Category: Blog

Sleeping beauties

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Time away is like a deep sleep.

 It takes you time to settle; some initial tossing and turning is almost mandatory.

But, slowly, your breathing slows. Your mind quietens. You start to drift.

The things that crowded your head on the incoming flight, the stresses that tripped up your transfer start to fade.

You’re entering the first dream.

As the time meanders languidly forward, Larkin on the beach and palms raised in a sun salutation, you sink gratefully into the womb of slumber.

The dreams are freewheeling now, gentle and replenishing, rather than frantic and frightening.

By the time you stir, the sunlight beckoning group the white-net curtains, something has changed: your perspective has altered.

It had been 18 months for me since I’d slept like this and I had carried every day with me like a dead weight. 

But no more. We all need a deep sleep sometimes.

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A home from home in Chester

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* Image credit www.chestergrosvenor.com

I took a holiday in home town recently.

It was easy: walking from home to the hotel reception to check in; no resetting my watch for time zones and unpacking my wash bag in the reassuring knowledge that I could always pop home if I had forgotten my toothbrush.

It was refreshing, too.

I slipped out in the evening out for a walk around streets I know well — yet I still felt like a tourist.

I threw back the curtains the next morning to gaze up on the upper floors of the shops from my second-floor window.

I know these shops from ground level but never before had I appreciated the architectural flourishes of their upper floors, the dates elaborately carved into the stone.

It was practical, too. After years of negotiating airport queues, train delays and volcanic ash clouds, it felt good to be away yet so close to home.

Maybe we should take a holiday in our him town now and then. It was a refreshing to start a new year with a new persecutive on a place I thought I knew all too well.

I may well be back in the summer for another stay. After all, it’s just a 15-miute walk from my front door.

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Trying to get away from it all

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It’s been a good summer for Alain de Botton’s accountant.

The man behind the spreadsheets must have been rubbing his hands with glee after a procession of newspapers ran articles penned by the PR-friendly philosopher.

In them, his central hypothesis was that we need to be challenged by our holidays. Time away should, he mused chin strokingly, take us beyond our comfort zones.

He wrote in the Daily Telegraph:

“The point of travel shouldn’t be constant bliss; it should be an encounter with interesting new disturbances of the soul.”

Mr. de Botton is, of course, talking out of his de Botton.

I’m just back from an escape to the island of Anglesey in North Wales. I arrived exhausted and in need of a retreat with just a few home comforts and some soul-salving company.

I hadn’t come to be challenged.

I didn’t cruise down the A55 to push myself to new limits of tolerance and personal discomfort. After the trials and tribulations of recent times, I was there simply for some peace and quiet.

But relaxing wasn’t easy.

The thing about escaping the daily grind is that you don’t put down your worries like the bags in the entrance hall of the holiday cottage. You can’t pack them up neatly away in the sock drawer of a strange cupboard.

You carry them with you and turn them over in your mind on the first night in a new bed, chipping away at them slowly over the ensuing days as an act of reckoning. That’s challenge enough.

Slowly I started to find my peace.

It drifted by on the breeze as I sat in the back garden of the cottage eating breakfast. It swirled around me like ancient spirits amid the ruined cloisters of Penmon Priory. And it pursued me down 500 slippery-stone steps as I ventured out to South Stack on a blistery afternoon.

It light up the sky on a cottonwool-cloud lunchtime over Puffin Island [pictured above].

Call me cynical. The coverage de Botton garnered over summer was, it could be said, a thinly veiled promotional push for the repackaging of his 2002 book as The New Art of Travel.

I read the original and admired it greatly.

In particular I was drawn to the section in which he discussed how, on a luxury trip Barbados, he realises that he had “… inadvertently brought myself with me to the island”.

To me, it seems a shame to sully the thought-provoking original work with a rehashed follow-up and a few headline-grabbing soundbites during silly season.

I came to Anglesey nursing my own challenges. But I didn’t need some cash-in claptrap to help me find my own peace.

So apologies to the man with the profit and loss ledgers.

But, when it comes to PR guff dressed up as philosophy-based travel advice, I’m simply not buying.

Gazetteer

Telegraph: Why holidays shouldn’t be relaxing

Visit Wales: Anglesey holidays

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Is fatherhood really worth it?

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* Photography: Rebecca Lupton

It tests friendships, ruins hobbies and kills your sex life. So here’s the question: is fatherhood really worth it?

I was on the radio recently, talking about this very topic as part of a panel discussion for Men’s Hour on BBC Radio 5Live.

As one of five dads from different family backgrounds – I was taking the role of shared-custody dad, since you ask – we debated whether the joy of having kids outweighs the pressures and inevitable self-sacrifice it involves.

From missing Match of the Day to giving up nights down the pub with mates, being a dad is not all cuddles and gurgles.

Indeed, a recent survey by Amazon Family revealed that some 64 per cent of people underestimate how much their lives will be transformed by becoming a parent.

Watching a film without Disney princesses and waking up not feeling like the living dead were amongst the grumbles cited by the new parents questioned across the North West of England.

Siege mentality

A.D. Miller, whose new book The Faithful Couple deals with the pressure of children on friendships and relationships, believes it’s easy to get into a siege mentality around children, especially when a new baby arrives.

“When you send that email with the uploaded photos of your newborn, what you’re actually doing is saying goodbye to a whole load of people. You’re life becomes unrecognisable to your childless friend,” he says.

“On the other hand.  You’re going through an experience that is both fascinating and challenging.”

The role of fathers is generally perceived to have changed markedly over generations. From the hands-off, Victorian dads of yesterday to the nappy-changing multi-taskers of today, contemporary dads are seen to give more to – and get more from – fatherhood.

But, according to Dr Laura King, a family historian at the University of Leeds and the author of Family Men: Fatherhood and Masculinity in Britain, 1914-60, the evolution of the über-dad is less marked than we may think.

“My research into individual testimonies of fatherhood shows that rather than being distant, men and children in the past shared special and often close relationships, and fatherhood was a very important part of masculinity, particularly in the wake of the Second World War,” she says.

“Some things are very different now – men’s openness about their emotions, and their role in childbirth, for example. But women still take on the bulk of childcare and are still understood to have a far more special bond with children than men,” she adds.

“Fathers are still seen as the secondary parent in lots of ways.”

Studio debate

Back in the radio studio, the debate was raging on. But, as fathers, we also found common ground despite our individual circumstances to suggest the life change of fatherhood had been overwhelmingly positive.

Sure, we were more tired and had less time to ourselves. But we were also more selfless, more considerate and, faced with the unconditional love of a child, more in tune with our emotions.

Most of all, we agreed, it was the little things that made it all worthwhile.

One father talked about the first words his son uttered. Another spoke of the bonding feeling of bedtime stories. Me? With my two daughters now aged five and nine respectively, I have moved into a new phase of getting out and doing more together as a tightly bonded trio.

I shared a story about a sunny Saturday in early spring when we want for a walk to a local park and collected wild daffodils from the roadside to put in a vase in the kitchen.

It was a simple pleasure and, yes, I could have been sat in a local cafe with a nice coffee and the weekend papers.

But, like so many moments of fatherhood for me, I wouldn’t change it for the world.

* This story was first published by InsideMAN.

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