Golly, Moses, naturally we're punks ...

I think West Side Story got it slightly wrong. I'm developing a theory that it's not that mothers may be junkies or that fathers may be drunks which ails society so. Those are problems, sure, but I'm beginning to wonder whether the root of certain problems lie in school.

Yes, it's easy to blame schools - but by the same token it's easy to blame parents, too. Let me explain.

Since we've home-educated our kids, I've noticed a few things. Their behaviour is different - towards us and towards each other. When they were in school, they had begun to follow the pack mentality that pervades such places. Their self-esteem was driven by how high or low their ranking was within the herd. Their attitude and approach to life followed suit. My eldest son had pronounced communication difficulties and whilst he had good friends, got picked on by kids and staff alike. Just before we deregistered him from school, he had started to say things like "I'm a bad person" and "they don't want me in school". Within a fortnight of leaving school he had started to gain some confidence in himself; he walked taller and spoke more clearly.

I now realise that a major cause of disaffected youth is school. Not school per se, but the abnormally high concentrations of almost uncontrolled children. This arrangement is so divorced from what I'd call "normal family life" that it has a detrimental affect on those involved. I've known since I was at school that the stress makes teachers ill. Now I see that it also affects the children. Without the family structure, kids become anti-social. It's the Lord of the Flies thing: releasing the "beast within". I'm particularly interested to see that small schools we've seen recently (say 100 pupils over four or five years) do not exhibit the same problems.

That's it, really. I'm unsure what the solution is, but the problem is the abnormally large groups of unparented children at school. Maybe we should all home-educate ...

And we all like figgy pudding ...

so bring some out here

*But* are we going to like our Christmas Presents?

I hate shopping. Don't get me wrong: I like getting new things. I don't even mind the mad scramble in the shopping centres. It's not even the spending money that pains me so. It's the making decisions that really gets to me. I desperately struggle to avoid buying the wrong thing. Or, worse: I struggle to buy the right thing. (There is a difference.)

So: will he like this? Am I wasting my limited budget on buying something that will never get used? Will she think I'm being unnecessarily stingy if I don't buy that? The problem is, I always have this feeling that there's a really great gift out there, round the corner - if only I can remember where to get it.

I think I'd be happier going back to simpler times. Before all the retail lunacy, there was a warm-hearted glow about Christmas. Of course I wanted presents as a kid, but I don't remember the greed for bigger, better, more expensive that I see in kids today. Maybe it's that parental amnesia again. Maybe it's the orgy of advertising. Now I feel I'd prefer to give and receive a "little something" - to show love, respect and caring.

Still, little by little I accumulate a collection of things I feel will be well received. Just now, though, I'm a little light on things. And time. I'll keep looking. Thank goodness for on-line shopping!

Food, glorious food ...

Don't care what it looks like

Nutritionalists: Pah! A bunch of self-important bureaucrats if you ask me.

I've always thought that Arthur Marshall got it right: when being interviewed, he was asked to what he attributed his longevity. He said "I've always eaten what I like, when I like" - or something along those lines. Me too, mate.

So where do these people get off with their control-freakery? An where does all that gobbledegook come from? Polyunsaturated fats indeed! What the bugger is polyunsaturated fat? And do I want any? Why should I allow someone in a lab-coat - or, worse, in a suit - to tell me what I can and can't eat? I'll decide for myself, thanks.

I notice that food manufacturers (and I use that term carfully) are now in on the act. Cereal boxes are labelled with percentages of daily recommended intake for salt, saturated fat, calcium and so-on. I don't want to eat by numbers; is it just me? Personally, I would rather get my food the way nature intended. I don't want a carefully balanced, nutritionally-correct meal. Sure, I don't want to eat unhealthily either - but I'd rather let my body decide what is does and does not want. I'm a great believer in that. We are all animals at the end of the day^†. We are designed to self-regulate our diet. Surely you've noticed that when ill you feel like eating more fruit? It's not a coincidence, people.

I'll get off the soap-box, now. A final thought. (It'll only really make sense to a limited audience.) Those single-finger Twix bars: surely, they should be called "Unix"?

^† damn! Management-speak. Sorry.

Here comes the sun ...

Dood'n do doo ..

Good thing #1: For the first time this Autumn^†, I set off before sunrise. OK, it was light, but the sun was not yet up. Alright, I'm getting to the point. There is a short stetch of road on my journey to work where I can look over a low wall to my left^‡ and see the countryside laid out before me - over a valley and beyond. This is a really uplifting sight; on a good day it warms the ol' cockles, so it does. This morning, as I approached, the sun peeped over the horizon and lit up the light cloud cover: it was a fantastic sight. That really made my morning and now I feel great.

Good thing #2: I've discovered Firebug. I've not even had the chance to play with it much, but as a web developer I would rate is as WayCool^TM - just from the specs.

Good thing #3: I've just discovered that - despite the fact I've only got a few regular readers - this blog is listed on technorati. Not so clever, perhaps .. but it's added to my general bonhomie. Today I start my campaign for increased readership; tomorrow: blogospheric domination [Mwa-ha-haa].


^† that's Fall for you colonial types.

^‡ bear in mind that I'm riding on the left hand side of the road .. and that this is a narrow road with enough space for a car and a half between my side of the road and the parked cars on the other side.

It's one for you nineteen for me ...

Grrr. Now you know this isn't a political blog. OK, some recent posts are leaning that way, but ...

Today's headline is Motorists 'must pay for road use'. I'm sorry? I thought we already do. The fuel I buy is taxed - to the hilt (honest, no agricultural diesel for me!). I pay a road fund license - for each vehicle (regardless of the fact that I may only drive one at a time). Apparently, that's not paying for using the road though. Not paying enough ...

So: this plan of yon BA ex-chief's. Build more roads .. to encourage public transport use. Eh? What're the public supposed to do inbetween now and this supposed improvement in public transport? Oh, yes. Pay.

OK, better use of existing roads: Of course. I can't help thinking that the minor - untaxed - roads will become much busier. The motorways were supposed to take traffic away from the towns, not drive more traffic into them.

My recommendation would be to encourage public transport use first. Then improving the roads should be much easier.

Every beat of my heart ...

Don'tcha just hate it when that happens?

You're walking along, not really paying attention. Let's say you're going to the toilets, hypothetically. You step towards the door, hand reached out in front of you, anticipating the strangely satisfying resistance of the door closer against your touch. Suddenly you're wrenched from your dream-like state and are aware of falling forwards. Your hand thrusts forward into the slightly astonished face of someone coming the other way. Your heart seems to stop momentarily. You stagger to regain your balance. Someone has just tugged the door open just as you were about to make contact.

It's one of those one-in-a-million chances which turns up nine times out of ten. Or something.

Sign your name across my heart ...

This petition thing could become addictive. It seems the much-quoted joke petition (I assume - no, hope) is the exception. There are worthy petitions to be found. Some, it is true that I'd rather emigrate than see made law. No, I'm not going to publicise them - even in the name of ridicule! I reckon that a digital signature in opposition to ID cards, and in favour of private copies of copyright material is worth your time and effort, though.

Go on, you know it makes sense!

Well we got no choice ...

All the girls and boys

Wrong! I strongly believe that if the government have their way, there will be no choice but to follow the doctrine. The latest in a very worrying trend of totalitarian policies is a "consultation" regarding home education. Using the recent keep-the-children-safe bandwagon, the government are trying to strong-arm law requiring LEAs to monitor home-educating parents. This sounds innocuous but will result in the end of our right to educate our own children at home, in a manner we see fit. The only permissible education will be one approved by the government. The only schooling available will be one already acknowledged to be failing.

I am becoming rather scared by this government's attitude to the people who elected them. This is going beyond the "Nanny" state. We are closer to a "Big Brother" state than ever before. All we have to do to let them win is ... do nothing.

So: resist! You can sign up as a concerned parent, and be counted. Without this, the government cannot be aware of the strength of feeling. Why should we as parents be told how to raise our children? Sign the petition now! Write to your local MP. Shout from the rooftops!

No more pencils
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks ...

I want to ride my bicycle ...

... and so do the kids.

A recent development chez nous is the kids getting into cycling. I took the dog for a walk on Saturday - accompanied by kids on bikes. We stopped at the playground while I popped into the "little shop" [new, improved, Politically-Correct term .. it's not on a corner]. On Sunday we all got out - again with the dog - and a good time was had by all. Which is nice.

On a tenuously related note, we are officially disappointed with eMusic. I wanted to try it - partly because of the introductory 25 free MP3s offer, but mainly because they (uniquely, perhaps) offer sell MP3s, with full ID3 tags. Most (all that I can find) alternatives sell WMA or some other DRM-infested format. Some, it is true, sell MP3s where artist/label allows it. The result - for eMusic - is that none of the music my eldest daughter wanted was listed. They don't even have Queen (which is where the tenuous link comes in). We're now trialling Tesco.com and MSN music ... Infernal money-grabbing <expletive deleted>.

I still like CDs: they make better Christmas presents. Meanwhile, our digital jukebox steadily takes over my hard disc ...

People think I'm insane because I am frowning all the time ...

Today's conspiracy theory:

The government have a secret plan to improve the state of our social fabric by stealth. The plan is to encourage young adults to continue living with their parents, re-creating the extended family. This, in turn, is expected to increase the influence that the more experienced generation has over the parents of tomorrow. Their wisdom and calmer approach to life will have a positive effect, creating a more sociable and law-abiding (and controllable) populace, in theory.

This is being achieved by allowing house prices to outstrip individuals' ability to buy them. This was attempted in the '80s, but the place backfired spectacularly as the prices rose too quickly - creating the much celebrated "Boom and Bust". Now, older and wiser, they are succeeding with a longer-term roll-out.

I can't help the thought that many of those families who are best placed to have a positive influence of their offspring are also the best placed to help them with a leg-up onto the property ladder.

It's not a good conspiracy theory, perhaps, but I was struck this morning - as I went for milk at the local shop - by how many people were being picked up in cars and vans; presumably given them a lift to wherever they spend their days.

Postscript: Today's house price report shows that the average house in Britain now exceeds £200,000 for the first time. Now I'm not an economist, but that's a lot of money.

We are family ...

I got all my - um - children with me^†

.. an eventful weekend. My wife and eldest daughter went off on a jolly to London for the weekend, while I looked after the kids and dog. I say looked after: all I have managed before in this situation is to childmind. This weekend I feel we actually did something - which is nice.

To start with the failures, we did not get to go to a firework display. I knew they'd be disappointed, but I really didn't see any publicity telling me where there might be one we could go to. Youngest child also ended up looking rather beaten about, with a black eye and other minor injuries.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Friday I worked at home. This is often a stressful setup and I did end the day feeling that I'd not achieved enough to avoid feeling guilty - though I didn't get too ratty with everyone. I was pleased to find today that what I'd written did actually work; more-so than I thought it would.

Saturday I was able to start my weekend. I had a plan. I had a list of things to achieve: shopping; library; go out; dog-walk; clean & tidy; cook dinner; chill. To my pleasant surprise we managed to achieve these - and almost had fun doing it. Discovered that the local library has a WiFi access point - though the bloke I asked clearly wasn't aware of it (or indeed what it is). Luckily a woman stood beside him did and was able to confirm that it is open access. I decided not to push my luck and ask whether they used any encryption. Eldest son mused on the possibility of sitting in the library playing on his Nintendo DS over the WiFi.

The major mishap of the weekend resulted in leaving my 3-year-old battered and bruised. During the dog-walk after lunch we went via a steep (a good 40 degree slope) hill. Halfway up the dog was way ahead - so I called him back. He came hurtling down towards us; I looked up to see his face - a picture of wild eyed panic - too close and unable to avoid us. I tried to sidestep, but it was too late: the dog collided with young-un, tearing him from my grip and sending him tumbling and sliding a good 20 feet down the hill. Luckily he escaped with no more than shock, bruises and scratches. A heart-stopping moment nonetheless.

Having just about recovered, we visited my brother and family for a cuppa in the afternoon. I do love being close enough to share time like that. Helped mow his lawn and make a mental note to strim mine tomorrow.

Saturday evening was punctuated by fireworks going off all round the town. Our house is on a hilltop, so after dinner we stepped out into the dark and wondered along the nearby farm track and looked down on the town .. fireworks going off all around us. This didn't quite compensate for being at an actual organised display as far as the kids were concerned, but was rather fun. When we got back home, we found the house across the road letting off a staggering number of rockets so we sat in the conservatory and enjoyed the show from the warmth and comfort of home. And that was another good day.

Sunday was more tasks and chilling. Cooked a Sunday roast for midday - which turned out surprisingly edible. Tidied up round the house. Walked the dog: no injuries this time. Collected a bagful of leaves for younger daughter to produce a collage. Strimmed the lawn. Managed to pursuade the kids to tidy their rooms a little. Got them set up on Google docs to create their Christmas lists. Collected wife and daughter from the station. Had tea. Crashed in a happy heap.

All in all an enjoyable and eventful weekend. I feel dangerously close to having a relationship with my children. Scary.

^†Sorry - I'll try not to do it again ...

I was working in the lab, late one night ...

When my eyes beheld an eerie sight ...

Not one single Halloween I can remember - which goes back to some years BET (Before E.T.) - have we had people "trick-or-treating". We've lived in a number of houses in a a number of towns and none of the places we've chosen to live has attracted this annual sweet-fest.

I could go into an in-depth analysis of the social and environmental factors which may have caused or at least contributed to this, but frankly even I'd get bored of that.

The reason for mentioning this, as you may have guessed, is that last night made up for this dearth of mirth. Luckily I had expected this and bought in several bags of sweets. We had getting on for twenty groups of kids - for the most part chaperoned by parents - ringing our doorbell at roughly five minute intervals. I didn't step outside, but it must've looked like that scene from E.T. I have to say all the costumes were very good and no-one trashed our bin or caused any kind of damage that I could see.

The one thing which really bugs me, though, is this is yet another colonial tradition we're adopting. What's wrong with Samhain, that's what I'd like to know? A good ol' pagan festival. A proper British one - none of yer Hollywood and candy nonsense.

They did the Mash
They did the monster mash ...

You can't beat a good one-hit wonder! I'm off to make the pumpkin pie ...

When the night has come ...

... and the land is dark

Plunged into darkness once more. (Nothing to do with replacing Justin Hawkins - fun though that may be.) This year - as far as I can tell - I have managed to set all the assorted clocks and other timepieces to GMT. It's true that I found some were already (still) in GMT .. but that's a different story.

This is a major victory. No, really. Every year around January I find some clock still in BST. Likewise in July or so there's inevitably a clock still in GMT. This time, however, I am sure - really sure - that I've got them all. Honest.

My children ask "why do the clocks have to change?" - and I find it difficult to answer. This is a problem as we home educate, so I feel I should have an answer. I could give them the official explanation, some history of the origins and even some insight into the political skulduggery that ensures the daylight savings nonsense persists. The real problem is that I really don't see that there is good reason for it. Come winter I start and end my working day in the dark; tweaking the clock an hour earlier doesn't make it light when I have to get up nor light when I travel home. In the summer it's not a problem: there's plenty of sunlight to go round. It gets light hours before I get up and stays light until bedtime - so why change the clocks then? Sure, most countries have this clock change twice a year but that doesn't justify it for me.

So now I wait for sundown and ride home in the dark. Could be worse - could be raining. That'll be tomorrow's excitement.

I love to laugh ...

... loud and long and clear

And ........ another week goes by. STOP! Too fast! (or else I'm getting too crumbly - make up your own mind).

I found this today. Made me laugh out loud 'til the tears rolled down. P'raps I'm getting a little hysterical, too. I particularly like:

chromatic abberation : wearing brown shoes with a blue suit

circlular reasoning : see reasoning, circular

.. and, of course

reasoning, circular : see circular reasoning


Must go lie down in a dark room ...

Where's you head at ..?

Ill, ill, ill. I hate being ill. "Just as you thought it was safe to feel human ..." Damn sinus infection. OK, OK .. too much information. Still, I'm feeling grumpy. Be warned!

The perfect antidote (courtesy of Making it up): South Park does World of Warcraft. Brilliant.

Off to find some serious painkillers ...

Hey! Teacher! Leave them kids alone ...

Well, someone's talking sense: I'm just glad no-one's tried to fingerprint my kids.

Woke up, got out of bed ...

... and dragged a comb across my head ...


Blog for Britain!

Today is your chance to crate a piece of history. The National Trust is encouraging people to record a diary of their day on a website, as part of what is being called "Britain's biggest blog".

The trust says the emphasis does not have to be on recording exciting events. Historian Dan Snow said they had wanted to choose a "run-of-the-mill day". Tuesday has been picked as an "ordinary day much like any other of no particular national significance".

So: log on and blog off!

Alif is for Allah ...

Right. I'll start with the conclusion - there is no simple answer.

There'll be no veiled threats - or indeed any more bad puns.

Britain has not been a monoculture since before Jesus - or Mohammed - walked the earth. The television and newpaper media, however, still insist on stirring up fear, uncertainty and doubt whenever our "culture" is under threat. So .. what culture is that, then? The idea of Britian devoid of influence from abroad conjours up images of red-haired faces painted blue and people asking "what have the Romans ever done for us?". Britian derives its strength and identity from being a cultural melting-pot. Get used to it and embrace it.

Now I would be the first to say that anyone choosing to live in our country should make some effort to fit in. I would personally feel somehow uncomfortable living in some other country and pretending I was living in England. I'm also not sure I see the point. There is also a need, however, for everyone to feel part of a community; to retain ther own identity. Look at the British abroad: we huddle together in ex-pat enclaves, drinking beer in Abu Dabi, eating chips in Spain and baring our flesh in Greece.

It is for this reason that there will always be - and have always been - subcultures within our society. This could be the difference between the gentry and the peasants; between the northerners and the southerners; British and Irish; and, in this case, Islamic followers and a mixture of Christians and Atheists.

On the specific topic du jour: veils, I admit that things get tricky. I can see how people may be threatened by a mode of dress they're not used to. Punks were chastised in the '70s for their torn jeans and piercings. Goths are victimised for their heavy eyeliner and oppressive garb. It is the unwillingness to accept this form of dress which is so destructive, however. Personally I find talking to someone in dark glasses very offputting (almost exactly the opposite of traditional Islamic women's dress) - but no-one is suggesting that that's culturally threatening.

I've worked alongside Iranians on a couple of occasions during my career. One particular individual gave me a couple of insights which openend my eyes. I always used to find it peculiar that the Catholic and Anglican churches are so divided when they share so much common ground. This pales into insignificance, however when you consider the divide between Christianity and Islam - though the Qur'an shares much of its text with the Old Testament of the Christian bible.

As with any conflict, the only way forward involves give and take on both sides. It is difficult to see, however, how the divide can be bridged quickly - and every day it is being widened.

</£0.02>

P.S: Whilst writing this post, I did a little research .. to check a few facts on Islam, the Qur'an and Mohammed. What I found disturbed me greatly. The first entry from Google is a tirade against Islam in general, its believers and Mohammed himself in particular. Two of the top three hits - and three of the first page of ten hits on Google are anti-Islam to the point of hatred. Now, how is that helpful?

Robin Hood, Robin Hood, Riding through the ...

... city on my bike all day, 'cos the filth took away my licence ...^†

Sorry: it just struck me as funny.


I'll get my coat ...

^† new, improved and now with correct lyrics!

Sometimes it's hard to be ...

I've got a sore-throat and a bit of a sniffle.

I hear a comment from over the partition from suited office-type female^†:
"Oh .. got 'man-flu', have you?"

Where did that bollocks come from? Man-flu. Pfff. I despair, I really do.

Now there was a time, granted, when the female of the species were not treated with respect in all situations. The "trot off the the kitchen, dear" brigade deserved their come-uppance. I do feel, however, that the pendulum has swung in the other direction - and it's time for it to swing back towards centre.

The media is, as usual, at the root of this evil. The hypocrytes who once - and in some cases still do - portray women as trophies or somehow second-class (though often great to look at) now go out of their way to poke fun at all that is male. It is now perfectly acceptable for television adverts to imply or even state categorically that to be male is to be unintelligent and crude. Granted, some men are - but if anyone suggests that a woman is somehow inferior to a man - though in specific cases she may well be - would cause outrage. In fact, even suggesting that women now have the upper hand would be greeted with derision. Women can now get away with all those things which men used to get away with. So ... how are they better? How is that an improvement on those ill-informed '70s?

But I'm straying from my point - which is how much I hate the phrase "man-flu". I hate it; I hate it; I hate it. It is so condescending, so disrespectful, so spiteful. And all this when the target is at a low ebb. Come, on women! Show you are better: instead sinking to the levels you decry, please come up with something better than "man-flu".

^† OK, it's a fair cop, this is arguably a derogatory description. The individual in question, however, deserves it.