Some Custard Cream?


Most days are good. Today was a different sort of good, I was given the opportunity to miss my marvellous twin boys Edgar and Rufus aka Eddie and Ruru. They were born 937 days ago, and we’ve barely been parted since. The sun was shining, time on my side, so I decided to watch documentaries about religious cults, tattoos and serial killers whilst drinking milkshake. I also dyed my hair, badly, but I still feel better.

All day I managed to avoid the biscuit tin, until now.

I knew my boys were having fun with Daddy, so I could relax, guilt of abandonment at a record low. I felt comforted knowing a tupperware box of biscuits was packed into their backpack so when they demand “some Custard Cream” their desire could be met. How privileged they are to be in such a position, or spoilt.

So I settled down for some light hearted entertainment. After a lengthy fight with Netflix I started to watch a Ch4 programme called Tattoo Fixers. As I got drawn in to its annoying format I began wondering, there must be more to tattoos. On this show they all look so similar in style and content. Dark, bold, alarming and fierce. Tattoos for tattoo sake, no thought or feeling, or so it appeared. I would like a tattoo to be calm and beautiful on my arm, no outline, no dark, just peace, something meaningful and quintessentially Ami (although I doubt calm, beautiful or peaceful are words people would use to describe me). I’ve collected images of tattoos I might one day commit to having on my body, but I’m in constant turmoil about whether I really want one. Images of waves and swirls entwined dots and circles. Then it dawns on me, heavily tattooed people were once pigeon-holed as fierce and punk and alarming but this is no longer the case, many are indeed very gentle souls. I long to find a calming and subtle tattoo, perhaps I am ANGRY AS FUCK on the inside?

I did briefly pop out into the sunshine, to check if the washing I’d hung out was dry, it was, I left it there. There were more important things to do, like staring at my huge collection of music, wanting to listen to something I know either my husband, Jon, doesn’t enjoy or I worry is too offensive for innocent ears, e.g. Celine Dion, who comes under both categories. But I couldn’t decide. I considered Indigo Girls, a lesbian country duo from America, I have their full discography thanks to a long forgotten ex. Placebo, I shall always secretly want to be called Brian. KORN who I’ve not listened to in years and used to love, but I’m too scared of hating them now, I think I’d rather remember the love. My Hedwig and the Angry Inch soundtrack was very tempting. I looked for George Micheal’s Listen Without Prejudice but it must belong to my parents. So I finally decided on Zola Jesus’ album Conatus. I have no idea what Conatus means, but I know enough about Zola Jesus to know it must be of some conceptual importance, if Jon had been there he’d have known. I investigated, how nice to have the time to explore the meaning of something completely useless to mine and my childrens’ everyday life. It seems to come from philosophy and refers to the innate drive we humans all have to persist and to persist to exist. I see this drive in Eddie and Ruru everyday, although their persistences may seem annoying at times. Ruru is currently desperate to understand happy and sad and if he’s unsure how I’m feeling he will repeat “mummy bit sad” until I confirm or tell him othetwise. If I tell him I’m happy he’ll repeat “mummy appy” until I demonstrate my happiness with kind words and a smile. Perhaps as a parent I occasionally need to be reminded myself that my little ones have an innate ability to want to exist, when I worry they’re not eating for example, I doubt they’d starve themselves and although I’m unwilling to experiment I wonder how much danger they would put themselves in without me hollering STOP when I fear they’re about to kill themselves or each other, because there’s no denying I’d miss the blighters, hell I missed them today, well a little bit. I guess their desire to persist to exist is probably why they shout “some Custard Cream!”


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