Things I would not have not known without PD (I am not Pollyanna but...)


#1

Work song - Hozier

Boys workin’ on empty
Is that the kind’a way to face the burning heat?
I just think about my baby
I’m so full of love I could barely eat
There’s nothing sweeter than my baby

Taking the children to school is enriching my life.

I love being around before and after school, I get them at their very brightest, scorching across the sky like a supernovae. Discussing the Today programme with two ten year old children and betting them they cannot crowbar the words sagacious and denouement into the work they are doing today on non-chronological reports, it does not get any better than this folks.

Melvin Bragg is alive and a polymath.

In our time on Radio 4. Who knew, the seventy nine year old Bragg was on the wireless discussing in great depth topics as diverse as Beckett and German mathematicians of the nineteenth century. This morning’s broadcast about Emmy Noether was a fascinating listen. The man is incredible and has an inexorable intellect, as well as a fine head of hair.

Woman’s hour is militant.

Pretty much unlistenable if you have testicles (I know that is the point). The amount of content they can get from the menopause and HRT is staggering, unashamedly niche and right on, put your hands together for Jenny & Jane. Today’s programme included the hash tag - #pelvicfloorexercises. The programme asked:

“Can pelvic floor exercises help the 1 in 3 women (and 1 in 9 men) who suffer with stress urinary incontinence?”

I don’t bloody know. But I must get a DAB radio in the car.

Yoga is exhausting.

I have played professional basketball briefly, cycled the London to Brighton at night, competed in rugby matches on a Saturday afternoon followed by Sunday league football the following morning, but Yoga is physically the match for any of these, which is great. Here is the problem: I have always been good at sport, captain of everything, county this, regional that, but I get my behind kicked by women with blue hair, children older than I and who know what pelvic floor exercises are. I am essentially in the bottom group, I would be the last one to be picked if yoga lessons started by picking teams, thankfully for my ego they don’t. On a related note, who knew the gym was so busy during the day. These people should be at work.

Money isn’t everything.

This statement is self explanatory, if it has to be explained to you, you won’t get it. Sorry.

Laundry does not do itself.

I am now the departmental chief of the laundry. It is a never ending job, I have no idea how my wife combined this alongside the full time job she has as a primary school teacher. I can just about manage it whilst not currently being required at work. I have now come to see the tumble dryer ‘Creda’ (my wife resents my time with Creda and says she is profligate) and the washing machine which I have rather tersely named ‘Bish Bash Bosch’ as new friends who I spend the early part of my days with, rather than go to Costa with the Mater Intelligentsia from the school gate, I am not ready to be the male equivalent of a yummy mummy quite yet. (Delicious Dad, Foxy Father…)

The post does not come everyday.

Surely a sign of the apocalypse, or is that Brexit. It’s probably Jacob Rees Mogg’s fault, if not it should be.

I am beginning to enjoy this enforced layoff, as Hozier said sort of “I’m so full of love…There’s nothing sweeter than taking my babies to school.” I unfortunately gave my career too much of time for the last ten years or so, the fates have now contrived to give me some head space and the most precious commodity of all…time. I intend to use it wisely.

Michael

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