The Monkey Donkey!

We moved, had lots on the go, no time or inclination to blog, 'till now...

So, here we go again.

Sometimes you just feel like a bit of an









You spend so much time trying hard to do the right thing, but in the end haven't got a clue whether what you're doing is the right thing, or not. Take the case of a home-educating mother with one son. He's about the age when he could go to school, his Dad's got a job at a very good school, but... because he was home-educated he got really into tennis (a great outlet, and if that mother is going to supportively watch any sport, tennis would be the one) so much so, that he's become quite good at it. The school does not specialise in tennis. He doesn't want to give it up. So we carry on home-educating, and getting stuck in the rounds of tennis training, tennis competition, until that mother begins to feel like a real donkey. So she carries on, carrying him around on her back* through the leafy counties of Southern England (and doing a bit of sewing in between times) in the vague hope that he will get some kind of education from the books that get pushed in his direction, when he hasn't got a racquet in his hand.

Is the plodding along worthwhile? In the great scheme of things, who knows? But Providentially (so it seems) the tennis monkey is improving, having won two tournaments last weekend, so maybe the home-schooled boy will improve too, and in the long run, maybe the donkey will cheer up...



















*Actually it's a nice little red car, Deo Gratias.

Have You Ever Seen a Chicken Playing Tennis?

Well it was either post something or give up altogether. I lay in bed this morning wondering whether I should give up on blogging, as I haven't managed to find time to do any for so long, and have lost my entire readership (ha ha). What should appear in my inbox but a new comment on my blog. It was from someone who consists of no name and who left a row of dots and little squares - I don't even know how to make those marks on my computer! Still it seems like I might have been given the urge to start up again.
Lately, I've been reading a lot about evolution (for which I seem to have had a natural distaste from a very early age - all those monkeys turning into humans, just didn't grab my soul - so to speak). I know there are eminent Catholic scientists and theologians "out there" who think it's all kosher, and "more than a theory", but none of them have written anything convincing about how it all works, and how God 'fits in' to their theory - because that's what they have to do, make God fit in. It disturbs me that so many people accept Evolution as a fact, but when you come to discuss the possibility that it might not be TRUE, they shy away from the discussion. After all there are plenty of scientists and mathematicians who give very convincing arguments for why it can't be true - my latest scientific discovery being the Second Law of Thermodynamics - (ie, that as a very unscientific artist with a modicum of intelligence, I've just discovered that there is such a thing, and it don't fit in with evolutionary theory... but I'm waiting for an Evolutionist to show me it does).

When I mentioned to one Priest that if we were descended from primates, then it would mean that Adam's mum was a monkey, he simply said he had no problem with that. MY GOODNESS! I'd have a real problem if my Mum were a monkey - I suspect my son wouldn't, since he probably thinks his Mum is a monkey....
BUT HE'S WRONG, because, as the photographic evidence shows, he came from an egg....

Yes, he's the first known proof that humans have evolved into more efficient sports-playing creatures, and what's more, there were no intermediate forms, it just happened overnight, and all of a sudden he could play much better tennis than the humanoid looking creature at the lower edge of the photo - amazing innit?

Wimbledon, and How the Other Half Live..

We've had quite a busy week - piano, grade 2 exam on Tuesday morning, very exhausting for me, since I kept waking up all night with his tunes playing around in my head, panicking because I hadn't really heard him consistently play them well, because he does NOT practise enough. He's not a natural born musician, but he can play, and play well, if he applies himself. As far as his Father and I see it, he needs to have some discipline; and learning to play, and pass exams gives him this - since as a homeschooler, he won't be getting the same experience of being tested and examined as other children his age. He will be glad of it one day, even if it means he'll be able to bash away at the old joanna down the pub, with his mates, once he leaves home! Anyway, he didn't seem too phased by the whole affair, so we'll see....
Then in the afternoon, we drove down to stay overnight with an old friend of mine, (from Uni) and her husband, who live in a town just north of London. We spent time in the Abbey, and the Roman museum, and arrived at their house at a time when she would be back from work, about sixish. We had a cuppa, and a biccie, and chatted for a while. My son watched a bit of the Wimbledon highlights on the tv, and I suddenly realised how uncomfortable I felt being in the home of someone who is a dear friend, but who has no understanding of how we have been keeping our son from the impurity of tv. If we are at the grandparent's house, he knows he has to leave the room whenever the adverts come on - even when flicking through channels, but they at least have some understanding of why. Anyway, we got to the sports channel, without witnessing too much advertising for adult programmes - yes, they like to pack in sex, violence, and horror excerpts into the previews they put on before 9 o'clock of shows which are to come on after the ha ha "9 o'clock" ho ho, "watershed"; although I did have to stick my rather large backside in front of the box, whilst one such preview came on. Then my friend and I chatted some more, and I wondered when we'd be having supper. Her husband arrived, and we all decided we'd go to the allotment, and water some of their plants. I wondered some more when we'd be having supper. We got back, and I still wondered when we were going to have supper. Her husband asked my son what time he normally went to bed, he spouted some nonsense about half past nine - oh yeah, that's what he'd like it to be, but I could hardly insist too much in front of them that it was usually half eight to nine, since that was the current time, and we STILL hadn't had supper. But I think the hint was dropped, and my friend thought she'd better get on with starting to prepare some food!
It is interesting that some people who don't have children, don't have any idea that it might be appropriate to offer food to a child at a slightly earlier time than they themselves might eat!! Anyway, we got fed, and got him off to bed, ready for his big day at Wimbledon - his birthday gift from us, since we'd been offered tickets for court number one, via his tennis club - they cost an arm and a leg - but since the good Lord has only given us one child, we can afford to indulge him occasionally!
And of course, he took his own spending money, so that he could indulge himself, on the famous Wimbledon "Strawberries, and Cream" - which weren't bad, but not half as good as the strawberries we'd picked from the garden of our friends down the road, earlier in the week!!

It's taken me to the end of the week to recover from the late nights, and the travelling though!