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Absolutely fantastic Under 8s football this morning, which made me forget about the rain and cold. Phoebe’s team went 2-0 down and I saw her head drop. She has lost every match she’s played in so far and it’s been getting to her. They were unlucky to be behind, with an unnecessary penalty and a bit of a jammy goal, but Phoebe had come tantalisingly close to scoring a couple of times and I was surprised by how thrilling that prospect was. I was electrified and she was brilliant again, throwing herself into everything.
Our team fought their way back to 2-2 with some impressive play. In the final quarter Phoebe went in goal and I feared that she’d let in a goal that lost it for the team - not because I’d mind, (though I would) but because she’d blame herself. The other team though scored a ridiculous and impossible goal direct from a corner and I feared that was that. The mud was getting thicker and the ball would grind to a halt. But Phoebe pulled off some saves and our attackers kept pushing, at one point hitting the post with such force that I thought the goal might move. Eventually and wonderfully there was an equaliser and both sides held on to the final whistle. It wasn’t a win, but it wasn’t a loss and I don’t think I’ve ever been more invested in a game of football.
On the way home we rewrote the song “All I eat is pizza” to “All I do is football”. Phoebe is smitten with the game. It’s terrific to see.
Living in the countryside only seems like a bad idea on the rare occasions that I end up going into London several times in a week. It was my fourth drive into town in four days, this time taking the family back to Shepherd’s Bush to see what Phoebe would remember from her two and a half years here and to test the theory that babies in the womb are able to view the world through their mother’s belly button (acting as a kind of periscope). It turned out that it wasn’t anything at all for either of them. I’m not surprised - I don’t remember much either.
We went to Balans, where Catie and I would occasionally brunch before we had kids (and probably with Phoebe in tow a couple of times). I had chosen this as a healthy option, but couldn’t resist going for my regular order of American waffles with bacon, a coffee and an orange juice. The kids had waffles too and the plates all groaned under the weight of the huge pile of pancakes. Only I managed to eat the whole lot.
Ernie was fascinated by the musical instruments and amphibious creatures on display in cabinets on the wall. He’s recently taken possession of an old camera from Phoebe (the one that Ernie gifted her when he was born - cleverly he got it back - don’t know how he managed to organise this from inside his mum, presumably the belly button has wifi access too) and took photos of some alligators. One of the waiters got one of the beasts out of the case so he could have a closer look. It was only a couple of feet long, but it was real.
We passed the library where Phoebe occasionally went for a Saturday morning singalong session, though she’d spend the whole time running round the library instead - she didn’t remember. It’s beneath the Jamie Oliver restaurant where I got the news that my grandma had died. The Jamie Oliver restaurant has also died and the premises is now empty. It’s next door to the space
where Phoebe had visited Santa in a weird Kung Fu Panda themed experience and then cried in fear when she met the man, even though that was the only relatively normal part of the ride.
Again no memories from Phoebe so it’s lucky that this blog exists so she can relive those early years, when she feels ready. Though she will have to relive the terrible wilderness years of her father too.
We even went to see our old house, but that stirred no memories for the kids and no great emotion for me, though Catie still misses our London days and reacted like a more normal person might. Aside from the birth of our son, all our major relationship landmarks occurred when we lived there.
I thought about taking them all to Shabab, but we were full of waffles and the time was not right.
The Uxbridge Road was noisy and busy and my wide-eyed kids mainly enjoyed the sights and sounds and smells, but I’m glad that we live somewhere where the pace is a bit less hectic, even if they were rightly excited by it all. We went to look round the Westfield, but we were flagging by now and I still had to drive the kids home and put them to bed (Catie was going to see some friends) so I dragged the family away and back into the bowels of the car park.
It was relatively easy to get to Shepherd’s Bush and they’ve got a Sticks and Sushi there now, so we might appease my London loving family with a few more trips. It was pretty incredible having all this on our doorstep. Rather than cowpats.
But I know which I prefer.
