Author: alex

What about the children?!

Enough about my pseudo-erudite reading, I hear you cry: what about the children?

Right now, they are in Italy with Isa, where I’ll be joining them next week. All reports are good: Lola was in her own personal heaven yesterday when she went off with Zia Dedi to make ice-cream; Neve is pathologically happy these days and geographical dislocation hasn’t affected that. They are both sharing a bed at Nonna’s house, which Isa says they are really enjoying. Apparently, they are also managing to sleep. Eventually. When they’re tired of enjoying.

The other day, I went to play my guitar for Lola’s class. It was science week, and they were looking at the science of music. They all (both reception classes) sat on the floor around me and listened while I ran through some key guitar facts; then we all sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star; then I sang GI Blues; and we finished off with a bit of the “you hum it, I’ll play it” style of ad hoc song accompaniment. It was really great fun. The kids were attentive, inquisitive, friendly and generally great fun to be around. It makes one quite envious of a primary school teacher’s job (financial aspect aside).

What else? Well, in general, Lola has been going through a bit of an emotional-knife-edge stage: everything is lovely while life proceeds as she would dictate but, the moment a hint of “no” appears she is thrown into a fit of wailing and grief that would befit a world-ending catastrophe. Of course, one cannot give up the saying of “No” but remaining calm and applying sensible measures in the face of such exaggerated responses is far from easy.

Neve’s problem inhabits the opposite pole: the word “No” means nothing to her; you may apply it as liberally as you like but she will continue to beat Lola about the head, or pour rice onto the floor, or thieve yummy yum-yums from the cupboard. It’s hard to know what to do; the current decision is that we remove her to a separate room (perhaps the bottom of the stairs), have a serious talk with her (until she stops laughing), and then leave her there, explaining why. She doesn’t stay, of course, and we couldn’t enforce that; but it does get the point through. We think.

I should point out that, though I’ve picked out a couple of negative points for both girls, the negative is not dominant: they are both wonderful, happy, loving girls who bring us a great deal of joy and pride.

more drivel about books

I seem to be revisiting my late teens, at least in terms of my reading. I’ve just re-read Vonnegut’s Gallapagos (a fantastic book, in the literal and the vernacular sense) and I’m also getting through Gogol’s Dead Souls and have a few more of Nabakov’s novels lined up. I think I might draw the line at Anthony Burgess, though.

Nostalgic re-visits aside, I’ve just been through a copulation-laden and genitally-focussed trinity of books: two by Will Self (Cock and Bull, and Naked Ape) and Charles’s Bukowski’s “Women”). All very good reads — funny, sharp, thought-provoking and titillating. Even the chimps’ incessant mating ends up titillating a little which is, perhaps, worrying. I’ve never read Self’s stuff, though often seen him expostulating on BBC arts programmes and thought him interesting and entertaining.

mother swooned

Actually, it wasn’t so Victorian. And it scared the wits out of Dad, who thought she might have died.

It seems that on waking yesterday, Mum experienced a crushing pain in the chest and, on sitting up and swinging her legs out of bed, she fainted and was out for long enough to give Dad a bad scare.

She came round (“why is the light on?”), feeling woozy and wondering whether she should make an appointment to see the doctor. Dad called an ambulance, which arrived very quickly, and Mum went off to Musgrove Park; Dad followed later with clothes, etc.

I called Musgrove on the way to work this morning and they put me through to Mum. She sounded quite herself and said she felt like a hypocrite (I’m not sure I understand why). Apparently, it wasn’t a problem with her heart, as they found no tell-tale enzymes in her blood; they have no idea what it was. They’ll be doing a treadmill/ECG test later though they expect to find nothing of interest.

Mum sounded cheerful and unworried: looking forward to going home later. Let’s hope it was just a one-off. (Though, she did experience this pain two or three times during the week preceding this incident).

mo’

It’s hard to describe the way Neve says, “more”: it’s somewhere in the transition between “Moe” and “myrrh”. She says it a lot, sometimes while pointing at her (maybe empty, maybe not) bowl of food, sometimes when wanting you to continue the game of you-hide-behind-the-curtains-and-I’ll-run-into-the-bathroom-and-giggle. She loves it when we are all together, because then she can point at each of us in turn and say, “Mamma . . . Low-la . . . Papá . . . Meeee!” Lately, perhaps because she has mastered the sound, she is putting an “i” sound at the end of many words. Particularly at the end of “Mamm-aye” and “Low-l-aye”. Oh, how we laugh…

The poor lass has got another couple of teeth coming through at the moment. It doesn’t seem to hurt but she is very clingy and really did not want to stay at the creche while Isa did her paediatric first-aid course this morning. I had to go down and, when she wouldn’t calm, bring her home. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so upset. She wanted to get out of the front door to find Mum and wouldn’t let me touch or hold her. I just had to leave her alone; eventually she made her way upstairs and started playing with the packets of buttons among the sewing stuff in the spare room — that eventually calmed her down. I came up and joined her and we played a bit then went downstairs, by which time she was happy to play alone. Not long after that, while she was doing some drawing on the coffee table, she put her head down and fell asleep. I don’t think we’ve ever seen either her or Lola doing that before.

garlic planted

Planted two rows of garlic in back garden, bed A, rows 1 and 2. Variety is Marco. Cost £2.50 for three bulbs; probably about 30 plants.
“In the late summer/autumn, the leaves will start to die down. Lift the garlic out of the soil and leave to ripen for a few days”.
Today was a lovely, still, sunny day. Chilly, but with good warmth from the sun. Dave popped round to help put the roof back on the shed in the allotment.

king, queen, knave

Recently finished Nabakov’s King, Queen, Knave, which he wrote when he was in his late twenties (IIRC). It’s a remarkable book, propelled convincingly by the lust of it’s young protagonist and, latterly, by the madness of his adulterous lover. Or something like that; preferably something less lame, less pretentious, and more accurate. Anyway, it’s an exciting, hard-to-put-down read, which is slightly contrary to what you might think as you read the descriptive opening passages: something at the back of your mind is saying, “put it down! It’s going to be boring” and then you realise you’re 14 pages in and irrevocably caught up. Diabolically clever prose.

This is the third Nabakov I’ve read recently (I read him quite a lot when in my late teens), the other two being Pale Fire and The Luzhin Defense. Excellent, both. He wireevocablyent to Trinity, doncha know.

Also just read “Nudges”, a book about choice architecture, its effect on Humans, its use and abuse by government and private enterprise, and the potential for good, particularly as embodied in the concept of “Nudges”: non-obligatory hints that conform to a philosophy of “libertarian paternalism”.

Now reading Will Self’s Cock & Bull. “Pure delight to verbal perverts everywhere,” said the Sunday TImes. Seems a pretty accurate assessment so far. Good fun.

seed potatoes

Picked up the seed potatoes today:

  • 3 kg of Lady Christl (first early).
  • 8 kg of Pink Fir Apple (salad, maincrop).
  • 8 kg of Rooster (maincrop)

So, er, that should keep us going. For all: plant March-May. 10cm deep, 30cm apart, rows 70cm apart. Chrhistls should be ready June/July, maincrop Sept/Oct.

Cleaned out the greenhouse, washing down with Jeyes Fluid — a real nostalgia hit: it’s what Dad used to wash down the chicken-shed and pigs’ sties with. Then put up the staging and laid out all the potatoes to chit.

I should plant my garlic. And overwintering onions; which appear to have overwintered in the shed. Ho hum.

hee-ya

P1070048 Lola, when just starting to speak, used to say “dis, dis” and point with her finger while her thumb stuck out at right angles to it.
Neve says, “hee-ya, hee-ya” while indicating the seat on which you should sit, or the plate which you should fill with food, or the shoes you should be putting on her feet. In fact, in the latter case, she would now say, “shuz, hee-ya” (I can’t quite get the phonetic rendering of her version of “shoes”: the vowel is somewhere between an “oo” and an “u”). And, if wanting second helpings, it would be “mo, hee-ya”. Of course we’re all saying it, Lola included.

Neve is utterly lovely — I wish I had more time to blog about her. Or, indeed, at all; with both Neve and a new house added into the mix, time has not been plentiful.

Neve is very independent these days. She loves to have company but will happily play by herself while someone is around. She’s gotten more into her cuddly toys and dolls recently and will often be found walking around with one or more in her arms. Or she’ll be taking care of her baby, or on of the rag dolls (Alba or Aurora); maybe putting a nappy on or putting it to bed.

She loves to climb up on chairs to get to stuff and will drag or push one into place to reach the worktop or the sink or whatever. She’s mad keen on the sink and will spend ages “washing up”: filling things with water, emptying them into each other, refilling them.

Often, she wakes early and I’ll take her with me, still in her sleeping bag, to make the morning drinks. She’ll help me open the fridge, take her milk out and unscrew the lid, help hold down the coffee dispenser while I fill the moca, get her bottle from the cupboard, remind me to get the echinacea… It’s a great ritual.