The brutal truth about parenting today
In my Quora feed today is a man asking for advice on how to deal with a disrespectful 17-year-old son.
The top answer, from “former head bottle washer” Max, is:
“Have the little prick arrested, have him beaten to a pulp by the football team, put him in counseling, or put him out.”
>> There is some kind of kerfuffle going on in the social media world between ex-footballers Roy Keane (Manchester United) and Jamie Carragher (Liverpool).
The two retired soccer stars were asked to pick a single imaginary team from a squad comprising the vintage and all-conquering 1999 Utd squad and the present, all-conquering Liverpool one.
The ruck boils down to Carragher (ex Liverpool) not selecting Ryan Giggs (ex Man Utd wing ace) for his fantasy team.
Keane (ex Man Utd midfield hard man) is pictured doing his best look of astonishment at Carragher’s omission.
Then a volcano of twitterings erupted as the entire nation (not) joined the debate.
I didn’t stick around to find out who won. Or if the war of words is even over yet.
>> In Barts Hospital I notice a fascinating photo exhibition about working in the health service tied to the 70th anniversary of the nhs.
The only downfall is that none of the photographs is explained in any detail.
I’m never normally bothered by this if the artworks are paintings.
But when they are a photographic historical record, I do crave information.
This image is kind of self-explanatory. Woman does filing, man reads the files (status depicted using a simple up/down motif).
But the photo below could do with some clue as to what this woman is doing with whatever piece of hospital equipment that is.
>> Walking down Golden Lane, I passed a woman talking to someone hands-free.
I overheard her describing an encounter as making her feel like she was “being swamped by an impenetrable blanket of narcissism.”
>> We did the first of Madhumita’s art classes in the Barbican Library tonight.
It was “direct painting” to canvas using acrylics.
Several vases of flowers stood in front of us.
It’s like sketching with paint, and mixing the colours right on the canvas rather than on your paper plate.
The class was a fun, social and stress-free way to spend 90 minutes every two weeks.
But the numbers grew and it became too big for the given space. Cue creeping stress.
The bit I liked most was when Madz told us not to worry too much about “making it look like the flower you are painting”.
Because whoever looks at your picture will not have seen the real flower, so they’ll never know if you “got it right” or not.