Lest We Forget

RSApoppy

Last week I had to travel down to Lower Hutt. On the drive there and back I went through Wairarapa. It’s become one of my favourite areas and drives on the way to Wellington and it was looking particularly pretty after recent rain across the region and a dusting of snow on the Tararua Ranges.

Maybe it’s just because of the focus on this year’s ANZAC Day being the 100th anniversary of the battle that would forge two countries’ identities, but while driving through Wairarapa’s smaller towns, like Carterton, Greytown and Featherston, I couldn’t help but notice just how prominent war memorials were in these towns. I dare say they had all been given an attention-seekingly timely spruce-up, but they seemed more prominent than usual.

On the drive home I stopped and had a look at Carterton’s memorial, noting the memorial’s broken main column. I don’t know if this was an actual structural break, but from an artistic point of view it would quite subtly and beautifully represent lives cut short, broken promises, or unachieved aspirations.

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I also noted on the “Roll of Honour” where the same surnames appeared grouped together on a couple of occasions and couldn’t help but feel for the Wairarapa families who lost multiple members – fathers, sons, brothers, cousins in places literally and geographically as far away from their Wairarapa homes as you could get and how devastating that must have been for those they left behind.

Whether it’s the hundred year old architecture of the region that has been lovingly preserved, or the smaller, closer-knit communities that these Wairarapa towns seem to have, but you can easily get a feel for life there a century ago when so many of their menfolk went off on a “great adventure” “to fight for King and country” and “do their duty“, from which many did not return.

In August last year young men, around the same age as those who went off to war a century ago, re-enacted the march from Masterton’s town hall to the railway station and off to war that their ancestors took. It looked like quite a remarkable and emotional recreation.

Hindsight can be a wonderful and terrible thing.

We look back now on “The War to End All Wars” with mixed emotions – pride at how our forces performed and how the ANZAC identity was forged. Love and admiration for those who returned; Sorrow for those who didn’t and Futility at the sheer number of lives lost, the level of destruction and the repetitiveness with which subsequent conflicts have arisen.

With modern communication and attitudes evolving, war is seen very differently nowadays. I would hope we never see scenes like those of 100 years ago being repeated again.

But memories are short.

War, like so many other things, has become a business and there are profits to be made, land and resources to acquire. Jingoism, intolerance and evil still abound.

Perhaps the best weapon we have to defend ourselves against these elements are these memorials across the country and our memories.

Lest we forget.

I Don’t Rate New Zealand’s Ratings System

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To figure out how popular televisions shows are 600 “Peoplemeters” sit atop televisions in as many selected households and monitor what the occupants of those homes (around 1500 people, allegedly) watch each day, with those results updated via internet each night.

That might seem like a reasonable good system. But, give or take, NZ has a population of 4 million people and quite amazingly 2 million televisions. Meaning those 600 meters equate to 0.03 percent of the nation’s televisions and 0.015 percent of New Zealand’s population.

Through the divine scriptures known as “Ratings” that this miniscule sample sized monitoring system puts forth, the deities of New Zealand’s television industry are told / tell us what is popular and what is not.

Last month they told us that TV3’s current affairs show, “Campbell Live” was not being watched by practically anyone and so was “under review”.

There was a “tink” noise as a thread holding the sword of Damocles (or should that be Demographics?) snapped above what is considered by many to be the last remaining bastion of televisual journalism in New Zealand.

The sword wobbled and Campbell Live was a strand nearer to “getting the chop”

According to the “Ratings System”, Campbell Live averages 250,000 viewers per night. Its direct opponent, TVNZ’s Seven Sharp has 400,000 and Shortland Street, somehow, tops them all with 450,000 – 500,000 viewers per night.

Given that 1500 people are supposedly watching what their Peoplemeter is watching, that means:

A mere 300 people still watch Shortland Street in the hope the acting and storylines might finally get better, equating to its “450,000 viewers”.

267 disciples of “The Gospel According to Hosking” (A.K.A. TVNZ’s “Seven Sharp”) miraculously become “400,000 viewers”

and

Campbell Live’s “250,000 viewers per night” are derived from a miniscule 167 actual people

The figures would seem rather foreboding – if you believed them.

I don’t.

Because somehow Campbell Live’s 167 / “250,000” viewers last year helped raise over $800,000 for KidsCan (a charity set up to help support underprivileged children and earlier this year, when Cyclone Pam hit Vanuatu, Campbell Live helped raise around $200,000 for aid to the stricken islands.

And when the news broke that Campbell Live was “Under Review” over 77,000 people put their signatures to online petitions to save the show.

Going by the maths and logic New Zealand’s ratings system uses that equates to 115,500,000 “viewers”, by the way. Just saying.

I know which numbers I’d take more seriously and they aren’t the ratings.

What ratings don’t take into account, AT ALL, is content.

Seven Sharp has been widely derided by public and media alike as “Fluff”. And let’s be honest, Shortland Street hasn’t been any good since “Muffin Man” Lionel Skeggins fell off a cliff in the late 90’s (His body was never found, by the way, so with the show re-hashing so many characters, there’s a pretty good chance he may yet resurface in his hometown Dannevirke after 20 years of amnesia..) .

Campbell Live HELPS people – like those in Vanuatu and organisations like KidsCan and their wards.

It gives a voice to those who have been done wrong, robbed, dismissed, cast aside, “suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” and more often than not the show, along with its “167 viewers” helps those people get out of those situations. It rights wrongs.

I often hear people moaning that the show has done another item on the Christchurch earthquake and those still awaiting insurance pay-outs, repairs to their homes and getting some form of normality returned to their lives.

That doesn’t show Campbell Live losing touch and deserving cancelation – It shows how utterly ABYSMALLY the likes of EQC and insurance companies have treated their own residents and customers that these issues have still not been resolved four years after the quakes!

Without the likes of Campbell live highlighting and fighting for these issues like these, who would?

Sure as hell it won’t be the ratings system.

Pulling Stumps on a Great Season

Volunteering at McLean Park's Cricket World Cup games.  Photo c/o Steve Dykes

Volunteering at McLean Park’s Cricket World Cup games.
Photo c/o Steve Dykes

As the nights get longer, rain finally begins falling in Hawke’s Bay and soccer, rugby and netball become the weekend sports du jour, it finally gives me a chance to catch up on all the tasks around Casa Del NapierinFrame that have been ignored over summer and look back on what has been quite a wonderful six months of cricket.

As I’ve written before, I love cricket.

It’s the most endearing, frustrating, thrilling, tiring, exciting sport I have ever played. This season has been exceptional, though.

Along with playing club cricket EVERY weekend (for the second year in a row, there was not one single rained-out game), I was fortunate enough to take part in a whole lot of other cricket-related goodness.

For the first time in my ten year cricketing career I took up the mantle of captain of my team, the “Napier Old Boys Marist Hobblers”, for the season. To make things even more interesting, we had an almost entirely new squad from last season. But we gelled quickly, dismissing one team for a mere 44 runs and causing a few upsets during a run of good form.

I personally had a purple patch on the pitch, taking four catches in as many games and closing in on my elusive “double-figures for the season” target on several occasions – even hitting the winning runs in one game, but leaving me stranded on 9 not out.

In December I got to dress up in a duck costume, play epic air guitar and usher scoreless players off the pitch at the McLean Park edition of the “Georgie Pie Super Smash T20” competition.

In January, I was “bowled over” (the newspaper’s line, not mine) to be selected as the Central Districts winner of Specsavers’ “Favourite Local Cricket Umpire” competition for my years as a player-umpire in HB cricket – for which I won $500, two pairs of glasses and a Black Caps playing jersey!

In February, I and seven of my 4th Grade Hobblers teammates found ourselves in a unique position – playing Premiere-grade cricket!

Our regular Prems team was down in Palmerston North competing in the Central Districts Club Knockout Champs, so couldn’t play on the usual game day. Neither Hawke’s Bay Cricket or their opposition, Taradale Cricket Club would let them defer the game to a later date and HB Cricket told us if the team defaulted they would try to disqualify us from the CD competition, so a replacement had to be found.

Cometh “The Hobbler Prems”.

The welfare of my team is always forefront in my mind and going up three grades to play Premiere-level with some VERY fast bowlers and heavy hitters, my main concern was the safety of my teammates, so extra helmets and protective equipment was brought in.

With three Prem players, who elected to stay back and help us in the game and travel to Palmerston North afterwards, opening the batting and putting on 150, the rest of us were able to add an extra 97 runs (and more importantly no injuries), leaving our regular-Prem opposition a reasonable total of 248 to win.

But they didn’t!

In one long, gloriously cricketing afternoon, the Hobblers’ mouse roared. Our bowling and fielding effort was outstanding and we won by 22 runs! Quite possibly the most memorable NOBMCC game in recent history.

After the match I sent a text to our Prems coach that said “We’ve done our part, now you do yours!” They happily obliged – winning the CD Knockout Champs and going on to represent Central Districts in the National Club Knockout Champs over Easter.

Ironically, the prems game was the last one we won for the rest of the season and the Hobblers were out of contention for the finals, but it was a wonderful season.

Then, of course, we had the Cricket World Cup and New Zealand’s epic performance in the competition.

We may not have won the final, but were certainly the moral victors of the tournament.

McLean Park hosted three games (Pakistan v United Arab Emirates, New Zealand v Afghanistan and United Arab Emirates v West Indies) and I was one of the hundreds who volunteered. My job was as “Media Assistant” and I ended up looking after the reporters and photographers throughout the three games.

It was a great experience and I got to meet some of my cricketing idols – NZ’s Ian Smith, South Africa’s Shaun Pollock, England’s Sir Ian Botham and someone as tall as me – West Indies’ Curtly Ambrose.

During Napier’s games, I also helped Kent Baddeley in making a delectable degustation for some of my club-mates at Ten24.

To use the culinary term – it was the cherry on top of a glorious season!

Napier in Frame – Fashion Designer!

I'm NOT too sexy for my shirt... ;)

I’m NOT too sexy for my shirt… 😉

About five years ago I came up with an idea.

Having never been a big fan of the whole “Art Deco is all there is to Napier” mind-set that seems to rule our city, I decided to make a statement and wear my heart (and opinion) on my chest.

I came up with a slogan – “Art Deco is SO Last Century”, made up a design to accompany it and got about a dozen T-shirts printed off, selling them to like-minded friends.

They went down a treat and I, along with many of my friends still wear their T-shirts years later on Art Deco Weekends, such as the one that hits Napier tomorrow.

They still draw attention, good natured laughs (usually from visitors in period-themed costumes) as well as the ire of some of the snootier-nosed Napier “Deco-ites”.

I had been meaning to reproduce the shirts for some years, but time, demand, money and all the usual trappings of life seemed to get in the way.
But this year I finally got a chance to get a good run-up and have another batch made.

Two went to friends who had been waiting for me to make more, but I do still have T-shirts sized Small, Medium, Large and XL available.

Do you fancy making a (fashion) statement this Art Deco Weekend?

Then let me know! 

Now She is One

Candle

“It’s been a day of tiny triumphs, It’s been a week spent in despair” once sang Jon Toogood of Shihad.

Well, We’ve had a similar, albeit far more enjoyable experience (as opposed to the hassles we went through to have her) over the last twelve months and I was able to reflect on it a few weeks ago, when our daughter turned one year old.

In twelve months we have watched her grow from a tiny, almost animatronic-like being that slowly opened and closed her eyes, made the odd noise and spent most of her time sleeping, feeding and pooping – to a smart, social, highly interactive little girl.

She loves people and they love her. Walking around town carrying her or pushing her in the pram, I have never been so attractive to women – they all want to look at our smiling, giggling, lovely little lady.

She has become an incredibly quick study. We say “good girl” and she claps her hands. We leave the room and she waves goodbye.

Just last weekend I blew her a kiss and she returned the favour. Then, when feeding her lunch, she started picking up bits of her sandwich and began feeding me. She wouldn’t take “No, it’s your lunch” for an answer!

She is incredible and her mother and I love her very, very, much.

Happy first birthday, Baby in Frame!

Just Not Cricket

"What, Ho?" HELL NO!

“What, Ho?” HELL NO!

Sometimes an advertisement or press release comes along that shows just what can be done by someone who has almost no idea about what they’re doing.

I found just such a piece last week when I read an advertising blurb for “The Legends of Cricket Art Deco Match”

With the Cricket World Cup coming to Napier in March, local events revolving around the tournament and cricket in general are a great way to get people involved.

It’s just such a shame that whoever came up with this concept dropped the ball.

An “Art Deco” themed (of course! There is nothing else to Napier after all, is there?) celebrity cricket match is to be played at Hastings’ exclusive Clifton County Cricket Club in late February, a week before Napier’s matches start.

“The Legends of Cricket Art Deco Cricket Match will be a Twenty-Twenty game of gentle spectator cricket.

We’re taking cricket back to basics; to before it became all flashy. The legends of Cricket Match is about good, honest cricket.”

Um, no.

“Twenty-Twenty”, more commonly known as“T20” (it gets its name from each team’s batting innings lasting a maximum of twenty overs) is a “flashy” as cricket gets.

It’s quick, it can be a bit crass to purists, who call it “Hit and Giggle” and it’s BIG money in India, where the Indian Premiere League has made T20 one of the richest (and some would say the dodgiest) parts of the game.

So the event’s promoter gets a “golden duck” on their first delivery.

Onto the next ball: I have been playing club cricket in Hawke’s Bay virtually every summer Saturday for around ten years now and while I have heard of Clifton County Cricket Club, I have never seen them play, or played against them. This is because the club appears to be the only one in Hawke’s Bay to play only who they want, when they want.

I don’t consider that to be a fair representation of Hawke’s Bay’s cricketing community to be portrayed to visiting international cricket fans and media.

Just as the Cricket World Cup is a global event with teams from all over the world, club cricket in Hawke’s Bay is just as diverse. In my grade alone I’ve played with and against people from all walks of life – 12 year olds to pensioners, men and women – We have New Zealanders, Australians, English, Indians, Sri Lankans, Pakistanis, Welsh, Canadians and Cook Islanders. The other week we even faced a guy from Thailand – somewhere I was unaware even knew of the game!

Every week we get our draw from Hawke’s Bay Cricket and that weekend we all represent our clubs and teams against whomever our opponent is that game. There is no picking and choosing.

Off stump is uprooted – two wickets from two deliveries. Our bowler goes back to their mark and begins their run-up for the hat-trick:

“This is a piece of lush Hawke’s Bay turf surrounded by undulating hillside and with views out to the glistening South Pacific, this is the stuff cricket lovers can only dream of.”

One of the reasons the grounds are so “lush” is because:

“All proceeds will go to the New Zealand Department of Conservation initiatives within Clifton County Cricket Club, aimed at creating habitat and eco-systems to reintroduce native flora and fauna.”

So rather than raising money for helping develop young Hawke’s Bay cricketers, or improving grounds, pitches and nets for Hawke’s Bay cricketers in general, you’re helping raise money for landscaping CCCC’s own grounds. How nice.

They have even had help form an unusual source – Napier City Council.

Napier mayor Bill Dalton and the Napier City Council have been very supportive of the Clifton club recently – despite it being located firmly in Hastings District Council territory (whatever you do, don’t mention Amalgamation!). Council staff assisting CCCC in preparing their pitch and outfield and Mayor Bill penned a letter of support.

The only council-based correspondence Napier cricket clubs with junior and senior competitions, development and community involvement get, by comparison, is their annual, ever-increasing ground fees bill.

When Napier City Council put forward their plan to redevelop their Park Island Sports Grounds a few years ago, our cricket club which is located at the park, made suggestions including having our own clay pitch within the club grounds. We even offered to maintain it ourselves. We’re still waiting for a reply.

Middle stump topples, the bails go flying – A hat-trick! Three wickets from three consecutive balls!

Double standards and snobbish overtones abound in this proposed event.

It’s. Just. Not. Cricket!

So here’s my counter-proposal:

Have a PUBLIC GAME. Host it somewhere central – Napier’s Nelson Park, or Hastings’ Cornwall Park – or even have one game at each ground over the fortnight the Cricket World Cup is being hosted in Hawke’s Bay.

The game will be Napier vs Hastings – the mayors of each city on opposing teams (as usual) with local club players, identities, maybe even some kiwi “celebs”, international sports stars and visiting World Cup players to make up the ranks.

Have interchangeable players / fielders with those on the side-lines (mostly the keen kids) able to “tag-in” to play for a few overs.

Bring the family, bring a picnic!

Gold coin entry / donations go to developing Hawke’s Bay Cricket initiatives for all clubs, or another local charity like the Cancer Society.

THAT is what a charity cricket match in Hawke’s Bay should be!

The ball sails over the fielders, over the boundary and out of the grounds – a massive six – What a shot! The crowd goes wild!

Hawke’s Bay and Cricket deserves better!

I Heart the Heart of Hastings

The heart of "The Heart of Hawke's Bay"

The heart of “The Heart of Hawke’s Bay”

I originally wrote this for a local page called “Fruitbowl” back in 2012.

Unfortunately, like a lot of things in Hawke’s Bay, it can take a while for action to happen. So I wasn’t surprised to read an article in the latest (November-December 2014) Baybuzz magazine decrying the neglect central Hastings is still facing TWO YEARS after I wrote my piece

What I want to know is how come Little old me can pick up on and write about things like this two years before other local media (closer to 5-10 years for our local government) and STILL NOTHING IS DONE ABOUT IT??!!

Maybe if more people read it something might actually eventuate, so here we go:

“I Heart the Heart of Hastings”

Hastings – The Heart of Hawke’s Bay has a problem. It’s a recurring problem and it could prove fatal, because the problem is with the heart of Hastings.

There’s an old saying that goes “Those who choose to ignore the past are doomed to relive it”.
Call it history repeating (sorry, Split Enz, but you were wrong on this one) or déjà vu, but hasn’t Hastings’ CBD been through almost the exact same problems they are currently facing all too recently?

Growing up in Napier in the 80’s a trip to Hastings was always a treat and an adventure. When Fantasyland, Bunker’s Toyworld, Rush Munroe’s and McDonalds (Hastings had theirs for a number of years before the golden arches arrived in Napier) beckoned, how could you resist?

It may not have been as big, exotic, or distant as Wellington or Auckland, but it was different to Napier and that was fascinating enough to me. Even today, while it doesn’t seem as exotic or far away as it used to, there are businesses in central Hastings that I won’t hesitate to go to, as I know they specialise in what I am after.

For decades Hastings’ CBD revolved around Heretaunga Street, the clock tower and railway line.
The old ring-road system, while a bit of an annoyance, actually helped keep the central city busy by making traffic loop around continuously and inevitably made people walk a bit further from their parking space to their destination – making the town look busier through more pedestrians and increasing the chance of impulse-buying at the shops they passed.

In the 90’s the ring-road system was scrapped, Kmart and the The Warehouse opened their large-format outlets across the other side of Queen Street, a mere few hundred meters away from Heretaunga Street and it almost killed off business in central Hastings outright.

While doing my Diploma in Marketing at EIT in 1998, one of our tasks was to come up with a concept (that was to be passed onto the Hastings District Council presumably) to help draw people back into the CBD. My plan involved moving the Information Centre into the (then empty) Westerman’s building and the bus / train station across the road from there. I was a mixture of delighted and wondering where my consultant’s fee was when I saw that happen a few years later.

The central city had a brief renaissance recently with, for a time, less empty shops than Napier’s CBD. But then along came Charter Hall with big money and big plans for big stores even further out from the centre of central Hastings and off we went again!

Promises and plans are made and broken. The plans for the unsold big stores kept getting smaller and smaller. That was not HDC’s problem, rather Charter Hall biting off more than they can chew. So why should the council bend their plans and rules to suit? How readily do they do that for small, local businesses? Hastings’ central city retailers and their association cried foul and protested to the council. HDC looked concerned and scratched its head. How many times does this have to happen before they learn?

The Hastings District Council said they didn’t have enough money put aside to do up all of central Heretaunga Street in one go as was planned. Focusing instead on the area around another development – the new Farmers store (at least this project is set to bring some activity back to the city centre). Yet somehow money was found to vastly improve access to the Nelson Park development, including putting in traffic lights across St Aubyn Street and extending the old railway station access road through to it, drawing even more traffic away from the heart of the CBD. Now further expensive expansion is planned for the Regional Sports Park. Where is the money they “can’t afford” coming from for this?

If Hastings District Council can’t afford to look after Heretaunga St, what happens if things turn messy, expensive or legal with Charter Hall, or whoever else may come along with deep pockets and big promises for that matter? What other concessions will have to be made or who else will suffer?

In just these past few weeks, the Hastings City Business Association (has anyone else noticed the “Retail Strategy” page on their website is blank?) severely dented its credibility by suggesting that putting a road through the very centre of town may be the answer to the CBD’s prayers. An arterial route right through the very heart of the problem could only be another ghastly wound from which what little spirit remains in central Hastings would bleed out of.

Hastings has enough problems with roads. To head north or south you no longer need to go through Stortford Lodge or Karamu Road with the temptation of the CBD nearby. A brief glimpse while passing through the expressway’s roundabouts to destinations further afield is the most people would now regularly see of the city.

Now there is the added possibility of yet another bypass in the offering – to the more affluent and vibrant Havelock North village. Once again you wouldn’t have to go anywhere near Hastings’ CBD. So many options are given to avoid the heart of central Hastings. Where is the encouragement to lure people into it?

Roads will not cure Hastings’ CBD’s problem. Mascots, slogans and paying out of town marketing consultants thousands of dollars will not cure the problem. Further outward expansion will certainly not cure the problem and neither will ignoring the problem and hoping it goes away. I’m inclined to think the problem with the heart of Hastings can be cured with something much smaller, but far more powerful.

They say “Pride comes before a fall.” Well, confidence, business, income and value in central Hastings have all fallen, but I would like to think pride can come after a fall and help cure central Hastings’ problems.

A local government proud of their city would not continuously sell large chunks of it off to the whims of big business without looking after the needs of their current, local, rate-paying businesses first.

Authorities who take pride in their city would not let the latest generation of professional beneficiaries spend their long, idle hours occupying the main street of their CBD, where they can intimidate innocent passers-by, scare off potential customers and current businesses, or use inner city green-spaces as public bathrooms.

And I would hope that, like me, customers proud of their city would forgo the sprawling car parks and behemoth, hangar-sized big-box chain stores on the city’s periphery for the quality products, expertise and personal service of smaller, local retailers in the heart of the city.

I still “heart” the heart of “The Heart of Hawke’s Bay” (do you see what I mean about slogans?) and I’m from Napier.

The decline of central Hastings has been depressing enough, never mind the negative publicity and vibe it has generated. Some CPR (City Pride Restoration) is required. Let’s hear more from Hastings people who are proud of the heart of their city.

Let’s see Hastings District Council and local authorities prove how proud they are of their city and its people by looking after what they already have before developing further grandiose pipe-dreams (or maybe some ‘new blood’ is required in the places of civic power?).

The stronger the heart of the CBD beats, the more energy, pride and lifeblood will flow throughout the rest of the city. Letting the heart of Hastings fail is not an option if our region is to prosper.

Hastings and Hawke’s Bay deserve better!

More Megalomaniacal Monopolistic Media Meddling!

If it's a choice between these two blowhards, I'll pick Sacha McNeil, Michael Wilson & Marcus Lush every time!

If it’s a choice between these two blowhards, I’ll pick Sacha McNeil, Michael Wilson & Marcus Lush every time!

It’s a sad indictment of New Zealand media that, rather than invest in new talent, we are once again dished up the same old “stars” that have been doing the rounds for years.

But now it’s even worse! Not only are they taking all the TV hosting positions, they’ll be “cross-medium” – taking up TV, radio and internet time simultaneously!!

Each year around the country hundreds of young, talented journalism, media and broadcasting students graduate and to what?

A tiny job market made even tinier by “NZME” (formerly The Radio Network and APN – we might as well lump “State Broadcaster” TVNZ in there as well, as they constantly interact / work with NZME affiliates) and Mediaworks (TV3, The Edge etc.) simulcasting their content across the nation from central studios and offices in Auckland with as small a staff as possible and evidently no great plans of expanding operations, or their talent pool.

Goodbye three years of study, over $30,000 in student loans / course costs and any hope of ever being the next Jay-Jay, Mike, Dom, Fletch, Vaughan, Megan, Hosking, Henry, Tom, Dick, or Harry!

Bring back the days of “Live and Local 24 Hours a Day” regional radio and other media, I say!

A bigger talent pool enabling graduates to get that all important, almost mythical in its rarity – EXPERIENCE and far more community interaction with their media.

After all, TV, radio and print are such intimate forms of communication – just you and the paper / screen / speakers that it seems absurd, almost insulting than some remote studio hundreds of kilometres away is the one telling you (or not, as the case has become) what is happening in your town

“What’s in a (Toy’s) Name?”

"Dog" and... um... "Dog"!

“Dog” and… um… “Dog”!

Like most children, Little Miss Frame has several soft toys, teddy bears etc. – each of which her mum and I have named for ease of memory and identification.

Being children of the 80’s, Mrs F and I were brought up amidst a flood of “branded” toys. “Barbie” was, and will forever be “Barbie”, no matter how many versions of her you have. My GI Joes all have their allotted code-names as per the packaging and Carebears will always be either “Carebear” (as we call the little one we got Miss F), or whatever its model name is – “Fun-shine” “Hugs-a-lot” etc.

The biggest percentage of soft toys my wife and I had, though, avoided mass commercialisation. My wife had (and still has) “Mr Ted” – a teddy bear almost as big as she is now that her father made and “Eric” the troll doll. I had the “Playschool”-influenced, hand-made “Big Ted” and “Little Ted”, as well as “Monks” the monkey and a mini Footrot Flats dog I got for my 7th birthday called, you guessed it, “Dog”!

Like us, 99% of our daughter’s toys are unbranded, hand-made etc., so we had free reign with what we called them. But WHY we named them what we did is half the fun of the exercise.

There’s “George” the pink furry hippo – named after, funnily enough, “George” the pink furry hippo from the 80’s TV series “Rainbow”.

We got a second, smaller hippo for pram travel and naturally we couldn’t have a “George”, without having a “Mildred”!

There’s “Vincent” – the bear with one ear (the other started coming loose and had to be removed for safety reasons).

And “Henrietta” is a small, googly-eyed Giraffe. I have no idea why I called her Henrietta, other than it seemed a fitting name for a giraffe at the time.

These are the names that will stick with our little Miss and her toys for years to come. Hopefully she’ll have fond memories of playing with them and when she has her own children (no pressure – you’re only 9 months old!) she’ll have fun naming their teddies and toys.

What (and why) were YOUR toys names?

A Fathers’ Day of Firsts

The two elements of Fathers' Day that mean the most to me.

The two elements of Fathers’ Day that mean the most to me.

This Sunday will, for me, be (to quote Charles Dickens) the best of times and the worst of times.

It will be my first Fathers’ Day as an actual father – our daughter turns 9 months old this week. But it will also be the first Fathers’ Day since my Dad died, which makes the occasion bitter-sweet.

Naturally I still miss Dad immeasurably. I miss his wisdom, his presence, his adoration for his granddaughter and his unexpected visits just to see her. Most of all I miss that I’ll never be able to see him or give him a hug ever again.

Grief is a strange thing. Some days you’re fine. You live your life, think about those that aren’t with you anymore and smile at their memory. Other days some completely inconsequential thing will trigger a flood of melancholy that threatens to wash you away completely.

I’ve been fortunate enough to survive its onslaught so far mainly because I have something to live for and be positive about. She’s small, absolutely gorgeous and likes nothing more than being propped up in my lap, looking deep into my eyes, giving me a big smile and saying “MumMumMum!” then blowing raspberries at me.

Nine months is an incredibly long time in parenthood. Historians use the initials “BC” (Before Christ) & “AD” (Ano Dominae) to specify recent historical periods. Parents are more likely to use the initials “BB” (Before Baby) – a period that may as well have been over 2000 years ago for the changes that have taken place since this tiny sentient being came into their lives.

Sleeping, drinking, pooping, crying, smiling, looking, thinking, exploring, eating, sitting, rolling, chewing and crawling are all things we, as adults, take for granted and as ancient history. But to witness someone going through these things first-hand for the first time is world-altering.

I must say, our little lady is doing a stellar job of coming to grips with this big, crazy world. Like the little girl in the YouTube clip – part of me wishes she’ll never grow up and remain this small and cute forever. As a modern-day, cellphone camera-equipped father, I have taken, literally, (954 at last count) just under a thousand photos of her in these last 9 months, so part of her always will be this small and cute. But I also look forward to watching her grow and develop her own personality. We’re in no big hurry, though.

She fell asleep in my arms the other night. There is something so intimate in holding a sleeping baby. They are so cute, but also so vulnerable. You feel a mixture of utter love and devotion to your child, mixed with a stone-cold protective readiness to go Jack Reacher on the arse of anyone who so much as tries to hurt or take your baby from you.

Someday I hope to see my Dad again on some ethereal plane, whether it be in Heaven, Purgatory, Nirvana, Elysium or even the Matrix and give him that long-awaited hug. But until then I’ll focus on being the best father I can be for our daughter and giving her all the hugs and kisses I can.

Happy Fathers’ Day!