Christmas and New Year all good. Have barely sat in front of a computer for a fortnight, which must be a good thing. Haven’t thought about The Show except as a viewer and have been enjoying that aspect of it. Best moment possibly playing with remote control cars outside house, racing them around elaborate course. (With Brother-In-Law obviously, not child.)
Son was two yesterday. A good day, friends round, Teletubby cake, etcetera. Then in the bath in the evening he said he was sad. I said ‘Because Herbie’s gone home?’ He said Yes. I said ‘But you had a nice time with Herbie.’ He gave a small smile and said Yes. ‘And we’ll see him again soon.’ Son nodded. ‘Later,’ he said, with a bit of a question in his tone.
Seriously, why bother writing novels and short stories and TV dramas? Just watch a two year old, see the unfiltered emotions passing over his face. Regret, nostalgia, anticipation, hope. It’s Christmas, it’s the passing of youth, it’s the story of quite a few relationships. Something is gone or going, maybe something better is round the corner. Later. (Pronounced ‘Pater’ by Son.) Later.