SCRAPINGS FROM THE BARREL   It's been a while since I've done this. After my last one it felt like everything I wanted to say about being a single parent I'd said. Feedback pretty good. I quite like writing – I managed to get a letter into the 2 local free papers advocating Portishead Socialism Or Death! The excuse was more exciting developments with the traffic lights in Portishead. One paper even published a picture of Karl Marx, which impressed me. Then some clever dick wrote in saying Socialism Was Bad.   So what I'm saying is I've found it hard to find something to say about single parenthood without repeating myself with diminishing returns like an old rock band living on past glories (this blog entry being the equivalent of a B-Sides compilation). An update on my son has to say that with a slight wobble or 2 everything is going great. He's set for a small promotion at work; his band are having a bit of a breather after some successful gigging (including a live on the internet gig from London); never mind that, he's got another band on the go as well; after a few hard lessons he thinks he's got his finances under control; again after a few knocks he's happy that he's managing in his shared flat. We see each other about once a week, either if I'm in Bristol we meet for a coffee after work or he'll come home to Portishead for some of the weekend and eat lots of food I'm happy to give him. We speak on the phone too. We get on great. So I suppose I'm proud and relieved.   For me things never changed much at home as I've helped a homeless mate out and allowed him to stay when he wants, almost a straight swap for my son. He's not around all that much. No money changes hands because it's illegal. However I've had to show my ruthless streak and say it's got to end before Christmas, which I like to celebrate in my own way by pretending it's not happening. The big shock to the son-now-an-adult system has been how much poorer I am. This is probably a message that isn't officially welcome but for the first time I feel I have to justify every penny I spend just to break even. When I next need a new washing machine or cooker (both dodgy) I'll be up the creek without a paddle! Still you deal with these challenges.   So I'm going to leave this sorry excuse of a blog here that's proof I'm still alive and kicking. I really hope some inspiration can strike me soon, any suggestions appreciated.

EDUCATION, EDUCATION, EDUCATION!   Well the novelty of writing a blog has passed but I will keep going. To keep it fresh for myself I will write it in one session directly on the computer, complete with spelling mistakes, swearing and lots of things to cause offence.   Before I get underway a bit of an update on my son's band Hunting Bears. Their last gig before their get together with legendary Nick Mason of legendary Pink Floyd is now at the Croft in Bristol on Tues 18th August. Please come along whoever you are.   As a committed socialist one of the things that makes me so mad is the accepted inequality in education. It's one of those crystal clear issues that should be beyond any kind of debate. We're so quick as a country to claim all kinds of moral high ground. Our record in exporting terror through war and contribution to environmental damage should make us a pariah state. Closer to home though things are no better. Despite technological 'progress' and a greater understanding of things (is this true?) our society is shockingly unequal. This is something that never sinks in. The contrast in the wealth, power, consumption and, of course, quality of life between the top and the bottom is beyond comprehension. In fact the contrast between the middle and the bottom is something to behold too.   But of course this system perpetuates itself as only those who benefit can change things (peacefully, anyway). So from the day you are born your life is pretty much mapped out. And education plays a key role. The wealthy will send their kids to private and public schools (unless their local state school tops the local league table). The paranoid and insecure middle classes will get in a panic for many years (and act like sheep) before either deciding either:- yes their son or daughter will somehow survive in their local school; or they'd better send their kid across town/country to that school doing so well in the league table; or putting their beliefs and fears into action they move in order to access a particular school. This is something apparently called choice and freedom and we're supposed to be proud of it. But all that happens is a status quo, we all keep our place in our great social hierarchy.   While it's great to observe any suffering of the middle classes all of this does matter. Because educational experience will basically reflect that of society and will (consciously and unconsciously) shape the kids for what follows. So there is a big contrast between the resources and mentality between the private schools (have you seen the facilities they possess!?) and the so-called 'successful' and better performing state schools (rewarded with extra government money) all the way to those schools with falling pupil numbers and labelled as 'failing' (and which the middle classes would cross the road to avoid). Would you not think that somehow we as a society (me and you) would decide that every child would have a similarly positive educational experience with similar access to resources and facilities, with as much support for kids as needed. Instead of a system that sees schools as competitors, as if there's any doubt who the winners and losers will be.   Where do single parents fit in? Most of us will send our kids to our local school whether we want to or not. In a lot of cases the schools will be those labelled 'failing'. What to do? I think as a point of principle we should send our children to our local school and, if necessary, get involved to improve it. Any group of people acting together can make a big difference, especially using simple, effective arguments. We do live in a society that pays lip service to fairness and justice. Part of the problem is people who know all this but will hypocritically act otherwise and insult their local school by sending their kids elsewhere. Groups like CASE (Campaign for State Education) are well worth supporting. Vote for MPs or Councillors who support the abolishment of private education.   Just think what's at stake! An education system that benefits everyone will then feed into the wider society and be a strong force for a truly fair society.

HUNTING BEARS – REMEMBER THE NAME!   This blog is dedicated to the friends and relations who can't be bothered to turn up to gigs or even send a good luck message – I'll get you to the next one!   Now's the time to write about my son's musical adventures so far. I like to think growing up in a home with a soundtrack of hip-hop, punk, dance, rock, reggae, Irish and heavy metal led to music seeping into his DNA. (F*** the TV!). When he was about 12 he got interested in learning both drums and guitars. With his mum we scraped together enough money for lessons at school. He proved to be a natural. Soon after his birthday present was a set of drums. Luckily the family underneath our flat welcomed them. In fact they were his best early critics – they said they'd often gather under his room just to listen to him.   He soon started jamming with various mates, sometimes 4 or 5 of them squeezed into his room making a glorious racket. All very improvised and loose. For me it was all welcome. The only law I had to lay down was a 9pm curfew so the toddler below could sleep. He got one angry complaint – it was summer and windows were open – it must've been a Grateful Dead-length jam. So this big geezer was knocking at the door a few times before I heard – 'Do you know how f***ing loud that s*** is?' He was alright though and at the end requested some Pink Floyd (more of them in a minute).   The next big step was my son's decision to take Music Technology at college in Bristol. I was pleased as I wanted him to do something he'd enjoy. He got through a shaky first year in which his mate from Portishead dropped out. By the second year he was well into it. His tutor said he was the second most talented student in the year. Being given a sackful of money by a wealthy relative (not on my side of the family!) on his 18th birthday he bought more music gear, including computer software. He could now more easily home record his own compositions – not just rock but also ambient and electronic stuff.   But it's been since he formed a three piece rock band called Hunting Bears that his abilities are starting to be recognised by the wider world. Their sound has an indie sensibility – considering the only instruments are drums and guitar it's surprisingly deep and rich. They definitely know what they're doing. The drummer is spot on, the girl singer has a great voice and stage presence. They seem to be a collective. From an early gig on College Green last summer on a local talent/new bands stage at the Harbourside Festival, they've since headlined the Louisiana and played the Folk House. There was excitement with a showpiece gig at the Roundhouse in London which has now led, amazingly, to the offer of recording a track with the legendary Nick Mason of Pink Floyd! This is hard to believe. Who knows where it might lead?   Before then is another appearance at the Harbourside festival on Aug 1st. This is followed by headlining the Croft on Aug 18th. So if you're in and around Bristol try and get to see Hunting Bears – you will not be disappointed!

SELF-HELPING AGONY AUNTING MESSAGE OF HOPE Firstly I have to apologise for the more serious nature of this piece. It's more like an agony aunt column or an excerpt from a self-help book. I wouldn't want to read it myself (and it was no fun to write). But the message of it is important and it cannot be ignored! I can sit back now and try to look back on my 'single parent years' with detachment and objectivity. I also think of the quite-a-few single parents I know or have known. Perhaps the one issue that stands out as being a scar or sore that spoils the lives of parents and kids is that of the acrimonious split, the custody and access battles and a fall out that can become permanent. So many negative emotions and feelings are unleashed – anger, uncertainty, bitterness, confusion, lies, hatred, paranoia. I know what it's like because I've gone through it. Like being in a state of war you become the one with truth and justice on your side, fighting a good fight. The ends justify the means. The other parent becomes dehumanised. It's about coming out on top, to the victor the spoils. I remember thinking that to have custody of my young son was absolutely everything. At the time I believed all I did to achieve this was right – but looking back I know I acted with ruthlessness. The fall out is horrendous with friends and family badly affected, usually having to choose sides, often becoming diplomats or shock troops. I look at other single parents I know and their battles are much worse. It's horrible. It's a miracle if kids don't suffer real psychological damage. So having experienced all this and witnessed it around me a kind of quasi-religious revelation has slowly dawned. It is that in the vast majority of parent conflicts the only option is to let in tolerance, forgiveness, understanding, peace and respect. These emotions and thoughts have to supplant all those negative ones. If it's not possible to achieve this straight away then it should be the goal over time. Communication, however difficult or limited, is essential. So is turning the other cheek. This is about what's best for your own psychological well-being as well as your child's. It's also a moral point too. Of course there's real stuff that challenges relationships from the less serious like being distracted when you're watching the football to the more serious like domestic violence. I don't want to write about domestic violence as I'd be out of my depth. It's best and consistent to say all violence is wrong including smacking your kids. It must be hard or impossible to forgive violence. But to harbour hatred or bitterness makes no difference to those being hated – the one harmed is the one doing the hating. The kids will likely suffer too, becoming pawns or caught up in emotional blackmail. There's no good that comes out of your life becoming a bad soap opera. The past cannot be undone, it's happened - you can only understand and deal with it and then move on. One of the great tragedies of custody conflicts is that there is perceived to be a winner and a loser. The winner is in a powerful position to make life hard for the loser, who will usually hold deep resentment. Plenty of parents do co-operate and relations improve over time. But if it's about the children then there's a massive responsibility to do what's right. Parents have so much to think about and deal with anyway that the affects on the kids can be overlooked. Sometimes it's convenient to create an 'enemy' to avoid tackling other issues. To do what's right is not easy – that's where organisations like SPAN do such good work! So my message of peace and understanding is a genuine one, not some hippy crap. My relationship now with my son's mum is great – it's very open, honest and co-operative. It's good to be able to pass on news and get another perspective when it comes to our son. Between us we can give him plenty of support and help him at a vital time in his life.

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MY SON MOVES OUT It has come to pass. My son has moved out. How does it feel? Very, very mixed. It's early days, but 4 weeks in, and having spent an afternoon with him visiting here, I can start to reflect on things. It was emotional to see him. I'd seen him for an hour or so after work a couple of weeks ago. I had a quick, almost furtive tour of his new workplace and had a few words with one of his employers (every time anyone speaks to me about my son I realise how popular he is). Then we went for a civilised coffee. We had lots to talk about, it almost poured out of us. It all felt right. Then the afternoon visit. It was nearly postponed due to lack of cash for bus fare. An hour later than expected came a ring at the door. The first thing is how good it feels to see him, it's him! Straight away we had to adjust to the harsh reality that as Celtic fans the match we'd come together to watch was going to turn out wrong. After some cursing and lamentations we switched the TV off. The next few hours were spent in an easy manner. One of my dads was staying and he'd taken the initiative that morning (when my back was turned) to wade into my son's room and create order from chaos. I was a bit worried how my son would react but he seemed fine about it. The visit ended (after plenty of food) with a kickabout in the sunshine outside, just like the old days. I felt moved by the afternoon. By my son moving away, taking a few steps to some sort of independence, his life, and mine, has undergone major change. All the old routines, territorial and psychological conflicts, assumptions and expectations are basically no more. (What is there to argue over?). What is left is the essence of our relationship, which I realise, is pretty good. Also there's lots of good will, curiosity and positivity about the new situation. And there's the truth that absence makes the heart grow fonder. It helps that my son is in a good situation. He's sharing a nice flat with 2 cousins he gets on well with. It's relatively cheap. He's started what could be an ideal job learning to renovate pianos. He seems to have taken to it, rising to the challenge. He's in a good position to pursue his dream of being in a rock band – that's all going well. He needs to improve his budgeting skills and to make sure he does his share of housework. But so far, and long may it continue, there's nothing for me to worry about. Even if my aunt reminded me the other day that we only know about 10% of what our kids are doing or thinking. For me I'm now the king of my castle. Not that it's that different, but there's a feeling of greater freedom (or is it control?). Like cooking dinner for ten o'clock at night because I want to. Most things carry on the same. Work is the main structure in your life. You get out a couple of nights a week. The rest of the time you happily relax with a book, listen to some music, watch a film or a football match on the telly. I wonder about the opportunities for new experiences, new changes, new relationships. I feel some dislocation. One downer is I'm still adjusting to being worse off after the end of child benefit and child tax credits. Trips away, nights out and new stuff for the flat have to be rationed. The future is still to be written. I'm hopeful that my son moving out is a positive and significant step for him. This will always be a bolt-hole. Finally in what may become a regular feature I want to pay tribute to those advancing the single parenting cause or progressing wider social justice. Many of us are regular public transport users – when I think back to pushchairs, shopping and buses I wonder how I coped. So I salute the new breed of women bus drivers. They can certainly drive, are considerate and helpful, will smile and joke, and look pretty good in a uniform!

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Single Parenthood Liberation Theory One of the great challenges for single parents is when it's time to join the workforce. I'm not one to grasp the finer details of government policy or what benefits or credits are around at any particular time. It's never that clear whether you'll be better off doing this or not doing that – so many checks, balances, pros and cons exist. To examine every detail and to try to do a calculation can be to go down the road to madness. That's what job advisors do and you're supposed to trust them. As I've written before it's easy to generalise when talking about single parents. The 'typical' single parent I have in my head (and based on many I know) is battling all the time to keep their heads above the water. Hard economic realities mean that some may take the decision to do a bit of cash in hand work, some will depend on relatives to pay for treats or shoes for the kids or for a few days holiday. It's a constant financial struggle. When the moment comes to go into work (usually part-time) it can produce mixed feelings. There is fear. Fear that you'll be crap at the job, leading to humiliation and the sack. Fear that you'll be worse off, never mind what that nice job advisor you flirted with said. You'll feel guilt that you're abandoning your kids. But also, and maybe most importantly, there'll be the nervous excitement of a new challenge, even a new life, as new skills are learnt, hidden talents discovered, new friends made. Hopefully there'll be no turning back. Other benefits can include a greater appreciation of your kids – even their tantrums or bad moods will take on a certain charm. The road from full-time single parent to full-time worker is a long one. Once your children are in school you are suddenly faced with a lot more free time. If there was one piece of advice I'd give to those in this situation – do not succumb to the evils of daytime TV. In the words of the great Chuck D: 'Her brains retrained by a 24 inch remote Revolution a solution for all our children But all her children don't mean as much as the show I mean watch her worship the screen And fiend for a TV ad And it just makes me mad She watch Channel Zero!' Firstly look into doing some voluntary work. So many small, not-for-profit organisations are doing so much vital, unrecognised good work and giving a few hours of your time a week (with transport costs covered and maybe some lunch) will make a difference. In return you will get a feel for a workplace, pick up new skills, enjoy a relaxed and friendly atmosphere and experience a sense of good. Even your kids primary school really appreciates some help. One of my early volunteering experiences was to garden at my son's school. Many years later they now pay me – it's almost the perfect job. Other volunteering I've done includes on a city farm, some office and admin work (including the fantastic SPAN) and being a mentor. Another possibility is to do a course. Some are aimed at single parents, others are great for work skills and others are for the fun of it. They'll be free or cheap. Again new worlds can be opened up, new people met. Without IT courses I probably wouldn't be doing this. Doing a counselling course and a mentoring course led to my main job of support worker. Another slightly controversial possibility is not armed robbery but getting some cash-in-hand work (such as cleaning or gardening). I could never advocate law breaking but this option seems to be popular! An extra £30 or £40 a week can make a difference to your life. Another way of making use of this time is to just get out and explore and get to know your community and surroundings. Go for walks, talk to people, look around you. All this amounts to a kind of liberation theory of single parenthood. It keeps your mind, body and soul in good health and helps you to concentrate on being a good parent. As your confidence and experience builds up, maybe with a bit of gentle persuasion or arm twisting from others, you will then be ready for the next step of paid work. I think some recent government policy changes make doing voluntary work or a diversity of courses more difficult. If that's right it's a shame and what I've written refers to a 'golden age' that is no more. No matter. The principles remain the same. As Flavor Flav adds: Yo baby, can't you see that's nonsense you watchin'? Look, don't nobody look like that, nobody even live like that, you know what I'm sayin'? You watchin' garbage, not'in' but garbage. Straight up garbage. Yo, why don't you just back up from the TV, read a book or som'in. Read about yourself, learn your culture, you know what I'm sayin'?

ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS

We’re heading for that moment all parents will dread – your child leaving home. The clock is ticking. Barring unforeseen hitches I think it’s a matter of weeks. The truth is though, that once I face up to this reality, the more OK I feel about it. Once the subject was out in the open and no longer taboo, we began to discuss it in a relatively civilised manner. Although it probably came out into the open during an argument! (‘If you carry on doing …… then why should I put up with you here!’ ‘You think I want to be here!?’ Fair enough.)

Of course you’ve always got to try and put yourself in your kid’s shoes and try and think back to what it was like for you. I left home at 18 and never looked back. So bearing that in mind I should write a few words about the town we live in, Portishead. Still called a village by old timers and locals it has recently doubled in size with housing development and a new marina. Wealthy people have moved in. While short term economics and the greed of various people and groups have led to a population explosion, there’s been hardly any infrastructure or social facilities added. Kids of all ages get bored out of their minds. There was a march last year through the town that proportionally was bigger than the 2 million on the streets opposed to Blair and his warmongering mates as they eyed up Iraq. So what issue almost led to revolution in Portishead? A set of traffic lights!! The hassle of waiting up to a minute before the lights change! I won’t even bother going into the other hot issues in the last couple of years – from opposition to an asylum seekers interview centre to the current resistance to a kid’s home. It’s like you’re living in a bourgeois prison camp. Reminds me of that old sixties TV series ‘The Prisoner’ starring some bloke who wants to get out or at least make sense of his surroundings. So compare living as a teenager in that kind of place with the bright lights and buzz of Bristol 10 miles away, a city with everything anyone could want. Thinking this I realise it would be crazy if my son didn’t move.

In fact it feels he already has. He works in Bristol. He plays his music and drinks his beer there. There’re various roofs he sleeps under. Sometimes I only know he’s been at home through tell tale signs like lights and electrical appliances left on or the large scale disappearance of plates and cups into his bedroom. There is no greater symbol of ‘apartness’ and a need to move on than this room. It’s basically a no-go area, a war zone. It’s no place of liberation like Free Derry or area of proud resistance like Gaza. It’s more a bombed out building littered with unexploded ordnance. So going in there for any reason is a risky business – whether it’s what’s under foot or whether it’s the smell as you enter. Any sentimental doubts I might have about my son moving out….I’ve just got to look in his room.

There’s one thing I look forward to. Rolling my sleeves up, bucket of water and black bags at the ready, turning the music up and going forth to reclaim. Not sure what it’ll become, that’s part of the fun. It’ll still be his room. He’ll go into his new old room for the first time and he’ll like it. It will symbolise a new relationship between us.

Introduction to my life as a single dad

A few words of introduction. I have a son of 18. He has lived with me alone since he was 4 years old. So for 14 years I have been a single parent. In all that time I don’t think I have got to know another dad in a similar situation. I felt no need to seek them out. In fact I have enjoyed my uniqueness. Therefore my own experiences and feelings are just that and I don’t want to generalise. How different would things be for me if I had more than one child, a daughter rather than a son, if I moved here from a foreign land?

Being a lifelong idealist I have always considered myself a feminist. To me that means an equality that goes beyond gender. Being a single parent has meant being a part of a mainly female grouping. That has been fine with me. It has always seemed to me to be the best of all worlds. Apart from the economic reality of living somewhere around the poverty line, it’s been nothing but positive. Here I’m not thinking so much about the highs and lows of my relationship with my son but more about the self-image of being a single parent as well as other people’s attitude to my role. I find almost without exception men treat me as a conquering hero. In the battle of the sexes parenting is probably the only area where men feel doomed before they step into the ring. Many times in a pub I’ll be in conversation with a bloke who will refer to children he no longer sees. Others will warmly shake my hand and slap my back. Meanwhile women tend to want to know my story. I’m not seen as a threat, more a curiosity.

Being a single parent means you have to try to be good at all kinds of things. You need to have a loving relationship with your children while setting boundaries. You need to budget on a limited income. You need to run a household in a practical sense – shop, put food on the table, housework. You need to be able to share your problems and worries but also grit your teeth and get on with things. You need to make big decisions on your own. Maybe that’s where being able to cross the gender divide helps. Where single dads need to learn roles and tasks usually left to the mother. To be able to cook, wash up, clean the toilet. Able to talk and listen to their kids. To talk to others about their doubts and anxieties. To admit they don’t have all the answers. Just as women have learned to kick up a fuss, to speak out and get things done. With a positive attitude, willingness to learn and make mistakes, and with lots of luck I think being a single parent can be a genuinely liberating experience. Crossing that gender gap is one of the main challenges of being a single parent. For me? I can cook, tidy, clean and run a household as well as anyone. I’ll seek advice and talk about problems. What I’ve struggled with is showing enough physical affection and emotional openness towards my son. It’s something I regret and I hope he understands and forgives me. For me to be otherwise would be forced or false. It’s one reason I’m pleased his mother came back into his life – her natural warmth and spontaneity must be so welcome to him.

I’ve never shouted out ‘I am a single parent!’ I usually only tell people when they ask. It’s a label I’m comfortable with, there’re no chips on my shoulders. It’s been a privilege and a pleasure. An adventure. There’s loads of things I’d do differently, a few regrets. My son’s now a tricky age. Of course I love him (although I no longer tell him). His own adventure into adulthood is beginning. I’m sure he’ll be ok.