dad – Page 2 – Never Give Up PT

Life After Fortnite

Having already experienced two popped tyres and a mechanical breakdown with our cars in central Portugal, it occurred to me how heavily I relied on the AA in the UK. Sure, there’s breakdown services where I live but in the mountainous countryside of the interior of Portugal it is something that you could be waiting a while for. It isn’t a ‘fourth emergency service’ here.

Seemingly, cars are older than in the uk and in part this is because they are looked after rather well due to just about everyone knowing car maintenance. Everyone is a mechanic, everyone is a farmer, everyone is a builder and everyone can drive a tractor.

So, I need to change. I need to know these things too. And not only for me, but I need to teach my kids.

There’s a reason why the people in our community can do these things and it’s because they have to. They need to know how to fix their cars because of the time and money involved in them not knowing. The nearest garage is miles away and there’s a price to pay if you need a car towed and fixed by someone else. Same with building work and farming. From being youngsters the people in my community have acquired this knowledge through having to do it for themselves.

I learnt to drive at a fairly older age. I was around 30. That’s because a bus would drive along my road every ten minutes to practically anywhere in Leeds that I wanted. Why did I need the cost of a car? A weekly bus pass was about £10 back then! I was also conscious of the amount of cars already on the road. But then I kept moving to more remote areas of the UK. I had to drive.

I began a Building and Construction NVQ when I was 18 in the government’s attempt to get young people gaining practical skills, experience and qualifications in work places. I passed the course but I hated it. Not so much the work, I liked working outdoors, but I didn’t like who I had to work with. I didn’t fit in with the wolf whistling men who would talk mostly about the pictures in The Daily Sport.

And, on a side note, it’s interesting how many men get offended by a rainbow in Pride month and say ‘why do they have to shout about their sexuality?!’ when men have literally been able to intimidate women on the street for decades in their attempts to show how much of a manly heterosexual they are.

Anyway, back to the point!

Since leaving the building trade I haven’t laid a brick. To say that I’m a little rusty would be an understatement! However, just like the locals, I’m now in a situation where I have to wind back the years (25 years to be exact) and do things for myself.

We employed builders to renovate our AL rental accommodation, but we’ve blown the budget on a number of unforeseen expenditures with drainage and a bore hole being the biggest expense. So now it’s down to us!

Lou has a good understanding of building work. From the preparation, materials needed and the technique, she has obviously watched and listened to her dad, who is an expert. So, together we are continuing our project. Learning new things and doing it as a team.

But we won’t miss the opportunity to show our kids how to do it. At 18 I want them to be driving and starting building projects around the property even younger. It’s one of the reasons for the move. So that the kids could learn more about life and the skills required to survive. They’re already learning the Portuguese language at school, so having a second language is a tick in the box. Forest cleaning is another one, something that they will get very used to in order to stay safe from wild fires.

We are still in the early stages, but I think Lou and I are managing to show them that there’s life after Fortnite after all.

Preparing to repair the old wall of the property

Repairing the area that will, for the time being, be my outdoor PT area

Me with the smallest paint roller in the world. (The bigger roller didn’t cover some of the dimples!)

Waterfall

‘There is a hidden message in every waterfall. It says if you are flexible, falling will not hurt you.’ Mehmet Murat Ildan.

As a child and then into my adult life I often felt a sadness that I could not explain. It was deep rooted, as if nothing could ever make me feel settled or comfortable within myself. I longed for something to truly make me happy.

The Portuguese have a term for this which is ‘saudade’. There is no direct translation into English for this word.

But I must explain more clearly. I have had some wonderful experiences in my life. Some things that have given me great memories that I will treasure. My childhood home was a stable, happy home. My early adult life had its turbulence, I suppose, like for most young people but I kept jobs, got promotions, had healthy relationships, studied and learnt new things. As I got older I met my future wife, became a father, bought and sold houses and began new career ventures. And now we live in Portugal with the hope of a bright, exciting future. All of these things have helped me to be happy. But, especially in my earlier life, that sadness in the pit of my core would not vanish completely. It was like a whoosh of anxiety that really felt like a black cloud hanging over me.

In recent years I have discovered ways to help me feel differently. To take away those anxieties.

Exercise and weight training became my release. Damaging muscle fibres in order for them to regenerate was a whole lot better way of self harm than that which had run through my youthful self. And that’s what it felt like. I wanted to punish myself and my body. There were times that I was disgusted at looking at myself in the mirror. Lifting something heavy several times and feeling pain gave me some sort of release.

Then, in later life, as well as keeping an exercise training routine (but a much more positive one these days), I began to meditate. This has enabled me to control my breathing from the core and, knowing that this is where the whooshy anxiety comes from, really helps me to address it from deep within.

Staring At The Waterfall

There’s this image that I had, and seemingly many other people have, that meditation is about sitting cross legged, eyes closed and hands in a certain pose. It is often associated with Buddhism or other religious practices. And there is also this perception of meditation being done in a dark quiet room, perhaps accompanied with chimes or flute music.

Whilst all of these can be done during meditating, it is certainly not my usual go-to style. Today, I stood by a waterfall. I was with my family, so the kids were their usual rowdy selves. It didn’t deter me. For a few moments, I was mesmerized by the sight, sounds and the smells of this waterfall. Every drop of water danced differently to the next. Each sound I captured went from a trickle to a splash. The smell felt fresh, sometimes the scent of a sandy beach caught my attention.

I said that I was mesmorized for a few moments. The truth is it could’ve been just ten seconds or it could have been minutes. I’m not sure. But I soon became aware of the kids strangling each other so I sorted that little issue out before taking a few pictures!

Over the past few years as I have pursued this journey of self enlightenment I have learnt one big lesson. I need to be flexible in nurturing my emotions. Sometimes I trickle. Sometimes I splash. There’s no right or wrong way.

I now know that this deep rooted sadness cannot harm me. I can live for the moment, whether I’m trickling or splashing, and be grateful and happy with my life.

Today I felt like I was the waterfall. And we could argue on whether or not looking at a waterfall is actually meditation, but my conclusion would be that if you have to think about this then you are losing the magic of the moment. Call it what you like. As long as we can take a moment to realise the beauty in something that we might otherwise take for granted. A singing bird. The rustling of a tree. Or a waterfall.

I’ve discovered that it is not what I look at that matters, it is what I see (or hear, touch and smell). I can look at a waterfall that I pass most days, but what I see when I actually take that moment is a work of beauty, history, a creation that tells me a story. It speaks to me.

So my flexibility of thought has enabled me to see, not just look. And maybe I will pass this waterfall a dozen times again and look at it, but I know that when I need to, I will actually see it.

This is what keeps my anxiety away.

Hips Don’t Lie

Seeing flyers around the town of Sertá for salsa dancing makes me want Lou and I to book a session for one evening. Unfortunately, with two young children, we aren’t able to get out of an evening just the two of us. And I can just imagine, if we were to take them along and asked them to sit quietly for a couple of hours as they watched their dad shake his hips towards their mum, they would never speak to me again.

But the thought of salsa dancing does bring back memories of our honeymoon in Cuba. We were at a club watching the professionals on the dancefloor. They were all in traditional dress and it was amazing to watch. Little did I know that, during the interval, Lou had asked one of the ladies to whisk me off my feet to join in with their performance.

Perhaps Lou expected me to modestly follow the dancer, embarrassed at the hundreds of watching eyes, and sheepishly tap my feet like a teenager at a school disco. No. I didn’t. The rum and coke was strong that night.

What happened next was a blur. According to my account, I blew them away with my ‘living la Vida loca’ moves. In reality, the bald man with the trucker tattoos probably looked more like Ricky Gervais from the Office than Ricky Martin.

Overnight, in a small corner of Cuba, I had become famous. Other holiday makers and locals would all approach me, shake my hand, and congratulate me on my performance. Maybe the word is infamous. I dunno.

I like dancing. I move uncontrollably rather than have any decent choreography. Growing up listening to Oasis probably didn’t help my dancefloor moves. During the 90’s I would enter the nightclub like Liam Gallagher. Hands clasped behind my back, I would slightly lean forwards as if I were stooping for a microphone. By the end of the night I’d be a backing dancer for Take That, shirt ripped open singing Relight My Fire.

Youth eh? I don’t miss it. But older age certainly has its challenges. Just like my parents will have gasped at the lyrics of Marylin Manson coming from my bedroom we now have the same issue with Doja Cat lyrics. My kids love the Paint The Town Red song and Portuguese radio is very different to UK radio. They don’t blank out any of the swearing. Instead of listening to Paul Gambuccini’s pick of the pops from 1983 we’re listening to Doja Cat effing and jeffing.

Perhaps my biggest memories of dancing are well in the past. Or maybe as the kids get older and Lou and I are able to begin a class, my best dancing memories are yet to come. I just hope, by then, my hips do lie.

Thoughts On Today…

A weird day today. The rain has not stopped here in Sertá so our plans on painting our house and doing out-doorsy type stuff were postponed. And we don’t have internet at the house yet either, so I’ve been starved of the BBC football news feed all day. And the rotten luck is that when I did get a moment with the WIFI thingy in a cafe the footy headline was that Thiago was injured. That’s not news. Him being available for the weekend would be news.

Anyway, we drove to a cafe not for me to faff on with the BBC Sports page but to get reception to have a phone call with a producer from A New Life In The Sun.

We heard yesterday that our builder is ready to begin work on the second house (to be turned into a holiday rental) on Monday. This was music to ours, the bank manager’s and the production team of A New Life In The Sun’s ears. After all, we need an income, our bank manager is concerned about our dwindling finances and A New Life are wanting to begin filming the mugs who are about to have a breakdown on TV. Everyone wins.

The producer told us that they would send a camera team next Saturday. Exciting stuff! Let’s hope the weather improves. A New Life In The Pissing Rain doesn’t have the same ring to it.

The kids have been great again. They’re coping really well with so many changes. Finlay keeps getting letters with love hearts on them from a girl in his class. He has no idea what she is saying to him, but it’s sweet.

We bought a raclette today. It’s our only cooking device at the moment so I had a square egg sandwich. I’m sure there are many things that can be cooked on a raclette, but if you add ketchup and a slice of cheese to the bread bun and egg you get an egg mcmuffin. We’ll become cultured another day.

Lou and I are playing Solitaire this evening. We will eventually erect a darts board in the courtyard when the rain stops as that is a game we love to play. But for now I’ll have to keep beating her at cards and Scrabble (I hope she doesn’t read my blogs).

But for now, I’ll say ta’ra and spend the rest of the evening saying ‘erect’ over and over in Maranda Hart’s voice.

“Erect.”

The Journey So Far…

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100094707496611

Above is the Facebook link to mine and my family’s journey in creating our home and business in Portugal. If you haven’t already, take a look and join the group if you are interested to see further developments. There will be a big update over the weekend as we try to get the living areas ‘movable inable’.

Furniture building. We smiled for the camera, but the rest of the time we were cursing the instruction manuals.

My Name Is…My Name Is (wicky wicky) Shay D.D

For the past couple of years my boys, aged 7 and 10, have been asking me if I know who Rick Astley is. As a child of the 80’s, I certainly do know of Rick Astley. Well, now my kids know of him too. Apparently he has a ‘Rick roll’ dance on the game Fortnite. But Rick seems to be yesterday’s news (or dance) and it is now a craze of Eminem.

Last week Jonas asked me if I knew of Eminem. With a ‘Pffft!’ I answered ‘yes of course!’

You see, back in the early 00’s, I dusted off my old Brian Harvey baggy jeans that I wore during the ‘Stay Now’ days, out came the basketball vests and bubble jacket, I bleached my thinning hair blonde and tried to capture the Marshall Mathers look. There’s nothing that my kids can tell me about Eminem.

Well, they can. Worryingly so.

Jonas is now walking around the house like Harry Enfield’s Kevin from Kevin and Perry quoting songs from Eminem.

It seems like everything that those of a certain age did back in the day to worry their parents is coming back to bite us in the arse. Rick Astley aside, it seems that my kids are beginning to dredge back up all of my most unfortunate memories from being young.

I vaguely remember getting stoned to Family Guy. I could easily get through four seasons without moving from my pit. Low and behold, Peter the ‘Family Guy’ has become a video game character that my kids are obsessed with.

If Mr Tumble brings out a hit song with Marylin Manson then I’ll start to think that the universe has it in for me.

Recently, I’ve begun to realise just how hard it was for my parents. It’s difficult to keep your children away from the latest craze if all of their mates are into it. Doing the right thing is tough. What is the right thing?

Today we bought them both smartphones for Christmas. They’re both too young, I know, but their friends all communicate on WhatsApp and seeing as our boys can no longer see their friends in person, a phone seemed like our only option.

I’m not sure you can ever get it right as a parent. Jonas is obsessed with Eminem now, but how can I allow Jonas to listen to his sweary lyrics?!

Well, luckily there are a few YouTube sites with ‘clean’ versions, but I’m putting a lot of trust in Jonas in keeping to those sites that I have found for him. If he comes out of his bedroom with a hockey mask and a chainsaw, I will know that he has detoured from them.

I was slightly insulted when Jonas asked me if I knew of Eminem. I used to be cool. I could spit some bars with the best of them…

…or maybe not.

But I still know of Eminem!

Truth be told if I had a choice I would much rather listen to Rick Astley’s songs than Eminem these days. I’m more Go West than Kanye. You get what I mean.

But either way, It looks like I’ll have to get to know these rappers all over again.

#Coimbra

I thought I would share with you my week so far. This includes a trip to Coimbra before celebrating my son’s birthday in Sertá.

It’s difficult at the moment to post as often as I did a few months ago, which I hate, but we have had a few things going on and Finlay and Jonas have been with us every step of the way! So I’m writing this on an evening as they’re tucked up in bed and I have a glass of Sagres to chill out with. So here’s the week so far…

Lou and I thought that a bus journey to Coimbra and an overnight stay would be a real treat for the boys as we have promised them that we would travel around Portugal as much as possible to discover the culture (and the shopping centres!)

We regretted not exploring Scarborough and its surroundings as much as we would have liked since moving there in 2018 and we don’t want to make the same mistake again. I blame COVID lockdowns for this, but in the past 12 months ‘Project Portugal’ had also become our focus.

The Rede Express coaches are a good way of getting around Portugal and Spain as it works out cheaper than driving the car due to fuel and tolls. I also don’t fancy the stress of the roads. I’m new to driving on the ‘wrong’ side of the road and I still need to keep reminding myself of which way the oncoming traffic is coming as I approach a junction. Sitting on a coach for an hour and fifteen minutes seemed like a good idea.

Our priority for Lou and I in Coimbra was to find birthday presents for Jonas and Christmas presents. It has a big shopping centre called The Forum. That’s where we headed first. It isn’t the most cultural of experiences that we would have preferred, but needs must. It’s basically a big White Rose Centre and as I say, we needed to find gifts.

Sertá, which is where we currently live and will be buying a house, is beautiful. But it is no ‘shop til you drop’ experience. We needed a big city. We needed glitz and glamour. We needed the bright lights and the buzz. We needed to join the hoards of shoppers looking for a Christmas bargain. We needed Primark.

We did, however, manage an evening at the Coimbra Christmas market. Something that is difficult to comprehend for us is the warm air even during the evening. As we walked around the stalls with our light jumpers or t-shirts, we noticed the locals in their bubble jackets and wooly hats. I mentioned a few times to Lou that it was ‘muggy’ as I patted my sweaty head down, trying not to look too touristy. I failed.

Coimbra was a hoot. We did enjoy dipping our toes into a bigger city. We also liked getting back to Sertá.

So then it was Jonas’ tenth birthday on Wednesday. We were worried that we wouldn’t be able to achieve a ‘special’ day for him as, for the first time on his birthday, he wouldn’t be around his friends in the UK. And, despite our trip to the shops in Coimbra, it was still difficult to do a great gift shop seeing as he was with us. However, a bit of planning months ago back in the UK meant that we had already purchased some gifts for him.

We also went for pizza at his favourite pizza restaurant, R&R, and had cake back at the apartment. Despite everything being a bit different, I think he really enjoyed his day.

There’s been some serious stuff to overcome this week too. Time was running out in getting them a start date for school in January. Lou and I have been getting a little nervous about this as the paperwork and communication between their previous school, North Yorkshire council, the Portuguese authorities and their new school hasn’t been easy. Everything must be translated and, along the way, bits of important information have been getting lost in translation.

But yesterday we received good news. Jonas and Finlay will be starting their new school, Escola Basica Padre Antonio Louranço Farinha, on the 3rd of January. The boys took the news very well. I really hope that, come the day, they are still happy to be going.

They have been constantly with us now for 7 weeks, 9 by the new year, they are in a different country with a new language to learn. I remember going back to school after a holiday. Even worse, starting a new school. I’d feel sick to my stomach the night before. My boys will have to be much braver than I ever was.

But this was always meant to be a part of our journey. To put us in new, challenging situations. To learn and grow as people. The 3rd of January will be yet another challenge for our kids. And it’s a biggy.

So, there we go! I think I’m up to date with this eventful week. Keep checking in for my updates leading up to Christmas!

Confessions Of A Tooth Fairy

Finlay’s tooth has been threatening to fall out for months. He has wobbled it, pulled it and tugged on it but the little blighter has held on by a thread.

Until yesterday.

His front tooth finally fell out. No fuss, no blood. Just popped out.

‘So!’ announced Finlay, ‘I’ll be getting a Euro from the Tooth Fairy tonight!’

He is right, of course, that the tooth fairy does indeed visit our home on tooth-coming-out occasions but here’s what you should know about the tooth fairy that has been allocated to us.

Finlay is adamant that the Tooth Fairy is a ‘he’, so for the sake of this article and in danger of misgendering our Tooth Fairy, I’ll refer to him as male.

But this is where the issue may stem from. He might be upset that we call him a ‘him’. You see, the Tooth Fairy didn’t turn up through the night. No euro was left and Finlay’s milky white was still there, under his pillow, all wrapped up in a bit of tissue.

So Lou and I have spent the morning making excuses for our Tooth Fairy. We told Finlay that, perhaps due to us having a few different addresses in the past few months, he wasn’t sure where we lived.

We waited a moment to see Finlay’s reaction as we tried to defend our erratic Fairy friend from Toothland.

I’m not sure that was believable.

I went on to explain that, due to the backlog of tooth fallings out recently he might be running late. I used my birthday card as an example. I was due my card from my dad on the 14th of November from England. It is now the 2nd of December and it still hasn’t arrived.

But likening the Tooth Fairy to the lackadaisical postal system in central Portugal didn’t seem to wash with young Finlay.

Ok, Here’s The Truth

The truth is that the Tooth Fairy is a very hard, honest working Fairy who was well aware of Finlay’s tooth under his pillow but had fallen asleep that evening after a few glasses of port watching Netflix.

The Tooth Fairy, in waking up a little disoriented on the sofa, totally forgot to take the tooth and leave a Euro.

It was a total black mark on an otherwise glittering CV, but the Tooth Fairy had fucked up this time.

Still, I attempted to defend him. I told Finlay that the Tooth Fairy had a much tougher job than Santa. Santa has loads of elves to make presents and then Santa does his job on one night and takes all the credit!

I mean, there’s actually some credibility in my argument, right?

Tonight, I’m sure, the Tooth Fairy will have had a sobering talking to with his conscience and will totally be on it tonight. Finlay, however, is unaware of the damning truth that the Tooth Fairy got carried away with a bottle of Port and forgot to put a Euro under his pillow last night.

So we have given Finlay a little tip. We told him that the Tooth Fairy might like a note of appreciation, asking for his tooth to be taken, and this is what he might be waiting for. Just a little letter of thanks for the job he does. After all, the Tooth Fairy might also be a parent who is trying to do their very best.

I don’t think that the Tooth Fairy will let us down tonight.

Hand Harvesting Olives

With the sale of our house in the UK at a critical period, the perfect time spent to put that to the back of our minds was to begin harvesting the olives in our rented space in Portugal.

The other day, as I walked past a local family harvesting their olives, I was astonished at how quickly they cleared their olive trees of olives. It was done with expert precision.

Our efforts today, however, might have seemed a little amateurish compared to our neighbours’ skills. Nevertheless, this was a moment to learn something new and as we discovered, a time to think.

Thinking clearly becomes difficult when there are so many plates to spin. Perhaps you’ve felt the same way at times too? It can feel like you’re taking on one too many plates and the only outcome you can visualise is one where the plates come crashing down.

Standing in a field, then, picking olives from the many trees, seemed like a much needed respite from the spinning plates.

And this is not an activity to be taken lightly in Portugal. Olive cultivation is big business and one of the oldest traditions in the country. It’s fun too.

Some time ago I wrote an article about my ‘happy place’. This was when I was walking along Cleveland Way in Scarborough, UK, and my family and I went berry picking. The kids were happy to explore their natural surroundings, learn about foraging and discovering what they could make with their newly picked berries.

No screens, no rush to be elsewhere, just living in the moment with nature. Today enabled me to feel that again as we harvested the olives. It humbled and grounded me. I think it did with the kids too. Finding them a school in their new home is paramount, but standing in a field learning new cultural standards comes a very close second.

Tomorrow we have many more trees to strip. Along with some textbook homeschooling and more phone calls to get our house sale over the line, I’ll be looking forward to standing in our field again.

Palhais

Along with my new resistance training which I’m now completing each morning, as a family we are beginning to explore our local area of Palhais in Sertá. And as I don’t have the use of a full time car, walking long distances has been a daily activity.

We happen to be almost in the very centre of Portugal. So much so that in the distance of our accommodation we can see the Centro Geodésico de Portugal, which is a tall white tower signalling the geographical centre of Portugal in Vila de Rei which offers fantastic panoramic views. But this region also has its challenges.

Buses are irregular and, if you do drive, the long and winding road through the mountainous route from Palhais to Cernache do Bonjardim is not for the faint hearted. And for those who are walking from place to place, kerbs aren’t really a thing here.

And that’s what we’re doing for the most part, doing lots of walking.

But luckily, whether we are on foot or in a car, we rarely see many cars on the road which suits my left hand lane driving brain.

In the town of Sertá, there are lots of things to see and do even on a drizzly (yet warmish) November day. Of course, the boys found a football pitch to have a kick about.

And then there’s Trizio, which is a wonderful river beach offering water sports during the summer periods. For now though, we got to see its beauty without any people there. When our youngest, Finlay, managed to stop talking for a second, we could hear just the silence of our surroundings. Bliss.

There are those days where we don’t feel like leaving our accommodation at all. It has a pool, which is freezing, but that didn’t stop Finlay from having a dip!

We know that what is around the corner for us in our lives will be a challenge. But it’s one that we signed up for. Tomorrow we will be looking at another house that has the potential to be our permanent home and business. It won’t be the finished product and we will have to put all of our resources into it, as well as ensuring that the kids’ wellbeing and schooling needs are met. So far, we have been able to explore our surroundings at our leisure. But we await the next chapter and we hope it will be in Palhais.

And we don’t expect a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but we are hoping for a fulfilling, grounding and loving one.