For a start, it’s organised in such a way as to mirror certain features of learning. Because, strange as it may seem,  our brains aren’t really wired up for words, in lines, on paper. Given that our brains have been around for about 150,000 years and writing – in any form – has been around for a mere 5,000 years that’s not difficult to believe. That bio-computer housed in our skull has evolved to help us survive in just about any set of circumstances imaginable: to hunt; to avoid being hunted; to pass on our ‘immortal’ genes. But it hasn’t – yet – evolved to learn from books. It’s an unnatural activity, which is probably why so many people find it so difficult. And it takes a lot of effort – more than is strictly necessary – because of the way we force ourselves to do it.

Not with these books. For a start, there’s plenty of colour – the brain likes colour – and the words are limited to those that are essential (key words) and there are plenty of pictures and diagrams. They’re neatly divided into easily-studied sections too, so that you can take those essential brain-breaks as regularly as necessary (which is roughly every twenty minutes). Furthermore, they’re easily affordable – especially if you can persuade your teacher to order them direct through school as their are some very generous discounts to be had.

So there’s no excuse really. You’ve still got to revise, of course. But with these guides – and they do them in a huge range of subjects – your revision will be easier, more enjoyable and probably more effective.

I’d wish everyone with exams in the next few weeks ‘good luck’. But if you revise smarter – not harder – you won’t need luck. And you’ll do better!

But good luck anyway.

For a start, it’s organised in such a way as to mirror certain features of learning. Because, strange as it may seem,  our brains aren’t really wired up for words, in lines, on paper. Given that our brains have been around for about 150,000 years and writing – in any form – has been around for a mere 5,000 years that’s not difficult to believe. That bio-computer housed in our skull has evolved to help us survive in just about any set of circumstances imaginable: to hunt; to avoid being hunted; to pass on our ‘immortal’ genes. But it hasn’t – yet – evolved to learn from books. It’s an unnatural activity, which is probably why so many people find it so difficult. And it takes a lot of effort – more than is strictly necessary – because of the way we force ourselves to do it.

Not with these books. For a start, there’s plenty of colour – the brain likes colour – and the words are limited to those that are essential (key words) and there are plenty of pictures and diagrams. They’re neatly divided into easily-studied sections too, so that you can take those essential brain-breaks as regularly as necessary (which is roughly every twenty minutes). Furthermore, they’re easily affordable – especially if you can persuade your teacher to order them direct through school as their are some very generous discounts to be had.

So there’s no excuse really. You’ve still got to revise, of course. But with these guides – and they do them in a huge range of subjects – your revision will be easier, more enjoyable and probably more effective.

I’d wish everyone with exams in the next few weeks ‘good luck’. But if you revise smarter – not harder – you won’t need luck. And you’ll do better!

But good luck anyway.

Pooh-sticks, you’ll remember, was the game invented by Pooh at the point where the river had ceased worrying whether it was going to get there or not, but just meandered along lazily not really caring. If you don’t remember or if – heaven forfend – you’ve never come across the stories there’s a wonderful opportunity to re-acquaint yourselves with them, thanks to Fairy. Because between now and the end of May, they’ve giving away one of three Winnie the Pooh audio books with these special packs:

And that’s not all. Because the team behind this latest promotion have also decided to give away a fantastic personalised toy box stuffed full of Fairy and Winnie-the-Pooh goodies to one lucky reader of Bringing up Charlie. In addition to the three audio books, this treasure chest contains one of each of the following Fairy products: Fabric Softener; Non Bio Gel; a special Fairy blanket and a Winnie the Pooh cuddly toy.

It’s like the Generation Game, only better. Because to enter – you don’t have to remember any of the prizes just, well…

Well normally, you just have to leave a comment. But that seems a bit too easy. After all, quite apart from what’s in the box, the box itself will prove invaluable when it’s time to tidy away your children’s toys. It’s sturdy, roomy and has one of those clever ‘soft’ hinges so that the lid doesn’t close with a finger-trapping bang. They’ve thought of everything. And if you’d like to win it – as well as what’s inside – you’ll not only need to leave a comment but tweet about it too. Oh, and click my ‘Follow’ button if you haven’t done already. Oh yes, and buy a book from Dotterel Press. And buy me a drink (mine’s a pint, remember?) next time you see me.

No, seriously, any – or all – of the above (apart, maybe, from the drink – although I’ll not refuse if I see you at the bar at Cybermummy!) will secure you one entry (just make sure you let me know which entries – other than comments – are yours) and the draw will be made by Charlie this coming Saturday.

Good luck!

Country Town (1943) from British Council Film Archive on Vimeo.

You see, some time ago I ran a competition to win not one but EIGHT boxes of breakfast cereal. Charlie and I duly picked a winner in time-honoured fashion. (I write the names on a scrap of paper, he’s supposed to take one out of the hat but ends up taking them all out, one-by-one, so I choose the one name that he missed, the one looking all forlorn at the bottom of the hat.) And that name belonged to… NotSupermum. Yes. Well done, NotSupermum. So far, so good.

But we hit a problem. You see, the PR who kindly donated the prize left the company between offering the bran flakes and me picking out a winner. Since then, radio-silence seems to have been maintained. Emails have been sent; emails have bounced back. To be honest, I’d forgotten all about it. Until yesterday, when this chap’s replacement got in touch to ask me for the winner’s name. So all is well once again. And NotSupermum has got a lot of breakfast cereal coming her way. (They’ll be in touch, NSM.)

More recently I ran another competition. (I’m good at this!) This time the prize was a pair of tickets to The Baby Show later this month. The lucky winners this time are…

Domestic Goddesque
Polly
Liz
Baby Buggy Boat
and
Emma and 3

Well done! To claim the tickets send your details to sarah.barns@ideageneration.co.uk and she’ll do this rest.

Finally, if you’re starting to feel as though Lady Luck might have deserted you, don’t despair. Because for the price of just one comment on this post, saying (almost) anything at all, I can offer one of you a copy of this when it comes out on May 26th…

As the blurb says, Bear Grylls is a man who has always sought the ultimate in adventure. Growing up on the Isle of Wight, he was taught by his father to sail and climb at an early age. Inevitably, it wasn’t long before Bear was leading out-of-bounds night-climbing missions at school.

Apparently, Mr Grylls was recently voted the most admired man in Britain. And there’s a lot to admire, from service in the SAS to being one of the youngest climbers ever to conquer Everest. I’m certainly not going to argue with him. Although I would like to know if that’s his real name. For now, though, I’ll leave you with this tempting tag-line:

Gripping, moving and wildly exhilarating, in Mud, Sweat and Tears, Bear tells his remarkable story for the first time.

And if you’d like to read it without forking out the £18.99 that the book is going to cost, leave a comment in the space below. Go on. I dare you!

ils

And all you need – should you be bored or foolish enough to want have a go yourselves – is a few empty bottles and containers like these…

A shampoo bottle, one of those little Sodastream sample sachets, and the plastic box that Eloise’s dummies came in. (Yes, I’m afraid we’ve succumbed to the soother!). As we’re looking to play with these in the bath (where else could Thunderbird 4 go on his underwater missions?) I’ve excluded Charlie from the painting stage this time, and done the job myself. Outside. With some cans.

In fact, I’ve had to exclude Charlie from the cutting stages too, as you need a fairly strong knife to slice through the plastic. Be careful! But he was allowed to draw round the pod so I could cut out the correct shape.

If you are having a go (and why wouldn’t you?) remember to keep the bits of plastic that you cut out: they’ll be needed for the wings and fins (easily fitted by means of cutting slits in the plastic and slotting them in). And after that it’s just a small matter of adding detail with a marker pen, and away you go. F.A.B.

Apart from the painting (which didn’t take long to do, just a while to dry) this is about one of the simplest, quickest crafting projects we’ve done. Ok, it’s not very hands-on for a toddler. Well, not until near the end, anyway…

Charlie’s verdict? ‘That’s fantastic!’ And a lot less than the forty quid they want on eBay at the moment.

Now I like Thunderbirds. I love that theme. Personally, I think Kate and Will should have marched down the Abbey aisle to it last Friday. It’s every bit the equal of Crown Imperial. But why is a three-year-old who has never seen the programme, in either its ‘super-marionation’ incarnation (super-marionation, I ask you! What was super about Parker bouncing along with his hands in front of him? Or Lady Penelope’s rictus grin? And you could always – always – see the strings) or the Hollywood blockbuster celluloid version of 2004 suddenly doing going Thunderbirds crazy?

Well, I’ll tell you the story. It happened – like these things have a habit of doing – at nursery. They’ve got a Thunderbird Four there, and Charlie’s taken quite a shine to it. He hasn’t reached the stage yet of surreptitiously slipping it into his pocket at home time, but I’m sure it’ll happen. Anyway, he mentioned this in passing one day: you know, the ‘what did you do at nursery today?’ conversation. ‘I played with Thunderbird Four’ he replies. And I do a double-take, simultaneously interrogating him about his newly acquired knowledge of Thunderbirds vehicles while at the same time having a Proustian madeleine moment as I’m transported back to Thursday tea-time, after school (about 4.20pm if I remember rightly) kneeling in front of the telly and watching this…

Oh yes. Thuderbirds are go alright. But have you seen the price of the toys? Cheapest I can find is forty quid, and I’m not paying that even if it does come in the original Dinky box. No. So tune it on Thursday, when we’ll be making our own Thunderbird Two, complete with detachable pod and – you’ve guessed it – Thunderbird Four

F.A.B

Yes. And I wrote so many silly stories, pathetic poems and awful articles that – one day – the little bit of metal that jumps up and down when you hit the keys and that holds the ribbon snapped, broke, sheared off and that was it. But fired with enthusiasm for the new home PC’s I got one. It’s probably in a museum now. And anyway, I didn’t actually ‘write’ much on it. I actually wrote on one of these:

Yes! A Psion organiser, with a cool 256k of memory – more (so the man who sold it to me told me) than was needed on the Apollo moon landings. Well, it worked for me. I wrote. Lots. But it broke. And that seemed to be the way of things as I tried out all manner of devices. I scaled down from the tower desktop PC to the neatest, smallest lap-top I could find, but it wasn’t the same. You see, you couldn’t fit it in your jacket pocket. And writing fiction – which requires a little bit of inspiration, as well as lots of perspiration – demands something reasonable portable. I know, I could’ve used a pen and paper, but… that typewriter, all those years ago, had spoiled me. I could only keep up with my own thoughts on a keyboard.

Then came smart-phones. Oh yes! They were small. You could fit them in your pocket, that’s for sure. But they were, perhaps, a bit too small. Getting used to the teeny-tiny on-screen keyboard on an iPhone, for example, takes time. And no matter how adept you might become, the writing’s never going to be as accurate.

But now, ladies and gentlemen, I think I might have found the answer. Because those awfully nice Asus people have sent me this little beauty to have a play around with:

Now, I’ve played with the iPad and liked it. I like the touch-screen technology of a tablet. But I can’t get used to the on-screen keyboard. And this amazing piece of kit comes with it’s own, making it a cross between a tablet and a note-book, I suppose.

Ok, it won’t quite fit in my inside jacket pocket. But it’s light and thin and portable in every other way. Ladies, you could certainly fit one in your handbag. In fact, I might be getting one (a hand bag, that is) for just such a purpose.

But I digress. I’m going to enjoy putting the new Eee Pad Transformer through its paces, and reporting back both here and on the Techinstyle.tv website.

If only the quality of writing improved in proportion to the tools you’ve got, eh? With this piece of kit, even Shakespeare had better watch out!

Personally, I’m not sure I approve of AV but neither do I think a system in which more people can (and often do) vote against the winning candidate is particularly fair. Mind you, I also think you can have too much of a good thing, and mockracy’s a pretty good example. I want to vote for someone who I know will do something, and who – if they don’t – I can then vote out. I don’t want a mass talking shop of people who like nothing better than the sound of their own voices in the council chamber, and who then constantly blame each other for what doesn’t get done. Professional politicians (and I include in that number all those who might not draw salaries but do claim exorbitant expenses) shouldn’t be paid by the likes of you and I to indulge themselves in their peculiar hobby. It’s not voting that’s at fault, it’s who we’re voting for.

Mind you, that’s one thing I WILL most certainly be doing. Voting. Even if there’s no-one and nothing worth voting for, I’ll wander to the polling station and exercise my franchise. I’m too conscious of those who fought and died for the right, those who still do and those to whom it’s denied to let a mere trifle like a walk to the polling station and a list of candidates who in any other circumstances would be unelectable to put me off.

Monster Raving Loony Party, anybody?