A DAD'S LIFE:The advent of Sky Plus is great, there's just one downside, writes ADAM BROPHY
I GOT SKY PLUS into the house and am now more enthusiastic than George Hook in that ad everyone slags off – the one where he’s contorting himself in joy at his new-found ability to pause live television. He’s right, you see: you need never now miss a moment of your favourite TV programme.
This is a good thing, for the main part. Our box is filling up with Mad Men, Sopranos and Curb Your Enthusiasm repeats. When I melt into the couch of an evening, I can take my pick of whatever hasn’t been viewed in the planner. When the 11.15pm urge for a toasted ham and cheese hits, the pause button gets a smack and I take my time with the late-night munchies. And when those munchies keep me awake like the decrepit old man I am, there’s a host of entertainment through the night to distract from the insomnia.
The only downside is the 84 episodes of Peppa Pig clogging up my box’s memory. That’s the younger’s doing. The elder has a mere 24 Saddle Clubs from which to choose.
They got to grips with the technology faster than me, mainly because it was to their benefit. Midweek Champions League football had always been my get-out clause. While the game was on, I was unavailable for whatever task they demanded of me. “Press pause, Dad. Come back to it later.” Snookered.
It wasn’t just the Champions League. Any old muck could get me out of trouble. A dead rubber between Llanelli and Scarlets in the Magners League over on the Welsh channel was a reason to avoid bath time. They thought I couldn’t live without sport. I was only flicking over from Corrie when they were in the room. Now I have no excuse not to be involved with everything. Thanks to George Hook and his precious box.
They record all their nonsense and watch it at their leisure. This has reduced fight time, but not eliminated it: someone still has to go first, and neither has yet mastered the art of giving in. The elder works her side better though. If she is forced to wait, she immediately requests access to the internet to pass the lengthy 20 minutes a Peppa Pig will take.
In that time she checks her “Moshi”. This is not some recently developed new age Zen meditation trip. A kid’s “Moshi” is not the 2011 version of mojo. I think I’d rather she was concerned for her mojo.
Her “Moshi” is her own pet monster on moshimonsters.com, some sort of social networking site for pre-teens where the nippers masquerade as cuddly monsters, play games, tell jokes and generally interact like they would if they actually went outside and played with each other. I had to grant e-mail approval for this to go ahead and now my credit card is being hit for a fiver a month which, more than anything else, has me keeping a close eye on proceedings.
As far as I can see, she finds out which kids in her class also have Moshis and gets on the PC to track them down, make friends and invite them to her Moshi house. We allow this for only 20 minutes a day because, we’d rather she actually went to her friends’ houses or had them over here.
However, increasingly, when they come over here, they just want to sit on the computer and visit other friends’ Moshi houses. I chase them out the door with a broom and make them bounce on the trampoline.
All this is a very obvious parental fret at “what the kids are doing today” and I don’t want to get bogged down in it because it’s their job to behave differently to the way we did. We’re their parents; we’re historical artefacts. Our 1970s stories come from the vaults of time before everyone had a phone. I get it: they’ll streak into new things and I won’t quite understand except for the fact that there is always a buzz in having something of your own, beyond your parents’ grasp.
But I feel sorry for their instant gratification too. There is no must-see programme, something to ensure you’re in front of the box for, no shared discussions of the previous night’s Top of the Pops or Tucker’s battles in Grange Hill. Now there is an infinite supply of information and entertainment. I suppose the sharing of Moshi monsters with classmates replaces what we all learnt from Why Don’t You? on a Saturday morning.
It’s just moshimonsters has them being cartoon monsters. Why Don’t You? had us building hovercrafts in the garage.