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Man disguised as old woman throws cake at the Mona Lisa?
It must be 2022. Perfectly normal story.
I’d been looking forward to a good night’s sleep in my own bed. So it was annoying when I woke up at 3am (and it wasn’t even anything to do with the kids) and then couldn’t get back to sleep. How I wished I was back in my noisy Isle of Wight hotel room with my big headphones on.
All the driving and even more so the ill-advised dancing had done me in a bit and I also had a bit of a stomach upset. It all meant that it was going to be a tough day to get through and confirmed that my response to being exhausted is to eat way too much sugary stuff.
We were out in the morning to try and get some new school shoes for Phoebe as her current ones have a bit hole in them (that I’ve mended with gaffer tape, but I don’t think that will hold til the summer). When you’re feeling nauseous from sleep deprivation this turns out to be one of the worst activities to attempt. Ernie was running riot, though I briefly kept him entertained by playing shoe shops with him and letting him pretend to measure my feet. One foot is 38 and the other is 68 according to him- even if that’s continental measurements I am going to struggle to find a pair of shoes.
Phoebe said all the shoes were rubbing, so I don’t think she was quite in the mood and we decided to come back and do it another day in the end.
The others went to on a play date, so I had the house to myself for a few hours in the afternoon. I should probably have slept, but I got distracted by household chores, including putting my new food bin out for the first time. A big day in any man’s life. A pristine bin. Some people never experience that.
Once everyone was back we watched Harry Potter 5, which is maybe a bit scary for our kids, but also with the Hogwarts children now being teenagers, it’s as hard for them to understand the relationships as it is the magic and the war against evil. I also tried to spoil it by asking Catie “Why don’t they just use magic?” to every possible situation. Why do they need a lift? Why don’t they just magic up a floor? Why do they even need floors? Why don’t they magic it so this floor is big enough? Why don’t they must magic dead people back alive again? Apparently sometimes they can’t use magic, even though they are magic. What’s the point in being magic?
It was a late bedtime and Phoebe came down a few minutes after going to bed saying she was scared about dying. Me too! I wanted to shout. It’s fucking terrifying. But we placated her with platitudes. You know that she’s pretty safe as a 7 year old, but then again you look at the news and it’s hard not to be terrified on her behalf as well. That time when you first appreciate that you’re going to die is tough though, even if I think it takes a lot longer to totally understand what that means. If we ever understand it. Why can’t we just magic people back alive again?
I suppose we have to content ourselves with the fact that doctors can magic some of them not to die as quickly as they would have done. I am pretty grateful for that.
I feel a little sad that my baby is now at the stage where she lies awake at night worrying about no longer existing - I know that feeling, plus, of course, the one where you try to get your head around infinity and your insignificance in the sprawling Universe. Plus the one where God or the ghosts of your dead relatives are watching everything you do and for some reason are really concerned about masturbation. They’re the ones watching it, the dead perverts. I don’t want to magic them back to life now.
Life is full of wonder and also full of horror. How can it be full of two things? If one of them is filling it then there shouldn’t be room for the other. But there always is.
