To paraphrase my favourite ever TV show, she wasn’t my first, but she is my last, and she is the right one.
I’ve written about Becca many many times, all in my journal; from the early days when we first met and it struck me what a beautiful person she is, through the beginnings of our deeper feelings for each other, and on to today where I continue to write and reflect upon our relationship, my place in it, and the respect and admiration of her as a person.
I remain in awe of how she has handled so many challenging times and yet remains such a gentle and beautiful soul. She is a force of nature, a will that is hard to defy, and she uses all that strength to do nothing but lift up others. She sacrifices her own time for others without pause, she is constantly thinking about how to be the best mother and give our son the best start in life in every imaginable way possible (and many I hadn’t even considered), and she is my rock who sees me and nags me when I need it. She thinks about others often and is quick to offer gentle help with compassion and love. Just don’t mess with her values and ideals. Her integrity is so solid it has its own gravitational pull.
She is also more than a bit silly, knows herself better than anyone I’ve ever met, and knows me better than I do.
She does have flaws but it would be churlish of me to mention her habit of leaving tea bags in the sink to clog up the plug hole…
Sidebar: I have deliberately made some grammatical errors in this post to give her something to comment on because the content itself will be brushed off with her usual modesty.
I am a better human being for having met her, a better man for being with her, and strive to be the best father I can because of her example.
She recently celebrated 5 years sober.
Except she didn’t. No real fanfare, just an Instagram post then back to the day to day. This is in part her nature, and part the joys of parenting an active, inquisitive, and cheeky 3 year old boy, you don’t get the time to stop very often. But she’s not ever been one for receiving praise, in that respect we are very alike.
Hence why I wrote this post, to congratulate her, to put it further out into the world (for all 3 of you that will read this) and just to say how proud I am of her and how lucky I am to be part of her life.
My beautiful partner, my amazing wife, the devoted mother of our child.
You’ll do.
Year: 2024
Becca
Where will we go?
This isn’t a blog
It’s a journal.
It’s obvious now, I mean it’s taken me a while, but I guess that’s because I’ve long been blinded by my own egotistical aspirations, spending far too long hanging on to the coat tails of the original bloggers in the vain hope some of their success would trickle down to my small silly corner of the internet, all of it back in a time long forgotten…
It’s 1999, I’ve just created an account on Blogger, I’ve manually copied and pasted the posts I had originally hand coded in HTML and I’m marveling at the ability to type text into a box and for it to instantly appear on the internet for everyone to read. All nicely formatted and laid out according to the template I had chosen. It was a marvel. No blockers, no technical challenges, just text and maybe an image, posted into a form magically appearing on the internet to be consumed by (potentially) the entire connected world. It’s such an everyday experience now but back then it really was a marvel.
Not being that forward thinking, I spent the next year or two posting random nonsense, sometimes multiple times a day, whilst reading other blogs, following links, searching the Yahoo directory for undiscovered nuggets. All the while, my contemporaries were focused, crafting niche content, finding their voices, building businesses, crafting unique worlds around their words and thoughts. Some of the people I was lucky enough to meet in real life went on to publish books, TV shows were developed, and elsewhere successful organisations were built that continue and thrive today.
I’ve always been prone to introspection though and so it was inevitable, really, that this blog skews to my own internal monologues and thoughts. I’ve never been a specialist either, something that bugged me for a long time. I’m not really great at any one thing, but passably good at a few so it makes sense that this blog has never been about anything more than my ability to write my thoughts down and publish them online.
I’ve said some of this before, of course I have, there is little new in the world it seems.
Which is also something I don’t really do, I don’t create. There is nothing new here, not real reason for people to stop by and there never really has been. So to what end does my voice matter?
Well, it matters to me. And a long time ago one post mattered to one person enough for them to contact me directly about it. But beyond that it is purely a journal, edited, censored, but shared. A glimpse of a life half lived. And that’s the real reason.
I write and publish to be seen. To be appreciated. My long sought approval by my peers that still drives me to this day.
It is ego. It remains an aspiration and, as the blogging cycle comes back again, I find myself rediscovery old voices I thought lost and as they whisk by on their sleek and honed vehicles, I reach out blindly once more. Perhaps this time they will take me somewhere.
Perhaps.
Bye bye Sasha
Sasha came bounding into my life when I met Becca.
A rescue dog that wanted nothing more than to be the centre of attention, who loved to hold your hand with her mouth, loved belly rubs, was at her happiest on the sofa under a blanket and she loved boys the most, even if it was in a ‘sit on your lap so no-one else can have you’ kinda way.
She was a brindle Staffie, she snored, she kicked in her sleep, and she could hear a packet of cheese being opened from about 10 miles (only cheese, any other packet from the fridge didn’t interest her). She ate like we were gonna steal her food back, got so over-excited when her favourite people came to visit that she’d almost vomit simply because she had so much love to give them. She tolerated our other dog, Dave, when he arrived as a pup and let him mouth and pull at her fur, even as he grew bigger than her she’d sit there with a resigned look on her face and despite being the smaller of the two, always gave as good as she got.
She was a happy dog but looks miserable in every photo because she hated getting her photo taken, frequently turning away the second you took your phone out and pointed it at her. She loved sunbathing, so much so that her belly would go darker and darker through the summer, and we’d have to order her inside in case she over heated!
She wasn’t a fan of other dogs, or rather, wasn’t a fan of Dave trying to be friends with other dogs. Most dog walks with the two of them would invariably end up with Sasha having a go at Dave the minute another dog appeared, then Dave having a go at her in return, with the other dog ignored and the baffled owner wondering what on earth these two ‘killer’ dogs were doing to each other.
She was a hooligan, she was cheeky, always under your feet, always moaning and groaning, and right to the end was a single minded force of nature. She ran like she was the fastest dog in the world (she was!), and I will miss her more than I realised. I only knew her for a few years but she was such a good girl (although it helped that I’m a boy so she finally got to live with one!).
She left us on Friday, taken suddenly ill, rushed to the vet where an ultrasound confirmed she had a large tumour near her spleen that had burst. She was 11, it would’ve been cruel to let her suffer (she was in pain for those last couple of hours), and even if she had survived surgery she wouldn’t have any quality of life. It was the right thing, it wasn’t easy, but it was right.
Dave, who is 10 and now almost entirely deaf, is a little quieter but as he tends to sleep most of the day anyway it’s hard to tell. However we will need to provide him the stimulation he will now miss without his best friend there to annoy.
It all happened so fast that it’s still sinking in. I was out with Jack at the weekend, we’d gone to the park and he was busy throwing stones in the water when a dog bounded up. The owners asked if Jack was ok with dogs and without a pause I said “Ohh yes, we have two at home….”.
Except we don’t, not any more.
3 Years a Dad
Kids change your life.
Dammit, I was trying to avoid heading straight into cliché city but there you have it, but hey, it’s a cliché because it’s true.
I have learned so much about myself these past 3 and a bit years (the before he was born stuff is also a good time to reflect on how you WANT to be before the baby arrives). Becca and I talked about the type of parents we hoped we’d be and, by and large, we are still where we want to be. Our parenting style is largely ‘the path of least resistance’ which doesn’t mean Jack gets his own way whenever he wants, but that we try and keep stress out of things.
It’s not always easy, and this was one of my fears that my temper would get the better of me at times (as it is wont to do). Before he was born I read up on a few things to try and prepare myself, to try and find a way to find the calm when I was exhausted and had no energy left, what I didn’t realise is just HOW tired and drained I’d feel but, on the whole (bar a couple of instances) I’m proud of the type of Dad I’ve been.
Of course I looked to my own Dad, my own upbringing, to get some ideas and one thing I remember about my Dad was how calm and laidback he was about virtually everything. However, I get my temper from my Mum so instead I tried to find ways to figure out what MIGHT trigger me into anger and thought of ways to deal with those emotions.
The BEST piece of advice I read in this area was this:
“If you are feeling overwhelmed, tired, and angry at your child, take a look at their hands and feet. Look how small they are compared to yours. This is a reminder that they are still new, still learning the world, and don’t have the vocabulary to tell us WHY they are crying, or why they won’t go to sleep, or why they don’t want to put their pyjamas on. Then need you to help regulate their emotions, and will mimic yours, so breathe deep and be calm and patient.”
Easier said than done at times but overall it’s stood me in good stead, and I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’ve actually fully lost my temper; which typical manifests itself with me leaving the room he’s in to go and compose myself, but Jack can still time something is wrong.
I’ve learned to be patient too, and do my best to take my cues from my son, figuring out when he wants my attention, and remembering that whatever I was looking at on my phone can wait, these moments with him won’t.
He’s almost 3, he’s chatty, he’s curious about the world, he’s learning so much so fast, it’s sometimes not easy to remember he’s still very new to this world, and doesn’t understand that he needs to sleep, or needs to have a bath (or needs to get OUT of the bath…).
From him I’ve learned to stop and crouch down to look at the world through his eyes, re-finding fascination in the smallest details. I’ve learned that I am kinder than I thought, that I am proud and happy to his Dad. Fatherhood sits well on me and while at times I find myself hankering for some parts of my ‘before’ life (like watching a movie from start to finish in silence), and I don’t get out on my bike as often as I should, I know that all of that is just noise, that my life right now is being a father, is being Team Jack with Becca, and it makes each moment of each day easier to handle. It’s whatever he needs, and if that means every night I sit in a chair in his room in the dark for an hour or more to help him get to sleep, then so be it.
I’m his Dad, that’s what I need to do. Everything else can wait, everything else will still be there waiting for me when/if I return to it.
I think I’ve discovered more little things about myself in the past 3 years than I have in the 47 that preceded them. I’ve discovered a willingness to put another person first utterly and completely, a happiness is seeing him grow and knowing that we are doing a good job as his parents, an utterly terrifying and completely irrational fear that something will happen to him, and a quiet acceptance that for now HE is my life.
I don’t mean that in a losing myself kinda way, more that since meeting and falling in love with Becca I’ve found myself where I need to be and FOUND myself, and that’s made it so easy to put ‘me’ aside for a while so I can focus on what matters the most right now, my beautiful boy who turns 3 next week.
Church Life
Moving back to my hometown last year brought many memories with it, but few have been stronger than walking past the church I used to attend both through Sunday School and, for most my childhood, as a member of 1st Dumbarton Boys Brigade (BB).
I can still picture the halls behind the church used for various social groups, but mostly for my time spent in them with the BB, time doing marching drills, uniform inspections, physical education routines (think vaults and trampolines and basic exercise, random indoor games with dodgeball a favourite), and the end of year displays combining everything we’d learned to show off in front of parents, during which awards were handed out – best squad (based on uniform and conduct), best squad games (who won the most competitions), and the Best Boy award.
I enjoyed it a lot, being part of something organised like that. We did hikes, we spent time in outdoor centres, we did canoeing, and marched on Remembrance Day alongside the veterans, and latterly I went on to achieve my Queens badge; the highest award that required a level of community service that got me into Hospital Radio amongst other things.
I joined the Anchors when I was about 7 I think, and continued through Juniors, Company, and on to Seniors before leaving when I was 17. It coincided with the arrival of my sister which, in hindsight, coincided with the beginning of my perfectionism and my need for approval and love which drove me, not always in a healthy way, to overachieve. Without realising it at the time I pushed and pushed to be the best and latterly to have the best squad (I was a Sergeant by that time, I think) to the point I even ended up carrying two additional rucksacks up a big hill during one competition so my team wouldn’t be too slow.
I won everything I could. I won Best Boy in the Juniors and when I moved up to the Seniors and was old enough to lead my own squad, we won the squad games and best squad in the same year that I also won Best Boy. ALL THE TROPHIES!! A triumph for my early perfectionism trait indeed. [insert slow hand clap here]
As I mentioned, this all took part in our local church hall and whilst you didn’t HAVE to attend church to be in the BB it was certainly encouraged. My parents went to that church so growing up it was just what we did on a Sunday morning but, despite having also attended Scripture Union camps and some bible classes after school at times, I fell away from religion purely because I embraced science and knowledge and could no longer marry the two together. Between that, and the growing realisation that girls and alcohol were kinda fun, I stopped going to the BB, never became an Officer (the ‘final’ step as you need to be an adult to help run the chapter) and my life moved in another direction.
There are a lot of positives I take from that time though, the camaraderie, the organised events – I took part in a nation wide hiking competition twice, with teams from all over the UK doing the West Lowland Hike with timed stages, the second time is when I first injured my knee (for those paying attention at the back, I’ve mentioned this before!) – and overall it was a positive happy time for me and I know I benefited from some of the things I learned there.
I am musing on all of this purely because I’m thinking ahead for my own son, he’s almost three so is still a year away from being able to join the Scouts (as a Squirrel, don’t ya know) or two years away from joining the BB as an Anchor Boy.
I think it will be Scouts. Whilst my Dad and I were in the Boys Brigade, I can’t really push my son into an organisation that has its roots based in religion when I don’t believe in one. So I find myself researching the Scouts and find that the local branch is called 1st Dumbarton and meets in the same church hall that I attended all those years ago. Alas they don’t have a Squirrels section, so we’ll need to wait until Jack is 6 before we can start him there.
I do hope it gives him the chances I had to explore the (local) world a little, and find out a bit more about himself. For me, I know the BB gave me a lot of confidence and helped me realise that there were some things I could excel at, and others that weren’t my strength. Those lessons alone were valuable to have as a teenager, even if I didn’t always act on them.
But I have to admit though, I’m mostly keen to get back into those church halls and see how little they’ve changed. I spent 10 years of my young life, 2 or 3 times a week, in them, in every hall, in every room, the ministers office (before I got married the first time), the kitchen to run the tuck-shop, the waiting room ahead of my sisters christening, and everywhere else. So many fond memories, I can’t wait to discover what ones come flooding back.
New iPhone. Big Whoop.
Yesterday Apple announced, amongst other things, their new iPhone 16 and iPhone 16 Pro. As ever, lots of snazzy videos and chat of technical specification and wonderous features were presented. There are some good things:
- I like the new side Camera Control button they’ve added, can see it being v.handy once learned.
- I like the AI Siri animation, all shiny and modern.
- I like the iPhone 16 colour options.
But…
As others have already said, and mostly I agree, it seems I may no longer be a ‘Pro’ iPhone user and, given that I may already have assumed that Siri was already AI of a sort (not alone in that thought either) what else am I really gonna gain from getting a new iPhone?
I have an iPhone 14 Pro at present. I use it largely the same way the vast majority of users do, emails, messages, internet connectivity, some specialist apps (exercise, social media), for listening to music, and for taking LOTS of photos.
I’ve been running iOS 18 BETA for a few weeks now and there are some nice improvements there – the new Photos App is worth sticking with, once you get used to it – but aside from the Camera Control button there is no compelling reason for me to part with several hundred pounds for a new iPhone, and even less for me to part with a thousand or more pounds to ‘go Pro’. The differences really aren’t worth it.
I am aware there is also a general shift in my expectations and usage of tech these days. I’ve been using iPhones since they were launched and for a lot of that time I stuck with a regular upgrade every year or two because it was always worth it for new features, better screens, etc etc. But the changes to the design are less and less dramatic, so the uptick isn’t the same (and no, Apple Intelligence isn’t the one). I’m quite happy with my current iPhone and so, for the first time in 14 versions, I’m NOT going to be upgrading any time soon and from what I’ve seen even if I do upgrade to the 16/17, it won’t be into the Pro line.
As for the Apple Watch, I currently have a Series 4 and the main concern is the battery. One workout plus a ‘quiet day’ notification/activity wise and by 9pm the battery is heading for 15% and whilst I know I can adjust my charging patterns (a 30 min charge during the day would be enough of a bump to get me through busier days) I am a life long watch wearer so prefer to always wear it which means, Series 10 might be my next purchase. Definitely NOT the Ultra though as I don’t really need it and it’s just a little too bulky for my liking.
And no, it won’t be in black, I like my silver Series 4 as it pairs better with different colour watch straps, I don’t get the same feel from the black cased watches, never have.
So, continuing a trend over the last couple of years, I watched the Apple Event (later that evening) and skipped large chunks of it because, honestly, who cares? A lot of people will upgrade because that’s the cycle they are in, the heavy users/tech crowd will upgrade to get the ‘new shiny’ thing and the rest of us … meh.
New iPhone. Big whoop.
And that’s ok, part of me is glad that it’s this easy to just ignore an iPhone release, and this is coming from someone who queued more than once to get the latest version on release day. If anything it’s showing the reality of incremental updates and design tweaks, with the basic form factor being as good as it needs to be (don’t start me on folding phones) and without wanting to add too many more (literal) bells and whistles to the hardware, the iPhone is pretty much what it is, sure the software will evolve and right now I will ‘miss out’ on Apple Intelligence features but, whilst they demo well, actual usage will be different so I’m more than happy to let that play out for a couple of years until I have more of an idea of what the hell I’d use AI for anyway…
So perhaps my next iPhone will be the iPhone 17 and maybe then it’ll be the Pro model too because of some whizzy new thing I can’t even imagine yet but that Apple are already working on… who knows. But right now I’m more than happy that it’s an easy decision to swerve the iPhone 16 and watch from a distance.
Anyway, I’m off to order a new Apple Watch (he says, without yet having consulted his wife…).