Paul Davidson
Weeknotes 006: Secondhand mooncups
This week, I’ve been aiming to live as joyfully as a toddler with the plastic frame from a broken cafetiere and some balls in a box.
Her joy has been even more admirable as she’s ill again. She’s been going to nursery since August and only completed both days once. This time the call was for diarrhea and temperature. It’s still rumbling on four days later. We’ve had the heating on full blast and she’s been playing pantless on some puppy training matts. It’s meant a lot of disinfecting the floor, but she needed time out of a nappy.
Prior to having the heating on full blast, we’ve felt the chill this week. We’ve not got round to switching from summer to winter duvet, so we stole the bedding from the spare room and had two blankets instead. It’s like having one of those expensive anxiety blankets, but for the cost of not having guests around. Which we can’t do anyway.
The personal positive of Piglet’s illness, is that she’s softened her view of me. Earlier in the week she’d taken against me and there were tantrums if I picked her up or asked for a cuddle. I’m not going to pretend that didn’t smart.
Whilst it’s mostly been Hey Duggee on during the convalescence, national treasure Michael Rosen gets daily outings. The Chef has a theory that, because the mam isn’t illustrated in We’re Going on a Bear Hunt, it’s all allegorical and the bear is the mam, woken too early on a Sunday.
Michael Rosen beat Piglet to our house. He was first invited through his Sad Book. As the title suggests, it’s one of the most heartbreaking books I’ve ever read. Quentin Blake is on hand to do justice to the words. I need to buy a new copy having sent it out on forever loan to a friend.
The other national treasure in our house is Margaret. Better than any instruction manual. We love a sensible lady around here. She instigated another round of introspective awe that our parents managed to raise us without any internet.
Speaking of the internet, this Tom Waits thread is lovely. Full of charm, insight and humour. I’d already commented and it felt indulgent to add a story from a dream, but these are weeknotes and are all about self-indulgence.
It was in the before times of 2019. I dreamt that Tom Waits and Bon Jovi did an arena tour together, but they would only sing each other’s songs. It was terrible, even in a dream. But it’s the reason my Tom Waits covers playlist is called Bon Waits & Tom Jovi.
The other pleasant modern living thing—now that piglet is 15 month old—is the constant delight from the “1 year ago today” notifications on our phones.
Crossed wires meant The Chef had the car on the day I was to pick up a balance bike christmas present. Cycling with a bike strapped to your back is not recommended in Newcastle. A faded painted line was all that was between me and cars doing fifty. It led to me filling out half a dozen feedback forms on cycling improvement schemes.
In Facebook marketplace news, the secondhand mooncup has some interest. Pregnancy tests are on there too. I’m assuming unused.
11 October 2020