I have a lot of godchildren. I normally claim 10, but depending on how you count them, it is anywhere between seven and 16. The differences depend upon whether I was actually at the font, whether there was a font at all or just a request to be a 'special adult' (of various names), and whether the request was slightly retrospective.
My latest godson is 14 months old. He is adorable, bright, full of energy, and totally exhausting - which is all as it should be. I love him dearly and enjoy nothing more than greeting him, his parents, and his baby brother to my place for supper. Such an event happened last Thursday.
There was a confluence of two slightly unfortunate events that evening. On the following day, Friday, I had a very important meeting in London which meant I had to leave home at 07.30. I realise this is normal for most people, but I am not good in the morning. I explained I HAD to be asleep by 10, so they needed to leave by quarter to the hour.
On this evening, however, we had agreed that the Dad would cook a rather special meal. As it turned out, this was slightly more complicated, and took rather longer, than I had bargained for. This resulted in him being engrossed in the cooking for a lot of the evening, leaving Mum and me to look after the children. Two adults; two children under two: surely no problem?
If you are thinking that, you have never tried it. As we swapped babies, we managed to allow Godson to pull a candle to the floor, showering glass everywhere. That took a little time to clear up, and Dad had to be dragged from the cooking to help. An accidental jolt knocked something off the wall. There were tears before bedtime as attempts were made to quieten things. They left far later than I had hoped, and with poor Mum looking miserable and guilty, for which there was no need.
So, how did I fare? Naturally, I was fine. I slept like a log (who invented the 'slept like a baby' rubbish?), awoke refreshed, made my train with masses of time to spare, and had a really good day in London. However, on the train back I was reflecting: how do single parents cope? And what should we be doing to support them more than we do?
Monday, 12 November 2012
Wednesday, 24 October 2012
My Cat had PMT
Alright, the truth is I don't actually know this, but we certainly had a very uncomfortable week when she bit and scratched and generally behaved in a very bad-tempered way, and now she is better. In fact, she is really cuddly and will even let me pick her up and hold her for many minutes. She had never done that before.
Stopping the biting was, actually, the easy part, with the help of a water pistol. She doesn't like that water pistol. I only have to reach for it and she is off. I have never actually got her with the water, but she knows what it is.
Surprisingly, her apetite also seems to have picked up, and she is sleeping later in the morning. I haven't been woken before 0630 for the last three days.
Does this all sound connected? Do other people's cats behave this way? Do cats get PMT?
Stopping the biting was, actually, the easy part, with the help of a water pistol. She doesn't like that water pistol. I only have to reach for it and she is off. I have never actually got her with the water, but she knows what it is.
Surprisingly, her apetite also seems to have picked up, and she is sleeping later in the morning. I haven't been woken before 0630 for the last three days.
Does this all sound connected? Do other people's cats behave this way? Do cats get PMT?
Monday, 15 October 2012
My cat is mad
Molly cat has gone mad. Seriously. I don't know what the problem is, but she clearly has intermittent insanity. Let me explain:
This morning, at 0500, I was awoken by a very cross cat. I refused to take any notice. She was incandescent with rage, pupils enormous, biting at me, scratching any bit of me she could reach. I wrapped myself in the duvet and refused to come out. Within minutes, I could hear her racing around the house, bumping into furniture, chasing any shadow that could be seen. She was in and out of the window to the terrace and, when I finally got up, she had clearly been bringing in leaves - the bedroom floor was covered with them.
Two hours later, when I actually woke up, she was fast asleep against my legs, looking as if butter wouldn't melt. She leaned against me when I sat on the edge of the bed, purred and demanded attention. We had a lovely ten minutes before I went through to the kitchen to feed her.
I decided it had been an aberration and forgot about it, but this evening she was again furious, biting at me when I tried to pet her, refusing to come to me. More worrying, she looked at me as if I regularly beat her up (which, I assure you, I don't) and ran away every time I made overtures.
She has also taken to ripping up envelopes. So far, it has been mainly open ones, but today I found her chewing on an unopened envelope!
PLEASE experienced cat people: what is going on and what should I do about it?
PS She is now sitting on the keyboard intermittently, so any typos are hers!
This morning, at 0500, I was awoken by a very cross cat. I refused to take any notice. She was incandescent with rage, pupils enormous, biting at me, scratching any bit of me she could reach. I wrapped myself in the duvet and refused to come out. Within minutes, I could hear her racing around the house, bumping into furniture, chasing any shadow that could be seen. She was in and out of the window to the terrace and, when I finally got up, she had clearly been bringing in leaves - the bedroom floor was covered with them.
Two hours later, when I actually woke up, she was fast asleep against my legs, looking as if butter wouldn't melt. She leaned against me when I sat on the edge of the bed, purred and demanded attention. We had a lovely ten minutes before I went through to the kitchen to feed her.
I decided it had been an aberration and forgot about it, but this evening she was again furious, biting at me when I tried to pet her, refusing to come to me. More worrying, she looked at me as if I regularly beat her up (which, I assure you, I don't) and ran away every time I made overtures.
She has also taken to ripping up envelopes. So far, it has been mainly open ones, but today I found her chewing on an unopened envelope!
PLEASE experienced cat people: what is going on and what should I do about it?
PS She is now sitting on the keyboard intermittently, so any typos are hers!
Saturday, 13 October 2012
Vancouver is a very long way away
I have been reflecting on this ever since I got back from Vancouver and while I was recovering from the awful journey (a story for another day) and the even more awful jet lag. The bald facts are clear: Vancouver is a nine and a half hour flight away and there is an eight hour time difference. On my way back, I stopped in Montreal for two days, and the Vancouver to Montreal leg was a flight of almost five hours. That amazed me. It means that Montreal is almost the half way point of the distance between London and Vancouver. Nothing until that moment had brought home to me quite how enormous Canada is. Suddenly, having my only immediate family there felt even less enticing than it had before. What when one of us became ill? There was no possibility of a rapid arrival at the bedside and fond support. Selfishly, this matters to me.
However, there are other, perhaps more important, ways that Vancouver is a very long way away. Until I visited, I had not appreciated quite what a young city Vancouver is. I had visited the East coast of Canada before, and was aware of its history, of the many things we shared. I knew that Europeans had colonised it as early as the mid-sixteenth century. I had foolishly expected Vancouver to have developed very soon after this, completely ignoring the vast and impassable terrain in between. In fact, of course, the West coast was not reached by people trekking across Canada, but by sea, and not until the late eighteenth century, more than 200 years later. The colony of British Columbia was much later still, only being founded in 1858, and the City of Vancouver was incorporated in 1886. The reality, therefore, is that Vancouver really is a very new city, with little more than 130 years of existence behind it.
This makes enormous differences to the outlook and attitudes of the people. It has frequently been noted that most north americans are much more outward looking than Europeans; that they lack the innate cynicism that we have developed, and I found this to be true. But there are other things. Vancouver is a far more cosmopolitan city than I had expected, having welcomed waves of incomers over the last 130 years. It is extraordinarily modern, but it relishes every tiny bit of history it can find: any building older than about 60 years is protected and has a plaque attached to it. I went to Mass at the Roman Catholic Cathedral and found it warm and welcoming, not always a trait of European Cathedrals. People seem genuinely nice and friendly.
The other differences are probably more to do with size. People think nothing of going shopping in Seattle - a mere three hours drive away. They will even drive the approximately 40 minutes to the border to buy cheaper petrol in the USA - which seemed to me slightly self-defeating, but I didn't like to enquire too critically. They are also great outdoors people - and I don't mean taking a picnic to a field for a damp afternoon. They are blessed with some of the most glorious scenery in the world all, in relative terms, on their doorstep. Everybody seems to kayak, ski, swim, hike and any number of other sports.
So, am I trying to get myself a visa? Well, no. To be honest, I am too European. I like the scale of Europe, the history, the art, the fact that I can get it all within an hour's flight at most. I like the little streets and the small farms. I like the differences as you cross borders. And I like the fact that there are lots of different shades of green in the forests we have left, not the monochrome of the pines. So I shall stay here. And hope that we all stay well for a long time.
However, there are other, perhaps more important, ways that Vancouver is a very long way away. Until I visited, I had not appreciated quite what a young city Vancouver is. I had visited the East coast of Canada before, and was aware of its history, of the many things we shared. I knew that Europeans had colonised it as early as the mid-sixteenth century. I had foolishly expected Vancouver to have developed very soon after this, completely ignoring the vast and impassable terrain in between. In fact, of course, the West coast was not reached by people trekking across Canada, but by sea, and not until the late eighteenth century, more than 200 years later. The colony of British Columbia was much later still, only being founded in 1858, and the City of Vancouver was incorporated in 1886. The reality, therefore, is that Vancouver really is a very new city, with little more than 130 years of existence behind it.
This makes enormous differences to the outlook and attitudes of the people. It has frequently been noted that most north americans are much more outward looking than Europeans; that they lack the innate cynicism that we have developed, and I found this to be true. But there are other things. Vancouver is a far more cosmopolitan city than I had expected, having welcomed waves of incomers over the last 130 years. It is extraordinarily modern, but it relishes every tiny bit of history it can find: any building older than about 60 years is protected and has a plaque attached to it. I went to Mass at the Roman Catholic Cathedral and found it warm and welcoming, not always a trait of European Cathedrals. People seem genuinely nice and friendly.
The other differences are probably more to do with size. People think nothing of going shopping in Seattle - a mere three hours drive away. They will even drive the approximately 40 minutes to the border to buy cheaper petrol in the USA - which seemed to me slightly self-defeating, but I didn't like to enquire too critically. They are also great outdoors people - and I don't mean taking a picnic to a field for a damp afternoon. They are blessed with some of the most glorious scenery in the world all, in relative terms, on their doorstep. Everybody seems to kayak, ski, swim, hike and any number of other sports.
So, am I trying to get myself a visa? Well, no. To be honest, I am too European. I like the scale of Europe, the history, the art, the fact that I can get it all within an hour's flight at most. I like the little streets and the small farms. I like the differences as you cross borders. And I like the fact that there are lots of different shades of green in the forests we have left, not the monochrome of the pines. So I shall stay here. And hope that we all stay well for a long time.
Friday, 12 October 2012
Do Cats Get PMT?
Molly cat is in a very bad mood. She has been scratchy (I use the word advisedly) for the last two days. I suddenly wondered: could she have PMT?
Molly is, of course, 'done': in other words, she has been permanently stopped from having kittens. However, what I do not know is whether ovaries are removed when female cats are neutered. If not, then she is quite possibly pre-menstrual and I might have to learn to live with that in my cat. It seems bizarre, but it is certainly possible. Please, does anybody know?
In the mean time, what do I do about the fact that every time I pet her we start with happy purring and end with nips and scratches? It really is getting too much. All advice gratefully accepted.
Molly is, of course, 'done': in other words, she has been permanently stopped from having kittens. However, what I do not know is whether ovaries are removed when female cats are neutered. If not, then she is quite possibly pre-menstrual and I might have to learn to live with that in my cat. It seems bizarre, but it is certainly possible. Please, does anybody know?
In the mean time, what do I do about the fact that every time I pet her we start with happy purring and end with nips and scratches? It really is getting too much. All advice gratefully accepted.
Saturday, 22 September 2012
A view from Montreal Airport
Hello folks. I'm sorry to have been so hopeless about writing again, but frankly the holiday was lovely and the Conference busy, so there never seemed to be time to write this. Two days ago I left Vancouver for a final two days in Montreal.
Shock 1: the flight was almost five hours!
Shock 2: it is a three hour time difference.
All this should help with the jet lag; I'm almost half way home, right? I met a friend and we went to stay at his cousin's place on a lake outside Montreal. The Lake is memorably called Lac Bob. Blackadder instantly came to mind.
It was fabulous. The sun shone. The leaves are beginning to turn and the colours were awesome. The wind rippled the surface of the lake. The only sign of other human beings were the curls of smoke from the chimneys of other cabins. You could touch the silence. We meandered to farm shops, bought beef and vegetables and fruit and wine. Returning to the cabin, we cooked on a combination of the cooker and the barbecue. The meat was the best I have ever tasted by quite a long way.
Today, we returned to Montreal, went to an Exhibition about the Samurai and another on the Etruscans, both fascinating, empty, beautifully described. Then my friend dropped me at the airport: at my own request, I was three hours early. We said fond farewells, hoped that we would be able to meet on one side of the pond or the other within the year, waved goodbye.
Things went fairly rapidly downhill after that. The flight was delayed; by 'at least' an hour and a quarter. As I speak, we are still in the lounge. They are now quoting an hour and forty minutes. Our scheduled arrival at Heathrow at 0920 is now being quoted as 1030. I can feel all the benefit from the trip leeching away by the second. We are all tired. It is a tribute to the Canadians that there have been no frayed tempers.
But, do you want to know the worst of it? I was due to pick up Molly Cat before 12.00. This is now not going to happen. I hope Linda lets me pick her up later, but thanks to the time difference, I won't know till I land. I can't bear the thought of the whole weekend without her.
Shock 1: the flight was almost five hours!
Shock 2: it is a three hour time difference.
All this should help with the jet lag; I'm almost half way home, right? I met a friend and we went to stay at his cousin's place on a lake outside Montreal. The Lake is memorably called Lac Bob. Blackadder instantly came to mind.
It was fabulous. The sun shone. The leaves are beginning to turn and the colours were awesome. The wind rippled the surface of the lake. The only sign of other human beings were the curls of smoke from the chimneys of other cabins. You could touch the silence. We meandered to farm shops, bought beef and vegetables and fruit and wine. Returning to the cabin, we cooked on a combination of the cooker and the barbecue. The meat was the best I have ever tasted by quite a long way.
Today, we returned to Montreal, went to an Exhibition about the Samurai and another on the Etruscans, both fascinating, empty, beautifully described. Then my friend dropped me at the airport: at my own request, I was three hours early. We said fond farewells, hoped that we would be able to meet on one side of the pond or the other within the year, waved goodbye.
Things went fairly rapidly downhill after that. The flight was delayed; by 'at least' an hour and a quarter. As I speak, we are still in the lounge. They are now quoting an hour and forty minutes. Our scheduled arrival at Heathrow at 0920 is now being quoted as 1030. I can feel all the benefit from the trip leeching away by the second. We are all tired. It is a tribute to the Canadians that there have been no frayed tempers.
But, do you want to know the worst of it? I was due to pick up Molly Cat before 12.00. This is now not going to happen. I hope Linda lets me pick her up later, but thanks to the time difference, I won't know till I land. I can't bear the thought of the whole weekend without her.
Wednesday, 12 September 2012
A View from Vancouver
I arrived in Vancouver on Saturday. It is a looooooong way from England - a nine and a half hour flight. I don't like aeroplanes. I don't like long flights. I was stressed, and exhausted. But my brother and his wife were there to meet me and it was lovely to see them. Thanks to the time difference, it was still light, although we had left London at 5p.m. We walked out of the airport past a tank of jellyfish; why, I asked myself?
Everybody told me how beautifulVancouver is. Frankly, it isn't. So far, it seems to me little different from anywhere else. But the scenery is awesome, wonderful, amazing. Yesterday we went to the Aquarium: I enjoyed it all, but the Belluga whales and the dolphins were a particular pleasure.
Today we went to Deep Cove Bay. It is beautiful. The trees drop down to the water's edge, the sea was calm, like a millpond, the colours are amazing. I have been so lucky with the weather - there has been almost unbroken sunshine.
But for me, the highlight was last night. At about 8, the dog went mad. We peered outside. Walking across the deck was a raccoon. I had never seen one. I was so excited. I am now hoping for something bigger.
Everybody told me how beautifulVancouver is. Frankly, it isn't. So far, it seems to me little different from anywhere else. But the scenery is awesome, wonderful, amazing. Yesterday we went to the Aquarium: I enjoyed it all, but the Belluga whales and the dolphins were a particular pleasure.
Today we went to Deep Cove Bay. It is beautiful. The trees drop down to the water's edge, the sea was calm, like a millpond, the colours are amazing. I have been so lucky with the weather - there has been almost unbroken sunshine.
But for me, the highlight was last night. At about 8, the dog went mad. We peered outside. Walking across the deck was a raccoon. I had never seen one. I was so excited. I am now hoping for something bigger.
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