Here’s the story of a baby, reflection, emotions and a milkman.
I wondered if the tenth hit on the head with a telephone was the right time to put a stop to it. I’ve been hit on the head so many times with a telephone it’s hard to know when to call a halt to it. I still remember the first time. I was on a bus. Around 10 years ago. A mobile phone flew through the air and hit me on the noggin. Of course, 10 years ago, mobile phones were brick-sized. Nowadays, when people throw mobile phones at me, they just bounce off. Back then, it could kill you. To be honest, it doesn’t quite get to the nub of the matter. Why do people keep throwing phones at me? True, but you get used to it. Just like you get used to the milkman repeatedly failing to leave you any milk. Or the empty space next to you in your bed each morning because your girlfriend is out jogging. Or the sudden realization that the milkman and your girlfriend’s absence may be related.
It was an old phone. From the ‘60s. But far from groovy. It’s just dawned on me just how much furniture we have in this house from that era yet none of it appears so. It’s a dial phone, the kind you put your finger in and turn around. It’s a wonderful novelty but it’s difficult if you’re trying to dial 999, the emergency service number. It could be 111. That would be easier. Then again, that’s the emergency number of New Zealand. Imagine what would turn up at my doorstep if I rang that number. A Kiwi riding a sheep, probably. I miss old timey things. Conversation. Candlestick telephones. Fidelity. Bloody milkman.
It was my nephew who was giving my old bean a tap. Babies are strange creatures. I’m not a baby person. If there weren’t anybody else looking after my nephew with me, I’m quite confident he would’ve ate the houseplants. And knocked the television over. And would’ve called all manner of people. He seemed bewildered by me. Everyone else was playing with him and I struggled. The first time anyone left me alone with him didn’t end well. Less than ten seconds had gone and he’d banged his head. Tears and angry shouting ensued. I knew at that point that it was going to be a long week.
I’m not sure if it’s all shy people. Children don’t often respond to us very well. We have to be outgoing, warm, friendly, bubbly, enthusiastic, excitable and a million other adjectives that aren’t I. It’s difficult because you find it hard to connect with little ones and it makes you think about your own life. How would you be with your own children? Would you connect with them? Would they love you? Is it worth having them and putting them through years of apparent but completely untrue neglect, or not?
Don’t get me wrong, I loved seeing my little nephew. Nearly one year old and it’s the first time I’ve seen him. But whenever I was with him, he looked bored. He was waiting for me to do something and I didn’t know what to do. But he was beautiful. Put a smile on my face and has lit up every aspect of the past week. And he’ll be gone soon. And I won’t see him again for a very long time. He remembered my mother and father. But I can’t help but wonder if he’ll remember me.
I’m very tired. He’s spat up on me on numerous occasions. Ruined several items of my clothing. I’ve had to stop him crying. We’ve been to the seaside on a typical freezing, rainy, cold English summer day. We’ve been to restaurants. We’ve been out to feed the ducks. I’ve fed him. He’s so loving and full of life. He may be bored when he’s with me but I love him. I didn’t think I’d love him as much as I do now, but, boy, I’m gonna miss him.
On his last full day with us, we took him to the park. I was pushing him in his pushchair. He was trying to get out and chase the goats. I was thinking. I know it’s a rarity for me to think, but it happened. Strange sensation. I was thinking about how strange this week has been. Thinking about life. That baby. Love. Loss. Joy. Pain. Sadness. Tears of joy. Tears of sadness. Death. Someone I knew died. Thoughts of the first time I met the baby at the train station and thoughts of saying goodbye to him for a good few years. I then thought about this post and how wonderful an idea it was to depress you all with all these ‘emotions’.
I think my head is about to explode after the hectic week I’ve had. I assume it’s the hectic week I’ve had. It could be all the blows to the head with that telephone causing some sort of horrific blood clot. Ah well, we all know what babies are like.
The little scamp…
English art historian, man of letters, antiquarian and Whig politician, Horatio ‘Horace’ Walpole, 4th Earl of Orford (1717-1797), once said: “The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think”.
Peace Out :|:
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