I’ve got a draft article for this blog with the title “what we’ve learnt after two months”. I can see from the history that “two months” has overwritten “six weeks”, and the original was “ten days”. I never finished it.
Blink, and he’s now a year old.
I have no idea what happened to that year, and equally can’t remember a time without him. I was woken yesterday (at 6am) by his happy face shouting “dadadadada!” inches away from mine. Today he touched a starfish (after a few will-I-won’t-I attempts). He’s just got his first bike (a Toddlebike, about which more later).
There will be no epiphany with this post. I’m goosed after a three day birthday weekend of friends, family, farm animals, tractors, and a variety of sea creatures (not concurrently, I hasten to add). Once I’ve nursed this glass of red to its conclusion I’m getting my head down.
Instead of insight, then, let me offer the incidental.
A year ago, I drove home from the Southern General. It was just after 11 at night. I drunk a can of Red Bull to keep me going (I’d bought two—the other is still at the back of the fridge). I realised I hadn’t really eaten anything that day, so I stopped at McDonald’s for a lukewarm burger and chips. I thought I’d treat myself to a milkshake, but the machine was turned off, so I had a remarkably drinkable coffee.
Paulo Nutini’s Scream (Funk my Life up) was on the radio. I sung along.
“And that girl, so fine; Makes you wanna scream hallelujah.”