Hannah gets in the car. Her hair is styled half up, half down, expertly waved. The top half is parted down the middle and slicked back with absolutely no bumps whatsoever. She flips down the mirror to inspect her reflection on the way to school, taming invisible stray hairs with a tiny spoolie brush. I barely have time to throw my hair in a pony tail before I leave the house. I’m in awe of my 15 year old polished, put together daughter. My only bug bares are cleaning out the shower drain and her stained school shirts from fake tan, nothing in the grand scheme of things.
Angus has three exams to go before he’s finished school forever. In just over 2 weeks time he will be celebrating his 18th birthday. He is working so hard but I want to stop and hug him and not let him go for a good wee while. Things are moving too quickly and I can’t keep up. A few evenings ago, I lost my temper with him. A rare occasion to be honest, we are so close. He was winding his sister up, threatening to toss a water bottle at her that she had paid for with her own cash. Sometimes they are still children, bickering with each other, pushing and shoving. I love them both so much it can be overwhelming.
When I was a student a new bar opened in Glasgow, All Bar One, a chain it turns out. My mum insisted on calling it Allbaroné, one of her many quirks. Today I realised a song I’ve heard a few times now calls it Allbaroné too. My mum was ahead of her times it seems. Listen to the tune below and picture me dancing round the kitchen to it; it’s an absolute banger!
I phone my mum this evening whilst out on a dog walk. She was looking out of her kitchen window in Scotland it seems because she says “there’s one, two of them and they’re just staring at me!” After a moment I work out that she means the two rabbit ornaments Mark and I bought her for her birthday this year. I put them in the garden so she could see them from the kitchen sink. I remind her of the three of us taking the trip to the garden centre, picking out the rabbits and, of course, a pot of jam (she loves jam) for her birthday. She continues “I’ve put a bit of food out for them but I don’t think they like it”. Before I have time to think I say “no mum, they’re not real, they’re stone ornaments”. She takes a beat and replies “they’re a wee bit real though”. If this wasn’t so sad it would be funny. Like dolls and soft toys which have been proven to soothe and comfort people with dementia, I can only hope the rabbits in mum’s garden make her smile.
I have 10 minutes before I have to be in work so I drive down to the end of the beach, park up & eat some strawberries I had packed into a Tupperware. I watch a gannet as it starts to dive. Beak first, it pulls its wings in tight to its body and breaks the water like a pin. It’s dull and warm, sky almost dark; thundery showers have been forecast. This morning I’ve managed a short dog walk, Pilates and a school run for one before this point. I’m aware of how this paragraph absolutely reeks of privilege. How lucky am I to feel safe in our little community? Absolute thuggery, hatred and disgusting racism has taken over in a community not far from where I sit and I feel heart sore for all of the families caught up in this.
