tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post7446725076132256612..comments2024-03-18T10:29:46.055+00:00Comments on Ken Armstrong Writing Stuff: Summer HolidaysKen Armstronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-67672346315910116852013-04-01T21:56:14.947+01:002013-04-01T21:56:14.947+01:00awh! the poor little man :')
Dad's make b...awh! the poor little man :') <br />Dad's make babies, but some forget that it doesn't stop there and they have to go on to make men! Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-1823829574086499392012-07-02T15:39:07.400+01:002012-07-02T15:39:07.400+01:00Superb! A man after my own heart - gonna have to l...Superb! A man after my own heart - gonna have to link up to this I'm afraid. It only takes a tiny morsel of thought to make a kids day huh.Sion Smithhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05251349568547180733noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-76622908632926625892012-07-01T23:20:11.751+01:002012-07-01T23:20:11.751+01:00Jeez, Ken, this afternoon we sold the cot bed our ...Jeez, Ken, this afternoon we sold the cot bed our two have slept in and now outgrown, so it was already an emotionally precarious day. You've tipped me over the edge (In a good way, of course ;-) )<br /><br />I hope you guys have a great holiday, take care.<br /><br />GavAnonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03403838467825100429noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-6989412420894297732012-07-01T17:14:30.183+01:002012-07-01T17:14:30.183+01:00Dear Anon, Yes, I do know I'm lucky, it's ...Dear Anon, Yes, I do know I'm lucky, it's one of my very greatest talents. Thanks.<br /><br />William: I choked myself a little too, so you're not alone.Ken Armstronghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-68225276947511538212012-07-01T16:59:53.757+01:002012-07-01T16:59:53.757+01:00Choked by that.
WChoked by that. <br /><br />WWilliam Gallagherhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13315381474957511300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-62721218017960275132012-07-01T15:29:12.616+01:002012-07-01T15:29:12.616+01:00You're a lucky guy Ken. I'd take my ex and...You're a lucky guy Ken. I'd take my ex and the twins back in a jiffy, but she's moved on and I hardly ever get to see the girls.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-91478936125572547812012-07-01T14:14:10.563+01:002012-07-01T14:14:10.563+01:00Hi Jim, we're indulging ourselves a little, as...Hi Jim, we're indulging ourselves a little, as Dad's today and, sure, why not? Your extracts ring through with me in many ways. I have a wee theory that all Dad's will conclude that they are pretty-much bad Dad's, it's just such a male thing to do. So I know you have a laser-beam vision of your own feelings but I still wouldn't be too hard on yourself. Your daughter sounds like she turned-out lovely and I'm sure you've been a big part of that.<br /><br />Simon: Thanks. Well said. True, that... apart from the end bit, upon which I couldn't possibly comment. :)<br /><br />Ben: Always a pleasure to see you hear, kind sir.Ken Armstronghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-3437628036325441742012-07-01T13:59:09.254+01:002012-07-01T13:59:09.254+01:00Hi Ken. Just wanted to stop by to say hi, and that...Hi Ken. Just wanted to stop by to say hi, and that I read your post :)Benhttp://www.benbarden.com/noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-21001448637924281762012-07-01T13:54:06.502+01:002012-07-01T13:54:06.502+01:00Tiny moments, big echoes. Lovely piece, Ken.
Simo...Tiny moments, big echoes. Lovely piece, Ken.<br /><br />Simon RickettsAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-91367194265176729822012-07-01T13:21:32.663+01:002012-07-01T13:21:32.663+01:00The list of things I hated about being a part-time...The list of things I hated about being a part-time dad is a long one but there are several things about reading this that got to me. I never saw my daughter’s report card. Not once. I never met her from school. I never spent summer—or any other—holiday with her. It was two days a fortnight as ordered by the judge. I went to her primary school once to see her teacher but the woman made me feel so unwelcome I never went back; it wasn’t as if I lived in the same town and could just drop in. Despite all of that I developed a strong relationship with my daughter that continues to this day. Several times I’ve written poems where she is the voice and I’m the dad. Like this one:<br /><br /> <b>Melancholia</b><br /><br /> My dad was an incredibly sad man.<br /> He saw sadness in everything <br /> in art and literature but<br /> mostly where there shouldn't have been any.<br /><br /> He wasn't sad <br /> like someone had died though.<br /> He had his own <br /> special kind of sadness.<br /><br /> It didn't exactly make him happy<br /> to be surrounded by sadness.<br /> That's not the right word for it .<br /> I suppose it made him feel less alone.<br /><br /><br /> Thursday, 19 February 2004<br /><br />Of course my daughter doesn’t make me feel sad but she is acutely aware that this underlying sadness exists. I think I was a bad dad. She says not. I disagree. I should have made more of an effort to find out about her school life and not just accept what she told me. Her mother and I never talked, not a word if we could get away with it and time did nothing to heal the wounds. I’d stop the car outside their house, my daughter would come out and when I dropped her off she walked down the garden path alone. It was never supposed to be that way and if you’d told me that my marriage to her mum would be over in five years I’m pretty sure I would not have had a child with her. I never signed up to be a part-time dad and the best time of my life was when she was seventeen and she left her mum’s and came to stay with me. It was only for about a year before she got her own flat but at least I had a taste of what it might have been like to have been a full-time dad.<br /><br />She came over a couple of weeks ago and I got her to instruct me in the gentle art of Twitter—I think I mentioned that on Facebook—and she was so genuinely moved by my appeal—gave me a hug and everything—because I think that’s the first time the shoe has ever been on the other foot; I’m always the dad with the answers. Of course I could have muddled through or asked someone like you but I thought it was time. Here’s the opening of a short story I wrote for her after she told me she was moving out:<br /><br /><i>The future as a blank page—it’s a popular metaphor—and I thought I knew what my dad was going to go on about the moment he opened his mouth. Why, I’ve no idea, because, predictably, and, in that way that endears people to him, he flipped the whole illustration on its head and left me gobsmacked. Or am I just seeing him with a daughter’s eyes?<br /><br />“The future,” he began, before pausing for effect no sooner than he’d started, “is like a blank piece of paper and there’s nothing more foreboding that being faced with a white sheet of paper when you’re not sure what you’re expected to say. But who says you’ve got to write anything? You could draw on it, scribble on it, fold it up and put it in your pocket, rip it to shreds or make an origami water bomb out of it. It’s your future—you’re the one who has to live in it when everyone has long run out of remarks to pass about it. Remember that.”<br /><br />He’s a clever old thing, my dad, and that wisdom rests on a pile of mistakes a mile high. “We learn from our mistakes,” he once told me, “which is why I’m a genius.” He’s not a genius but I do tend to listen when he goes into wise old owl mode. </i><br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-47512629553545959292012-07-01T12:09:12.968+01:002012-07-01T12:09:12.968+01:00Hi Rachel: My eldest guy is well-embedded in Secon...Hi Rachel: My eldest guy is well-embedded in Secondary School now. He really enjoyed the step-up right from day one, I'm sure it will be the same for 'Rachel Jnr.' :)<br /><br />Hi G: As, sure, you know better than most where I'm coming from eh?Ken Armstronghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-23022970110900367762012-07-01T11:55:03.375+01:002012-07-01T11:55:03.375+01:00I'm lost for words tear in eye, heartfelt piec...I'm lost for words tear in eye, heartfelt piece of writing, excellent, be good GHseoirse mac enrihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11894305600071657649noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-73538376985004448262012-07-01T11:54:02.536+01:002012-07-01T11:54:02.536+01:00End of term here too - and my girl left primary th...End of term here too - and my girl left primary this time so a big change. She kept saying she was happy but sad too (she loved primary... she's a very young-at-heart kind of a girl). I am excited by the change but terrified too!<br />xRachel Foxhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11803852725693518924noreply@blogger.com