When dinosaurs were shaped liked girls
Barton is absolutely freezing, though we are warm.
Saturday was party day. Gemma was 4. Mother Catherine was in a state of auto-pilot from early that morning. I landed at the perverse Saturday hour of 9am (as requested - much earlier than the originally-stated "lunch-time"). Distracting of 4 year old (whilst mother, aunt and grandfather all prepared for the onslaught) went well. Young Gemma demonstrated that she is a faster runner than I, a better painter than I, knows more about dinosaurs and horses than I, and - when re-enacting scenes from Jurassic Park - one ought to be prepared for a thwack in the eye - for 'twas the fate of a Shane-shaped veloceraptor - according to that particular girl-shaped t-rex. And there was me thinking that dinosaurs were a boy thing.
The party went well. Ten moments:-
1. Attendance of 22 - 10 children, 12 adults.
2. Fascinating to watch different styles of parenting - all had landed to an unfamiliar house.
3. Even though he claimed he did, I'm not convinced that Alfie ordinarily wiped his own bottom.
4. I don't believe it's possible to wipe a bottom clean with as little toilet paper as Alfie used.
5. I suspect Alfie's mother experienced a rather unpleasant surprise on Saturday evening.
6. I suspect Catherine may get a funny look from Alfie's mother at the nursery tomorrow.
7. Catherine will not know why she got a funny look from Alfie's mother tomorrow.
8. Holly bollocksed up the game of Stick the Eye on the Pirate by going first and demonstrating a perfect pinning technique.
9. It is hard to sustain motivation amongst a group of 3 and 4 year olds for a game of Stick the Eye on the Pirate when participants 2 through to 10 all know that they are Stick the Eye on the Pirate losers... as reminded by a gloating child called Holly.
10. There is only so much cake that a 3 year old can eat before vomiting.
Then! Planet Wexford experienced prime weirdness. Late Friday, received a text invite to join Emma and Alex (3) for a walk in the park on Sunday afternoon. Accepted that - thinking "Mmm. Sounds pleasant, intimate, all very novel". And, what with my 'How to interact with 4 year olds' priming on Saturday, I was bound to be a hit. However! Saturday evening got a call from Siobhan (chum, really very brief old flame, also a friend of Emma))...
Siobhan: Hi Shane. Siobhan.
Shane: Siobhan - oh, hello, wasn't expecting to hear from you this evening. Everything alright?
Siobhan: Oh y' know - hate my Ph.D, hate this city, diet's gone tits up, whilst everyone else seems on top of the world. How about you?
Shane: Well. Er-
Siobhan: Yeah anyway, the reason I'm calling is to let you know that you can pick me up tomorrow on your way over to country park.
Shane: (Pause) Ah. Right. How did you know I was going to country park?
Siobhan: Well I spoke to Emma of course. How d' y' think I know?
(This is not the Emma, Alex and Shane walk in the park that had been foreseen)
Shane: Oh yeah, I see. (Really not seeing at all)
Siobhan: We'll meet them at 1:30 yeah?
Shane: Yeah?
Siobhan: Yeah. Pick me up at 1:10.
Shane: (Stunned) Ok. Er-, who is "them" exactly?
Siobhan: You have told them that you'll be going for a walk haven't you?
Shane: Yes. (Pause) But I don't know who's going exactly.
Siobhan: Emma, Ed, Alex, you and me. Try to get some sleep. See y' tomorrow.
So, this afternoon, I had the arduous task of engaging in small-talk with Ed (the bloke of the colleague who I really do like a lot: she who has been flirting outrageously with me - I'm sure: Leeds Joe confirms this), whilst Emma (colleague, and largely absent inviter) did girl-talk with Siobhan. It was awful. By the end, I had roundly failed in my bid to appear convivial and interested in Ed's talk of pension schemes and his questioning - but oh so following the social script - of Ph.D. Quietly asked by Siobhan why I seemed to be so moody I could not chirrup up "Oh because you and Ed are here and I can hardly 'share' with you the peculiar sense of taking-the-piss that I'm experiencing with regards to the hot and cold intimacy of Ms E". Later, I felt it necessary to send a brief text to both Siobhan and Emma (to be extended to Ed too) apologising for my dour performance. Got a quick reply from Emma saying she didn't know what I was talking about and that she was glad I'd joined the walk (a gladness that was unsurprisingly not extended as being from Ed too).
Spirits were raised by returning to and finishing the Barry Humphries' autobiography "My Life as Me". In my view: he has a soothing style of writing, his story is a lesson in why not to 'spoil' children, though his reflections on his parents were loaded with quiet appreciation. Recommended.
Tonight, as I look up into the starry sky of Barton, I see a constellation that resembles... Kirsty Wark of Newsnight. *Wonders what the name for that is* *Wonders what was really in this evening's lentil bake*
Saturday was party day. Gemma was 4. Mother Catherine was in a state of auto-pilot from early that morning. I landed at the perverse Saturday hour of 9am (as requested - much earlier than the originally-stated "lunch-time"). Distracting of 4 year old (whilst mother, aunt and grandfather all prepared for the onslaught) went well. Young Gemma demonstrated that she is a faster runner than I, a better painter than I, knows more about dinosaurs and horses than I, and - when re-enacting scenes from Jurassic Park - one ought to be prepared for a thwack in the eye - for 'twas the fate of a Shane-shaped veloceraptor - according to that particular girl-shaped t-rex. And there was me thinking that dinosaurs were a boy thing.
The party went well. Ten moments:-
1. Attendance of 22 - 10 children, 12 adults.
2. Fascinating to watch different styles of parenting - all had landed to an unfamiliar house.
3. Even though he claimed he did, I'm not convinced that Alfie ordinarily wiped his own bottom.
4. I don't believe it's possible to wipe a bottom clean with as little toilet paper as Alfie used.
5. I suspect Alfie's mother experienced a rather unpleasant surprise on Saturday evening.
6. I suspect Catherine may get a funny look from Alfie's mother at the nursery tomorrow.
7. Catherine will not know why she got a funny look from Alfie's mother tomorrow.
8. Holly bollocksed up the game of Stick the Eye on the Pirate by going first and demonstrating a perfect pinning technique.
9. It is hard to sustain motivation amongst a group of 3 and 4 year olds for a game of Stick the Eye on the Pirate when participants 2 through to 10 all know that they are Stick the Eye on the Pirate losers... as reminded by a gloating child called Holly.
10. There is only so much cake that a 3 year old can eat before vomiting.
Then! Planet Wexford experienced prime weirdness. Late Friday, received a text invite to join Emma and Alex (3) for a walk in the park on Sunday afternoon. Accepted that - thinking "Mmm. Sounds pleasant, intimate, all very novel". And, what with my 'How to interact with 4 year olds' priming on Saturday, I was bound to be a hit. However! Saturday evening got a call from Siobhan (chum, really very brief old flame, also a friend of Emma))...
Siobhan: Hi Shane. Siobhan.
Shane: Siobhan - oh, hello, wasn't expecting to hear from you this evening. Everything alright?
Siobhan: Oh y' know - hate my Ph.D, hate this city, diet's gone tits up, whilst everyone else seems on top of the world. How about you?
Shane: Well. Er-
Siobhan: Yeah anyway, the reason I'm calling is to let you know that you can pick me up tomorrow on your way over to country park.
Shane: (Pause) Ah. Right. How did you know I was going to country park?
Siobhan: Well I spoke to Emma of course. How d' y' think I know?
(This is not the Emma, Alex and Shane walk in the park that had been foreseen)
Shane: Oh yeah, I see. (Really not seeing at all)
Siobhan: We'll meet them at 1:30 yeah?
Shane: Yeah?
Siobhan: Yeah. Pick me up at 1:10.
Shane: (Stunned) Ok. Er-, who is "them" exactly?
Siobhan: You have told them that you'll be going for a walk haven't you?
Shane: Yes. (Pause) But I don't know who's going exactly.
Siobhan: Emma, Ed, Alex, you and me. Try to get some sleep. See y' tomorrow.
So, this afternoon, I had the arduous task of engaging in small-talk with Ed (the bloke of the colleague who I really do like a lot: she who has been flirting outrageously with me - I'm sure: Leeds Joe confirms this), whilst Emma (colleague, and largely absent inviter) did girl-talk with Siobhan. It was awful. By the end, I had roundly failed in my bid to appear convivial and interested in Ed's talk of pension schemes and his questioning - but oh so following the social script - of Ph.D. Quietly asked by Siobhan why I seemed to be so moody I could not chirrup up "Oh because you and Ed are here and I can hardly 'share' with you the peculiar sense of taking-the-piss that I'm experiencing with regards to the hot and cold intimacy of Ms E". Later, I felt it necessary to send a brief text to both Siobhan and Emma (to be extended to Ed too) apologising for my dour performance. Got a quick reply from Emma saying she didn't know what I was talking about and that she was glad I'd joined the walk (a gladness that was unsurprisingly not extended as being from Ed too).
Spirits were raised by returning to and finishing the Barry Humphries' autobiography "My Life as Me". In my view: he has a soothing style of writing, his story is a lesson in why not to 'spoil' children, though his reflections on his parents were loaded with quiet appreciation. Recommended.
Tonight, as I look up into the starry sky of Barton, I see a constellation that resembles... Kirsty Wark of Newsnight. *Wonders what the name for that is* *Wonders what was really in this evening's lentil bake*
posted by Shane @ 8:26 pm
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