Not built for public speaking.

I am pretty useless at debating and arguing in person. I cannot think of appropriate responses to challenges and I can never find the right words to make my point. This is one of the reasons I like to write this blog - I think I write better than I speak, after I've had time to consider what it is I should say to best make my point. My biggest weakness is that I often use a hundred words when ten would do. I've learnt that for me it's often better just to shut my mouth and lose an argument because whatever I say on the spur of the moment will make me sound like an idiot. After a drink, I sometimes forget this and talk utter shite, and I also forget I have a volume control on my voice. I suspect, however, that I am not alone in that particular trait.

I got to thinking about this after a conversation I had with a friend in which I was asked to confirm whether or not I find Professor Brian Cox attractive. I wrote about science and what it means to me here and I have a huge amount of respect for the new poster boy of physics and cosmology. I refused to answer, because any yes or no answer I gave would not necessarily be what I meant. I think they occasionally read this thing, so I'm going to try to answer it here.

At the route of my refusal to answer is my hatred of being labelled, classified and grouped together with others who are similar. I hate it happening to me and I hate it happening to other people as well. I'm not gay and I'm not straight. I'm not bi either. I am physically attracted to the female sex, but there's a range of different types of attraction. I don't want to put myself inside him particularly, but hell yes, Brian Cox is attractive. I may not fancy his arse much, but I do fancy his mind and his enthusiasm for what he does. To instantly reply to my friend's question in the negative would be, I felt, to disassociate myself from gay people, to intentionally distance myself from any and all elements of homosexuality. I find myself extremely intolerant of any form of intolerance and any assumption that there should be any normal way to live, to be or to love. If you've read certain posts on here, you may think I'm fairly intolerant of religious people but that is not true. A religious person that does not attempt to bring me onside or to indoctrinate others in any way is fine. Public displays of religiony things, like praying, is just dandy. The religions themselves I have less time for, but that's another post. The 'I don't mind, just don't bring it near me' is prejudice masquerading as acceptance. It's like the Tories trying to appeal to environmentalists.

As soon as you take it upon yourself to educate yourself, all reasons and excuses for prejudice disappear. You learn that thinking of being gay as a 'lifestyle choice' is utter bullcrap as sexuality is one of the many things decided in the womb and completely outside a person's control. You learn that to deny the truth of evolution is one of the most absurd things a person could do - the biological, genetic and fossilised evidence of the unifying theory of biology (that's a scientific theory, not a regular one - read up on the difference before you embarrass yourself and declare it's 'only a theory') is so far beyond the ability to successfully debate against that the number of people who still genuinely try is bizarre and frightening. How do these people trust doctors and their diagnoses when the diagnoses are based on where the bacteria lie on the phylogenetic tree, which was developed by studying and building on evolution? You learn that Republicans denying the evidence of man made climate change are basically declaring to the world that they will compromise on anything and cross any boundary if it gains them votes, power and wealth.

All these things and more underlie my refusal to answer the question of Brian Cox's attractiveness. Cox's Wonders of the Solar System and follow up Wonders of the Universe speak so clearly to a way of thinking I feel passionately about, that he becomes a person I find extremely attractive in a number of ways, sexually being the least relevant. Anyway, he's not exactly hard on the eye is he?

An early sign of middle age.

"I used to be 'with it'. Then they changed what 'it' was. Now 'it' seems weird and scary to me. It'll happen to you too." - Abe Simpson.

I'm 32 next month. This feels old. I know to a 50 year old it's nothing - still a shining beacon of youth. I also know to a 20 year old it sounds like the best years of my life are behind me. Being or feeling young or old is relative - there is some truth to that 'only as old as you feel' spiel. Maybe 32 feels old to me because I can remember how it felt to be 17, when the thirties seemed another life away.

Attitudes to certain things change as age increases - I mentioned that already here, but I noticed something this week that is beginning to happen with increasing frequency and is an indication that I'm getting older: I am getting annoyed at the NME.

I've read the NME for years. Loved it for years. For years, it's told me where to find some of the best music on the planet. I always loved the writing; how the writers would describe the music. It's becoming increasingly undeniable to me that the writing is a little youth oriented, and is starting to sound stupid to me. I don't think it's anything to do with the magazine changing, I think it's me. I think I'm getting older, and 'it' is making less and less sense to me, just as Abe Simpson predicted. Take this week's issue. Here are three examples of what I think are supposed to be descriptions of music. "For a man who sings like a dismal hippo, he makes rather a lovely racket." How, pray, is a dismal hippo supposed to sound when he sings? "Like trying to beat out loneliness with a dustbin lid." Um, pardon? Is that anything like The Beatles? "Akin to someone dripping poison in your ear." This is actually supposed to be a recommendation. It is nonsense, and it annoys me because it doesn't tell me how those three songs are supposed to sound. Were I barely five years younger, I don't doubt I'd have loved reading such descriptions of music.

It's not the NME's fault. It just doesn't make sense to me anymore. Guess I'll have to start reading Mojo instead.

How do I know I’m not going to ruin my kid’s life?

As mentioned here, we decided on the Priorslee Primary School, recently upgraded to academy status, to be Katie's primary school, with a number of misgivings. When it came down to it, there was little difference between the two local schools we were considering, and the one we chose simply had a slightly better Ofsted rating. We weren't sure if we had made the right decision. Well. Katie got her first choice, and we're still not sure if it's the right one.

Of course, this doesn't mean all that much compared to Katie having to start only a couple of months after her fourth birthday. And yes, I know she doesn't 'have to' - we could keep her out until year 1, when she'll be five, or we can hold on until either January or April. The thing is, keeping her out for a full year means she'll miss her reception year and go straight into formal lessons, and as there is only one intake this year in September if we hold her back until a later term, the other kids would have already made friends and be used to the routine, meaning there is a risk of her being a friendless outsider.

It could be argued that it makes little difference in the end, the 'I didn't have a great childhood and I turned out alright' view. But there is someone close to me who went to the wrong school, was bullied by a teacher and developed a phobia of school, making a large chunk of their childhood unpleasant. Yes, eventually they turned out fine, and couldn't be lovelier, but I don't want Katie to go through that experience. I want her to love learning for the wonder it brings in its own right, not to feel pressure to perform tricks and jump through hoops for grades, which misses the whole point of education. Starting this early at the wrong school could deny her the positive experience she has a right to. Starting her at any school this early could be a mistake, but we feel we've been forced into putting her in too early to give her a chance to bond with other kids in the same situation. Does she really need to be put into this pattern of a five day week of work to prepare her for an adult life that turns her into a worker bee, a capitalist automaton who exists only to create wealth while she's still so young? It's a frightening thought that a decision such as this could easily wreck a large proportion of Katie's early life, and have repercussions throughout her adult life.

All we can do is make what we think is the best decision at the time and hope it was the right one. But we won't stop worrying it's the wrong one.