Baby Daisy
Long hours spent by the fire holding a tiny sleeping thing. I adore her.
Long hours spent entertaining Bruno, now two and who calls the new baby Daughter. I worry.
My mother and I take Bruno to feed the ducks on the lake. A gaggle of Japanese tourists insist on taking his photograph. I wander off and mindlessly chew stale chunks of wholemeal.
We go for a cup of tea in the Lakeside Tea Rooms, which have been there since Victorian times, or at least since I was young, which practically amounts to the same thing. Everyone in there is over 70 and wearing Remembrance Poppies. The room reeks of Yardley’s English Lavender and wet anoraks. The tea rooms’ USP is a white Yamaha piano that plays by itself. When we enter it is churning out Rhinestone Cowboy to a rhumba beat.
My mother has a cup of coffee. Bruno and I have orange juice with straws. He is mesmerised by the piano.
After his orange juice he starts to fidget.
V: What is it? What do you want?
B: Want to get under the table.
V: That’s my boy….
…………
We walk through the town. People keep stopping to congratulate my mother.
V: What are they talking about?
Mum: The new baby, of course!
V: Oh.
Silence
Mum: I’m sure they’ll do the same when your book comes out!
V: Yep.
…………
The extended family is gathered around the table for lunch. The conversation is punctuated by various grunts and squawks from the various children around the table. I am trying to talk to my father about Very Important Things.
V: So Dad, I've got a great idea for an investment.
Mum: The most important thing is to get your nipple right at the back of her mouth.
Bruno: Pussy!
V: Gosh, it’s almost like being back in London!
Silence.
Dad spits out his Guinness.
Long hours spent entertaining Bruno, now two and who calls the new baby Daughter. I worry.
My mother and I take Bruno to feed the ducks on the lake. A gaggle of Japanese tourists insist on taking his photograph. I wander off and mindlessly chew stale chunks of wholemeal.
We go for a cup of tea in the Lakeside Tea Rooms, which have been there since Victorian times, or at least since I was young, which practically amounts to the same thing. Everyone in there is over 70 and wearing Remembrance Poppies. The room reeks of Yardley’s English Lavender and wet anoraks. The tea rooms’ USP is a white Yamaha piano that plays by itself. When we enter it is churning out Rhinestone Cowboy to a rhumba beat.
My mother has a cup of coffee. Bruno and I have orange juice with straws. He is mesmerised by the piano. After his orange juice he starts to fidget.
V: What is it? What do you want?
B: Want to get under the table.
V: That’s my boy….
…………
We walk through the town. People keep stopping to congratulate my mother.
V: What are they talking about?
Mum: The new baby, of course!
V: Oh.
Silence
Mum: I’m sure they’ll do the same when your book comes out!
V: Yep.
…………
The extended family is gathered around the table for lunch. The conversation is punctuated by various grunts and squawks from the various children around the table. I am trying to talk to my father about Very Important Things.
V: So Dad, I've got a great idea for an investment.
Mum: The most important thing is to get your nipple right at the back of her mouth.
Bruno: Pussy!
V: Gosh, it’s almost like being back in London!
Silence.
Dad spits out his Guinness.
posted by Lady V at 12:27 am
4 Comments:
I empathise. I really do...!
Such a precocious child, Bruno. I only hope his sister follows in his footsteps (which lead under the table).
american pie II anyone?
I'm looking forward to this scene in a movie format.
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