Mad and the Pootle

In some ways, life is like a river. It flows smoothly at some times and roughly at others. Generally speaking, the rapids and waterfalls occur in the higher reaches of the river, when it is young and still full of energy, racing from the mountains of its birth down into the foothills. In middle age it broadens and slows, having carved out a wide valley in which to produce the richness of the farmlands that feed on it. And then, at last, it reaches the great, flat floodplain of maturity before mingling itself with the sea that is death.

At some point, the analogy breaks down, of course, and so we have times of peace and calm at any age in our lives; and, equally, there may be rapids and upheavals even in the supposedly quiet twilight years. Yesterday was one of those times for me, the long quiet of the previous weeks having been interrupted by a storm of unexpected and distressful events.

Regular readers will be aware that this blog is hosted by my son Mad's website, MadTV. If they have been reading his blog, they will also know that he bought a new motorbike recently, a Suzuki SV650 I think it is. As all parents of bike-owners must fear, the inevitable has happened: on the way home from work last night he had an accident and fractured his pelvis. He is in hospital now and will remain there for several days while the healing process begins. As far as I know, that is the extent of his injuries but I have my spies at work and should hear a bit more detail in due course.

The bike is a write-off apparently. It seems strange to mention that fact but I know it will be one of Mad's chief concerns. He loved that bike although, as his father, I must hope that the accident has made him realize rather more forcibly some of the unpleasant facts of bike-riding. My wife, Kathy calls them "murder bikes" and I need add no more.

Yesterday was also the occasion of my son Pootle's fourteenth birthday. I spoke to him through Yahoo Messenger and he mentioned that his arms were bruised from all the "birthday beats" he had received at school that day. I should explain about "birthday beats" that it is a tradition that has arisen in schools since the time when I was young. It is only through my work with 14 to 16 year olds excluded from school that I know about this. The idea is, apparently, that one should receive a hit on the arm for each year of one's life up to the given birthday - a custom I find stupid and ill-intentioned but typical of the way in which our society has become more violent and aggressive over the last fifty years, in spite of all the weeping and wailing of the bleeding-heart liberals.

Bear in mind that it was the Pootle's 14th birthday. There were about ten kids who decided to give him his "birthday beats", so he received in the region of 140 hits during the course of the day. It is understandable that his arms should be bruised therefore. This morning one of his arms was numb and he has had to go to the doctor as a result. His mother is incensed, quite rightly, and will be visiting the school to express her disgust that this practice is allowed to continue. Whether the school will be able to do anything about it remains to be seen, of course.

I can safely say that yesterday was not a good day therefore. There is little I can do about it except post the news in the blog to avoid having to repeat myself over and over again to those who might want to know.

The dangers of motor bikes are well known; I am grateful that Mad is okay apart from the pelvis and will say no more about the matter. But, being annoyed about the whole "birthday beats" thing, I might blog about the violence of modern society, the reasons for it and how liberal thought has been an important part of this brutalization.

But not today.