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I took my daughter out to show her my home town this afternoon, so she could better understand how I became the man I am today. Though she didn’t seem all that interested in the history or looking at Hannah More’s cottage, where the 18th Century poor children of Cheddar had been taught to read but NOT write on Sundays (Hannah More - or possibly William Wilberforce- had been horrified about the poor state of the town’s uneducated and filthy infants - she should see it now, it’s far worse).
Good old, evangelical moralist Hannah More though. Having been to all the other three schools in town I guess I owe her a debt of gratitude. And the rec where I used to hang out with my mates has now been named after her too. It’s all change there with a new play area for toddlers and all different play equipment than we used to have. Which was another time shock, until I remembered how much time had passed and realised how unlikely it was that the old swings would still be in use. Anyway I took my daughter on the swings and the slide and she squealed with delight. Then I thought I could introduce her to a seesaw, though of course I am not enough of an idiot to think she could have held on herself at one end whilst I sat at the other (and sent her shooting into outer space). But I am enough of an idiot not to realise it was one of the springy types, so when we sat at the same end, rather than just bumping the seesaw down to the ground the spring pushed us both off on to the floor. Luckily I managed to hold on to her safely and I bore the brunt of the fall. Just as when I fell off that chair in Cardiff last week the relatively small drop jarred my old bones and left me smarting. But I couldn’t let my daughter see me cry, or let anyone know that I had just endangered her safety so callously.
Then I put her in a spinning tea cup thing and spun her round. She liked it to begin with and then as I spun her more, experiencing dizziness for the first time became distressed and tried to climb out, so I had to pluck her to safety, having endangered her twice in two minutes. She’s usually very brave, but the spinning freaked her out and she was nearly crying and tellingly holding on to me very tightly, which she only does when she’s properly afraid. I felt terrible for upsetting her, but I also love it when she needs me in this kind of way, so that sends out a dangerous precedent. I may start endangering her just for the lovely hugs I get afterwards. Which will be OK until she realises what I am doing and loses all trust in me and has to spend her adult life in therapy. Totally worth it for the hug though.
She got over the discombobulation quickly and we escaped the rec without her being harmed and so I had done an excellent job as a father, whatever anyone who witnessed this two minutes of reckless madness might tell you.
Even though I have been stupidly tired and my wife really ill I was really glad we had got this chance to let Phoebe spend time with her grandparents. She’s being very cute and smiley at the moment and babbling away in her own private language/parody of us. It’s very charming to see how disarmed my mum and my dad especially are by this bundle of foolishness.
And the gig at the Kings Theatre, whilst not quite sold out, went pretty well. I enjoy this home town gig mainly for the shocked silence and occasional tut of disbelief I get, so in the “Give Me Head Til I’m Dead” routine, I was laughing more than the audience. A couple of times during the how I had to point out that I was joking when being rude about my wife or parents or saying that my baby’s laughter was the most harrowing sound in the world. I pretended to be a member of the crowd, “That’s so offensive that it’s almost comedic… but not quite."
Even so I would say it’s the best gig I have done in the seven years I have come to the Kings Theatre, which either means they’re getting used to me, or I am softening a bit. I did the joke about having a bath with my dad as a five year old and my impression of his huge cock in front of another of his granddaughters and the man himself. God knows the psychological damage I am inflicting on my poor family, who have done nothing but love me.
