Strange days indeed...

Happy Birthday to EJW today. Ted. My old man.

We celebrated his birthday by re-interring his ashes in a better place. Not too somber an occasion. A quite fantastic theatrical pratfall to close. Although I won't share that just yet. Happy birthday dad.

Where do they go?..

My daughter, so she tells me, spends much of her time in this rusty Jenga-meets-obelisk of a building, which houses lots of Leeds Met and its design-orientated students. I have just discovered that this Cor-Ten steel-clad construction cost £45m. I quite like it. Apparently the rust, contrary to my expectations and shoddy understanding of corrosion and oxidisation, makes the steel more durable because it provides a naturally built-up protective layer. I have no idea, really, what Danielle does in here, although a lot of it involves designing staircases. She does try and tell me. But I'd rather there be some level of vagueness on my part because I'd hate to know more than my next generation, who will, I believe, save the planet and mankind from destroying itself. With, in Danielle's case, the deft use of staircases. For me, it's impossible to equate the Danielle who makes regular appearances within this rusty structure with the little girl that used to sit on my shoulders, although the two of them still look very similar. This makes me feel both proud and, ridiculously, a little bit sad for myself, because I realise that, like the Cor-Ten steel, I've started to look very weathered on the outside and, unlike the Cor-Ten, on the inside too. I'm afraid my protective layer has failed rather dramatically.

Who he?...

I saw this in the city's municipal art gallery, the Ferens, the other month and wondered if we might be related:

Cousin thin...

Niece is being read to from her book about cats.

"This cat is fat."

"This cat is thin."

Niece: "This cat is Finn! This cat is Finn!"

Test drive...

While M was taking a well-deserved nap, myself and Finn took the oportunity to take the pram for its first public outing with a Finn inside it. As you can see from this exciting action pose (he's in there somewhere, honest!) the pram is a very racy machine in pillar box red - the kind of hot rod that Clarkson or the Hamster would relish taking for a spin...


So we went for a stroll in East Park, the vast expanse of green grass, watery bits and muddy paths that is, rather handily, just round the corner from our humble abode. I took Finn to see the ducks but, for reasons best known to our week old sleeping and content young 'un, he wasn't the least bit interested:


I took a few pictures as we strolled around but M says they remind her of Weekend At Bernie's. We had planned to go for a coffee in the park's rather nice cafe but it is Closed for Cleaning for a week (that's some intense cleaning, I fear the place might dissolve). Shame, as I was looking forward to taking Finn out of his comfort zone and showing him off to all and sundry for the mandatory "ooohs" and "aaaahs" and "aaaaws" that new babies command. That shall have to wait until the next journey.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for all the nice comments, emails, Facebook messages etc and all the traditional paper-based greetings cards that we've received following Finn's arrival. They all mean a lot, are really appreciated and have filled us with a nice warm glow. Actually, no, that's probably another nappy that needs changing.

Tags: Finn, family, parenting, pram

Settling in...

Things change dramatically with a Finn in the house. The hours of daylight and darkness are all the same to us as we care and feed (not me, this one, my breasts are not designed for such a task) and clothe the little tyke. It is great but it is also incredibly numbing - a bit like having a heavy dose of morphine injected directly into the brain or, for the drug intolerant, being clubbed over the head with a mallet. The last two mornings have resulted in me slumping on the sofa with Finn sleeping on my chest as I watch my new favourite Channel 4 programmes My Big Gay Prom, Sex & the Soaps and Teenage Taboos. I was in such a mood when the community midwife called to see us just as My Big Gay Prom was reaching its stunning climax - ie, a big gay prom - that myself and Finn had to adopt the same slumpy/chest position and watch the entire show again on Channel 4 +1 when community midwife had left us to it. I should add that there are many more aspects to my parenting skills than watching daytime telly with a son on my chest. But, in saying that, our whole days appear to revolve around the pivotal moment when the three of us manage to have a relaxing hour at 12.30-1.30pm watching Loose Women together. I wonder if these early TV choices will have an impact on the boy's development? This is a wonderful life - I would recommend it to anyone.

Tags: parenting, family