Warming Up

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Had a fun jaunt to London to see Ed Gamble and Matthew Crosby (on their radio show- I'd never socialise with these cunts) and then just missed the fast train home.

But I was back with my kids by midday - Ernie seemed delighted to see me and distraught that I'd been away. Not sure Phoebe had noticed.

I took Ernie out with me on the dog walk to catch up on his week, where he'd seen some planets and played Minecraft. We got to the park and I sat on a bench with Wolfie watching Ernie playing. Mark Steel's book has reminded me to enjoy the little moments in life that cancer might have taken from me (also my own show, which is almost as good as his) and I loved seeing Ernie looning about. It's a window, I am sure, into my own childhood. Was I as exuberant and crazy, with a little streak of anxiety and feeling that I didn't quite fit in?

Yes I was.

Being away for a few days really cements how much I love these idiots and how joyful it is just to watch them. Soon they won't need me at all. He barely gave me a second look. He went into the playground to go on the swings. I moved closer to keep an eye on him. I was thinking of the time that he was at a birthday party and managed to climb up the wrong side of a giant inflatable and fall several feet head first on to the floor. Often my thoughts are little windows into the future, because minutes later he slipped getting off the swing and fell headfirst into the fake concrete below.

I had to dash in, with Wolfie in tow, where another mum was already checking if he was OK. He was very upset and blamed the swing (and gave it a punch when he finally got up). As with his other falls he seemed to not be seriously injured, but he wanted to go home.

I don't have a good record with my solo trips with the kids - this was reminiscent of the time in Edinburgh when Phoebe had tripped headfirst into some playground equipment and ended up with an egg sized bump on her head. 

Ernie was hurting but didn't seem to be in any more serious trouble and I got him home, because I can't really make any decisions about the kids' safety without consulting Catie. There was no need to go to hospital.

I took both kids on the evening dog walk and didn't injure either of them, so I am not that bad a dad. We went to explore the big hollow dip behind the park at Windmill Hill, and some old bits of floor and wall, which looked like some old theatre space but which Ernie was convinced was Roman and had burnt down (because there were the remnants of some burnt wood nearby). He also found more brickwork buried beneath the grass and tried to dig it up by hand. A little archaeologist. Just like me. Is it possible he is me and this is some kind of time warp? You think I'd look after him better if I knew what was coming. But then I sort of did.

I am going to be away most of this coming week too and the thought of leaving dragged at my organs and even Phoebe asked why I had to go again. She's right. It's insane to be missing any of this time when they are such fun, in such danger and actually need me (even if I am not around to catch them if they fall).