Category Archives: Freya

The Country Boy Visits The City

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Johan, Freya’s cousin, went back home today, after spending the week with us while he did some work experience.

Jo had asked Linda, a film producer and friend of ours, for the placement, and she kindly took Johan under her wing. She let Johan produce his own three-minute film, which he did by himself (from the initial idea to the editing). Not a bad placement really; better than cleaning the toilets at McDonalds.

This was his first time alone away from his home tract. He seemed to take to it easily, spending the evenings out with his “friend”, Victoria. Freya didn’t get to see Johan much because of this, but still talked often about him, and even proclaimed her love for him.

It was nice to spend a little more time with him. He is quite a quiet person, and I didn’t really get so much out of him, though he seems to know the lyrics to many of this year’s Eurovision Song Contest (the final being tonight).

Time (mis)Spent With Freya

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I’ve been feeling a bit guilty recently. Despite being able to leave work earlier than most people (although I do work on a while because of the workload), I don’t give as much time as I would like to Freya.

By the time I have collected her and come home it’s soon time to start making food. I sometimes have a half hour with her, in between preparing the various elements that make up the evening meal, and I suppose the time I’m with her on the journey home (which may include an exciting visit to the shops for food, or a walk home instead of the usual tram) should count for something, since we are interacting, but I wouldn’t call it quality time. Although maybe Freya does.

I wonder how other families have it. I can’t believe their situation is, on the whole, better than ours. I work a good few hours less than most parents do (thanks to some kind planning by my employers); nonetheless, I refuse to use comparison as a way to assuage my displeasure at the situation.

One solution to the quagmire would be to plan and prepare our evening meals more systematically. This would be an attainable goal if we had the space to freeze in, which we don’t. Having said that, most of the food I cook could easily keep in the fridge for a couple of days, which would free up valuable time.

At least with the summer weather fast approaching I can start thinking about picnics. Part of my current feelings derive from our time together being confined to the flat, whilst I prepare food. If I’m cunning I can prepare “cold food” like salads, take them to work, and then take Freya to the park on fetching her from nursery school.

Respite from this will no doubt come from the summer holidays. Soon I’ll have a whole six weeks with Freya, which should go someway towards lessening the negativity I have towards my role as a parent.

Return Of The Dead

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We got our Furby, Domo, back from the repair shop yesterday. The man who owns the shop lied told us that he couldn’t fix it because he was unable to get into the workings, but we brought him (her?) back anyway.

Jo put some batteries in Domo, and s/he worked! We’ve no idea how it happened, but I suspect Furbies are a magical, self-healing species. Either that or the electrician actually did repair it, and had forgotten the incident. Or perhaps Furbies are a magical, non-self-healing species, who wipe the memories of those who help, giving the illusion they are self-healing.

The important thing is, though, that Domo is alive and kicking, and Freya has been interacting with it this evening. She has a little difficulty in understanding what is being said, which is in itself understandable. Domo uses broken English and Furbish to communicate, with a dash of dialect.

Jo and I are reacquainting ourselves with Domo’s functions, and it’ll be interesting to see how much more memory Domo has to learn.

McDonalds Goes To School

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As part of Freya’s current food project at school, some of the children have assembled a McDonald’s pastiche which was displayed on the wall in the play/dining area. Jo alerted me to this, so I took a proper look for myself. True enough, there were a couple of pictures of the children standing outside a local “restaurant”, along with some paper-art burgers and, most worrying of all, french-fry boxes on which the children’s names were written as “McAlice” and so on.

I mentioned to one of the educators that I thought this was not something I wish my daughter to see every day, and I was greeted with mild empathy and excuses for the display. I then wrote an open letter to the school, explaining that we have no problem with junk-food being discussed, but for it to be given a face in the form of a brand-name was tantamount to free advertising.

The offending posters have been taken down, and I await further comments to arise from my letter being discussed in a future teacher meeting. It is a testament to McDonald’s marketing that no-one in the nursery school found this synonymity concerning; one of the first comments I received was “if it makes you feel better there are pictures of vegetables on the walls, too”. It doesn’t, since there is no company called “Vegetable”; I would be equally anxious if pictures of Nike products were used in a clothes project.

Sadly, when I was in the dining area of my school the next day, I saw a similar pastiche about food in Arabic. Amongst the vegetables and fruit loomed two french-fry cartons. Thankfully, they were almost indistinguishable, and were hidden by the other foodstuffs and the hugeness of the dining room itself, something which cannot be achieved in Freya’s school.

Tales Of The Toilet

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It just goes to show how effective it has been in drilling Freya with certain routines. The other night, at 4am, Freya woke up needing a wee. She walked to the toilet, turned on the light, went to toilet, dried herself, drew out the chair, climbed up on it, washed and then dried her hands, turned out the light and went back to bed.

It is really amazing how well she has learned these routines, and she has yet to wee the bed.