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Phoebe had a routine scan at the hospital today, so we walked there and back (though Phoebe insisted in being pushed around in a special little chariot like some kind of aristocrat). It wasn’t so long ago that we’d been to this hospital for the scan where we saw our daughter for the first time and now here she was being scanned too. If there was a baby inside her as well I was going to be pretty pissed off. As I understand it all women operate on the Russian doll system. My daughter seems to take nearly everything in her stride and she didn’t seem phased by the procedure. I think she might have been a royal in a previous life as she has the affected look of calm interest in everything and she seems to greet all strangers in a graceful way. All was fine, though the nurse that saw us was pleased to note that his previous patient at been baby Trout. I almost wanted to hang around and see who he got next.
I walked Phoebe home by myself as Catie headed home by quicker means.Whoever said having children makes a comedian safer and less dark is a fucking idiot. Having a baby has filled my whole life with fear and totally destroyed all illusion that I had left inside me that the world is safe or fair. As I walked home I just thought of all the terrible things that could go wrong, from things falling off buildings or cars mounting the pavement to my baby being speared by a stalagmite of frozen urine that had fallen from a plane. At every turn as much as I enjoyed my daughter’s sleeping face I was acknowledging how little control we have over anything, that the safety we felt in the company of our own parents was totally illusory, that as much as I could do my best to anticipate any danger, ultimately there are so many forces that we have no control over. But our brains attempt to predict any possible disaster in the hope that that might keep us prepared. Though if I spend my whole time looking for frozen spears of urine in the sky then I am probably putting my daughter in danger of more likely problems.
Still having a baby has made me realise fully that I am clinging on to a rock hurtling through space and am at the mercy of forces I can’t control and there is no justice of fairness to anything. As much as she makes me happy and glad that I am here, she has just added responsibilities and problems that should lead to no softening to the hopeful nihilism of my comedy.
Thankfully I got her home safely and she rewarded my super-parenting and frozen urine look out by suddenly getting all grouchy and moany for a good three hours, which isn’t like her, though perhaps at just under seven weeks she has realised that life is a series of random disasters and there is no God.
I managed to dodge her grumpiness as my wife took over baby duties whilst I constructed episode 6 of the Lord of the Dance Settee podcast. I was amazed by how much stuff I had and only managed to cover the (admittedly eventful) gigs in Newcastle, Edinburgh and Glasgow. You can listen on the
British Comedy Guide or on
iTunes. Also if you want to be in the March monthly draw with a chance of winning one of my weird but unique hand-drawn T-shirts then
pay a pound or more a month before midnight on 31st.
