National Holocaust Day

Facebook just threw up this post from three years ago (2015)

Ferretfingers is obsessed by the rolling subtitles on news programmes so insists on having the BBC News channel on (usually with the sound off).

Today was not a good day as the BBC seemed obsessed with commemorating the liberation of Auschwitz (and yes I know how historically important it is).

It was a bit of a chaotic teatime what with Will Fixit putting up more delft racks in the hall and living room, and Fester yelling for Ferretfingers from the kitchen to come and fetch his tea.  

Even so it was startling to say the least to have him ignore his burgers and sit howling in tears at the table.

When I finally got him calmed down enough to speak all he would say, or rather wail while wiping his eye on his sleeve, was "Auschwitz people".

This is particularly poignant to me because the Nazis would have considered my beautiful boy as an untermensch and taken him away to God only knows what form of destruction.

Before the Jews, gypsies, homosexuals and all the others, they murdered mentally, physically and learning disabled German people and children to purify the Aryan race of weak stock.

Let no one tell you autistic people don't have empathy.

Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it isn't there.

A Nice Relaxing Bath

Facebook just threw up this post from last year; not much has changed.

It's been a funny old day at Chateau Midden and it's only a quarter past four.

Yesterday I left a message on North Tyneside Parking Control's system about changing my resident's parking permit.  I was pleasantly surprised when an envelope with the appropriate forms arrived this morning.  I scanned my driver's licence and insurance, printed them out, filled in the forms and set off to the Post Office for a first class stamp.

"Oh" I thought to myself "I shall put in my Premium Bond and Christmas cheques whilst I'm up there."

When our local Barclays shut we were assured we could use the Post Office for such things.

"Have you got a paying in slip or book?" asks the woman behind the counter "we can't do it with just the sort code on your debit card."

I thought about going home for my paying in book, then thought "What the heck, I'll walk to Forest Hall."

Which I did; and found the ladies who used to work at Barclays FourLaneEnds, who put all my cheques through no bother.

It took about half an hour to get back home; by which time I was quite sweaty and took off my jeans as my jumper was long and thick enough to be decent.

Fester came home, shortly followed by Thunderthighs then Ferretfingers who asked "What happened to your trousers?"

I decided to have a nice relaxing bath.

I'd been in there five minutes when the phone rang.

"Answer it" I called "I'm in the bath."

Fester answered it in the office "Who? ...... Oh!  She's in the bath.  Wait a minute I'll take you to her" and handed the phone to me.

"Well this is a first" says a hoarse female voice "I'm Sheila from North Tyneside Parking Control, sorry I've lost my voice."

"Oh. Are you ringing me to give me a number until my new permit arrives?"

"Yes. Do you want the application forms as well?"

"No thanks, they arrived this morning and are on their way back to you.  Can you give the number to my husband?  He's more likely to have a pencil and paper than me."

Gave the chuckling phone back to Fester and listened while he tried to get the number down right.

Five minutes later, still in bath, my mobile starts ringing.

Fester comes stumbling out of the office "Where is it?"

"In my trouser pocket" it stops "but don't bother; Ferretfingers is home, Thunderthighs is home, you're home, it's not going to be that urgent."

"Good point" and he stumbles back to his computer.

This is the reason I normally shower.  I've lost count of the number of times people have called when I'm in the bath.  When the boys were small, and I did freelance PR, I used to get them up and dressed and out before getting myself breakfasted and bathed.  At least once a week a client would ring when I was bathing.

Also, if I shut the door the ginger cat tries to dig his way in through the carpet.

After my bath I decided, as I wasn't going anywhere, it wasn't worth getting dressed so put on tights, nightie and dressing gown.  Thunderthighs came into the office where I was typing.

"Why are you in your nightie?"

I explained

"But it's only half past three in the afternoon" he said in his best Lady Bracknell....

Another Chateau Midden Morning

(Happy New Year)

On Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday mornings I have to be up to get Ferretfingers up and ready for his various activities.  Wednesday is particularly important as I have to transport him to college for his Recycled Art course, where he is ‘enabled’ by a personal assistant from LDNE.  I don’t like the idea of the PA hanging around in the cold waiting for us to arrive so I aim to get there as close to 9 as possible, for the 9.30 start.  This means I aim to leave the house at 8.45.  We never achieve this but we do aim for it.

Wednesday is when Thunderthighs goes into his college course in the afternoon.  We do ‘the big shop’ that morning, one week Tesco the next Aldi.  He comes with us to drop off Ferretfingers, we then proceed to the supermarket and are usually home again by 10.30.

Ideally the clock radio should wake me.   

Failing that Thunderthighs coming in from his paper round.

The problem is Fester turns the radio on as soon as he’s awake enough to move.  He then goes back to sleep, snoring so that I can neither sleep nor follow what’s being said on the radio.  I’ve been complaining about this for almost 25 years;  and shall quote it as mitigating circumstances in the manslaughter trial. Also the cat keeps demanding to be out at about 5am, which I ignore for as long as possible, so when I do get back to sleep I’m shattered and out for the count.

This morning, first class back after Christmas, I was awoken by Nick Robinson saying “It’s twenty to nine.”  Leapt out of bed and opened the bedroom door to find Thunderthighs sitting on the loft staircase looking mournful.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“The radio was on.”

“That doesn’t mean I was awake.  I didn’t shout hello when you came in from your paper round.  When did you get in?”

“Twenty past eight”

“Oh for goodness sake!  Next time you come in and I’m not up wake me up.  We need to be out by a quarter to nine.”

This conversation took place whilst I was cleaning my teeth so it would be accurate to say I was frothing at the mouth.

Thunderthighs ascended into his loft.

Ferretfingers was roused and we both got dressed without washing.

We went downstairs and got his bag ready, there was no time for breakfast.

Thunderthighs came downstairs and we piled into the car.

Fester apparently, and wisely, oblivious to all this, snored on.

We roared as fast as the speed limit allowed through the various road works on the Coast Road and were at the college by 9.20.  Handed Ferretfingers over with apologies and the news he hadn’t had breakfast.  Being the size of a small haystack missing a meal is the least of his worries.

When we got to Tesco I handed the trolley to Thunderthighs with “I’m going to the cafe.  I need a coffee and biscuit. You know what we usually get, so you can get it and I’ll catch up with you when I’ve eaten.  You ok with that?”

He was.

In fact I think he quite enjoyed it.

Coming out of Tesco’s I said “The first thing your father will say is ‘Have you got the Guardian?’”

“No the first thing he’ll say is ‘Why didn’t you wake your mother?’  Then he’ll kill me.”

“He won’t kill you, he’ll just be his usual miserable grumpy self, and then I’ll say ‘If you didn’t put the radio on and snore through it all the time it would wake me up’ and then we’ll bicker on as normal.”

However

When we got home Fester opened the door with an impish grin and

“Is everybody having a lovely morning?”

Little does he know that next week I shall revert to using an alarm clock.

That’ll larn ‘im.