Negative Soundbyters – a fine good evening to you all! My humble apologies for the late arrival of your weekly instalment; unfortunately I have been stuck in the swamp morning, noon and night for the past two days, leaving my creative zest-tanks at a very low ebb. Thankfully the tanks have been refilled – quo dos Mrs H for that very stiff G&T – so hopefully I can pen something mildly entertaining for you.
I look out from my study and two things stand out, blue sky and sun reflecting off the windows of the houses opposite ours. Last week we were engulfed in sunshine-and-Chevrolet; I had the Caspers out and life was good. Then that ended (not unsurprisingly) and the mud patch reverted to type: rain, gale force winds and biting cold. Why God (or A.N.Other spiritual being of your choosing) tempts us with temperatures approaching double figures only to slam us back down to low single digits – well, it’s just cruel. I was not to be defeated and over the weekend I ventured out in my shorts on a lunch trip with Mrs H and Rafe. Both seemed mildly perplexed by my choice of outfit (Mrs H’s raised eyebrow; Rafe, blue saucers shining, but with a crinkled nose) as did a few others who passed us wrapped up to the nines. But I was like, this weather be damned, I am putting the Caspers on display, it’s supposed to be Spring – and – so there! But as to my original observation – it seems like the weather has turned (yet again) and shorts will once again be a legitimate outfit to don this long weekend coming….
Talking of sunshine, it peeked out one evening when I was coming home on the train. I grabbed a window seat and sat back and enjoyed the rays. Next thing I was in Selhurst. I don’t live in Selhurst; in fact it’s about 15 minutes passed my normal stop which is Streatham Common. The last time I fell asleep on a train it was after a rugby dinner where I had imbibed about 100 pints and polished off a very large curry. This time I was stone cold sober with an empty stomach. But it’s the same feeling: when you come around and you just know that your journey home has potentially got a lot more complicated. Anger. Burp. Frustration. Burp. Helplessness. Burp. Hurriedly review return train timetables on mobile phone through blurry eyes and a fuzzy head. Burp.
On both occasions the damage was only a few station stops (you hear horror stories about waking up in the train depot in Southampton) but it was still a pain-in-the-arse because unlike in India where you can sit on top of the train and leap on-and-off at your leisure, I was stuck inside a sealed container with no possible way of truncating my unintended, extended journey. I just had to suck it up, jump off at the next station and repeat. Half an hour I won’t get back but at least I made it home for Rafe’s bathtime….
OK…moving on (but stopping at Streatham Common) to this week’s little anecdote…
Big Love
Hoddy X
Man on the move pt II.
In a previous blog-post I described how Rafe was now navigating his way around our extension in his walker. At that time he was content to explore what it meant to be under his own steam. Now he has discovered that this independence has enabled him to take his exploratory skills to the next level.
He was cruising alongside the kitchen cabinets when he suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Something had caught his attention. Ah yes that shiny, round object at about head height. I watched him as he tentatively put out his little hand to touch it. Touch is an important reference point for little babas. It could have been a hedgehog and he still would have tried to touch it. Luckily a silver doorknob wasn’t going to prick him; emboldened he grasped it and pulled it towards him. I think he was hoping to go to that next reference point – taste. Rafe likes to put everything into his mouth. As an example I watched him eat a piece of cheese, but it was as important to try the wrapper as well. The knob remained affixed to the door, but this action had the unintended consequence of causing the door to open.
Rafe is used to looking behind things that are closed. One of his favourite books is “Where is Spot?” Spot is always hunted down but not before Rafe has applied his own approach to finding that pesky puppy. I read the page, point to wear Spot might be hiding and Rafe then literally tries to tear the pop-up door or piano top or basket lid from the page. His approach is not subtle. Grab and pull. Which is exactly how he dealt with a real-life cupboard door!
Thankfully he couldn’t quite work out how to manoeuvre the walker in order to completely expose the cupboard under the sink, but he was certain that this was definitely a potential hidey-hole for that pesky pup, Spot. I was rather pleased that the walker was proving a hindrance because as soon as he had discovered that Spot wasn’t hiding beneath the sink than Rafe would have turned his attention to the bleach bottle and various other kitchen cleaners, all of which are generally hazardous to good baba health. I don’t think one of those child proof caps would last five minutes…
Eventually Rafe lost interest and tootled off into the lounge. Naturally he stopped off at the fireplace and decided to have a crack at the poker; I was like…ok…time for bed now, enough chemicals and sharp implements for one day!
And that is likely to be the next initiative undertaken by Mrs H and New Dad; trying to effectively Rafe-proof parts of the house that are sure to attract his beady eye. The literary version of Spot will soon be a distant memory!
OUT :)
Pic of the Week:
Foot rub please Mum!
