Warming Up

I was sad to hear the news that Stephen Hawking had died (I have spelled his name correctly out of respect for him on this one occasion, but normal service will be resumed as soon as possible, unless Richard Dawkings dies as well). Everyone on Twitter seemed to have a story about meeting him and I thought it was a shame that it was just muggins here who had never crossed paths with him. Then tonight my wife reminded me that he had been guest of honour at the MND dinner we went to at Buckingham Palace almost exactly 3 years ago.

So I’d totally had dinner with him (though admittedly I was at the other end of a pretty big table. I had had ample opportunity to say hello, but a mixture of shyness and the correct belief that people don’t like to be bothered I had kept away. I don’t know when I will learn how bad an idea that really is. I also failed to talk to Victoria Wood that night (my wife was much braver) and didn’t say anything to Rik Mayall at that petrol station. What’s my problem?

And then Jim Bowen goes as well. It’s funny how two disparate personalities can be united in death. I wonder if they ever met. Sadly Jim didn’t get to Twitter in time to let us know before he himself went. Did Jim ever ponder about whether he’d outlive Doddy? Could he have guessed he’d only get a few hours on him? 

Did I ever meet Jim Bowen? And why is my memory, once one of my main attributes so unreliable? I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I didn’t recall being within touching (or had I been very bold, punching) distance of Hawking, when I met him when my daughter was exactly a month old. Three years of tiredness have obliterated my mental sharpness. Plus 35 years of drinking haven’t helped.

After getting up early with my son, I went back to bed once Phoebe was at nursery and slept until midday. I have really screwed up on my plans to manage my work/life balance, though my life is making it very hard to do more than the most urgent bits of work. My radio 4 sitcom and my other secret project remain unstated. And looking ahead the rest of March looks very busy indeed. But that extra sleep was a much better thing for me than a couple of hours of trying and failing to write.

I am nearly through this incarnation of the 2018 bug (though suspect the Peter Davidson version is coming soon) and this afternoon I was alert and emotionally stable. I was looking after the kids and picking Phoebe up so couldn’t translate that into sitcom scripts, but I had fun.

Bath time wasn’t too much of a chore and I got to watch the most moving performance of my lifetime, as my naked daughter sang and danced along to “All You Need Is Love.” I genuinely got a bit teary at the beauty of it and the happiness of another wonderful and transitory moment of parenthood. My favourite thing was as my daughter communicated the amazing power of love, through song and movement, she’d go crazy and shout at me if I sang along or even bobbed my head to the beat. I don’t understand where she’s got this desire to be the centre of attention.

There was an incredible breakdancing break in the middle that I don’t think any of the Beatles would have seen coming.

She decided that the performance was over before the song had finished, said, “That’s it” and bowed a long and deep bow and demanded our applause. 

All she needs is validation. And I get that. But tonight all I needed was the love I felt for my naked daughter and my smiling wife (and my sleeping son). 

RHLSTP with MP Jess Phillips is up on video