Hodges' Model: Welcome to the QUAD: father

Hodges' model is a conceptual framework to support reflection and critical thinking. Situated, the model can help integrate all disciplines (academic and professional). Amid news items, are posts that illustrate the scope and application of the model. A bibliography and A4 template are provided in the sidebar. Welcome to the QUAD ...

Showing posts with label father. Show all posts
Showing posts with label father. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 13, 2025

Jackanory: Parity of Esteem 'read' c/o Mr Rosen

Individual
|
      INTERPERSONAL    :     SCIENCES               
HUMANISTIC  --------------------------------------  MECHANISTIC      
 SOCIOLOGY  :    POLITICAL 
|




My source: 
Shop window of The Addyman Annexe - bookshop, Castle St, Hay-on-Wye, 12th August 2025.

Images: 
'STICKY McSTICKSTICK' - https://www.walker.co.uk/
Illustration - https://www.walker.co.uk/author/tony-ross/

Illustration - https://www.walker.co.uk/author/quentin-blake/

Previously: 'parity'

Sunday, December 27, 2020

Personal 'Felt' Service

individual
|
INTERPERSONAL : SCIENCES
humanistic ----------------------------------------------- mechanistic
SOCIOLOGY : POLITICAL
|
group
 




 

Embroidered scan lets blind father 'see' baby. The Time, 15 December 2020, p.27.

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/embroidered-scan-lets-blind-father-see-bab fathery-378jq82qb

Monday, January 13, 2020

a Book by two Fathers on "Grief, Guilt and Hope"


Il Nous Reste Les Mots (We Still Have Words) 

individual
|
INTERPERSONAL : SCIENCES
humanistic ----------------------------------------------- mechanistic
SOCIOLOGY : POLITICAL
|
group - population









My source:
BBC Radio 4, PM, 13 January 2020.

Saturday, May 26, 2018

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

'Lost Luggage': From the many to the one


Lost Luggage, (Cover, goodreads)

Christof, Christophe, 
Christopher and Cristòfol 

- are four brothers – sons of the same father and four very different mothers...

One mother, an English nurse on a cross channel ferry...




The Times, Saturday Review, 25 May 2013, p.17.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Rag dolls and empty bottles

Grief is a frightening character.

A thief who can steal you away and get away with it....
Why?

Because grief cannot be denied. We must leave that small window ajar, the spare key under the mat, best wear your collar loose for when you're grabbed by the scruff of the neck...

Sometimes he finds you 'in' when you wish he hadn't.

Like when you're driving on the motorway and the windscreen wipers don't work somehow. He strikes and turns the sensible into a non-sensible rag doll.

Spring last year I found myself with a choice - head North for home from the Midlands or head back in time. The time traveller with a penchant for the past won out.

I headed West past Telford then Shrewsbury into and across mid-Wales. The weather was strange. There was lightening, but no thunder as I crossed the border and headed into Wales.

Rain then sunshine. Through Welshpool, stopping in Aberdovey through Tywyn, I worked my way around the coast then inland towards Cadre Idris and Llanegryn.

Another Home.

It's no wonder time has mythic status. In the village I imagined, the house standing there, the worn step. The many passing feet, tiny hands growing day by day.

There was the former hotel, the school and old chapel. I could hear voices from yesteryear. And remembered my grandfather's steel stomach from working in the slate quarry. True grit. True work.

Heading NE I came to Bird's Rock.

I made my way to the top.

Walking and running alone.












The valley there stretched out before me was like so many in Wales, green, beautiful and timeless.



I could trace out my journey, along the Dysynni valley and see the bay in the far distance, sunlit and misty.

I stood reflected, remembered and rejoiced.

Savouring some deep breathes and that space, I noticed the strong breeze cutting across the Rock and my face. If my mouth was open I found I had become an open yet empty bottle. A special bottle - one of those human ones - full of raw emotion thinking about a lost other.

I've no idea where it came from but I'm still there




My lips moved but I did not speak.

The wind spoke my words for me.

"It's ok son I'm right here and always will be...."