Good evening Negative Soundbyters! I have just put Hoddy Jnr to bed and am now at the keyboard with a stiff G&T courtesy of Mrs H. As I related to you in Edition 47, Mrs H has created a baby-zen-yogi-paradise for Rafe when he is finished in the bath. She invited me to participate in the foot massage process last night. Rafe was lying cool-as-a-chilled-out-cucumber on his White Company towel with a very pleased expression on his face (and a little bit of baby dribble); that’s until I got hold of some Johnson-and-Johnson baby lotion and tried to rather clumsily moisturise his size zero (which are fast approaching size 1s!). Let’s put it this way; it didn’t go down too well with Hoddy J! The little man opened his eyes, peered down at his size 1’s, looked up at me, scrunched up his nose, and went to Defcon Ten in a split second. Mrs H immediately banished me from the nursery while she tried to sooth the air raid siren. Thankfully she is now well practiced in the art of calming Little Hoddy and I was permitted to return to the fold to feed him his bottle, burp him and put him down – which I am reasonably good at!
I have new respect for Mrs H after this weekend. These babas make you work hard! Rafe is not a baby that likes to remain stationery for too long – unless he is attached to the boob. Consequently if he is not in his favourite position or asleep, he prefers to be on the move. Now given that he is only three months old he is not yet under his own steam – enter stage right, Hoddy! He lay across my arms and we did a full tour of the house today. I showed him the dishwasher; we talked through how the cooker works; we did a very close inspection of all the cables that connect the Sky with the TV; we chatted about all Mrs H’s cookbooks (he pointed out a few recipes for when he has teeth); we even went into the garden to see how well our builder had grouted our new patio! Rafe chatted away and asked me a load of questions in baby-speak; for a little baba he has a remarkable attention span. In fact if I hadn’t put him to bed I would probably be over at the neighbours now doing a tour of their pad! And woe-betide if I threatened to take a seat; he would just remind me very gently of the calibre of his air raid siren and off we would go. I am saving up the basement and attic inspection for next weekend!
What of events of a geopolitical nature….?
Oh yes, university “safe spaces”. I read about these characters at a top English university (I can’t recall which) that now patrol these “spaces” to ensure that everyone abides by the rules of the space and if you happen to disagree with what is being said - and then voice your opinion - you are escorted out of said space for fear of causing “offence”. It’s bloody frightening stuff not least of all because it is an affront to free speech, something universities should be championing with megaphones, given how cray-cray the world seems nowadays. I wonder what my boss would say if I asked him if I could establish a “safe space” for “accountants in the workplace” – or even “Springbok rugby supporters”? (It seems my life is characterised by a need for a “safe space”! – Mrs H would probably agree – ha)…
And from that thought onto this week’s anecdote…that’s not about my little bub this time!
Big love
Hoddy X
The Dentist.
I don’t think there is anybody in the entire world who enjoys going to the dentist. My fear of the dentist is borne of out hours-upon-hours of time spent in the chair when I used to wear braces. It’s fair to say that the size of my mouth at the time was not physically designed for the number of teeth that decided to grow through my gums and consequently teeth developed in places where they shouldn’t have! This tested the skills of my orthodontist to such an extent that he didn’t even get it right the first-time round; you guessed it – the railway tracks were installed twice through my teenage years. The only upside is straight teeth (which is the entire point of course); downsides are pain and very little success with the ladies at school discos unless you chanced it with a girl who also had braces, but then you ran the risk of getting your wires crossed (so-to-speak) and then what? School laughing stock would be the least of it!
So when I go to the dentist I am sweating before I even sit my ass down in his chair; memories are embedded in my psyche of getting my braces tightened such that I thought all my teeth were going to fall out (and all of us have had that nightmare!) But at least the blow is somewhat softened by the fact that my oral hygienist (in the UK the roles are separated between the person who “cleans” your teeth and the dentist who does everything else) is from Italy and is relatively “easy-on-the-eye” as my old man would say!
My oath though – that is all very quickly forgotten when she gets out that little stainless steel tool that is shaped like a hook and starts scraping away at the line between my gums and enamel. I try to put a brave face on it, but it must be the fact that I go bright red, start perspiring profusely and grip the arm rests of the chair like I am in some Saw horror movie, that she stops momentarily and asks sweetly if I am doing “ok?”.
My wordless response is something along the lines of: “Cute-oral-hygienist-from-Italy what does it look like to you? I am drenched in sweat, I want to cry every time you stab my gums with that bloody hook, and I think my forehead has new lines etched in it from all the grimacing that has occurred over the last half hour!” My actual response is: “Absolutely fine thank you. You’re doing a great job; wish I could sit here all day!”
Eventually she releases me back into the world with another saccharine smile and a mild rebuke about stained teeth. With that dental instrument etched on my mind I head straight to Monmouth Coffee Company for a double espresso (tasting notes because I am not a coffee snob: "caramel and stone-fruit with subtle acidity and creamy body") which is likely to leave a mark-or-two which she will attack with vigour the next time I am in the chair!
But it’s worth it (sort of!)
OUT (toothy emoticon grin :) )
Pic of the Week
Mixing a hallucinogenic drug and this interior design would no doubt yield some interesting results!
