Tag Archives: Northampton

Six go to Drayton Manor – to try out Ben 10 coaster

SO how’s it been with the kids for the last fortnight then? Come on, it would have been much worse if the weather hadn’t been so good. It’s been April, for goodness sake.

We managed to get some days off work and tick a few ‘done’ boxes while school was out, including general slobbing and a theme park.

Theme parks can be pretty unbearable and expensive places, and the prepared parent will need to do their homework to avoid any tears, especially their own. Look for vouchers, two-for-ones and pack your own drinks for starters.

We returned, after an absence of several years, to Drayton Manor Theme Park, up the A5 in Staffordshire. It should have taken about an hour to get there, but the weather and hideous traffic jams extended the sweaty car experience to two hours.

We were there for the opening of Ben 10 – Ultimate Mission, a ‘junior’ roller-coaster for anyone over one metre tall.

Ben 10, for the uninitiated, is a TV cartoon character kid, who finds a weird watch called the Omnitrix, which turns him into ten different alien superheroes.

Billy with Ben 10 friends

None of our boys are particularly ‘into’ Ben 10, but Billy, being seven and a boy, hits the target demographic perfectly. Jed and Dougie aren’t sure whether they like scary rides or, like their Dad, they feel no desire whatsoever to go on them, ever.

The ride, for coaster-nerds, is a ‘boomerang’ style, with a spiral thingy in the middle. You get dragged slowly up one side, backwards, then fired at speed through the twisty bit and up the other side. Then you do the same thing, only backwards. You never turn upside down.

Unlike the queue, the ride lasted a grand total of 45 seconds.

Billy was quite pleased with it as it was fast enough to be scary. The elder two said it could have been longer, but thought it was a good first step between a kiddie-coaster and the bigger, more height-restricted rides. (Beware the parent-trap of the strategically-placed Ben 10 shop next door).

To pacify the disgruntled Bonnie, who wasn’t impressed to be told she was too small for some rides, we headed next to Thomas-land, a section of the park devoted to Thomas the Tank Engine. This is truly a hideous experience, where you will find hundreds of literally pushy parents, ramming each other with buggies and forgetting all manners.

The queues were very long, confusing and overlapping, and we waited an hour and half in the sweltering heat for a roller-coaster Bonnie was just tall enough to go on with me, called Troublesome Trucks. It was pretty fast and high enough to scare her on the first circuit, but by the second she was shouting “go again, again!” and refusing to get off.

As well as several rides and play areas, there’s also a new Thomas exhibition set away from the main area where they have sets from the TV series.

Thankfully the boys are well past their Thomas phase and Bonnie could be bribed away with promises of ice-cream and zoo animals.

I always find it a little odd to find a zoo in the middle of a theme park, but it stems back to the 1950s when most parks like these consisted of just a few fairground rides and an animal enclosure. This zoo has plenty of monkeys and penguins, snakes and birds, but Bonnie demanded a tiger and luckily she saw two.

The sun was scorching by now, and we had another hour and a half wait in the heat for the rubber dingy rapids, or Splash Canyon, which we were all able to go on together, but wasn’t really very splashy at all.

Yes, this is a ride

However, after another hour’s wait for the much more scary-looking Stormforce 10 water ride, I thoroughly embarrassed my two eldest sons by producing – and wearing – a waterproof cape. I’d seen just how wet and shivering others had been getting off and wasn’t going to let the matter of looking a prat get in the way of my comfort.

Needless to say, the boys, in jeans, got COMPLETELY drenched, like they’d been dunked in a bath, while I was smug and dry.

Theme park food can be a complete rip-off, but there were pizza/pasta, burger/chicken and a very good pie and mash shop, with meals about £5 per head. The loos are rather aged, and parts of the park are clearly due for a makeover, but they are planning more changes.

One major complaint for Drayton Manor: no wait-time indicators. Most attractions now have these at various points in the queue which helps enormously when you have children who suddenly announce they need the loo. Other than that we all had a really enjoyable, surprisingly row-free day.

And by hanging around until after 5pm, there were no queues at all when Dougie bravely offered to come on the massive Shockwave stand-up roller-coaster with me. Whooo!

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Cheques please. Why parents need to speak up against banks

 HOW many cheques do you write a month? One? None? You’re probably not a parent or a pensioner then.

It may have skipped your notice but the banks are trying to get rid of cheques, claiming they are “in terminal decline” and no longer as popular as they used to be; ie, something we actually like, that they can cut to make more money.

The UK Payments Council, whose board reads like a who’s who of the major banks, and works with credit card firms and organisations like BACS, announced in 2009 that cheques would no longer be used by October 2018, as long as ‘viable alternatives’ had been developed. [I thought you could only have one alternative]

The Treasury Select Committee, made up of MPs, has been debating the issue by focussing on pensioners, who they claim are “less at ease with the latest technology,” according to committee chairman Andrew Tyrie. “Many charities, small business and vulnerable people – including pensioners – depend on cheques.

“Their needs must be considered. They should not be forced into shredding their cheque books.”

Actually, I think you’ll find that parents are an overlooked group that want to keep cheques too.

Bloke and I probably write ten cheques a month between us. We also do online banking as we’re lucky enough to have home computers, which I’m pretty sure many people can’t afford.

We write cheques for school dinners, school trips, school book orders, childcare fees, and never-ending subs for Cubs, for rugby, for cricket, football, drama, exams . . . I could go on.

I can’t bear this crass generalisation that the only people who use cheques are technophobes. Why can’t we have both? What happened to consumer choice? I like cheques.

It’s not just the kids’ stuff. We write cheques for local services, for window cleaners, electricians, osteopaths, our own fees for sport and the allotment. I even receive cheques for my business as a freelance.

Tyrie added that he was “shocked” that the UK Payments Council had not conducted a rigorous cost benefit analysis of its plan and called on it to “go away and do some number crunching.”

The UK Payments Council says on its website an idea for something to replace the cheque is: “a paper-initiated payment instrument.”

Er, a cheque then. Oh, and they might encourage payments via mobile phones.

What is the genuine alternative? That I give my seven-year-old a wodge of cash to take to Cubs? That people keep more cash at home to pay people?

Michelle Mitchell, charity director at Age UK, said: “Scrapping cheques without there being a suitable replacement is not acceptable.”

John Walker, national chairman of the Federation of Small Businesses, said: “The FSB has voiced its concern for some time that small businesses would suffer as a result of the cheque being phased out, and so it is welcome news that the Treasury Select Committee has reopened the debate.”

If you want to keep cheques, write to the Treasury Select Committee at 7 Milbank, London SW1P 3JA by May 6.Petition your MP. Harass your bank. Imagine what is it costing to even debate abolishing cheques?

If it ain’t broke, why fix it?

Oh, any by the way, cheque guarantee cards go for good at the end of June.

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I am not an ice-cream thief

Bonnie checks for lick marks on her ice-cream

IT’S been lovely weather, and therefore the kids have been begging even more fervently than usual for ice cream.

At our old address, the dulcet tones of the Gallones’ van used to be a regular pain in the bum, as the van would draw up practically outside our house, just before tea, sending the boys into a frenzy of mostly unsuccessful begging.

You’d think you’d be safe from pester power while walking across the grassy Racecourse, but no.

During our latest efforts to coax our cycle-phobic seven-year-old around on his bike, Bonnie, aged three, suddenly took off, running in the direction of an ice-cream van which had emerged bumpily across the field.

All concentration on the cycling task was lost. Eldest son Jed begged some cash from his Dad and sprinted after his surprisingly fast sister.

Saintly old me, on an eternal (failing) diet, didn’t have one.

But when Bonnie has a 99, you’ve got to be quick to make sure it doesn’t all end up down her front.

Which means regular cone-policing.

Which may involve Mummy being forced to lick around the edges to stop it dripping.

Which of course, is just the moment when glaring strangers walk past, who assume, fatty, that you’ve stolen your whining toddler’s ice-cream. . .

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Get your kids to the dentist now as adult pricing is a painful kick in the teeth

JED has new braces. This time they are fixed. Well, they were fixed to most of his teeth for about a day anyway.

Then two of the brackets glued to his gnashers pinged off. Earliest appointment to have them re-glued was four days later.

Why, I asked, did he need fixed braces anyway, having already endured a removable one all last year? One which had realigned his overbite by about eight millimetres?

Despite looking like he had a perfectly normal smile (not that 13-year-olds smile much, beneath their floppy fringes) his teeth had slowly reverted to their original position.

So I’m moaning about another 18 months of appointments, his painful hour of treatment when the orthodontist manhandled the thing into his gob, and the £17 needed for a special brace-face sports gumshield.

And I’m questing the need for braces for all these kids, who seem to be in on a virtual conveyor belt of fittings at specialist orthodontist clinics, paid for by the NHS.

But Jed just shrugs and says he’s not bothered about being called ‘braceface,’ and is actually pleased I make him go to the dentist. What? Are you mad? Why?

Look around, he says, at the kids with literally rotting, missing teeth. He knows teenagers who haven’t been to the dentist for years.

Their parents don’t go, so they don’t. Or the parents give them a choice – so they don’t go.

I can’t quite believe anyone would be daft enough not to make their children go to a dentist. Haven’t you ever had toothache? When your jaw hurts so much you bang your head on a wall as a distraction? You’ve seen the Simpson’s episode with the Big Book of British Smiles, yes? Do you want that for your kids?

A lot of dentists no longer offer NHS treatment. I ranted and raved when our family gob-doctor opted for cash over customers and went private. But there are plenty of dentists out there who take new NHS patients and you can find them via www.nhs.co.uk by clicking on dentists and typing your postcode. I found 19 surgeries accepting new patients within five miles of Northampton town centre.

But I suspect many adults avoid the dentist, and by default, don’t send their kids.

The NHS price for adults is shocking.

A check-up, if you aren’t on any kind of benefit is £17. Once every year? Most of us could just about manage that.

But if you need a filling, root canal or extraction, it’s £47. That’s a lot of money.

Then the jump to the ‘Band 3 course of treatment’ – ie, crowns, dentures and bridges – that’s an incredible £204.

Roughly translated: “That’ll be £20 to have a quick look, £50 to mend something and £200 to replace it.” Regardless of how big or small the job.

If you don’t want to go the dentist as an adult, that’s up to you. But that’s no excuse for not taking/ sending/dragging your kids there. Dental treatment for those under 18 or under 19 in full-time education, is FREE.

Get your mouth sorted now kids, while you can still afford to.

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Meet Bogey, the green cow

BONNIE has a new friend. It’s an inflatable green bull. The boys call it Bogey. She calls it “My Cow.”

This is a Happy Hopper. A new take on the 1970s classic orange space-hopper, Happy Hopperz are taking over thanks to Rob and Victoria Morris.

On a family holiday in 2009, their fidgeting toddler Charlie was given an inflatable elephant to sit on at a beachside restaurant. They set about bringing these cheeky bouncers to a UK market.

There are lots of designs: pink cows, blue cows, black and white cows, bulls, dogs and horses of many colours, plus pandas, reindeer and rabbits. They take up less room than a space hopper and are far easier to sit on.

Pre-walkers will love to bounce on them, thanks to their ‘handle’ ears, while three-year-olds like to race them.

We had to take Bogey to our picnic in the park earlier this week and it was like a magnet for all toddlers within a 500 metre radius. Bonnie has ‘rolled’ her cow a couple of times but dusts herself off and jumps back on.

And when she’s gone to bed it doubles up as a foot-stool . . .

The white cow and blue bull Happy Hopperz are stocked in Argos and Homebase for £19.99, or you can buy the other animals direct via www.happyhopperz.co.uk (for a rather more expensive £21.99 with an extra £5.99 p&p!)

I can see it now, the Happy Hopperz Grand National, held this summer on Northampton Racecourse. . .

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School holidays: Only two days down, 17 to go . . .

Take four children aged between 13 and three. Entertain for two weeks. Your time starts . . . now!

Monday: Take car to garage, dramatically reducing options.
Make older children cycle to orthodonist to get brace re-attached.
Walk younger two up to municipal baths which everyone has been nagging to go to for months. Meet elder two at baths. Pay £15. Within 20 minutes all but one of them is complaining of being bored.

Tuesday: Make picnic. Head to park. Realise it’s not that warm when sun goes behind clouds. Eat. Play football. Bounce on inflatable green cow. Realise Son 2 is playing football in socks and won’t wear trainers “cos they don’t fit.”
Drive to town to buy new trainers. End up buying fours pairs of shoes, three pairs of kid shorts, kid PJs, kid dress, three kid t-shirts, dress I’ll probably never wear. (All in the sales).  Go home. Feel skint.

Wednesday: Cleaning house today. They ain’t gonna like it.

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Prince and Princess mug

HAVE I got a very poor memory, or did all of us kids get a mug to ‘celebrate’ the Royal wedding of Charles and Di back in 1981?

I’m pretty certain we got one for the Silver Jubilee in 1977 too, but who paid for them?

Apparently these days it’s up to the local council to decide whether to splash out on memorabilia for the children of their borough. And things certainly have changed since Lady Di swished her meringue-of-a-dress up the aisle with the heir to the throne 30 years ago.

In the current economic climate you can understand council bosses rejecting the idea of shelling out on ceramics. And of course, there just wasn’t the volume of tat around back then, and it was exciting to be given a mug for free.

These days, kids are bombarded with products, and I guess a mug with the faces of a couple of Hoo-rays wouldn’t even register on their wish-list.

There’s apparently little demand for street parties for this Royal Wedding, and many aren’t too impressed at the idea of yet another day’s lost business. The wedding – on April 29 – is a bank holiday, just three days after Easter Monday. My kids have worked out they will be at school for just eight days in the whole of April!

While I’m indifferent about the wedding, I can’t help but be very chuffed with Bonnie’s nursery, who have gone out and bought wedding mugs for each of their children, and are holding a Kings and Queens themed party in the run-up to the big day.

Our three-year-old daughter Bonnie, not yet as cynical as the rest of us, will be utterly delighted to get a mug with a prince and princess on it. Long may her innocence reign.

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Gardening karma at the allotment

See this? This is just a small section of my new (moved down the field) plot.

I’ve been tackling it bit by bit over the past few weeks and just when I thought I was going to get a clear couple of hours to do more, some cantankerous old b*gger threw a spanner in the works. (To avoid litigation, I’ll spare you the boring but annoying details).

Anyhoo, along comes an avenging angel in pensioner form. An allotmenteer so up-to-date with his own plot that he offered to help out with mine.

Not only did he identify weeds/plants I didn’t recognise (horseradish, unfortunately), he helped bag up rubbish, dug-over and weeded several rows and even commandeered an unwanted incinerator for my growing pile of burnable prunings.

In short, his help in a few hours has accelerated the plots readiness by a couple of weeks.

We’re all very suspicious of strangers, but on the allotment field, everybody needs good neighbours.

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Classroom jargon is not helping pupils’ success criteria

DO your children discuss their Success Criteria with you? Are you fully aware of their Learning Objectives? How about their ELS?

Is it right that teachers are talking to six-year-olds using management speak which most parents don’t understand, yet alone their kids?

It’s truly astonishing how teachers are being told to talk to our children. It actually makes me really cross.

For those of you who haven’t had to darken the doors of a primary school for some decades, let me explain.

School has always had a reputation for the blah, blah, blah. Even the most conscientious of swots must have drifted off when certain teachers forgot how to have a normal conversation with their fellow human beings.

But now even good teachers are trotting out phrases like ‘going forward’ and ‘achieving targets.’ It’s like they’ve been brainwashed.

And it’s having a knock-on effect – or should I say – a third-generation projection.

I teach university students and with very few exceptions, even those with A-grade A Levels cannot express themselves clearly in writing.

I’m not sure anyone could pinpoint when the jargon of modern teaching started infecting state-school classrooms.

It’s as if somewhere in the late 90s, a ‘consultant educator,’ with no grasp on reality, vomited all the management phrases they knew into a curriculum manual. A manual which should have stayed in the staffroom.

My first foray back into a primary school classroom in two decades came when I attended open days for Jed.

First, there seemed to be so many adults in the class. Teaching assistants, one-to-one carers, and if you’re lucky, a full-time teacher.

Second, their work didn’t appeared to get corrected. However, they did have little abbreviations like ‘LO’ written at the top of each page. Weird.

Eventually I mustered the courage to reveal to my son that despite telling him otherwise, I didn’t actually know everything:

“What’s ‘LO’ mean?” I asked.

“It’s the thing you have to have done by the end of the lesson.”

“Yes, but what does it stand for?”

“Er, I think it’s Learning Objective.”

“OK. Well, what’s an objective? What does the word mean?”

“. . . Er, I dunno. Can I go and watch Bob The Builder now?”

This highly-dramatised discussion with six-year-old Jed happened more than half his life ago.

But I had the same kind of ‘interface’ last week with Billy, aged 7. Only instead of Bob the Builder he’d have requested Spongebob Squarepants. Or Star Wars: The Clone Wars.

The catalyst for my fresh bewilderment was ‘open-day’ at Billy’s primary school. A school I like very much, and which has done pretty well by my offspring so far.

We parents were given a leaflet with “Questions to Ask Your Child:”

They included phrases like What are you learning about in ELS? (I’ll translate in brackets: ELS = Early Learning Skills).

How do you use VCOP? (VCOP is the way they are told to write a sentence using Vocabulary. Connectives. Openers. Punctuation).

How do Success Criteria help you? (I’m not making this up)

When and how do you use your targets? (Like salesmen, five-year-olds have Targets, to be discussed with parents at ‘Termly Learning Conferences’ (which used to be called parents’ evenings) You even have to sign a ‘contract’)

The children at Open Day were very well-behaved and read aloud about all of the above jargon, plus ‘Core Values’ and the ‘Fish Wish’ (Fun. Involvement. Show. Help)

I asked a few children, including my own, if they could explain some of the phrases. Some of them recited, parrot-fashion, what had been on the board. Then I asked them to tell me what the words actually meant, and they didn’t know.

I’m all for expanding vocabulary, but if you are going to spout this nonsense at kids, you should explain what the ruddy words MEAN.

We should worry. Good schools are losing their ‘core values’ by relying on utter, utter gibberish. They accused previous generations for teaching by rote because we learned rhymes like ‘Every name is called a noun’ and ‘I before E except after C’ ? At least it was useful.

This management speak is absurd, meaningless, empty and misleading in adult working life, so why on earth are we endorsing it in schools?

I’m not being a pedant. Language does need to evolve to survive, but sloppy clichés and meaningless verbal noise do not make you clever. They make you annoying.

Can’t anyone just speak plainly any more? Or is that just blue-sky thinking?

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Go and be nice to Phylip at Cottesbrooke

THERE’S a lovely garden at Cottesbrooke, just north of Northampton, which never seems open frequently enough for you to see the stirling efforts of the lovely head gardener Phylip Statner and his team.

However there’s a chance to go and raise some cash for charity when Cottesbrooke opens on Sunday 17th April from 2pm until 5:30pm for the National Gardens Scheme (NGS). 

Primroses and daffodils will be on display and they would normally have gone over when the gardens officially open in May.

The real treasure is the Wild Garden, which is full of bulbs and banks of primroses and offers a haven for wildlife in a tranquil setting. There are also more formal gardens and 3,000 tulip bulbs have been planted in the statue walk.  There are also a number of Magnolia trees in bloom and blossoming cherry trees, all doing rather well after the cold cold winter. 

 Gay Webster,  joint county organiser for the NGS said: “The Wild Garden is in a magical setting along the banks of a stream, where the massed primroses cheer the spirit after a long, hard winter.”   

Refreshments will be available and free parking is included in the admission price.  Visit www.cottesbrookehall.co.uk for more info.

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