Archives for the month of: June, 2012

We don’t need an artificial mass produced marketing exercise – every day is Fathers day, because every day we feel the loss and every day we love him.
The following post is written by our son, aged 11.8 (he told me to add the .8)
His idea, his words, his tribute.


Due to the fact that Father’s day is today I have decided to create a contribution to my Dads and my love of Star Trek. Additionally, this post will list everyone of my favourite episodes of Star Trek that I’ve seen. I hope you enjoy it.

The Original Series

Season 2, Episode 4,
Mirror Mirror:

In this episode Kirk, Bones, Scotty and
Uhura are beamed into a parallel universe due to a transporter malfunction where violence is the prime directive and killing a superior officer gets promotion.

Season 2, Episode 15,
The Trouble with Tribbles:

In this episode, the Enterprise is called to Deep Space Station K7 On a priority one channel. When they get there they are ordered to guard a type of corn from the Klingons. Trouble arrives when Jones Cyrano
boards and offers the crew a. ‘tribble’ . Due to their molecular superiority of breeding, in just three hours the space station was filled with Tribbles!

Season 2, Episode 24,
The Ultimate Computer:

In which the Enterprise is boarded by a new computer which is said to do the captains job at a much quicker rate. Trouble looms, when the computer malfunctions and takes control of the ship.

Season 3, Episode 1,
Spock’s brain:

In which, a mysterious life form stops the ship, makes the crew unconscious and steals Spock’s brain to use as their new leader.

Season 3, Episode 14,
Let that be your last battlefield:

In this episode, the crew of the Enterprise rescue a different type of life form. After resuscitating it a life form of the same race but completely opposite boards the ship in search of his enemy. They change the ships heading and put the crew of the Enterprise at risk. Then it becomes a battle of wits to see who can out bluff the other.

The Next Generation

Season 2, Episode 16,
Q who? :

In this episode a new type of life form boards the Enterprise D and claims to be completely omnipotent. However the bartender (Gynen) recognises the life form as Q. Q then has a big surprise for the Enterprise D as he hurls them 75 thousand light years to the Delta quadrant to meet a new ‘friend’.

Season 4, Episode 17,
Night terrors:

The Enterprise D is called to look for a missing ship, when they find it all but one of the crew are dead and the survivor is paralysed. As Jean Luc tries to figure out what’s happening the crew begin to experience what killed the others, all except one, Counsellor Troi who only experienced terrifying nightmares. Could this be a sign of their escape?

Season 5, Episode 18,
Cause and effect:

In this episode the crew are sucked into a temporal loop causing them to repeat the last 48 hours over and over again, each time ending in their destruction…..In this episode the crew are sucked into a temporal loop causing them to repeat the last 48 hours over and over again, each time ending in their destruction….In this episode the crew are sucked into a temporal loop causing them to repeat the last 48 hours over and over again, each time ending in their destruction….. !!!.

Season 7, Episodes 25 & 26,
All good things parts 1 & 2:

In this series finale Jean-Luc is stuck jumping from past, present and future in his lifetime. Unurprisingly Q is behind it but not entirely. In this two parter episode Q tells Jean-Luc he is reponsible for the destruction of mankind. Can Jean-Luc save history or will the earth explode?


Season 2, Episode 6,

In which the ship is caught in a spatial fragment focussed in holodeck 2, so no matter where you try to go from holodeck 2 you’ll always end up back there. How annoying!

Season 4, Episodes 8 & 9,
Year of Hell part 1,& 2:

In this two parter, the ship is hit by a temporal wave throwing the temporal timeline into chaos. Surprisingly Voyager is not affected but the world around her is. The ship is wrecked trying to continue their journey and around three quarters of the crew lost. Will Voyager be able to restore the time line or not?

Season 5, Episode 6,

In this episode, Chakote and Kim go back in time some 20 years to try and stop Voyagers destruction. With the help of the doctor and 7 of 9’s bio neural implant they can send a message back through time to warn Voyager.

Season 7, Episode 11,

In this episode all but one of the crew (Chakote) and the ship are shattered across the temporal timeline, (aka: the bridge is the past, several decks are early past, and astrometrics is the future). Furthermore, he takes Kathryn Janeway through a temporal barrier because he needs her help to inject the bio neural gel packs to restore the timeline.

Season 7, Episode 19,

In this episode Q calls on his ‘dear Aunt Kathy’ for some parental guidance. Q leaves his son with Captain Janeway in hope of taming him, unfortunately things don’t go to plan when Q’s son drags Voyager to the beginning of the universe!

Season 7, Episode 24,
Renaissance man:

In this penultimate series episode the doctor is abducted and forced to work for an alien species, however when his data banks overload with information he starts to decompile. Can B’lana save the doctor or will Voyager be without an EMH (emergency medical holographic programme?)

In conclusion, these were my favourite episodes of star trek so far, I will have more coming soon when I’ve finished watching all the series.
Finally, this is mine, my Mums and my Dads favourite Star Trek line :

‘From 5 to zero no command in the universe can stop this ship from destructing. You may be able to drag this ship to Sharron but I am in command of this starship, MINE is the final command’
Original series, Let that be your last battlefield.



I’m not usually here at this time it’s a strange early part of the morning when I’m normally buttoned up somewhere battling against the conditions with some thoughts of the day ahead. And yesterday I split off from his direction and the momentum of a walk to the shops kept the feelings locked up somewhat. But today I didn’t leave. I have things to sort out in the house and his list to tick through and though I get a proper hug it’s never enough. And for the first time he stepped out without me, without us and I watched the back of his head, with his rumpled hair, stride out in the rain. And then it came, a force containing years of love an aching like the first separation, when they took him in his cot for a night in the nurses room after you’d taken on five midwives. Remember? reminding them I couldn’t walk or lift and had been given the ‘disabled’ room because my pelvis had packed up and they needed to help me. So they took him away overnight and I can still remember the pain, the tearing, emotional pain as they trundled him out of sight and the slit of light round the door thinned as it clunked closed  and I sobbed and sobbed.  But exhaustion overtook me as I fell into a torn out sleep until the early morning click and quiet wheels as he was returned to me.  And though the spasms in my back crushed my movements and I felt caged in my own body, he was back at my side and that was all that mattered and I would meet his needs no matter what.

And just now as I raced up stairs to try to catch the last glimpse of him rustling up the road, it all roared back at me with an intensity of the moment itself and in ten minutes I spun through a compression of eleven years and I could smell our baby and an early morning house and wanted every microsecond back. And I lay in a tight ball till I knew he’d got there and stumbled through the jarring strangeness of this quiet empty home and wanted this to be a different moment with a holding though you’d wouldn’t feel all that I did. And a rushing because you had some awful meeting and the towels were wet on the bathroom floor and air was crisp with aftershave and you’d go and we’d joke with undisguised pride in the evening when he came back. And you’d both wind me up but secretly love the way it was. And I’d have shut the door as my baby walked away and after you’d gone I’d have cried fully but not as deep or as boundlessly as it pours and surges out of me now.


This way is the way back from Sainsburys with the pushchair back in our ancient places, holding him invisibly and I can hear intruders behind me and I ignore them.
And I can breathe up here now although my foot hurts and right at this moment I go over on my ankle and am stuck with one working leg in an empty place and everything is wrong.
And the sun and sky is so low it hurts my eyes and as the feelings return I rest at the other bench. I want to be back in the old world packing for a trip North to deal with your dad but spend time with your mum and our son is snuggled up tight in the car and we have our stuff on the back seat (and a fly arrives to vomit on the day) as I think of us all heading off in our old life with a full tank and Vimto shoved in the drinks holder and your radio tapes blasting out the soundtrack to our world.

And it hurts
And I feel it 
And I want it all back

Can’t see the cathedral, the sky echoes a weak wash across my vision and everything is eaten up by the day. Bird struggles on the air, an unusual hard flapping breaks the moment.
A tiny moth fuzzes past me, blurred
and focussed.

My ankle throbs, I’m still here.

Stages – Wednesday May 30th

Preparing for our last walk and feeling how it’s changed.

Warm hands and caterpillars, taking our time, clinging to my leg, to chasing each other round tables. And a walk from the old house up the three hills till we moved home and cut through by our Spelling Hill in the days before, when we practised his words. And we had our school walking speed but at weekends ambled with Daddy at his pace. And the terrifyingly bright yellow lunch box with a grotesque SpongeBob grin on the morning after, when I heaved each leaden step towards school with an ice cold grasp hacking in around my world. To the slipping away in year 6 with the attitude and grump and trying to unpick what’s normal and what’s grief . And pushing, pushing, all the time, till being given orders to drop behind and watch him catch up with the others. He’s starting to have your walk and I watch his back as he strides off into his life, like I used to watch yours as you walked ahead, thinking things. But now it’s me leading the way, at the helm and I will, and I do so by lagging behind and allowing. And I look down and back on seven years that took us from a very different focussed world to this kaleidoscope of pain, twisting the patterns, letting them fall to make new shapes. A beautiful symmetry of what we’ve been given and what we need to work with.

And it’s hot and he’s in black and white and I think and feel with two days to go.

The light summer mist softens my edges and I wait for the heat to build.

Thursday May 31st

Penultimate walk to the sound of pigeons and we chatted which made a nice change. And last night was better, less attitude, more us. I take it when I can and step back when he’s consumed with his day. And now as the blackbirds go up a gear I hear him chattering, installed in his place, amongst his contemporaries, all jostling for position not really aware of what’s ahead of them. I take a slow walk back feeling the weight of the years and swerve around the heavy spring growth and the air tingles with change as I tick through my countdown. One day left, birds circle alarm, confused and restless.

The temperature drops, the cloud is layering thick on the backdrop.

It will rain today.

Bailley has finished his walk and so have I.

Friday June 1st – 8.38am

Don’t look back, let him bustle with his friends. One glance though and he’s in the thick of it, somewhere, becoming. I’ve got my instructions now and we parted in a familiar way and I can’t walk much slower as the rain spits absently onto me.

A seven year pattern gone, feel a bit odd now after the easing into it. The slow drip feed of change. At least this was seen over the hill, anticipated, drifted towards imperceptibly. Unlike my other last walk which could never have been prepared for, not known or understood, a walk with someone else’s feet. Hurried to a moment, an unravelling, a chaotic nightmare of images slamming into who I used to be. And as I replay scenes of mothering, the twenty minute walk that took half an hour to factor in snails and sticks and that intensely focussed crouching, low and curious, fascinated with the morning. The friends on the way, the parents to check in with, the bleating repeating to engrain a road sense and I realise I can’t quite take it all in right now.

Sitting with it, the shifting shapes of my life.

The contrast is overwhelming. The difference of two walks and feeling them bleeding into each other. The first and last from both worlds, freshly pressed clothes and hugs and I tore myself away as the train mat came out and he started to build. And I was driven back while you worked from home and sat feeling the weight of years in his little room. In the rocking chair that we bought when I could hardly walk and I learned to adjust to a quiet house, all those thousands of hours ago before I learned the real raw sound of an empty home, when I closed our front door for the first time in this world. And now I can’t take it in, none of it, really. That world gone, this part over, the new stage screaming its way towards us. And I slip from one image to the next, tumbling through it all, feeling weird. Can see the change in him and he’s moving much faster than me and I sit up here waiting for a rain that isn’t coming, seeing the road in front of me, a different path to the one I expected.

The outsourced mowers came around yesterday and cleared a wide enough route. The old growth is heavy, unavoidable but clearcut lines run through it.

I saw this coming, I prepared. I’m being trained in endings, I acknowledge, pay tribute, respect. Feel the pain and go with it. The shifting of roles, of a walk, of a way of being and a welcoming in of the new phase of mothering. Near the end of the old world I’d begun to question my options, felt I needed a new challenge as our son changed speed. This wasn’t what I meant but it’s what I’ve received. I need to hold on, find my balance again in these loss fueled days.

Heavy distorted doors of confusion at A and E, our old family front door when you turned up with Easter. Closing our upvced terraced one to take him to play group and pulling the new one behind us as we walked up today, just me and him and you not at work, just us in this place for the last time.

Messed up, can’t think, Can’t see the edge of this loss, it’s shifted so much, such change, such pain. Go with it, feel the walks, this walk, that one, first and last.

7 year mother, gone

11 year wife, gone

The mother changes as new patterns form. The wife takes over on the Bridge.

The rain still hasn’t come.

The swiped smoothed out sky waits uneasily, like me.

Resisting resistance.


Monday June 11th – 8.25

One glance

and he reminds me to get ginger biscuits and he’s gone.

My feet turned a different way but didn’t want to move. Walking in an opposite direction, thank god for rain. Listening to each foot step and imagining where he is by now. A distant freight train somewhere over the fields flashes me back to waiting on bridges with toddler and chips. But now I’m retracing, on the reverse walk, shops not hill. Going a different way. Thick, heavy walking, moving in a daze. Feels like he’s at the island, wait, wait, ok. And probably up with friends now while I feel totally displaced, wandering, not quite ready for Sainsburys. But I need to face fluorescent light and put this on hold for half an hour.

This is so alien.

One foot in front of the other.
Turning right into busyness, into their world.

Let’s go

And I hurried round the shop wondering why he wasn’t there counting out apples and pointing to signs and I feel I’ve stepped into someone else’s life. But it’s not, it’s ours and it’s new and we’re new. Apprentices.
And it’s early but he’ll be there by now, so I drift steadily home, evenly panniered with a bag in each hand and the rain comes on cue. And through the cutting I glimpse our wet car and can’t help think ‘Oh good Daddy’s back’ which often meant a quick dry whizz for pick up after school. But none of that’s happening.
I trickle over the threshold, coming into another layer of silence and sit for a while listening to the dripping tap making full round sounds as it hits the gathering pool beneath. I need to fix the drain.

Day One, somehow…
New us,

I bought him his favourite magazine.