'tites go down, 'mites go up

Well, firstly, a mop-up… in my previous post Emma’s amusement was centred on young Alex evidencing an awareness of ‘brother’ as a close male relation, however, in attributing this status to self, he implied – in a cute young boyish sort of way – that his mother was engaged in incest (she and I are certainly not siblings). And on that note, good morning.

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The under-17s football in Stoke on Saturday was really good. A crowd of 5104 saw England win 3-1. Lots of ‘families’, and therein children in the crowd, and as expected, it was an event that was quite without edge.

Familially, Emma’s dad was a top bloke – he chatted easily at one time jokingly asking if I could imagine how difficult it must have been for him trying to footballingly enthuse two disinterested daughters for over twenty years. To that, he added occasional football trivia questions. If this is how I’m to be judged in terms of whether I’m worthy of his daughter, then that suits me very well. Other than that, young Alex and I continued to bond very well. The matter of my acquiring for him a great big St George’s Cross flag for him to wave throughout the game was a great hit. Less useful, however, was the great flag hit that he dealt to the man sat in front of us. That said, the victim proved to be good humoured and glad to engage in conversation about introducing youngsters to football. Quite unconcussed, which was a relief to all.

Later, as we idled towards the end of a fine lamb curry dinner at Emma’s parents’ house, young Alex enquired of his mother ‘Can Shane stay at our house tonight?’ At this, mixed feelings struck me. On the one hand, it was a public statement that he was comfortable and happy to have me around. On the other hand, it was a bit of a buttock-clencher in terms of how Emma’s parents would react. As it was, this was not an issue. Emma’s Mum jumped in with ‘Why, do you like spending time with Shane?’ The boy confirmed and added ‘Also, I think Shane would like it if I showed him my toys, would you like that Shane?’ To this, I casually replied with a coughing fit, and watery eyes – the lamb curry was not short of chilli. All laughed, except Alex, who enquired ‘What’s wrong?’. ‘Nothing’s wrong, that’s a wonderful idea (cough splutter), can you pass a tissue please Emma. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow Alex’ replied I.

And so it was that I landed at their house late Sunday morning for a trip to Poole’s Cavern in Buxton, Derbyshire. In a nutshell, this is a wonderful ‘show cave’ with a guided tour – all of this takes place under ground at a constant temperature of seven degrees celcius (approx 44F). Now, rather than bore you with details of stalactites and stalagmites, I will mention the second, infinitely more buttock-clenching moment of the weekend.

Mine and Ed’s paths crossed – for the first time since this occasion. Upon landing at the Emma and Alex home Emma answered the door to me with a half-wince half-smile stroke-of-hand, and the words ‘Don’t be freaked out: Ed’s here. He’s just out the back saying bye to Alex, he knows you’re coming, and he’s totally ok with that’. [Nb/ Since their split, despite initial talk of Ed continuing to share the house with Emma, he has rented a separate house for himself – a move which young Alex has accepted without question. Ed’s standard working and living away from what had been home probably eased this.] Anyway, feeling a bit spooked I proceeded to the back garden – thinking ‘Hang back, let father and son do their interacting, be sweet and laid-back’. On stepping out Ed turned, greeted me with a smile, stepped forward, extended hand, and said ‘Hello again, I’ve been hearing a lot about you from this one’ (tapping Alex on the head). ‘Fuck me!’ thought I. ‘Wow, that’s er-, good to hear – I think’ said I. However, these words were only half-audible as Alex’s response to my arrival had been to run towards me with out-stretched arms and a loud greeting of ‘Shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaane!’ To this, I was much more uncomfortable. ‘Not now’ thought I. ‘Well hello to you too’ said I. As this profoundly non-situation situation presented itself, my mind was cast to the scene in the film ‘As Good As It Gets’ where Jack Nicholson’s character is awkwardly encouraging the neighbour’s pet dog to show affection to the neighbour after it has been looked after by the Nicholson character for a short spell. As it is, the dog ignores the neighbour having found a richer source of bacon rashers and molly-coddling in the Nicholson character. The whole moment – for that’s all it was, about 90 seconds I’m guessing - passed quickly. Ed bade an Easter farewell, and was off to finalise some work on his new house, prior to returning to his London flat.

The quick ‘debrief’ with Emma about how I felt about meeting Ed again was useful but unremarkable. It was an undeniably mature encounter, and one which Alex would have benefited from, from having witnessed. There then followed a really good day out in Buxton, we returned to the BigCity in a much more cave-muddied state than how we had departed it earlier.

I love introducing people to new and uplifting places and experiences.