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Hi to all out there and welcome back to my weekly offerings of good old down to earth blog. I hope you all had a good summer vacation, I know I did, although compared to most of you out there I reckon mine was a bit short, 5 days, but as usual I spent all the time with my family and made it count as best as I could. I suppose most mums and dads go through a phase of not thinking that they are quite cutting the rug in terms of being the best that they could be in the mum and dad department., I know I certainly do, but I suppose those that think in such a way are very probably the best at what they’re trying to be better at. As I don’t have a lot of time to spare I’ll have to leave it there, I have one or two lines of poetry that I’d like to finish with, so I’ll catch up with you all again next week. Until then, if you are a parent, don’t give up on what you think is the right way to bring up your kids, it’s easy to get influenced in the wrong way by reading too much of what people think is the best way to go, Try not to give into your kids too much as you’re bringing them up and make sure you never give up on your kids, most of us at sometime in our lives fall by the wayside and it’s usually support from family members that somehow makes it all right in the end – keep living, keep learning and most of all keep loving.

From lads and lasses to mams and dads
Growing up being one of the lads.
Growing older and not wanting to be one of the dads that look back when
they’ve got kids and say “That’s exactly how I was in my day”.
Not because being a lad was bad, it was good, and I’d do it all again if I could.
I had something that gave me a chance to get out, so I took it and it ended up being for good.
I can hear those lads that stayed and became dads lament “He’s a good looking kid and so was I at that age,
I’ll bet he gets up to what I did”.
“She’s a bonny lass, she’ll break a few hearts and cause one or two brawls in pubs before she’s wed
and bathing her own babies in hand-me-down tubs”.
Boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, then wives sharing memories of being one of the lads and lasses all their lives.
In a small provincial town that no longer thrives.
A poem by Stephen Austwick