I feel a bit odd writing this: partly because so many others have written much better on recent events (mad musings of me: does it matter? and various posts on wherever you are stand out for me as some of the best on the web) and partly because I’ve had a long week and the thought of stringing words together intelligably seems a bit of a tall order. Then again, I didn’t not want to say anything either. So here goes.

I love the BBC. I grew up on the BBC. The BBC is still very much part of my life but most times I hardly notice it. If we lost it I think it would be a National tragedy in so many ways.

I don’t think my parents particularly pushed BBC over ITV when I was growing up. I don’t remember being particularly restricted to any one channel. All my favourite shows were on BBC though. Remember the broom cupboard with Philip Scofield and Gordon the Gopher? Making things out of sticky backed plastic with Blue Peter? The round window on Playschool? Watching the Challenger disaster on Newsround?

Then as I got older I was soon hiding behind the sofa everytime the daleks came on in Doctor Who and older still laughing at the antics of Blackadder and Red Dwarf. Spending Sunday afternoon lying on the floor in the bathroom (the only decent radio reception in the house) with my radio/cassette deck recording that week’s Top 40 off Radio 1.

Even as an adult, although I hardly watch television these days, all my most memorable British programmes have originated on BBC: Walking With Dinosaurs, Pride and Prejudice to name but two that I’ve rewatched recently. It never ceases to amaze me just how much content the BBC provide. I’ve become addicted to Radio 4 in the mornings and would probably use the Listen Again feature more often if a) I was more organised and b) we ever get broadband in this godforsaken backwater! The BBC News website is still the easiest to navigate news provider online despite their recent redesign that made it less useable. Their online language learning content is amazing. Cbeebies (the preschool channel) is, quite frankly, a godsend. Its main rival (NickJr) irritates the hell out of me with five minutes of adverts after every ten minute show and the general poor broadcast quality (constantly having programmes “freeze”, channel shut down coming too early before the end of their bedtime song, etc).

They are not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. There have been a couple of times I’ve got annoyed by inaccurate and biased news reporting on the Beeb. Mainly because I have come to expect sensationalism from other news organisations but not the BBC – it stands out more. However, I’m impressed that throughout the flak the BBC have always been prepared to report the less flattering stories about themselves as well.

I agree 100% with Gert that the BBC would never be formed today – it is unique in its funding. Without it we would have far less broad content, there would be far few broadcasting corporations taking risks with programming. I too, feel like I “own” the BBC and that it’s something that I feel Britain should take pride in.

If it started being the government’s lapdog, if it allowed itself to be bullied into being insipid and dumbed down with charter renewal hanging over its head, if it started being afraid of speaking out then it would be a travesty of epic proportions. Leave my BBC alone.

In short: Long Live the BBC, Hutton Take A Hike, Bring Back Greg Dyke, and Fuck Off Alastair Campbell.

Oh, and go read everyone else’s essays over at I Believe In The BBC because they said it so much better.

BAH… snow’s gone!

I’m sure when people are talking about short attention spans in the context of toddlers, they’re not referring to the child’s mental staying power but that of the adult. Akra Jr’s capacity for tedious repetition (“Again, Mummy! Again!”) knows no bounds and you soon learn devious diversion techniques before your brain dribbles out of your ears.

Today’s repetitive task was to move six cars from one part of the sofa onto my legs and off again, while Mummy counted each car aloud. Ennui set in after the twentieth encore so I switched to counting in Spanish (well, he does know 1-4 courtesy of Dora and Muzzy so it was in the interest of broadening his vocabulary, honest). Then I thought what the hell and counted in any language I could remember. I was fairly impressed with myself as I managed Russian, Welsh, and French.

Still the game held interest for my two year old (probably my fault for introducing variation, but at least I was retaining my sanity) so I went for full scale messing with his mind, randomly calling out any number I could think of as he passed the cars around: “FIVE… TWENTY-SIX… NINETEEN… ONE…”

Fortunately he thought it was hilarious. I don’t think I’ve set him back educationally too many years…

Thank you snow gods!

Akra Jr thought it was a bit cold and didn’t stay out long though … about 30 seconds. To be fair it was rather windy and horrid.

It’s very easy not to notice the privileges that come with spending a large proportion of your time with a small toddler. It’s easy to take them for granted or undervalue them. I’m sure most of them just pass me by and are just waiting for me to gain wisdom before I see them.

One of the most enjoyable, in my opinion, is being forced to slow down and really see the world around you with fresh appreciation. Think about how much money is spent on self-help books and training courses that are all geared around making us stop and continue through life at a slower pace. Well, I can tell you now that you don’t need all those fancy books and courses, you just need to borrow my 2-year-old (… please … any time you like … tell you what, I’ll even pay *you*…)

“Life’s Little Pleasures” are severely neglected in today’s society: the fascination of watching a snail slide around your hand while its feelers telescope in and out, the comic genius of spontaneously shouting “BOTTOM” very very loudly, and snow…

Yes, it snowed here today. Squeals of delight from both me and Akra Jr were heard as we rushed to the door and leaned out, watching fat snowflakes fall to the ground. Then I rather stupidly remembered that I was an adult and had things to do and said that we would go out and play in it once chores were done. After all, it was coming down thick and fast… bound to be around for a while yet. It’d be more fun to play in when it was settled and a bit deeper, anyway.

Crestfallen, Akra Jr went away to play, constantly interrupting every few minutes “are you done yet, Mummy?” … “Almost, don’t worry… we’ll have plenty of time out there!” I cheerfully replied each and every time.

Alas, I was wrong. By the time we got out there, it had stopped snowing and the little snow we had was already starting to melt away. We went out to the playground and it did snow again for a little bit, but only a few flakes – not the delightful fat chubby ones that came down earlier. Now the snow is all gone again.

I think I’m in Akra Jr’s bad books now and to be honest, I really don’t blame him. The annoying thing was, the chores weren’t that important and they could have easily waited. I’ve promised him we’ll go straight out if it starts snowing again. I just hope we get our second chance…

Well, I’m feeling better. Still very wiped out, but far far better than I was. Thank you for all your get well messages.

I had a bit of a panic last night and convinced myself that I’d caught Listeriosis on the basis that I had some mould-ripened cheese on a pizza about three weeks ago. Felt happier this morning, but Akra insisted I went to visit the doctor anyway for the sake of his own sanity over the remaining twenty weeks.

Some doctors just don’t know how to be reassuring do they?!

Apparently it’s statistically likely to be just a virus. I can have a blood test to check for Listeria infection if I want, but what would I do if it came up positive? Apparently biggest risk would be miscarriage (oh… thanks… very comforting) and treatment options are extremely limited anyway especially as I’m allergic to penicillin and erythromyacin.

So basically his attitude was, don’t worry you could be lucky, and if you’re not then there’s not much we can do about it!!

I think I’d rather have had a “you’re wasting my time” lecture, all things considered. Sylvia has pointed out to me that at least he was honest, but I’m not totally convinced of the wisdom of being honest with a hormonal pregnant woman.

On the plus side, my appetite is back and February’s Sainsbury’s magazine has arrived. Coincidence? I think not. Nigel Slater has a feature on pancakes too…

Got food poisoning or a stomach bug or something. Not very well. Back properly soon.

I read with interest the BBC’s article on why Why Digital Cameras = Better Photographers – I’m not totally convinced I agree with them in terms of professional photography (in that some of the best photos I’ve ever seen have been taken with “traditional” film) but for amateur snappers like me who dream of some day learning how to take a decent picture, they’re perfect.

The amount of photos I’ve taken since having a digital camera has grown exponentially. I just never got around to taking film to the developers and by the time I’d finished a roll I’d long since forgotten what was on there anyway. With the digital I’m far more prepared to just take a load of pictures and only keep my favourites; storing on computer is also far less cluttered than having drawers full of those little folders of snaps and negatives just waiting to be organised into a proper album.

My screensaver flips through My Pictures directory and mostly these images aren’t great but they are fantastic memory hooks – totally meaningless to a casual observer, but I could watch the slideshow for hours.

Of course, this doesn’t stop me from sighing enviously when I work my way through Photo Friday‘s link viewer each week – I just wish I had that eye for good composition. Then again, I’m reassured by the BBC article when I discover that for a National Geographic story almost 12,600 shots are taken and only 10 shots used for print. Okay, I’ll never get to National Geographic standard, but maybe if I just keep taking hundreds and hundreds of pictures I’ll get one or two that I’m really proud of.

Now all I have to do is follow Akra around all weekend so I can get a decent photo for this week’s Photo Friday theme: “Man”! So far he’s managed to look grumpy and suspicious in every single one…

Well, I’m a bit surprised as I was absolutely convinced this one was going to be a girl!! Help, I’m going to be outnumbered in a household of males!

Actually, I’m very pleased. I already have a wonderful little boy – how could I fail to be excited that I’m going to have another amazing little boy? Plus, think of the savings with the hand-me-down clothing *grin*.

I do need a favour from you all though. I need a pseudonym for this little mite. Obviously the pseudonym Akra Jr is taken. Akra and I are busy deciding on a real life name for Baby X, so I’ve decided to take pseudonym suggestions from the floor…

… over to you!

Readers’ Annoyance Warning: this is a really petty whinge, especially after yesterday’s post.

Some thieving bastard stole our milk from our doorstep this morning. It’s not the monetary value (it’s hardly a major theft) it’s the irritant factor. Try coping with a screaming toddler having a complete melt down because there is no milk available for breakfast, then explaining he’s going to have to wait even longer until you’ve got dressed, walked to Tescos and come back with some new pints. Not a good start to the morning.

And yes, we know it was theft and not delivery incompetence because the empties were taken away and I found this fortnight’s bill drifting half way down the footpath.

Bastards.

Thinking of leaving a pint of milk on the doorstep laced with a diuretic… good plan?