My Family Heirloom - Debbie Young's Writing Life

This Week’s Homework Is A Family Affair

Posted on September 23, 2012July 18, 2016 by Debbie Young

Laura's school homework book — Homework – it’s a family affair

When I first see my daughter’s homework assignment for this week, my first thought is “She’s got off lightly!”

These were her instructions:

Child: Now you are in a new class, you should start to do something new to show that you are getting older. Why not set yourself a new goal or target? Make your bed, get dressed without help, choose the clothes you wear, help with the cooking, wash up or tidy up, do your homework without being told.

But then I read on. There are instructions for parents too.

Parent: Now your child is in a new class, you might want to set yourself a target. Read a story with your child at least once a week, help your child spend some time with a friend, take your child to the park, walk your child to or from school, get up nice and early so you don’t have to hurry in the morning.

I’ve done all of these most days in the last week, so no novelty there – but the last one is a delightful surprise:

Have some time to yourself.

Suddenly I’m warming to this assignment.

As a family, we discuss which targets we will choose.

My husband’s is to take Laura swimming once a week. A keen swimmer himself, he’s been taking Laura swimming since she was tiny, but lately the habit has lapsed. He’s pleased to receive this prompt to take her again.

Laura suggests that she pledge to wash up. She’s not daft – we’ve got a dishwasher. After we point this out, she decides she’ll empty the dishwasher every day instead.

I think hard about my own target and come up with one that feels liberating but strangely naughty: I decide not to work at weekends. This, I realise, should benefit not just me but the whole family. I need no further persuasion to give it a go.

On Saturday morning, resisting the urge to turn on my computer, I feel as if I’m playing truant. My husband trumps my achievement by taking Laura swimming straight away, followed by a trip to the Chipping Sodbury Mop (the odd, historic name for the funfair that’s in our nearest town this weekend), making it an all-day outing.

Which means even further liberation for me: I enjoy the rare luxury of a day at home alone. In fact it’s so rare that for a few moments after they’ve gone, I cannot think what to do. But then long-buried ideas bubble up to the surface, and I spend a pleasant day dashing about the house doing all kinds of constructive and satisfying tasks:

reorganising the utility room
sorting out the ironing
cleaning the birdbath and replenishing it with fresh water
hanging two strings of bird seed from the apple tree
picking a big bunch of sweet peas from the back garden
gathering two big handfuls of late cherry tomatoes from the greenhouse
harvesting lots of runner beans and a couple of courgettes
making some vegetable soup
finishing a book I’d started reading on holiday a month ago (Susan Buchanan’s Sign of the Times, set mainly in Scotland, where we were holidaying)
giving the Welsh dresser in the kitchen a much-needed polish and rearranging the display on its shelves
decluttering the kitchen windowsills (a bigger job than it sounds, believe me)
bringing back into the house three huge succulent plants that were taking a summer break in the front garden
getting out all our winter hats, scarves and gloves, washing them and hanging them up to dry

And I didn’t even have to empty the dishwasher.

Without this assignment, I’d have spent the whole day sitting in front of my computer and have nothing tangible to show for my supposed day of rest. Instead, I feel like I’ve given half the house a face-lift and benefited the garden birds too.

Just as I’m sitting down with a cup of tea to admire my newly tidy kitchen, Gordon and Laura burst back into the house, all aglow after a lovely daddy-and-daughter day together. They look very happy.

All in all, it’s been a very satisfying piece of homework for all the family.

I don’t know what mark Laura will get on her homework this week, but I’d give her teacher top marks!

In the mood for more homework? Here’s a post about some from my own schooldays: And So This Is Christmas

Or if you’re in need of further inspiration on the subject of tidying up, try: Tidying Up, Gary’s Way

Family

In Search of the Perfect Pet

Posted on September 16, 2012July 18, 2016 by Debbie Young

Black cat painted by Laura at the age of 2 — Portrait of a black cat by Laura, aged 2

The suggestion of a Pet Show as a new PTA fundraiser fills me with foreboding: it’s bound to trigger a renewed appeal from my nine-year-old daughter Laura for a cat or a dog.

Our household is currently a pet-free zone. It’s quite a change from the fur-dominated home into which Laura was born. At that point I had four cats, Posy, Mabel, Dolly and Grace. Laura’s first word was not “Mummy” or “Daddy” but “Cat”, and her first proper painting was a black cat with yellow eyes.

Before Laura was born, I’d worried for months about old wives’ tales of cats inadvertently smothering new babies by curling up and going to sleep on them. I even invested in a “cat net” – a flimsy, over-priced bit of net curtain material, meant to repel cats from cots. But I needn’t have worried. It was soon clear which of the small creatures in our house had the upper hand. All were in awe of Laura, mostly keeping their distance from her shrill sound effects. The only one happy to linger was Mabel, our tailless white wonder who had survived a close encounter with a car in kittenhood. (Not so her tail.)

Brownie the guinea pig with Laura the Brownie

Mabel was the most good-natured and sociable cat that I’ve ever had. Whereas the others would run away at the sound of the doorbell, Mabel would bound up to the front door to greet whoever was our visitor. It was therefore not surprising that she was also the most obliging in Laura’s games, letting herself be tucked in to Laura’s doll’s pram and wheeled around the garden.

Mabel also had the most caring nature. When my husband was ill, lying on the sofa feeling wretched, she looked at him analytically, trotted out into the garden and returned with a dead mouse in her mouth. She laid her prey gently at his feet. Just what the doctor ordered to build him up again – a high-protein snack.

Laura admires a long-haired rabbit at Puxton Park — Borrowing a bunny

When Grace, the last of our cats, died of old age, Laura was too little to feel real grief, so missed the opportunity to learn a useful lesson about death from her pet. My tears were copious tears. But soon after I’d dried them, I started to notice how much cleaner the house had become without a cat. There was another significant benefit: our cat-allergic friend could at last come to stay. Helen’s allergies turned into a blessing: they became our main ally in fending off Laura’s requests for another pet.

Even so we weakened around the time of her sixth birthday. Unwilling to take on a house-dwelling pet, we acquiesced to two rescue guinea pigs. Laura chose their names, calling the ginger one, erm, Ginger, and the brown one Brownie, as she’d just become a Brownie herself. Sadly, like all small pets, they didn’t last long. Only Brownie made it through to Laura’s seventh birthday and only hung around for a couple of months longer after that. Again the loss hit my husband and I much harder than it did Laura, and this experience steeled our resolve to remain pet-free.

Until this summer, that is, when Laura came up with a new and effective solution to the problem: she acquired some invisible dogs. Now here is a pet I am happy to recommend. Invisible dogs don’t make a mess, leave no fur on the furniture, cost nothing to feed, and you don’t have to pick up after them when you take them for walks. The only real danger is sitting down without noticing they’re already on your chair. Fortunately they have a very forgiving nature. I just wonder how the judges at the PTA pet show will tell them apart.

If you enjoyed this post, you might like another one I wrote about our pets – but this time with my own suggestion of an alternative: Garden Birds – The Perfect Pet

Uncategorized

The Last Post for the London 2012 Olympics

Posted on September 10, 2012March 9, 2013 by Debbie Young

Here are seven reasons why I should be glad that the London 2012 Olympic Games are over:

I no longer have to worry about which events I’m missing if I go out for the evening
On evenings in, I don’t burn holes in my ironing when, so gripped by the excitement of an event, I forget to keep moving the iron
I can take the Union Jacks down from the front of the house, where they’re practically in shreds, having been there since the Diamond Jubilee kicked off this amazing English summer
I’ll save a lot of money on Kleenex, no longer being reduced to tears at least once a day by the athletes’ amazing victories
Shops will return to their usual shorter Sunday opening hours (did you notice that the restricted Sunday opening times were removed for the duration of the Games, in hope of extracting extra cash from Olympic tourists? When were those poor shop assistants meant to watch the events?)
We can reproduce the Olympic logo without fear of being sued
I can once more plan trips to meet friends in London without worrying about being caught up in crowds of Olympic spectators

But – did you guess? – I’m bluffing. I STILL don’t want them to end, even though their closing days have produced so many wonderful memories to treasure. Not least was the Mayor of London’s priceless speech at the Athletes’ Parade through central London today. Only the gloriously brazen, blustering Boris Johnson could get away with some of the things he said – and whatever your politics, you have to love his spirit. (If you missed it, you MUST watch it here.)

If Boris was right about the creation of a new generation on our nation’s living room sofas during the Games, I’m willing to bet that by time the athletes are leaving the starting blocks of Rio 2016, Britain’s nursery schools and playparks will be full of little Jessicas, Ellies, Mos and Jonnies, named in honour of our London 2012 heroes. I hope there’ll be a smattering of small Borises too.

The Olympic Games are over, long live the Olympic Games!

Family, Personal life

2020 Vision – Predicting the Future for the Children of Hawkesbury Upton

Posted on September 4, 2012July 18, 2016 by Debbie Young

My daughter (bottom right) at one of many sporting events in which she represented the school last year — Go Team Hawkesbury!

Since catching Olympic fever this summer, I’ve started to view the antics of our village children in a different way.

I’ve always known that Hawkesbury turns out talented children, as anyone could see from the children’s entries section of the Village Show. Hawkesbury Primary School is renowned for producing great all-rounders, not least because it offers an impressive array of after-school clubs, from cooking and cross-country running to journalism and orchestra.

There is also an extraordinary choice of children’s activities elsewhere in the village. Many are so popular that they are fully subscribed, even for the older age groups, who tend to drift away from such activities in urban communities.

These opportunities are only made possible by the dedication and hard work of the adults who run them. There are also clubs set up by the children themselves, encouraged by the school to make good use of lunchtimes and enjoyed by children of all ages. Our children are lucky to have so much purposeful, fulfilling activity readily available to them, as well as our gorgeous rural setting – and they know it.

Hawkesbury boys on scooters in park — On their way to a new skate park (they hope!)

Since the London 2012 Olympics, I’ve become even more impressed by our children’s activities. Inadvertently, I’ve found myself transforming into an unofficial Team GB talent-spotter. Seeing a child cycling at speed down the high street, I fast-forward to the 2020 Olympics and picture them surging ahead in the Velodrome. Spotting a child swing with ease across the monkey bars in the playpark, I imagine them, eight years on, performing on the parallel bars in the Olympic Gymnastic Arena. Will the proposed village skate park, nearing completion of its fundraising appeal, generate members of the 2020 Team GB BMX team? I never knew BMX biking was an Olympic sport till London 2012, but it made impressive viewing.

Now there’s a good reason to help the HawksNest Skate Park appeal cross the finishing line this autumn! London 2012 may be over, but for the children of Hawkesbury Upton, the adventure may be only just beginning.

To find out more about the Hawkesbury Upton Skate Park appeal, you can find them on Facebook or visit their website. Donations are always welcome!

This post was originally written for Hawkesbury Parish News (September 2012 edition).

Writing

Putting the Great Back into Britain

Posted on September 3, 2012March 9, 2013 by Debbie Young

Back in the spring, with the calendar dominated by the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and the London 2012 Olympics, I expected our lives would feel a little empty, come September. What on earth could we look forward to after all that summer treasure: diamonds, gold, silver and bronze?

Yet with the Autumn Term upon us, I’m still remarkably buoyed up by all the excitement. The Olympics have left us a wealth of unexpected legacies, quite apart from the planned regeneration of East London. Here are some of the things that the Young household has gained. My nine-year-old daughter Laura’s points first:

A greater awareness of the world beyond the Cotwolds, its many countries, nationalities and ethnic diversity
An encyclopaedic knowledge of these country’s national flags
A keen interest in – and mostly, but not always, the ability to spell – numerous sports that she’d never heard of before this summer
An awareness of history being made all around her – she’ll have plenty of memories to share with her grandchildren, beginning every story with “I was there when…”

This is what I have gained from the London 2012 Olympics:

The totally new experience of wanting to read a newspaper backwards rather than forwards. Previously the most use I’ve had for the sports section has been to line the cat litter tray.
A huge sense of relief that our beautiful national flag has been redeemed from dodgy punk rockers and right wing fanatics, to be flourished now with unremitting pride.
A renewed respect for the Royal Family. If that fabulous double act by the Queen and James Bond doesn’t soften the hearts of the hardest Republican, then nothing ever will.
A passionate longing to have one of those long-legged swimsuits that triathletes wear – and the figure to go with it. Watch my personal space – I’ll be taking up less of it from now on.
A genuine conviction that the main role of British athletes at international sporting events is not to provide comic relief, but to win medals and inspire generations to come with their talent, dedication and single-mindedness.

Even my husband, a proud Scottish republican, gained from this summer’s outpouring of British pride: so that Laura and I could enjoy the festivities unrestrained, we gave him free rein to go off and climb Scottish mountains all summer, Munro-bagging, as it’s known north of the border.

I know I’ve always been a bit of a Pollyanna, ever able to irritate gloomy friends with my “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade” attitude. But now I’m sure there’s a much broader optimism afoot – a national conviction, in fact. We may no longer rule the waves, but boy, do we know how to make them. It’s been a truly Great British summer. I’ve forgotten and forgiven the rain.

This post was written for the Tetbury Advertiser (September 2012 edition).

If you liked this post and want to make the Olympics last a little longer, you might like to read some of my other posts about the Olympics:

Which New Olympic Sport Would You Choose?

The Olympic Spirit Meets Britannia

Sharing the Olympic Glory – or How I Learned to Love the London2012 Logo