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Friday, 3 August 2012

To hell or to Connaught, Making time for good fighting.

"You have abandoned me !....Once again......And and I'm not prepared to stand for it.....And I  have things to do over there...." The first and outraged daughter is comfortably seated in her grandparents house in the West of Ireland,   firing of accusatory texts across the country but I am adamant.   No, I am  hardened. She has spend the summer so far drifting down stairs at a late hour, where she can be found munching cornflakes, and watching Britain's next top model (B N T M for future reference)  on a loop, facebooking her friends, and growing tall and sultry in the process. On the plus side she is three quarters of the way through Jane Eyre on her Kindle, which I have inveigled her to read by dint of banning broadband  and  B N T M  for specified periods. AND  she has learned to like it, advancing from "but its in a foreign language" "to, hey its really good...Jane's at Rochester Towers now and it's kinda wild"  hmmm. Anyway, I have dispatched her to spend time with her father and  grandparents and now,  due to  the lack of broadband on tap, and other home comforts she wants to come back. I feel her pain, oh yes, but I' m a little battle weary, needing  some  time to  myself, and her basic inactivity, her entitled indolence  is getting to me. Also, she is exploring alcohol  (on a controlled basis) (ie with the adults,  supplied by myself0 "because I'm  old enough....and YOU do it....AND all my friends are actually like seasoned drinkers". All true. Probably.

 She is demanding wine at the table and hinting at the drinking she might be doing  with her friends, (the seasoned drinkers) if she decided to be frank. I don't believe it. Its like sex, its the ones who don't  boast   you need to watch. I let her have careful glasses of   white wine, from nifty little  sachets I discovered in the supermarket. . Which she insists on slurping rapidly and draining the sachet after,. And looking at me pityingly when I counsel moderation. Anyway let the other half of the parenting team have a go. I have a mental image of the abandoned one boasting of her intake with me and demanding  wine at his  table, as I write.  I should warn him. I should.

Also I feel the need for space for our new(ish) marriage to take.  A surprising number of people have an opinion on marriage and how one should proceed. The recurring theme seems to be that the first six months are  crxxxxp. Or make that a year even. But why?  Because its forever, and you loose all personal space, and the older you are the harder this is to bear, and once the drama and emotion of the wedding is over you each  bring out your auld  baggage   to chill the heart of  the other (innocent) party. Its a little bit of all of that I guess. My dearest life's  companion and I have worked our way through a few skirmishes all ready and are growing  a  bit of a survivors bond (in addition to the love and the  devotion). But, my dear reader, the thing is,  you need space and time in which to act out your stuff,  to work your way like a good dose of salts through the marital wars,.  We can't put our hearts and souls into it whilst  sheparding  the would-be hardened drinker safely  through dinner. "It's a luxury, darling, to fall out and in again at one's  leisure," I have explained to him, having  given this some thought,  "good fighting is trickier than you might expect".  I see the whites of his eyes as he says  "Eh.....  right, .... as long as YOU"RE  happy baby".   Hmmm, love that man.