Let us....take time out

Remember me I am your father. Here have a photo

We are like ships in the night destined to meet by accident in the darkness of the shadows, time for a light switch methinks. I could grow a beard and shave it off before I am recognised as a person of influence in the teenage life. I appear to be a passing tourist in the journey to adulthood of my boy.

But talking of shadows, I wondered what that shadow that cast a mean moody magnificence to the youngster's face and wondered if the mood lighting was working.

His bumfluff is migrating to stubble, and I as you common old garden middling-stepping-on-the-business-ladder exec without a safety net, means I feel I am missing out, I have hardly discussed shaving techniques. My role as the great Educator is superfluous to the adequate Provider.

There appears a thousand and one urgent business related deadline things to do, rather than compliment his facial fungus or even criticise it or even smirk in a proud to know a sign of a maturity in action....my boy.

He is growing older and I am growing old. Business meetings should wait a while, if the .....but the...while the .....and who pays for the Playstation 3.

Black is black I want my T-shirt Back

Goth is Goth, Emo is Emo. emu is emu which is a strange introduction to how things were and whatever happened to the likely lads, I am learning a new trick or two.

And I can remember when Billy Connolly threatened to break Emu's neck and by coincidence a certain puppet master's arm.

I can remember phones that trilled, and our family hardly passed for modern, because ours phone did not trill. Our phone provided exercise for the digits as dialling was instigated by navigation of its circle of numbers

A phone was as mobile as far as the chord let it stretch.

TV was unknowingly only terrestial, satellite was still a NASA only zone.

CDs were still letters of an alphabet, as tapes and vinyl dominated the slang album, record, 45; our music had two sides.

Food was heated slowly as a microwave was still unseen.

There were video games that were the size of the average suitcase and heavier than the average dumbell, it was cutting edge in its picasso like in imagery.

Things have moved on and smaller.

When my daughter became wired for sound it was not to a Walkman . She was Ipodded to the beat. When I forced myself to upgrade I went for sale quality hardware and an MP3 player. It was so small and I bought a protective cover which sometimes begs the question why buy something because it is impressively small and then I make it robustly larger. Maybe its a sign of age that things need to propotionate to my belly.

I stay a little younger than my middle age spreading belly, by any stretch of my imagination, suggests because I am keeping up with the younger generations bring new fangled things into my circle of interest. I learn new tricks by staying in touch with the younger generation.

The kids want modernity in all its peer group competitve forms and they are slowly indulged by parents worn down by athritus as much as the perils of the economic crisis; but there is a line to be drawn in the charity of parenthood.....my T-shirt is not modern and I want it back thank you very much.

I had chills...

John Travolta was not an actor, he was a singer trailing number ones across a Top of the Pops video.

I was in a queue to the cinema about to get my fill of Summer Lovin', with other teens. I was getting chills amongst a peer group of both male and female equation and a charge of hormones were getting hot.

Now my chills, as the decades passsed, are calmed by a hot water bottle and a cup of cocoa.

My boy is Goth, son of D&D of the tribe Emo. My teenager is blazing a trail in the darkness to the sound track of jingly jangly chains, although "jingly jangly" is not exactly an Emo friendly word like "Thor" - God of the Underworld that we call Thunder.

Call me a Seer but my boy is unlikely to get chills unless its Halloween, it is a full moon and the neck looks a likely source of blood to be sucked by a vampire and the radiator has an air lock.

But I am wrong there are Fee-Goths, daughter of D&D of the tribe Fee-Emo and by Thor himself, very pretty under the makeup. And by Thor himself is that a hicky from the Vampire-ette.

By the rock Gods of my youth, I am wrong.

The Candle burns at Both ends

Smoking....please don't.

The peer group, its the way it is, the experimentation, the adult stylie, the cigarette burns fast, the cancer is slow, the package warning is for reading in regret..... years later.

They are young, they will do what they or their girlfriend want. The cigarette burns and the candle of life burns at the other end.

The other end I will face, athritic, bed ridden, dribbling, incoherent in parts, a burden on a global society maybe, 5 minutes off that life..... is it worth the "cool" ....the popularity.....the centre of the western universe gravitates to teen .

But I am chasing "cool" as I am wearing t-shirts like a mutton. I am forcing an aging body to the rigours of youth in a fitness centre that can be reclassified as a middle age chamber of pain, in order to achieve what my teenagers have already. And the mirror still says I am losing the battle but not weight, until the light switch allows me to return to the dream. I am looking to turn back the years to cool.

But still I say white lines don't do it.

Destiny Planning

I admit it, I had expectations from an age long gone, when walking ivolved a lot of falling, where the teenagers hardly could spell apple let alone University. Teenagers were toddlers and I was University dreaming. Now teenagers are teenagers and the kids may be alright, but are not exactly threatening to add a variant, a paradigm, a corollary of any scientific conundrum, or to put it another way, there is no challenge to Einstein in the Pryce household to adding the odd vowel or consonant to E=mc squared.

Perhaps I am pushing too hard, perhaps I am too pre-occupied with work to spend that 5 minutes helping that could save them an hour stressing. I want my teenagers to follow me, to spend 12/6 working in a 24/7 world. Am I doing things wrong.

Maybe E=Mc cubed is not worth the theorising in a mathematical world, maybe its I who needs the changing C=Me perhaps.

i need a tall hat

How dare he be taller than me.

I can accept evolution. I can accept survival of the fittest, I can accept the natural order of the world, but by darn there is an exception to my kindly demeanour, I ~Pa Pryce ~ am the tallest in this family. I am an adult, by all things decent in the modern world.

And by damn and all things patriarchical in the world order, he is taller than me with or without high heels. Albeit that hairgel is adding more spikes than an athlete's foot and exaggerating his prowess. But this neck crick is not going to go away.

I am the wearer of trousers in this house and trousers should not be worn without socks.

So there is one thing of this being taller malarchy, at least I get my socks back from Mr Hobbit.

its a case of......growing old

Perspectives.....

In my day and age remembering the star with perfect cheekbones, perfectness in all, captured for eternity by a photograph, an icon and now some years later an orbituary with a latter-day foto that shows make-up has limitations.
It causes a pause in my daily 24~7~365~366 life, what is it all about this existence. A beauty once held as an icon, has gone. It reflects on my age.

There is a television obituary that a star of old has gone, the footage shows a wrinkly hobbling somewhere. I comment on an icon with an affection of knowing what once was, a sympathetic note aired to all and that all happened to be my teenagers. I sit recalling a personality that sparked, I remember an age where ambition was sparked and the fireworks soared to middle age. And now the night is darker. My teenagers see an old person. An unknown taking up minutes before the weather. And the old person is by sorts of teenage measurement a reflection me.

An icon to the teenagers has to be under 18 and sport a ridiculous hairstyle. My icons do not connect with the teenage mind. I talk of cheekbones, she talks of wrinkles. I talk of a spark they see the ashes. I talk of the spirit of the age, they talk of the spirit of their age.

I am growing old.