All posts by Steph Clarke

A day off school, telling the story of #eqnz.

Family, Home, Parenting, The Blonde Kid, WBIAGW, , , , , , , ,

Today TBK had an unexpected day off school (long story), and as ever when he is off school not through illness or inset day we set him some work to do at home, Maths, Art and some Literacy. TBK wanted to just make up a story, but James wanted something factual. and more structured. So he got thinking.

Anyone who follows us on twitter (or read my previous post) would know a large part of our time has been taken up recently keeping up with events the other side of the world. More specifically the Christchurch earthquake. Not only do I have family in Christchurch we are also due to fly out to see them in just over 5 weeks time. We’ve discussed the earthquake with Jordan and what that means to our trip and our family out there but we wanted to see how much he had taken in. James wanted to set him the task of writing about it. After some discussion a compromise was reached and it was decided that TBK would, using his knowledge of the earthquake, write a fictional first person account from someone caught in the quake.

He’s only 11 – this is what he wrote:

The Christchurch Earthquake: My Experience

I was minding my own business walking through the park when all of a sudden the ground started shaking, buildings started collapsing and liquefaction started coming up out of the ground. Every where felt like jelly, I was being tossed and turned, I couldn’t move, I knew straight away we were having another earthquake.

It stopped.. Everything had been destroyed. Car alarms were going off, buildings were on fire, I didn’t know what to do! Of course, the first thing that crossed my mind was to run home but there was no one at home, my wife was at work, my children were at school and my mom and dad passed away three years ago.

I quickly ran to my children’s school and they were both luckily fine, I picked them up and ran with them to my wife’s work, it had been completely demolished.

My phone rang, I answered it, it was fuzzy and I couldn’t hear properly, it was MY WIFE I was filled with joy, she had left work for her lunch break thirty minutes ago, she was fine but then everything went silent and I could no longer hear my wife.

I walked with my children to my house, it had not been demolished, only a few tiles were cracked and several chimneys were on the floor in pieces. All the power had gone, I went into the garden to find my wife clearing up the liquefaction, we were all relived to see each other again. We set up our tents in the back garden, as all water supplies were disabled we had to use portaloos, a fire and all the water we could get to ration out between us.

Its been almost a week and we have now got electricity, phone signal and internet connection. The toilets and water supplies are back in business and things are slowly returning to normal, although due to the mess we have still got a lot of work to do.

#eqnz

Family, WBIAGW, , , , , , , ,

“Massive earthquake in Christchurch NZ!!! At 12:51 it hit, 6.3 and there’s 65 dead!!!!! Put the news on!”

That was the news I woke to from my sister on the morning of the quake, My heart sank – I simultaneously reached for the remote control and the land line turning the news on and dialing the international code for New Zealand, I felt sick so many things were racing through my mind as I was watching images on the television of buildings falling and women screaming….

The phone seemed to take an age to connect

Tuesday 22nd February, 12:51 local time an earthquake struck the south island of New Zealand measuring 6.3 on the richter scale, It was devastating homes, businesses, families and many many lives . I was sitting 12,000 miles away from the earthquake stricken city of Christchurch, I wasn’t in New Zealand at the time of the quake and I wasn’t even aware of it at the actual time it was happening but yet for a week it seems to have consumed so much of me, I’ve worn myself down until I am physically ill – I have family who live in Christchurch, In fact they live in the Burwood/New Brighton suburbs, one of worst affected areas of the city. The city is their home and their home has been shaken to the core.

I’ve devoured news articles and blog posts, I’ve followed and retweeted countless twitter accounts – I’ve worried my way through every after shock of which here has been hundreds and I’ve been doing everything I can to educate myself on how every piece of news I read could or has affected my family.

Things I’ve learnt this week, the meaning of the Moari phrase Kia Kaha, what liquefaction is, the geography of New Zealand’s eastern suburbs and the geology of earthquakes.

I know about kiwi power companies and their telephone infrastructure, about school closures and recovery programmes. The names of council officials, streets, businesses and hotels, The layout of the parks and water supplies.

I know so much about Christchurch and how to try and help my family from afar, I know where they can get food supplies and clean water. I know where the nearest working public phone is to their house – but I also know that in 2 months I’m scheduled to fly out there with my sister, my partner and my son. And I don’t know yet how I feel about that.

There’s no question that I’ll be going even if the very least I can do is shovel silt but to take my 11 year old into a disaster zone, knowing the risk of aftershocks – can I do that?

There’s nothing like a natural disaster to accelerate learning and knowing.

Capturing images….

Facts About Me, Home, Memory, WBIAGW, , , , ,

When I was in school I used to love art class but when it came to my GSCE years and we  had options the choices offered to me were Music, PE , Art OR Drama.

P.E was out straight away – choosing to spend the final 2 year of my life as the most unsporting person I know in the company of a PE teacher I hated (ahem,  Miss Dickie) oh no no no no that wasn’t going to happen. Music there was no chance I can’t hold a tune to save my life and the coordination to play a musical instrument….forget it, so that left Art or Drama, I went with Drama. I love Drama (being somewhat of a drama queen) and enjoyed being on stage, performing in several shows extra curricular to my school activities, where as in Art I really only ever drew when I felt like I WANTED to draw, when I really felt like I was really interested in the subject and I got to choose when that happened, so I let it slide – sometimes I wished I hadn’t.

Sometimes I wished I’d kept it up and had the skills to capture the images I take with my camera and turn them into something special with pen and paper – sometimes I wished I’d tried harder….

So last year I did.

Leaving work on my lunch one cold wintery day I spotted a leaf on the ground and did what every sane person would do I picked it up and carried it around with me until I returned to the office and snapped a photo of it with camera phone – I don’t know why I just felt like it, it’s not the most spectacular image in the world but I kept it all the same I then threw the leaf away.

That photo sat on my phone for ages……

A few months later I spotted a drawing book on sale in The Works and bought it, I still had a set of nice drawing pencils at home and I had half an idea that I would draw something , I just didn’t know what – then I started looking through the photos on my phone and inspiration struck, I knew there was  reason I’d picked that leaf up on that day, I just didn’t know what until I had my pencils in hand….

It’s not the most spectacular drawing in the world, it’s not even a true likeness of the image on the left, but it’s my drawing,  it’s the first I’d properly attempted since opting out of art class for drama when I was 14 and I was kinda happy with it.

That was over 12 months ago now. My pencils have sat in the box since un-thought of until today when I came across the photo of the leaf again and I thought it about time I gave them another airing. I’ve sat and pondered for a while about what I could draw and after a while I realised I was wasting my time….

…30 year old me is still suffering from the affliction 14 year old me suffered and maybe it will be another 15 years before I pick up my pencils again. I can’t think what I want to draw, what I’d be able to draw so I don’t and as what I draw isn’t as good as what I’d like it to be anyway I think I’m better off staying hid behind my camera lens instead after all I could never recreate this image with my hand!

Winter 2010

Practising restraint.

Family, Friends, Home, WBIAGW, , , ,

Gag Law

Restraint and diplomacy are not my stronger points, in fact neither are a trait I would say most people would attribute me with.

I’ve lost track of the amount of times I’ve opened my mouth when I should have just bitten my tongue or when I’ve said completely the wrong thing in the most inappropriate of settings. I have to admit it’s not my most redeeming quality, it’s not something I do deliberately and it’s probably why I’m struggling right now.

You see, I know something.

I know something that is not for me to share, nor is it for me stick my nose in, but in knowing this thing I’m frustrated and angry and I want to do something to change it. I also want other people to know what I know and be equally as frustrated and equally as angry and for them to want to change it too, But, I know if I share this thing, or if I do stick my nose in there is a 50:50 chance I’ll do the wrong or say the wrong thing and make it worse, I know people will be upset with me so instead I’m practicing restraint and writing a frustratingly ambiguous post instead.

Be my Valentine

Opinion, WBIAGW, , , ,

Light Hearted

The cynic in me would love to hate valentines day, the over commercialised sales pitch for love, but the romantic in me loves to love it, flowers and romance and chocolates and smiles, what’s there not to like…

…but if all the people in my facebook feed, the strangers on twitter, the friends I’ve seen today in person, or those who I can fully predict are sitting at home bemoaning the significant others in your life expecting something nice on Valentines day. To all of you who have said “I don’t need someone to tell me what day of the year to say I love you” here’s a thought, Maybe if we produced just one romantic gesture unprompted on any one of the remaining 364 days of the year your lovely partners wouldn’t put so much onus on this one day, This one day when it seems most of the nation need reminding it’s ok to do something nice for the one you love!

It doesn’t have to cost, an unasked for cup of tea in bed, a love letter pinned to the bathroom mirror, a walk in the park on blustery afternoon or having the forethought to cook the dinner for when your other half gets home from what you know is a particularly stressful day.

Maybe if we all tried to be a, little more romantic throughout the year come February 14th florists and card companies wouldn’t be laughing all the way to the bank!

Today I am just Mom!

Family, Health, Opinion, Parenting, , , ,

Being a parent is sometimes quite hard, balancing your own wants and needs as an individual with that of a this small thing who wants independence but relies of you for so much. I’m lucky – I absolutely love being a Mom and TBK makes it easy. We have bumps in the road which we have to deal with, sometimes emotional sometimes physical but I always know we can get through it because long term there are no issues and these are only bumps, but what happens when that bump turns into a mountain?

I’ve been thinking a lot this last week about how hard some other parents have it,  hard because life jumped up and smacked them in the mouth at the same time as hitting their child over the head with a sledge hammer. I am a fairly prolific twitter user and stay in touch with friends (both real and virtual) via that medium and I’ve been quite humbled this week by the journeys some of the parents I follow are having to take.

I’ve only met one of these parents I’m going to outline below  in real life but if hasn’t stopped me from empathising with any of them, because as a parent I just don’t know how I’d be able to cope if I was faced with the same.

The one follower keeps her twitter stream private so I wont out her here but after having a daughter who was  born with Downs Syndrome, a subsequent diagnoses of Cerebral Palsy and in the last week a further diagnosis of severe arthritis all over her body she’s a lot going on but with 2 more children at home and a charity to run which she set up to support other parents in understanding Downs and going it alone as a single parent I just don’t know sometimes how she carries on.

There is @beast76uk (Phillip) whose son Harry recently lost an eye to Retinoblastoma, whose tweets “”Ok #cancer, this war is WON! Fuck you. Yes, you took his eye, small price to pay in the long run. but we’ve stopped you. You’re fuckin GONE!” and “Got Harry’s #histology results back 2day. No spread of the cancer. absolutely #chuffedtobits ! Left eye is in remission. #couldntbehappier” made me ridiculously happy for a man I’d never met and left me in awe of his resilience as a parent, I don’t know, and I hope I never have to find out how I would react  if faced with the same.

Now there is @junction10 (Jason) someone I have never met but started following a while back because his sense of humour and sarcastic updates made me laugh (and he’s  a bloody fine photographer to boot), Another twitter user who is currently going through hell as a parent. Just as I was reading that @beast76uk son was winning their battle with the dreaded C word,  Jason’s son Joel was just starting his own, a diagnosis of a brain tumour, subsequent surgery and the prospect of 12 months of radio and chemotherapy is a terrible way to start the year.

I don’t know why but Jason and Joel’s story seems to have affected me more than the others (and maybe more than it should for someone I don’t know), maybe it’s because the sarcastic, humorous tone of his stream as been overtaken with heart wrenching updates of his son’s progress where the others didn’t change in such a dramatic way, and that it has laid bare the fundamental fear as parent that when something is going on with your child that is completely out of your control and with the stakes so high just how hard it can be but whatever the reason it has upset me.

Last night I read Jason’s blog “A Sense of Tumour” documenting the journey of diagnosis and tests and surgery (and hospital parking) and then went to bed. At 1:30 I was woken by TBK and his 2 friends who were here for a sleepover. They were banging around and making such a racket I’m surprised the neighbours hadn’t been to knock the door,  I was just about to get out of bed to read them the riot act when an image from the blog came to mind and I remembered how lucky I was to be at home with my son safe, healthy and happy waking me up. A quiet word with the boys and peace resumed and returned to bed with the lasting impression of how lucky I really am!

Random Memories: The Purple Fat Toy

Memory, Parenting, The Blonde Kid, , , ,

Sometimes out of the blue while doing something completely unrelated a long forgotten  memory surfaces. Sometimes these are about something TBK said or did. I’ve written before about how I regret not documenting more his younger years so I’ve decided as they come to me I’m going to try and blog them, they wont mean anything to anyone but me, but I just don’t want to lose them again. Here are the first of two remembered this week.

When TBK was really little, when his language skills were less developed and he wasn’t as self sufficient as he is now he had some plastic toy zoo animals, and one day playing in my parents back garden he was trying to ask for one of them….

“Can I  have the hit-mut-hos” he asked, repeatedly, with both me and my mom trying to figure out what he wanted “THE HIT-MUT-HOS HIT-MOT-HOS” he demanded getting increasingly frustrated at our lack of understanding.

This went on a short while until he stopped dead, looked at the floor and finally looked up at us and asked

“Can I have the purple fat one”

His lateral thinking as he was getting increasingly frustrated made my parents and my day and for a while afterwards every Hippopotomus was know as “The Purple Fat One”

image