The end of another Christmas. Another year over, a new one just begun, as someone once sung. Despite both children being really quite ill, I am now contemplating the end of the holiday with a sense of dark despondency and depression which means it must have been good in spite of the health issues. One thing is for sure - it was a hell of a lot better than last year, though that wasn't hard.
As I sit here in the lounge, trying desperately not to allow the bleak mood to be further soured by the sudden absence of lights and decorations, I can at least reflect on quite an interesting array of presents - the sacks were full and frequent this year. Emilia has a remarkably traditional dolls house that I managed to construct earlier in December - complete with replacement parts. Olivia has a new set of toys for the playroom and they will both be in receipt of a new swing for the garden in a few weeks time. Alison has clothes, trainers, chocolates and money to spend, whilst I have some new kit for my guitar, an adults colouring book and my first present of Lego for well over twenty years.
Lego, it must be said, has qualities that transcend time, space, generations, moods, themes and purpose. When I was five, I had knights and castles. When I was eight it was pirates and space. When I was ten it was an entire city with harbour and fire station (not to mention custom built chair lift and ski slope). The gap that then ensued was a mere chapter of dormancy because I only had to walk casually down one of aisles of Toys R Us during a quiet weekend at university and within minutes I had treated myself to a small jousting set. Several years later, I was bought a Star Wars model by a work colleague for one of the first Christmases at Welconstruct. Several more years later I found myself on an agile developers course (a theoretical approach to an efficient way of planning and managing web development for the uninitiated) and we arrived in a very expensive Belgium hotel to a room full of Lego; apparently the best resource for learning the ropes. At that stage I believe Emilia was two years old - probably a little too young to appreciate the brick, but around fifteen months ago whilst on holiday in Wales we bought her a small set - Lego friends, specifically designed for girls. Now aged five she has around half-a-dozen sets and genuinely enjoys playing with them.
I've never been in the habit of trying to impose my interests on my daughters and am more than satisfied in helping Em with the harder sets without trying to convince her that she needs a full scale replica of Minus Tirith in her room. However, those around me and especially my wife have decided (almost certainly wisely) that I need Lego in my life. It took a mere five minutes of playing with my new set of bricks and a cursory glance at the Christmas edition of "Inside Lego" for me to decide that I need to embrace Lego once more. I'm going to create a super castle. It might take me months, but it's fun and I love it.
Pictures to follow in due course.
As I sit here in the lounge, trying desperately not to allow the bleak mood to be further soured by the sudden absence of lights and decorations, I can at least reflect on quite an interesting array of presents - the sacks were full and frequent this year. Emilia has a remarkably traditional dolls house that I managed to construct earlier in December - complete with replacement parts. Olivia has a new set of toys for the playroom and they will both be in receipt of a new swing for the garden in a few weeks time. Alison has clothes, trainers, chocolates and money to spend, whilst I have some new kit for my guitar, an adults colouring book and my first present of Lego for well over twenty years.
Lego, it must be said, has qualities that transcend time, space, generations, moods, themes and purpose. When I was five, I had knights and castles. When I was eight it was pirates and space. When I was ten it was an entire city with harbour and fire station (not to mention custom built chair lift and ski slope). The gap that then ensued was a mere chapter of dormancy because I only had to walk casually down one of aisles of Toys R Us during a quiet weekend at university and within minutes I had treated myself to a small jousting set. Several years later, I was bought a Star Wars model by a work colleague for one of the first Christmases at Welconstruct. Several more years later I found myself on an agile developers course (a theoretical approach to an efficient way of planning and managing web development for the uninitiated) and we arrived in a very expensive Belgium hotel to a room full of Lego; apparently the best resource for learning the ropes. At that stage I believe Emilia was two years old - probably a little too young to appreciate the brick, but around fifteen months ago whilst on holiday in Wales we bought her a small set - Lego friends, specifically designed for girls. Now aged five she has around half-a-dozen sets and genuinely enjoys playing with them.
I've never been in the habit of trying to impose my interests on my daughters and am more than satisfied in helping Em with the harder sets without trying to convince her that she needs a full scale replica of Minus Tirith in her room. However, those around me and especially my wife have decided (almost certainly wisely) that I need Lego in my life. It took a mere five minutes of playing with my new set of bricks and a cursory glance at the Christmas edition of "Inside Lego" for me to decide that I need to embrace Lego once more. I'm going to create a super castle. It might take me months, but it's fun and I love it.
Pictures to follow in due course.
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