Happier Birthday

So, it was Vincent and Stacey’s birthday on Friday.  Stacey is still in Atlanta so could only view proceedings virtually but I was determined to put on the best distractions around for Vince.  He was at school on the actual day which was a relief for me as I was able to run around and get all the last minute decorations, cakes and other sundries which of course, I had left to the last minute. 

We had a birthday tea at my mums for him with his cousins Claudia and Lucas and he enjoyed his latest, greatest present – a Wii. Frankly, he would have been just as a delighted if I had downloaded two or three new car racing apps for him on his iPad but then I’d be featured in the Daily Mail as a deadbeat modern dad (married to a foreigner no less), who symbolises everything that’s wrong with our post-modern, techno-obsessed culture – oh and did you know the Daily Mail website is the most popular in the world? Etc.

Saturday saw our traditional Saturday morning swimming session. Here is one area where I can see real improvements in him, he is so confident in the water now and can backstroke and doggy paddle really well.  

He always enjoyed swimming in the community pool at our old subdivision in the States so he is something of a water baby.  Mind you it helps that modern swimming pools are a far cry from the draughty, cold, bare brick Stockton Baths I got my 10m and 25m certificates in.  I never graduated as high as the superior class that got to wear pyjamas and dive to the bottom to retrieve bricks but maybe it’s something Vince can aspire to.

Saturday afternoon came and the big party itself, held at a local funhouse attached to a pub round the corner – so there truly is something for everyone.  After an initial mix-up over the number of seats, the kids had a rocking time, all having to be dragged forcibly from the playhouse to eat their dinners and get their party packs and cakes afterwards.  The number of presents and cards filled the boot of my Mercedes C class, to give you an idea of how many he got, and I seriously considered hiding half of them when we got home to take care of the Xmas shopping but that would be cruel.  

He got 26 cards in all, which is more than I ever got but he’s a cute, charismatic and charming individual, ideally suited to a career in the media or as a cult leader – whichever pays more.

Sunday saw another birthday party on the social circuit for one of his friends and in a charming, generous gesture, gave Vince a present and card for missing his birthday the previous day.  Typical, the only kid I know who can go to somebody else’s birthday party and come away with a massive present and a card (as well as cake and a party bag)!

So he’s six and already wants to know when his next birthday is.  

The most touching part of the weekend was being able to listen in to him skyping with his mum and telling her everything he got up to over the weekend and how much he missed her can couldn’t wait to show her his wii and other new presents. It’s funny how you can be stronger for others than you can for yourself. You just are.

#VinceStrong.

Easter Parade

Easter Weekend in the UK is something of a set piece event that it isn't in the US.

The kids are off school for two weeks but Good Friday and Easter Monday are the first of the country's see piece holiday weekends, public holidays that is - despite greater religiosity in the US than here, it doesn't stretch to a four day weekend for the majority of the population.

We have had a busy and enjoyable one. Vince went over to his cousin Claudias house and became the first other driver of her red racecar, which he proceeded to throw around the cul de sac like he was Dale Earnhardt Jnr, with his young accomplice laughing all the way. He has really bonded with her and they are more like brother and sister than cousins.  Speed was a theme for the day as we went onto the Redcar Bears speedway teams press and practice day.  I was a little concerned about Vince being near the intoxicating mix of kerosene, shale and noise but he loved it. He also got his picture taken with former World Champion Gary Havelock.

Sunday was more sedate if just as cold. I managed to get my run in, eight miles today down to the newish Infinity Bridge over the Tees in Stockton and back  I used to look at the new flats and buildings rising on the other side of the river from The Waterfront's terrace bar thinking it was a fad but I've got to eat my words. The development has really taken off and is a pleasure to run by the river on a weekend. 

We organised a mini Easter Egg hunt for Vince in the back garden where he tracked down five hard boiled eggs that spelled out his name before he got onto riding on his new bike and use my mum's Snow White and the  7 Dwarves statues in the garden for target practice with his sucker gun accessory. 

Not quite been back a month yet but for me and Vince especially, it's starting to feel a little like home again.

Snow Job

We woke to a light covering of snow this morning to greet Vins first day of school in England.  Of course, Atlanta had just seen balmy barbecue weather which all of my US friends simply had to tell me about.  Vince takes a lot in his stride so snow was not the big deal I thought it might of been for him.   Wrapped up in his duffle coat and grey uniform, he looked the epitome of the English schoolboy on his way to prep or morning chapel.  I knew there was nothing waiting for him at school that he hadn't come across before and couldn't handle.

Sadly I couldn't quite say so for myself. I had an afternoon trip into Stockton to revisit a former nemesis from my own past - the Job Centre.  Viewing it with equal  parts pity, ridicule and contempt, the Job Centre in Stockton is one of those rare success stories, although only in that business is booming.  I arrived before my allotted appointment time and joined a queue that was already snaking out of the door into snowstorm brewing outside.  I had an appointment to claim jobseekers allowance and intended to if nothing more than to help b my forthcoming odyssey of interviews across the north of England.  The place had certainly been given a lick of paint since my last appearances over a decade ago, although the still deathly air of quiet and not so quiet desperation hung around this abattoir of ambition. They have several floors of the building dedicated to people coming back to sign on for their jobseekers allowance or dole payments but only one downstairs to aid and advise people it appeared. It was also sending the usual contradictory messages to the clients. Informing them that they are now on twitter but also warning that use of mobile phones was prohibited under the data protection act and offenders would be asked me leave.

 My interview went quite well, at least better than some of the other loud discussions taking place nearby. I don't think I hurt my impression by dressing up a little and wearing a tie, although if i had wanted to blend in then jogging pants, hi tops and baseball caps was the order of the day. It's odd but despite only being in Stockton a week it's like competing trade delegations from Mumbai and College Park, Atlanta, have both arrived simultaneously and let their delegates out to wander the streets and impress their sartorial style upon the brave locals who ventured outside in the swirling blizzard. I got on quite well with my advisor, I guess because I was polite, prepared and not swearing or threatening her, and after some helpful advice on which jobsites and newspapers I should consult for positions, was granted jobseeker status. I was also spared the skills restart course, because she rightly guessed that i could download and print off documents correctly and that my literary and numeracy standards did not warrant an intervention - although its a good job there wasn't a handwriting component. I return later this week, then fortnightly to continue to sign on and fill my little jobseeking workbook with details of positions I am applying for and progress being made but I truly hope this is temporary.

When I was younger and gainfully employed, I used to revel in the tales of claimants waving to their restart offices from the beer garden of the pub overlooked by the job center and pointing to their empty glasses if they were late signing on, or the urban legends of a certain local pub that used to trade 50 pints for a giro (unemployment check) under the counter but within plain sight. No, this current passage is a bit close to home, good cheer and encouragement was in as short supply as the warmth and I hurried out, knowing that bad luck, like flu, is a communicable disease, prepared to take my chances in the snow.