08/05/2002

The Day that …

The day TBT swims a few yards, unaided. Leaps from the poolside, into water too deep for him to stand in. Zozo, in goggles, checks that he isn’t cheating.

The day Zozo loses her first baby tooth.

The day the bathroom comes out.

The day I decide I am an alcoholic.

Dream

I get a part in a film being made in a castle. The only role is for an extra who is a granny. I get the part. Months later when filming begins I am dressed differently by the wardrobe department. Picked out by the 4th A.D. I am nearly thrown off the set until i am spotted by friends, ‘higher up in the ranks’ who quickly introduced me to everyone. This includes JW, the producer, who I embrace, we make up … blah blah. I find myself welcomed on set, in their mess and so on … passing security because i am with someone important, such as a senior producer. Details I remember are a new front put on a castle that includes a Starbucks sign. Also the growing discomfort that I had privileges without having something to do to justify this level of access.

Draw Me a Star Eric Carle

I read this to Zozo last night. It is short. She was permitted a short story. On several occasions I was told to stop elaborating just to read it, even when there are pictures to share. Zozo and I are joined by TBT, he tucks himself under my arm. This upsets Zozo, not because TBT is irritating her, but because she wanted this time with me alone. Somehow we find peace. It is the letter beginning, ‘Dear Friends’ at the end of the story that interests me the most. He says how recalling a nonsense poem told to him by his grandmother and having a dream led to the story. ‘I had a beginning for a book, and an ending. The middle was easy!’

That’s what all writers need. I explain this to Zozo, that writing a story is liking going on a journey, like the one we do from home to school, we have a beginning and an ending and the bit in the middle is easy. She asks what would happen if we didn’t have an ending and I tell her we would get lost. (As I so often do, I think to myself).

Back on the Detox

Not hell, but not pleasant. I may not be drinking, but I do like chocolate and fudge.

The Day when …

We find action man trussed up in a white sock with a Barbie handbag on his head. Why? Because he has been naughty and killing people.

I learn that a dead dinosaur is called ‘un-stinct’

I suspect TBT has a lactose intolerance, Like me he gets dreadful tummy aches.

I think about giving up my cash card.

I hate what I am writing (I sit back and correct work I wrote weeks ago fearful that everything may at worse go in the bin, at best be shelved for a month or two.

A dream pisses me off. I don’t need to go into heavy analysis to recognise myself as a ‘ligger’.