family – Page 2 – Never Give Up PT

Happy Birthday Finlay

My two boys are very different. This is something that has always been apparent to me, but now they are developing their own unique personalities at ages 8 and 10, it is wonderful to see how brilliant yet very different they are to each other.

I was concerned when it came to Finlay’s interests. I just wasn’t sure what he wanted to do as an activity outside of school. Jonas was easy. He showed great running ability and ball control skills from when he could stand up! His love of football came during the 2018 World Cup when he was 4 and he seems to have a great knack of understanding most sports quite easily.

But, although Finlay played football, it almost seemed like he wanted to do it to please me or Jonas. As the younger sibling seeing the accolades that his older brother was getting, maybe he just wanted to do the same. I knew though that his heart wasn’t in it and I knew that he could find his own talents and interests elsewhere.

Finlay has got footballing talent, but it is very different to Jonas’. Jonas can take it past a few defenders with either foot and plant a goal in the top corner, but I never fancied him in a 50/50 challenge. After most games I would have to bite my tongue in asking him why it looked like he had bottled a tackle.

Finlay, however, I’d back against anyone in a 50/50. So much so, I’ve heard that Roy Keane has nightmares about coming up against Finlay. Legend has it that Vinnie Jones retired from football after hearing that Finlay was a twinkle in my eye all those years ago. And it just so happens that Diego Someone cancelled Finlay’s trials for Athletico Madrid because he didn’t want his players getting hurt. Even Chuck Norris refused an arm wrestle with Finlay.

Finlay is fearless in competition. I worried about the other kids when he did play football. If they dribbled past him they’d be on the floor, usually from a rugby tackle type bear hug. It didn’t matter how big the other kids were. My ankles would be bruised after a 30 minute kick about in the garden. The last time my ankles looked like that was after marking Dealer Dave from the Swan’s Head in 2002. Finlay is ruthless.

Finlay has shown excellent gymnastics ability. He can cartwheel, hold himself on the rings, balance beam and, probably after watching me, can plank and press up without cheating. In fact, his press ups are super impressive with perfect form. And this discipline has led him to another interest in martial arts.

When Jonas was a toddler it was pretty easy to play ‘tickle monster’ and play fight with him. He would just giggle and roll about. Finlay, however, would fight back. I mean ‘go for the knackers’ fight back. Headbutts, chops to the throat, anything to gain the upper hand on his old dad. Martial arts might just be his thing.

Finding a birthday present was made much easier then. We got him a punch bag and gloves. Lou was apprehensive at first but I have always believed that punch bags and being taught a martial art discipline is good for young people. Well, at any age! It teaches control, technique, following instructions and respect. It can channel anger and create self esteem in its participants.

Indeed, having worked with children in sports I know that, taught correctly and with the right message from a coach, any sport can have this impact and, knowing how a gym environment impacted my young self, once a person finds their happy place in a sporting environment it can be life changing. I knew it was time for Finlay to have a punch bag.

He is extremely happy with his birthday present and in the future we will be looking at him joining a dojo if it is what he wants. But for now he’ll have to settle for me teaching him, as I am Jonas with football. We’re still settling into our new life in Portugal and eager to set up our business to make an income. I can’t do the trips into town each evening until that is sorted. The boys are being patient.

So, happy birthday Finlay. You and Jonas are both wonderful boys. Keep doing what you’re doing.

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!)

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.

Lights, Camera, Action!

It’s funny creating a well-being centre. At the moment I don’t have the feeling of ‘being well’ at all! With the budget getting a beating everyday, which requires Lou and I having emergency budget meetings as our evening entertainment, we have certainly entered a critical stage of development.

And yesterday was a 12 hour day of filming too. Although the camera was not rolling continuously, anything that I said to the camera man that could make good telly made him grab his camera as he asked me to say it again for the camera. But, in fairness, it’s a fantastic experience to be filmed for one of the most watched programmes in our house. And Zak, the camera man, has been brilliant with the kids.

Finlay had the opportunity to hold the camera and film me strimming some of the land. I’m not sure what would’ve looked more odd to any passers by. A man strimming 2000 square meters of overgrown land with a battery operated strimmer that lasts for half an hour before needing recharging or a 7 year old filming it with a 7kg professional camera on his shoulder. Probably both.

But for anybody that points out that I need a bigger strimmer I quickly remind them of our emergency budget meetings! So the battery operated one will do for now. Plus it makes good telly.

Things are progressing well. Even the geckos have been interested in how things are going. If we continue at this pace then we will have a guest house to rent out for the beginning of summer. The out building work will begin after but this will be a much smaller project with, we hope, an income to plug the holes in the leaky finances. So we might have a little more breathing space by then.

A gecko looks on from the window shutter.

In the meantime Zak, or indeed Finlay, will continue to film the ups and downs of our creation. All being well.

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.”

Eight

Writer Walter Elliot once wrote, “Perseverance is not a long race. It is many short races one after the other.”

I have said this many times during my personal training and therapy sessions, but I needed to remind myself of this today when I discovered a startling statistic held by my family and I.

Since October we have lived and slept in eight different houses, caravans, apartments and hotels without having a permanent home.

These include a caravan in Filey, a hotel in Manchester, a house in Malton, a house in Leeds, an apartment in Porto, an apartment in Palhais (Portugal), an apartment in Coimbra (Portugal) and an apartment in Sertá (Portugal.)

And with a VISA appointment due later this month that takes two days, we will be staying overnight in Leria. Thanks for that 52%. Hopefully your Sunlit Uplands are going well for you.

To be honest, I’m absolutely sick of traveling and living out of a suitcase. Tomorrow night, for the first time in 5 months, we will be staying in our own home.

Lou and I have been concerned about how the boys will cope but they have, for the most part, been absolutely brilliant. Micro managing this part of parenting has been extremely difficult though. After all, we would not have continued with this journey if the boys had not been fully in agreement with it too.

We, as a family, had to persevere. From caravan to house to apartment and hotel room. Each one a short race of its own. But that’s all each one was. A short race.

So what’s my point?

This is important to remember. You have a goal to reach. But so many goals are abandoned because we see it as a long race. Eventually, a long race can become demoralising, tedious and unobtainable. Simply put, you need to break it down into smaller tasks that can be achieved before moving onto the next task.

In effect, I have used the SMART method of achieving the end goal. I have spoken about the effectiveness of SMART before.

S… Be Specific with numbers and deadlines.

M…Be sure that the goal is Measurable and trackable.

A…make the goal attainable, challenging and possible.

R…be Realistic and honest with yourself.

T…remain Time-Bound and stick to deadlines.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve questioned every letter of this acronym in the past 14 months. That’s natural. But I have never doubted the process. I am always able to reason with it eventually.

This has never been a long race. It has always been lots of short races that need to be tackled one at a time. Hopefully, that makes me smart.

Making It Official

0700 I’m making the kid’s breakfast. The meeting in Vila de Rei at 10 this morning is on my mind. This is when we officially make the house ours, meet the current owners and exchange the deeds. There’s a lot of money on this and it’s a life changer. Soon, we’ll be home owners in Portugal.

0840 sitting on the balcony of the rented apartment waiting for our 9:15 lift from the estate agents. The view is of a typical town street in Sertá. It serves me some thinking time. Some reflection on our journey so far. Blimey. This time last year we were trying to find out what VISA we needed to live in Portugal! Now we’re here. Its real!

1233 the house is officially ours! The meeting was long and in Portuguese (of course) so it was an odd experience when you’re handing over a lot of cash! However, my language learning has paid off and we stumbled across the finish line.

Officially Knackered

Since the end of 2022 we have been slowly creating a pathway to our new life in Portugal. The hours that have accumulated into days of house searching online (plus two visits) have led us to this point where we can actually say that we have our home and business in Portugal.

But it has also meant taking away the bricks that have been safely built back in England. I gave up my PT business. Lou gave up her treatment room. We took our children out of a wonderful school and we sold our home in Scarborough. We tested our marriage and our mental health and, most terrifyingly, our children’s well being. After all, they are at an age where they had begun to make good friends and they knew adults such as teachers and grandparents who they could rely on and feel safe with. And now the four of us have to start again. Building up relationships, businesses and our home.

Lou and I are officially knackered. I’ve often said that social media can give the wrong impression of events. Recently I’ve shared pictures of myself sitting on the balcony sipping wine, but I didn’t post a picture of me and my wife having a meltdown when our UK house sale fell through.

On Instagram I have posted videos of the wonderful scenery of the local area, but I didn’t post videos of Jonas crying himself to sleep when he was scared of missing his UK friends.

And, on this blog, I have posted a picture of Lou and I holding up the keys to our new home and business. What I won’t post is the picture of us looking over our finances trying to figure out how to get enough clients to pay for it.

So, for all that I can honestly say that we are happy with what we have achieved so far, it’s been a long journey with much further to go before we can really begin to take a step back and fully enjoy it.

But for now, one step at a time, the house is ours.

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’.