May, 2006:

We arrive at centerparcs and one of the first things we see is a man riding a bike with a cheery yellow trailer containing his grinning toddler.

“Can I go on the bike?” Amy asks.

You didn’t like the bike last time sweetheart, don’t you remember?”

“I do like bikes” she assured me

So off I went to hire a bike and trailer, but the hire shop was closed. She was upset that I hadn’t come back with one but accepted that I’d get one in the morning. Next day, bright and early we both traipsed off together, shortly afterwards I was £25 and £30 deposit worse off. I lifted up the flap of the trailer for her to get inside.

“I don’t like bike rides” she informed me.

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We won’t be around for the next week or so as we’re going to centerparks with Kerry’s parents.

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We all went to into Holmfirth for the folk festival yesterday. We didn’t actually go into any of the venues but watched the various dancers dotted around the streets. Amy preferred the clog dancers to the morris, probably because they were a lot less noisy and weren’t attacking each other with stout sticks.

I noticed a fair few of my dads friends dotted around in the crowds and in various bands playing outside pubs. There are times when I would love to be able to play an instrument – mainly whenever I see anyone I know doing it. My music teacher once told me that I have a very good ear for music, which may be true but unfortunately I have a very poor willpower for practice and that’s my downfall.

Maybe I should join a morris-dancing troupe instead.

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One of the ladies that works in Amy’s nursery lives on our row of houses. This morning she was leaving the house at the same time that we were so I offered her a lift. Amy was delighted that Ellen was in the car, and once she gotten out she pointed proudly at the front seat and proclaimed “Ellen sat there!” I imagine the merging of two worlds, which as until now had been quite separate, was quite an event for her.

We should have walked to the nursery really, it is a lovely day and its only half a mile away. I had to take the car however in order to leave the car seat there as Megan is picking her up this afternoon and taking Amy to her house to sleep. I’m working until 11pm and Kerry is going to the Take That reunion concert (the less said about that from me the better).

On the journey down Ellen was telling me that Amy had one of the best vocabularies in her group and they were often surprised at what words she came out with. This obviously did wonders for the competitive parent in me. Unfortunately we missed the only parents evening we’ve been invited to as we were on holiday in China (see how I just slipped that in there), so it was nice to get a bit of feedback about how she is developing.

I’ve spent all morning scrubbing the algae off the front patio and now have to start thinking about getting a shower and going to work. Ah well, at least I’m not going to a bloody Take That concert.

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We went to Tolson Museum yesterday. I’ve been meaning to go with Amy for a while now, we even got as far as the door once but it was closed for strike action (you don’t generally think of museum curators as militant union members but there you go). I am reliably informed that as a child I used to regularly demand to visit, mainly as a consequence of my fascination with its large collection of stuffed birds. I certainly can remember spending long periods of time staring in wonder at display cases featuring scenes from nature acted out by glassy eyed eagles, crows, and seagulls. In my memory the room was vast but, as is usually the case with these things, in reality the collection is relatively modest. I remember having a similar realisation of the effects of changing perceptions when I returned to my primary school for a visit and was amazed at how low the urinals were.

Amy wasn’t as enthralled by the birds as I once was, but perhaps she is still a little young to truly appreciate the marvel that is tatty and faded stuffed dead animals from the early 1920s. It probably didn’t help that I had forgotten that the collection was only birds and that I had answered “maybe” to her question about if there were going to be any tigers. Amy is quite sensibly terrified of tigers and spent much of our visit demanding to be carried in case they ate her toes.

All and all we had a good time. It was free to get in which is always a bonus, and as far as I could tell we were the only visitors so I didn’t feel compelled to keep Amy quiet. She enjoyed playing with a giant microscope and looking at some of the bigger exhibits like the tractor and horse drawn carriage, while I proved that middle age is almost upon me by finding the model of the iron age fortress on Castle Hill absolutely fascinating.

Another place to add to my “Things To Do” list I think.

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Amy and I were sitting on a bench in the middle of Huddersfield Town centre, both contentedly munching on sausage rolls. We were talking about what we were going to do that day and Amy was struggling with the pronunciation of the word museum. As we got up to go an elderly man who must have been in his late seventies tapped me on the shoulder.

“Enjoy it lad,” he told me indicating towards Amy “these are the best days of your life”

“Thanks.” I replied, “I know”.

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Walking through Woolworths this afternoon Amy spotted the pick and mix and demanded that we stop to fill our pockets. As soon as I said no she began to sing “It’s a hard knock life for us” from Annie.

I think we’ve created a monster.

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Around seven years ago before I started my nurse training I used to work with a guy with learning difficulties, lets call him Harry. Every now and again I’d take Harry out for a night on the town, sometimes in Leeds, sometimes in Huddersfield. Harry didn’t look normal. He wasn’t outlandishly bizarre looking or anything, but it was pretty evident that he had learning difficulties. Half of the reason for this was his walk, which I now know was something we call “The Chlorpromazine Shuffle” in the trade (basically a permanent side effect of long term anti-psychotic use, less common now with the more modern medications). Now I’m not going to get started on the use of anti-psychotics on people with learning difficulties or I’ll be typing all night. Lets just say I’ve yet to meet a person with learning difficulties that isn’t on a bucket of psychiatric medication despite the fact that they are not actually mentally ill.

Anyhow. I was in Leeds on one of my periodic nights on the town with Harry and he said he wanted to go into “The Square on the Lane”, a city centre pub in the Yates mould. We were about to enter and the bouncers turned us away, stating we were wearing jeans and they had a dress code. This struck me as a little odd as it was a Monday and around 6:30pm, not exactly a time when pubs can afford to be too choosy. Then two guys passed us wearing jeans and were let straight in. I was absolutely livid and seriously considered turning round and starting up an impromptu picket line but decided that it would cause too much embarrassment to Harry, who hadn’t really noticed anything.

Seven years later it still makes my blood boil, and I have never been in the Square on the Lane since. In fact there have been a number of occasions where I’ve steered large groups of revellers away from their door, so I guess it’s there loss.

Blogging Against Disablism Day

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