I've reached that time of life (you may notice that is a bit of a theme at the moment) when many of my male friends and acquaintances have abandoned their wives of many years standing and taken up with a young filly. Many is a bit of an exaggeration A few is an understatement. Some doesn't do the numbers justice. Of these rather too obvious middle-aged men, a number have chosen to procreate, thus creating yet more overly-complicated family relationships that typify modern western democracies. I don't entirely blame the men as I remember when I was single at the wrong age, I kept meeting attractive young ladies who were clearly on a mission to start a family. None the less I cannot avoid feeling that the men are the dumb ones. Who at an age when you want a decent nights sleep chooses to have a baby? I've held this view for many years, as I remember when The Boy was a smiling, giggling, round-faced baby often spending my days in a semi-comatose state due to over-tiredness.
This morning those memories were brought back into sharp focus. The Boy was ill last night, and he was puking up every house. I felt it appropriate for me to get up and sympathise everytime he wretched, so whilst I don't have the screamingly painful stomach he has, I can barely keep my eyes open, can't focus on the task in hand and feel curiously detached from the world. Which is not good when I've got a ton of work to plough through. So absolutely no more babies for me. Ever. The Cat's Mother will be pleased.
Before I got home for my very disturbed night, I has been in Windsor, specifically at The Firestation Theatre with two more characters... Hereford Man and Ski Girl. I met them when The Boy was just tiny and we've been good if not close friends. He has two daughters who are at Exeter University, and she has a decade old daughter. I'd been invited to see the new show by Lee Nelson. I'd never heard of him, but took up the offer, on the basis that once before I'd invited Hereford Man to the Foo Fighters only for him to announce at the end of the show that he'd never heard of them. Wow. There's an odd logic there somewhere.
I arrived a little early and sat quietly playing on my phone in the bar whilst supping a Guinness. That is until a woman decided to strike up a conversation with me. I can tell you she came from Milton Keynes, has been trawling the internet for interesting things to do and that she was staying in a bed and breakfast round the corner. She could tell you precisely nothing about me. Eventually my friends arrived, and rescued me. That didn't stop them ribbing me for pulling. Milton Keynes woman didn't quite disappear out of my life though as she was one of those audience members that enjoyed participating in the show by shouting out at regular intervals. Eventually, during the second half, she moved down to the front row to get closer to Mr Nelson. I can't tell you how nervous he suddenly became. It's a very small theatre with the audience and performer separated by about a metre or may be two. The words 'stalker' and 'bunny boiler' came to mind. Anyway he was quite funny...although the photos of a man having sex with a horse and infected genitals were not to everyone's taste. Including mine. With a degree of inevitability I was picked on (yep it happens too much for comfort), but I survived quite well, unlike the lad after me who had his testicles squeezed. Comedians are an odd bunch these days. This one had evidently been arrested at a football match the other day in his guise as 'Jason Bent footballer'.