I used to dread the approach of night.
Not because of fear of the dark, hidden demons or any imagined evil. No, my apprehension stemmed from something altogether more innocent: the children’s bedtime stories….
Every night I’d sit next to the twins’ beds in silent hope, and every night out would come the same old picture books. My heart would sink. I’d read stories about witches and broomsticks, singing sheep, koalas, dinosaurs. It was tantamount to torture. Granted, first time around one or two of the books were diverting enough to pique my interest – but believe me, by the time you read them for the fifteenth time even the best of them starts to sap your enthusiasm.
Not so for the girls of course. They’d sit in eager anticipation of these tired old tales: books they know word for word, page by page – all the suspense, in a word, suspended. I can “read†half of them with my eyes closed.
I know repetition and familiarity are comforting for children, but come on, give me a break.
I’ve been trying for ages to get the girls into meatier books – books without pictures, books with more of a plot and characters a little more developed than Dilly the Dancing Duck – books they call “chapter booksâ€.
OK, I admit, choosing Tolkien’s Lord of The Rings trilogy to begin the transition was perhaps an error of judgement on my part. My logic was sound enough though: small fellows with hairy feet and jovial personalities head off on a big adventure; the age old struggle between good and evil; how an individual of stout heart, no matter how insignificant he or she may feel, can ultimately triumph. I figured it would go down a storm, but one look at the weighty tome with its tiny print had them diving for the picture books again.
After a week or so I rolled out “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stoneâ€, the first instalment in J. K. Rowling’s globe-conquering series. If anything could convert them, I thought, Rowling’s wizardry was sure to do the trick.
We reached chapter two, I felt the excitement building. Then: “This is boring, I want a different story.â€
It was back to the drawing board.
Salvation came in the form of an Easter egg. My mum was visiting before Easter, and took all three girls to the shop to pick out their own chocolate eggs. The little one, predictably, made a bee-line for the one with the pretty pink packaging; one of the twins picked an egg you could decorate yourself, complete with coloured icing and edible stickers; her sister chose the egg that ended my story-time misery.
There was nothing special about the egg itself – but what was bundled with it was a revelation. It was a paperback novel called “Varjak Pawâ€, written by S. F. Said, and it had won the Smarties Prize Gold Award for children’s literature.
As soon as I started reading it I was hooked, and so were the twins. We read two, sometimes three chapters every night, with me as eager as the girls to find out what happened to Varjak, a kitten forced to go “Outside†for the first time.
The book tracks Varjak’s adventures as he meets the challenges of a street cat. Learning “The Way†– a martial art for cats – in his dreams, from his long lost ancestor Jalal the Paw, Varjak survives, and eventually thrives. But he has to go back – he has to save his family from the sinister Gentleman and his two black cats, and to do that he needs to find a monster that he’s only ever heard about in his grandfather’s tales. Varjak has to talk to a Dog.
It was, quite simply, enchanting.
Technorati Tags: Evening Echo, parenting, writing, reading, children
There’s something tremendously satisfying about growing your own vegetables, and it’s even better when you get the kids involved. I think it’s that the children learn where their food comes from – that they realise it doesn’t spring into existence, shrink-wrapped and vacuum packed on the supermarket shelf – and what better way for them to learn that than to grow food for themselves at home.
Our vegetable patch is modest, but it’s getting better every year. Three years ago I simply turned over the soil, threw in a few seeds and hoped for the best. Success was sporadic, to say the least, but we reaped a few heads of lettuce, a couple of dinners worth of carrots and some pretty impressive parsnips out of it. We were delighted, and spurred to greater effort the following year, introduced some raised beds and a slightly less blasé gardening regime. And it’s paying dividends!
The good weather we’ve been having has helped to get things kick-started this year – it’s unreal. Our indoor/outdoor thermometer informed me that it hit 24 degrees in our back garden last week. That’s unheard of in April! With weather like that spending time in the garden is a pleasure – and I have to say the vegetable patch is looking pretty impressive. For the first time this year the raised beds are full of lush dark compost recycled from a local strawberry farm, and we’re expecting a bumper crop.
We try and involve the girls as much as possible in the process. A couple of weeks ago they were out with me sowing beetroot, carrots, onions, peas, beans and lettuce. Now the seedlings are coming up, the result is perhaps not as neat and tidy as it could have been, but of course that doesn’t matter – the excitement the girls feel seeing the seeds they sowed springing into life is priceless. Their enthusiasm is contagious – and I’ve no doubt that same level of enthusiasm will be apparent when it’s time to harvest and eat the food they’ve grown.
When they’re young children are eager to get their hands dirty and help out in the garden. As they get older, unless that interest is fostered, their enthusiasm usually wanes. They start to view gardening as a chore – a position that I remember well from my own experience.
When I was young, and more of a hindrance than a help around the garden, my Dad didn’t exactly dissuade me from helping out, but he didn’t actively encourage it either. As I got older, and potentially more useful, he became more interested in me spending time with him in the garden. Of course by that time I had no interest whatsoever. He’d give me jobs to do around the garden anyway – and I’d use all my energy inventing creative strategies to avoid doing them.
Now of course, I have my own garden, and my own children. My interest in gardening is growing every year – which may be a sign that I’m reaching a certain age – and I’m keen to foster that same interest in the girls. It’s something that I’m sure will stand them in good stead the rest of their lives – and, with a bit of luck, supply me with a free, willing and able garden workforce for many years to come.
Technorati Tags: parenting, kids, evening echo, gardening, vegetables
On Monday 16th April The Evening Echo in Cork launched a new weekly double page feature called Career Moves, and I was commissioned to supply all of the content for the first four weeks (after which it’s scheduled to be taken over by the Echo’s editorial team…).
Career Moves in The Evening Echo
(© 2007, The Evening Echo, all rights reserved)
The section features articles, news, hints and tips on careers, recruitment and training. If you’re in the Munster region, and are looking for a career boost, pick up a copy of the Echo on Mondays and take a look!
Technorati Tags: Evening Echo, Cork, Munster, Recruitment, Training, Careers
Saw my first swallow of 2007 on April 13th….
We were sitting outside having lunch (making the most of the unseasonally warm spell we’re enjoying in West Cork) when the bird swooped low over the lawn, circled once overhead and promptly disappeared. I haven’t seen another since… though I’m sure they won’t be far behind this trailblazer.
In celebration I’ve changed the header image of this site to a photograph of young swallows at the nest. This is the last brood reared in our old out-house before we converted it into my office. The following year the swallows moved into an old barn on the farm next door — so no harm done.
They say one swallow does not a summer make… but with the weather we’ve been having in West Cork for the last few weeks, I’m not so sure!
Technorati Tags: swallow, hirundo rustica, barn swallow, irish wildlife, nature
Great news for Irish authors!
Though royalties from the scheme probably won’t amount to much (or anything, for authors like me who don’t have any books published yet — but hey, I’m working on it!) it’s great that authors will finally get some remuneration for library loans in Ireland.
You dig up some amazing nuggets when you’re researching articles.
For instance, who’d have thought that the Irish would be more interested in cosmetic surgery than the British and even the Americans?
Apparently it’s true — when cosmetic surgery site lipo.com analysed global Google search data in October 2006 they found that when adjusted for population size the top five countries were:
- Ireland
- United Kingdom
- Australia
- Philippines
- New Zealand
America came in 7th — probably because as a nation they already know more about plastic surgery than practically everyone else.
You can read the whole article here.
Who’d have thought it?
Another article on the same site claims a fair proportion of the Irish population will be rushing to cash in our SSIA (a government savings incentive scheme set to mature this year) and fritter away the proceeds on having things made bigger, smaller, nipped, tucked and generally rearranged.
Are the Irish really so obsessed with their looks — or is it just that so many people in this country seem to have money to burn?
Technorati Tags: cosmetic surgery, Ireland, Irish life
Published in the WOW! supplement of the Evening Echo 11/04/2007
“Dad, dad, look!†screamed one of the twins, running into the kitchen beaming from ear-to-ear. You couldn’t help but notice the gaping hole, still oozing a trickle of blood, where her first baby tooth had been just moments before.
We’d noticed that the tooth was loose at dinner a couple of nights before. Ever since then the excitement had been mounting, and now that the tooth had finally come out the anticipation was almost palpable. Would the tooth fairy come? Would she bring money, and if so how much? And of course, the most important question of all… what would the money be spent on?
Surprisingly her twin sister, who has what I call “fairness issues†(“that’s not fair†tends to be a phrase she delivers with gusto several times a day), didn’t bat an eyelid at the fact that her sister would be getting a visit from the tooth fairy before her. For once she seemed content to bide her time, pushing experimentally at her own front teeth with her index finger.
“I’m going to stay up all night to see the tooth fairy,†said the twin whose tooth had come out. She wrapped her prize in tissue and deposited it safely under her pillow. We read a story and then it was time for lights out.
“I’m not going to sleep, I’m not!†said a tired voice from the darkened room, I said goodnight and left them to drop off.
A few hours later they were sound asleep, and our tooth fairy had a dilemma on her hands. Just how much was the going rate for a six-year-old’s tooth these days?
I’ve heard that, in some places at least, the tooth fairy has forsaken heavy, jingly money for the lighter folding kind. However, bearing in mind that tonight would set a precedent, and that there’d be a fair number of visits from the tooth fairy over the next few years, somehow I suspected that our particular fairy would opt for high denomination coinage.
Some time ago we’d discussed the whole tooth fairy thing. Should we, or shouldn’t we? Was it wrong to lie to them, or was it a harmless equivocation? And if we said nothing, what then? What if they went to school without a tooth and other children mentioned the tooth fairy? Worse… what if they started to questioning the very existence of the tooth fairy? Can you imagine the fallout from other parents?
So when the time finally came, so did the tooth fairy…. The next morning the twins ran into our room, one of them brandishing a two Euro coin.
“I’m going to buy a new toy,†she announced.
Later that day we found ourselves wandering the isles of the toy shop. The three girls worked as a team, scouring the shelves for the perfect purchase. They were shopping in earnest. My mind fast-forwarded a few years, and I suddenly saw teenage girl hitting the clothes shops. I shuddered, an my hand closed involuntarily around my wallet!
At first they picked stuff that cost €10 to €20. Eventually they grasped that they were working on a tight budget, and lowered their sights accordingly. In the end we took home yet another cuddly toy from the bargain bin.
Since that first visit the tooth fairy’s been busy, and has made two more trips to our house. The girls have also become more cash savvy, and have decided to pool their collective resources. They’ve decided to save their tooth money so they can buy something better. They’ve also started to view their teeth as currency. Now instead of asking how much a toy or game costs they’re asking “how many teeth†they need to lose in order to afford it.
Technorati Tags: parenting, kids, bedtime, writing, column, evening echo
Openoffice.org is a fully functional office productivity suite that at least matches the leading commercial software, and in some cases exceeds it. It is a shining example of how far Open Source software has come in recent years — and provides an extremely viable alternative to the pricey Microsoft Office Suite.
The best bit is that it’s completely free — just download the latest release from the openoffice.org website, install it and away you go. It’s available for Windows, Linux, Solaris, Mac OSX and FreeBSD.
I switched from Microsoft Office to OpenOffice.org about two years ago now, and use it on all of my writing projects. It saves seamlessly to Microsoft Office format, and none of my writing clients or editors even noticed that I’d made the change.
OpenOffice.org writer in action
Give OpenOffice.org a try — install it on as many computers as you like, as often as you like and forget about licensing worries.
If you’re used to working with MS Office you’ll find the transition to OpenOffice.org easy and intuitive. A few features work a little differently and some of the menu options are in different places — but overall the interface is a joy to use. And because it’s an open source project there’s a whole community of people who are ready, willing and able to help. There is plenty of support available free of charge on the OpenOffice.org support site, including online tutorials, user forums and several mailing lists. If you decide you want to pay for a professional training an support package there are plenty on offer.
Still not convinced? Take a look at these compelling reasons to use OpenOffice.org
You really can’t loose — trying OpenOffice.org will cost you nothing, and if you decide it’s not for you you can always switch back to your commercial alternative.
Technorati Tags: Office Suites, Open Source, Software, Writing Tools
It was the girls’ bedtime, and we were following our usual routine: toilet > brush teeth > story > lights out. The girls were on auto-pilot, and that allowed my mind to wander.
Routine is something I never held much truck with as a younger man. It’s tedious: a celebration of the predictable and the mundane. Life was so much more interesting when you mixed things up a bit, and the more unpredictable things were the more exciting it became.
That’s all very well when you’re twenty-one and discovering the world, but having children shifts your perspective somewhat. I had just turned thirty when the twins arrived, and before long routine and I had put aside our differences and were getting on famously.
With two tiny babies at home, routine wasn’t a choice, it was a survival mechanism. Following a routine requires very little in terms of mental agility – which is something you appreciate when you’re sleep-starved and bone weary.
Over the years routine and I have developed a bit of a love/hate relationship. I appreciate it’s value as a weapon in the parental arsenal, but subconsciously I rail against it. At work, for instance, I fight the tendency to plan everything out, and tackle things depending on my mood instead of allocating them to a particular time-slot. That means my time management is rubbish – which drives my super-organised wife insane – but hey, at least it isn’t predictable and boring.
When it comes to children however you simply can’t beat routine. It restores order out of chaos, brings tranquillity to turmoil and conjures peace from confrontation. Routine is a soothing balm that restores and maintains calm, thereby preserving parental sanity.
Back to bedtime, and with my focus elsewhere the twins had disengaged their autopilot and were fighting over the tooth-paste. I snapped out of my daydream and steered them back on course, pondering the positive side of the predictable, repetitive and mundane.
Those benefits are never more apparent than at bedtime, but tonight the twins had other ideas. Instead of pulling a story from their bookshelf they took out their Auntie Valda’s old school atlas. They wanted to play a game.
“You pick a place and we have to guess it,†explained one.
“You’ll need to give us clues,†added her sister.
The logical part of my brain warned me to stick to reading a story, but somewhere inside my rebellious streak seized the opportunity to strike a blow against the tyranny of routine, and I succumbed.
It started surprisingly well. They guessed place names in Ireland, Britain, France, Spain and Australia. This was educational, entertaining… fun, even. And then I turned the page.
It was the section of the atlas dealing with the solar system: how the planets orbit the sun, how the moon orbits the earth, what causes day and night, seasons, climate zones and moon phases. I knew I was in trouble before the questions even started.
They came thick and fast, and every answer I gave simply prompted a fresh flood of questions: “If the world is spinning all the time why don’t we fall off when we’re upside down?â€, “If the sun is in space how come we can see it?â€, “Where does the sun go when it goes down at night?â€, “Do people live on other planets?â€, “How do we know?â€, “Why are the planets called those names?â€, “If the sun is in space and the stars are in space then why can’t we see the stars when the sun’s out?  and so it went on.
This is undoubtedly a fascinating and educational topic, but not one best tackled at bedtime. As I struggled to explain the intricacies of our solar system in terms that a six-year-old could grasp, I vowed that next time I’d be sticking to the routine.