2nd March 2015
Moving to the country
Looking back on my childhood summers on family farms in the West of Ireland, or running wild with the cubs and scouts on various adventures in the High Peak , I have always considered these as some of my fondest memories growing up. This has given me an appreciation of the outdoors, and ever since I have had the means to travel independently, I have spent my weekends heading for the hills with my camera or on the bike.
Since acquiring a dog, these jaunts into the country have been more of a routine, which have had me pondering for a while "why don't we just move out here?" The amount of times we'd be rushing back to the car to make the journey home to Manchester, peering through the windows of wonderful village pubs, with rosy cheeked patrons tucking into a roast dinner with the warm glow of a wood burning fire, it made us green with envy.
So when my son was born last August, we started to discuss and plan what sort of a life we wanted him to have. Now, it's easy to pick out the negative aspects of City life, and there are positives in equal measure, but one thing I miss seeing these days is children playing out. It seems that modern day parents are much more cautious (due to the various dangers of traffic and the perceived notion that there are child catchers on every street corner) So they have their childrens weekends mapped out with regimented scheduling of clubs and classes, like an extention of school but with a suffering parent acting as shaperone. Then there are many older kids who seem happy enough to stay indoors with electronic games instead of playing out on a bike or kicking a ball. It makes me sad, because I really believe that we were happier as kids because we had more freedom. And we were creative as well, making dens, tree houses, go karts, or just inventing our own games from our imagination. There's also alot to be said about getting upto mischief! It was all part of our social development, learning how to interact with others. It seems that lately we are all too eager to resort to technology to do it all for us, and it's a shame. I'm not saying that I want my son to be the next Bear Grylls, but I'd love to see him heading off on his bike with his pals. Or climbing a tree just to jump into a lake...
So we started making a shortlist of places that we would like to move to, it had to be somewhere with decent train-links to Manchester for Gemma's work. We scouted various towns, looked at the nurseries and schools, things to do, shops, pubs etc...and finally settled on an area in between Hayfield, Whaley Bridge and Chapel en le Frith. It took 6 months of house viewings and sellings to finally agree on a property that didn't need that much doing to it, but also had lots of potential inside and out.
And it is now with giddy anticipation that we can finally confirm that we are moving to the Peak District National Park!
27th November 2014
A selection of my favourite images taken since 2008
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5th August 2014
Parenthood begins!
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Time to do it all over again!
Spring is here, and that can only mean one thing....CAMPING! Although this time I am so well prepared, I've actually surprised myself! I suppose that fatal night in a Derbyshire campsite has made me overly cautious from now on. We were so confident turning up at the pitch, with our recently purchased camping gear from Decathlon, the ingenious pop up tent, blow up mattress and thermal sleeping bags. It was the merry month May, so what could possibly go wrong??Firstly, we got pissed on a case of wine! Heavens know's what time it was when we decided to go to bed, but it was minus 4. Yes, MINUS 4! Even fully clothed we were shivering like mad, and it wasn't funny. The tent was cold, the icy ground beneath was penetrating the airbed and the thermal sleeping bag was just a bit of foam wrapped in nylon. I was worried, but didn't want to chicken out on our first night of camping. In the next tent was my brother with his wife and children, so I thought if they can stick it out, then so can we!
"Wouldn't mind her having a go on me ging gang goolies!"
We stuck it out, but didn't sleep very much at all. My thoughts seemed to be wrapped around Decathlon being French, and their equipment not being manufactured to withstand below freezing temperatures. I had bitter visions of sun drenched families, with their pop up tents on the Cote d'Asur. I was annoyed at my error in judgement. That morning, after some bacon sarnies had lightened the mood, we drove into the nearest town and purchased some electric blankets. It saved us for the rest of the trip.
Since that disastrous introduction to camping, we have eradicated most of the items purchased from said company above, and invested in some proper kit. I can't say it's been cheap, but when you've spent a freezing night in a cheap tent, then you will embrace glamping with both arms and legs. The latest purchase was a box trailer to carry all the stuff in. It's great, because everything is stored in one place now, so you only have to hook it up to the car and away you go on your next adventure. What are weekends for?
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18th January 2013
So.... my neighbours have joined a cult!
We've been invited to join them for something described as an 'alpha course' (christian brainwashing), with food, on Wednesday night!! Now, I'm a big fan of finger food buffets, but while there's still breath in my lungs, I have no intention of attending this particular folly or any others like it. There were sweets attached to the leaflet they'd dropped through the letterbox, but my wife has already eaten most of them, too late for me to mention the potential (sinners) rat poison...oh well!I studied the carefully constructed leaflet, it's like an ubercool flyer for a Swedish furniture company. I notice that the name of this church, which is printed just small enough for a naive person to miss it, is different from their former church, which was displayed across the side of a mini bus that was once parked outside our house. At the time, my wife shouted down the stairs that our neighbours were "Jesus boots" a nickname which has stood ever-since. I consider to myself that they must have been searching for a stronger message or a newer set of rules to abide by? Something that wasn't available with their previous group of godbotherers, or maybe they are serial church hoppers doing the rounds, until they find the right one? The silly name of this new church, 'Audacious,' instantly raises eyebrows. It's like something 16 year old surfers would say to each other in 1990, as well as bodacious and rad. I have visions of out of touch geeks trying to get down with the kids, using surf lingo from 2 decades ago. And hey presto, youtube outs the church leader as an Australian (possibly a surfer) who would have probably been about 16 in 1990!!! This should be fun.....
So I access the Audacious church website, and within two clicks the alarm bells are already ringing, like having your head bashed into a gong. So obviously crooked, it's incomprehensible how my neighbours have fallen for this one? Audacious want your money, there are membership fees (spiritual beliefs don't cost money) there are donation pages where you can enter your bank details or set up direct debits, there's even an online shop flogging stuff you don't want or need. There's guidance for recruiting new people, especially young people, which would explain why all the 30 something 'pastors' are dressed like skateboarders, to entice these vulnerable kids, brainwash them, and encourage them to round up more and more of their pals, which I suppose would generate bundles of cash for this wild eyed Australian at the helm. I utilise google for a further search on Audacious and find christian forums and religious fanatics who are up in arms, informing me that this church is a scam, a cult, a roaming fraud who's loosely based interpretation of the bible is nothing short of ridiculous. I close the laptop and shake my head.
Then I think about my neighbours, and how much of a lovely family they are, with these happy, bouncy children floating off to school each day. And I feel sad that they couldn't find sufficient contentment within this wonderful existing unit, and I cannot fathom why they needed the guidance of strong willed strangers to dictate to them how they should live their lives, hoodwinked into believing that these shysters have the direct hotline to Christ Almighty himself. Unfortunately, my neighbours have now made the transition from the recruited to the recruiters, and we are now in their sights, ripe for turning towards their latest version of God. I fear that they've already passed the point of no return, and are now on that rocky road to ruin, a path that will only create further dis-enchantment when this maverick leader of theirs decides to pack up and create a new church somewhere else, maybe when he's bled this current one dry. Audacious, I know!
Maybe I could have engaged these wandering souls at a crucial time when they were less batshit and still had some clarity of judgement, possibly as we were weeding our front gardens last summer. My advice to them would be that maybe this fulfillment they seek doesn't exist in dancing halls full of programmed lunatics, throwing their money away, but maybe behind their own front door, in the eyes of their children, entwined within these eternal bonds that they share together. This could be the only place where that contentment lies, and where this higher being they are desperately seeking probably lives and breathes. This is only my opinion, of course, but they would have had it for free!
Maybe I could have engaged these wandering souls at a crucial time when they were less batshit and still had some clarity of judgement, possibly as we were weeding our front gardens last summer. My advice to them would be that maybe this fulfillment they seek doesn't exist in dancing halls full of programmed lunatics, throwing their money away, but maybe behind their own front door, in the eyes of their children, entwined within these eternal bonds that they share together. This could be the only place where that contentment lies, and where this higher being they are desperately seeking probably lives and breathes. This is only my opinion, of course, but they would have had it for free!
"Well the God I believe in isn't short of cash, Mister."
Paul Hewson
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