at the River Trent it is empty;

And when I rudely barge past through the grazing geese I can't help but giggle;

By the time I arrive back here;

I am free!

Pre-nuptial Agreements

Last week the UK Supreme Court ruled in favour of pre-nuptial agreements. Personally, I've always disliked the idea of them. The romantic in me likes to think that if you are willing to enter into a binding commitment then you should be aiming to do so for life and with someone that you truly love. But then I did that before and things/people/situations change and marriages end.

Add to that, the fact that I'm now a single parent and life becomes even more complicated. So part of me thinks that a pre-nuptial agreement could help settle the nerves.

Having said that, I can't get away from the thought that a pre-nuptial is almost an acceptance that the relationship is doomed to failure and I wouldn't enter into a binding commitment in such a circumstance - the romantic in me wouldn't allow it.

But then what do I know? In most cases, not much so I would be interested to hear your thoughts.

Going Home.

This past weekend I went home to Coventry to introduce the lovely lady to my family. We stayed in a hotel, in  the city centre, and whilst there took the opportunity to visit the local sites, something I haven't done for many a long year.

When I was growing up the remnants of the devastation that had been inflicted upon my birthplace were clear to see. We used the old bomb craters as our BMX track, the old bomb shelter was turned into a den and we would walk past the site of Big Bertha (an anti aircraft gun) on the way to school. In our history lessons we were told stories of how, on the night of the 14th November 1940, the Germans commenced Operation Sonata which would flatten large parts of the City and kill hundreds of innocent people in the process. This was the start of the indiscriminate bombing that would continue for much of the second world war and bring devastation to cities all over the world. But, for all this devastation Coventry would stand proud. On Christmas Day 1940, just one month after the bombing, Provost Dick Howard used a national radio broadcast, from the ruins of the cathedral, to make a commitment to forgiveness and reconciliation with those responsible. From these words, and the acts of friendship that followed, Coventry became a by-word for reconciliation. It is this ideology that makes me so proud to say that I was born and bred in the City of Coventry.

This cross was picked from the charred remains of the cathedral roof.

Dear Heavenly Father,

Dear Heavenly Father who art in heaven,

Thank you so very much for choosing me for your experiment. At first I was confused, I didn't understand and I was a little scared. I had witnessed my current symptoms of irritability, cravings for chocolate, backache, neck ache, feelings of aggression, fluid retention, outbreaks of acne, mood swings and depression in the ladies of my life but never my fellow man. These symptoms had shown regularly in my mother, my sister and my ex-wife. Clearly, you were preparing me for this moment. I now even understand why you had decided to synchronise the cycle of all the women that I work with - clearly I could not be allowed to miss this moment.

I am now ready for the next stage of your work and I am willing to show that men can carry the burden of childbirth as well as, if not better then, women. However, I would be grateful if you could help me me get past this current stage of PMT as I'm not sure that I can cope with my current low for much longer. I have prepared myself by searching for suitable sanitary products but I had no idea what strength I would require (who would have guessed there would be so many different types?) so instead I have found one of J's unused nappies. I am ready, so please let the floodgates open. I'm not asking for great gushes. No, I would be happy with a few simple spots of blood so that I could be really sure that this phase of the adventure is over with and I will happily embrace the next one.

Thank you Lord,

Your faithful servant,

Spencer.

PS If I've misinterpreted your actions, and you haven't chosen me to be the first man to bear children, could you please let the sun shine as I think I might be suffering from Seasonal affective disorder.

Life is Beautiful!

Sometimes I wake up to the song of blackbirds and,
Sometimes I wake up to the lovely lady and,
Sometimes I wake up to a little monkey that has sneaked into my bed during the night;

Life is beautiful!

Can music move you?

Ever since I was a nine year old, and took my first walk into a HMV store, music has been an integral part of my life. It can lift me, lower me, make me cry and make me laugh out loud. I love music.

I no longer buy my music from HMV, prefering to buy on line, but I cannot resist a rummage through the clearance bins at the local supermarket. Today I found the Greatest Hits of Nina Simone and, whilst I've only heard a few of Nina's hits, decided to purchase it.

Having only listened to the first of the two CD's I am emotionally drained. The reason music has so much meaning to me is that it takes me to places. I associate songs with times in my life and that is exactly what happened with this album.

The first song I listened to was this,

He's got the whole world in his hands



This took me back to my junior school. I would have been 7 or 8 and we used to sing this song during school assembly. I remember this song as I used to fancy a girl at school who would sing her heart out to it. I used to look at her singing and things would happen to me deep inside.

I then heard this,

You'll never walk alone



In my mind this song will always be the anthem of the great Liverpool Football Club. Whilst it has associations with many glorious occasions, for me, it always brings memories flooding back of the Hillsborough disaster in which 96 people lost their lives. To see football, one of my great loves, so intermingled with death and suffering really upset me. I still can't hear this song without shedding a tear.

I haven't started listening to the second CD in the album yet, but I know already that it will bring back more memories.

Can music move you in the same?

Do you enjoy sex?

This is a difficult question for me to ask, especially as my moral guidance councillor reads this blog, but,

"Do you enjoy sex?"

For me it is a very critical and enjoyable part of my relationship with the lovely lady. The moments of intimacy bond our partnership and help to create the atmosphere of love that we share. Even in the later stages of my marriage, and at a time when it was clear that we had issues, my ex-wife and I had a healthy sexual relationship.

However, I was intrigued by an article in The Times on Tuesday by Helen Croyden which gave reference to the 1% of the population that are considered to be asexual, i.e. they do not seek sexual relationships. Asexuals can seek all the other trappings of a relationship and can hold, and sustain, loving partnerships but they just don't desire sexual activity.

Asexuality is considered to be a mental heath disorder. It is considered that asexulity is "fiaxable." It seems strange to me that we should view a sexual choice as "fixable." As much as I enjoy sexual activity to me it doesn't seem strange that other people don't. Just as it doesn't seem strange that other people choose different sexual preferences (homosexuality was also considered a mental health disorder until 1973). Therefore, I fully agree with the campaign by Aven (the asexuality networking site) that asexuality should be declassified as a mental health disorder.

I wonder what your views are?

Shooting Stereotypes

Before you start reading this I should warn you that it may turn into a rant.

Last Wednesday I was walking along the canal tow path after dropping my children back at their mums. I had just been given lesson no. 4572 as to why I'm a crap dad (this time it was because I can't tie my daughters hair back properly) and so I was feeling a little fragile about my status as a father.

I passed a mother and two young children feeding one of the swans and the cygnets. One of the children turned to his mother and said,

"Look mummy, only one of the parents are there." The mum replied,

"Yes, the daddy swan leaves them after a while." I didn't say anything but I thought to myself,

"What bollocks! They are mute swans and both parents share the care of the young and, anyway, how do you know that isn't the father?"

The next day I was walking along the same stretch of the canal with the lovely lady and told her the story. She replied,

"Yes, well it probably was the mother wasn't it. That is what happens." I was slightly taken aback but replied,

"Hmm yes probably" and ended the conversation there. However, whilst I never spoke any further words, the conversation continued in my head. It went something like this,

"Yes, I bet the father is down the pub getting pissed with his mates! No, I know, he's probably at the casino blowing the mortgage payment on black jack! No, I know, he'll be down the strip club perving on Ms. Flamingo, who is young enough to be his daughter. Yes, that's where he'll be, because all us fathers are useless b*stards!"

And the rant continued,

"But maybe, just maybe, Mr. Swan came home from work one night to find that Mrs. Swan had removed all evidence of him from the nest and left his clothes on the riverbank."

"Perhaps, he then found out that Mrs. Swan had been shagging Mr. Peacock and had moved him into the nest. Soon afterwards Mrs Swan would tell Mr. Swan that he couldn't see the kids again until he signed the nest, and the canal bank surrounding it, over to Mrs. Swan."

Only Mr. Swan couldn't do that as it would mean he had no money and would have to go and live in the middle of the North Sea, or somewhere equally obscure, and never get to see his kids. So, instead he proposed to Mrs. Swan,

"Look, there is £100k equity in that nest. You give me £15k, so I can put a deposit down on a new nest, and we'll call it quits." But, Mrs Swan didn't like this proposition and replied,

"No! I'll keep the house and you can go and whistle."

Therefore, Mr. and Mrs. Swan ended up in court. On the steps of the court, and as it became obvious to everyone that Mr. Swan was entitled to £50k, Mrs Swan offered Mr. Swan £15k. Mr Swan, desparate to see his kids again, accepted this offer.

And, perhaps that was Mr. Swan seeing his kids for the first time in weeks and Mrs. Swan was at home shagging Mr. Peacock.

Perhaps, that is what it was. Just saying like!

If you could fly

If you could fly would you soar up high?,
or would you whooosh down low?,
perhaps, you would go somewhere far, far away,
or maybe you would go to a land down below,

But maybe, just maybe, you'd be an awkward git
and take a stroll down the central carriageway!



(photo credit) This wasn't mine but the same thing happened to me!

The benefits of dating a single mum.

When I was 19 I dated a 35 year old single mum. At the time the benefits of dating a 35 year old single mum seemed obvious and didn't really need spelling out. However, and in case there was any doubt, my friends regularly told me what they perceived the benefits to be. It would be fair to say that my thoughts were shallow. But, in fairness, I am sure the benefits the 35 year old single mum perceived, in dating a 19 year old, were just as shallow. As it happens the relationship never fulfilled the depths of our shallowness and quickly fizzled out.

A few weeks later I would meet a 17 year old who, 10 years later, I would marry and, 7 years later, divorce.

I am now a 37 year old, divorced father of two, and once again I am dating a 35 year old single mum. My thoughts are no longer shallow and it would never be my intention to hurt anyone. Perhaps, that is the reason I am so surprised that I have fallen in love with this 35 year old single mum. In many ways it would have been easier to walk away at the first sign of emotion. Walking away is no longer an option. This 35 year old single mum has taken my heart and I want to be with her.

She is good for me, she understands me and we have fun together. The little things I do, that may seem strange to other people, make her smile. She stopped at my house last night comforting me as I have been suffering with the flu. As I reached in my pocket, for what felt like a hankie, I pulled out 3 balloons and a pair of children's socks. If this had been a date with someone, other then a mum, they may have thought I was a little mad. As it was she smiled and remarked that she loved the fact I carried around balloons and emergency socks. In fact she liked it so much she suggested that I blog about it.

In essence she understands that I am a father and how important that role is to me. I would love her to continue sharing my world confident in the knowledge that she understands that my kids are the gravity that hold it all together.

Falling in love with you again!

One of the most beautiful songs in my entire CD collection.

I'm dedicating this to the lovely lady in my life, but don't let that stop you listening as it's gorgeous.

Enjoy!

Suicide is Painless!

Today I found out that a work colleague had committed suicide at the weekend. He wasn't a close colleague (I've probably worked with him 20 times over the past 8 years) but it was still a shock. I've recently been working with him on my current project and it was clear to see that he had changed since I'd previously worked with him 4 years ago. It was as though he wasn't really there. He never laughed at jokes and didn't seem to get sarcasm, whereas before he did. I realise now that he must have been pre-occupied. I don't feel guilty for not noticing, as I didn't know him well enough too, but I can't help but wonder if I could have done a little more to help him.

I used to be of the opinion that suicide was a cowards way out. Having been an atheist I was firmly of the view that once someone was dead they were released from any suffering and it was passed on to the other people that cared about them. I try not to be so judgemental any more. After all, no one really knows what is going on inside the head of somebody else.

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If I may I'd like to take you back to India....

....and I promise that this is the final Indian post I'll do that might make me cry!

When I was in Karnataka we visited a lot of temples during the day and did a lot of drinking at night. On this particular visit, to yet another temple, I'd done a little too much drinking the night before and so decided the culture would have to pass me by and I waited on the coach whilst the others went exploring.

Whilst I was sat waiting a little girl entered the coach. She was very young, I would say no older then 4, she walked along the aisle and greeted me with a big cheery smile. I asked whether she should be at school and the answer she gave brought a tear to my eye and made me want to grab her, hide her in my luggage and bring her back to England where I could cherish her. Her response to my question was,

"I don't go to school. I don't do much. I have no Mummy, I have no Auntie, I have no Sisters and I have no one to look after me." 

I was choked. This beautiful little girl was left to look after herself at the tender age of 4. I didn't know much but I did know that there was something seriously wrong in the world when we allowed such a situation to exist.

She proceeded to open her hand and offered to sell me its contents. Inside were 5 badly creased postcards. She informed me the price. I decided to haggle, only not like any haggle I'd ever entered into before, and I managed to increase the price I would pay for these 5 creased postcards by at least 500%. It was some of the best business I'd ever done and the little girl seemed happy with her efforts as well. 

As we continued to chat I asked her what she would do now and she told me that she would go and buy some more postcards to sell. I offered to give her back the ones I had purchased. She looked at me with disgust and, it was clear to see that, I had insulted her. To this little, principled, child my good intentions would make her a beggar and she wasn't a beggar she was a business woman. I apologised and she forgave me.

The others returned and she made her way out of the coach in search of the next business transaction.

I opened my rucksack and placed the 5 postcards neatly next to the other hundred or so that I had already purchased during my trip to India!

My kids are going to be sooooo excited!

No, scratch that I'm sooooooooo excited. Today I've discovered that one of my all time heroes has moved into the area and drinks at my local pub. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that he would move here. After all, why would he? Why would he leave a life of luxury? Why would he leave a world where he is number one?

I don't know the answer to any of these questions but I do know that he is here! I had to stay an especially long time in my local pub in the hope that I would see him (shhhh don't tell the lovely lady she thought I was safely tucked up in bed!). But, alas I didn't see him this time. But that doesn't matter because I know he is here as I have proof. I've seen his car in the pub park.

I can't imagine why you've moved from Toyland but,

Welcome to Nottingham Noddy;

Could I please borrow a plaster? And the best excuse I've ever heard for farting!

Could I please borrow a plaster? Only, just after this little sequence of events,

I had to show my little boy how a proper Jedi Knight (me) uses a light sabre and he is now lying on the floor in two pieces!!

And the best excuse for farting I've ever heard


My little boy (J) was playing with his friend (J2). J2 said to J,

"I'm Ben 10 humungousaur!" he then turned to my boy and said;

"Aww, you've farted." My boy replied with,

"Yes, it's because I'm Ben 10 Stinkasaur!"

I love.....

....the simple things in life.

Like when I put my kids to bed and they pucker their lips ready for a kiss.  I don't need shiny cars or big houses. No, I'm happy with my kids bikes and my small house. I don't need expensive holidays in the Seychelles. No, I'm happy camping in the New Forest. I don't want waif like models. No, I'll take my lovely lady any day of the week.

I guess that makes me a simple man, but for that I'm grateful.