Of babies and bunting

  

(Image from '1000 Quaint cuts from books of other days')

Dear Patient M and I spent our Friday and Saturday nights this weekend studiously making bunting for a forthcoming social event. Yes, bunting. That's right. Flags on a string.

I had been inspired after happening upon three metres of lovely, yet overpriced, designer bunting in some chi-chi little shop that I would usually avoid like the Plague. After that fleeting encounter, my thoughts of bunting began to border on the maniacal. Wanting, instead, ten metres of bunting at a greatly reduced price, I had a lightbulb moment which involved a vision of me, scissors, a stapler and metres of polka-dotted loveliness in hand, making my very own Bunting Supreme. It was all very 'Project Runway'. At that moment, I also realised that I was, indeed turning into my father. My father is the type of man who, allegedly, used to turn the collars of his shirts around and re-sew them to "get more wear out of them." Shelling out clams for anything causes him considerable anguish. He loves nothing more than to "make do".

Anyway, the upshot of all this enlightenment was that we spent considerable time in the type of shops that made me fear I was perilously close to being lured into the racy underworld of Scrap-booking. These were the type of shops that could give one nightmares about horrible dolls (called Matilda) with no facial features wearing colonial bonnets that would make Holly Hobbie think twice. The type of shops which feature a whole rack of chicken-fillet type 'breast inserts'. At Adelaide's seediest department store (which shall remain elusively Green-White-and-Black), I politely enquired of a pleasant-looking 20-something shop assistant whether or not said store still had a haberdashery section and where it might be located. A mutually embarrassing moment ensued in which she coloured, smiled (pleasantly) and muttered, 'I'm sorry, I don't know what that is..' I say 'mutually embarrassing' because I instantly felt like the man who put the 'fud' in fuddy duddy. Whatever 'fud' may be.

It made me realise how, increasingly, I have retreated into my little old-fashioned dream world and lost touch with the world 'out there'. I have been retreating for years. Retreating into ludditeism and nostalgia and anti-social-ism. It even dawned on me that I have  reverted to dressing how I did when I was in my 20s (i.e. like somebody's grandfather. Or great-grandfather. Some wag once scribbled the word "Gramps" next to a photo of me in my own photo allbum. True story..). And, as you well know, I spend my Sundays in twilight reveries and, ever so thoughtfully, inflict them upon you on a regular basis.

On the upside, one of my dearest friends, Mistress C, gave birth to her first child a few days ago. I am so, so happy that little HGM came out safe and sound. It was lovely chatting in the hospital room with the friends I remember as teenagers and our current loved ones, HGM sleeping all the while, bundled up in a snug triangle of blankets. The late afternoon sun streamed in, it was autumn, we were overlooking a park, it was the weekend, everything felt just right.

Although, in the past, I have seriously considered fathering my own children, (and would never say never to, well, ANYTHING, really..), lately I suspect that it is highly unlikely that it will happen. Dear Patient M is my new family and that is more than I ever imagined. But I am happy to play the slightly remote, bemused and old-fashioned haberdashery-loving uncle in the lives of my friend's children. If they will have me. I am, after all, one of my (now adult) niece's Fairy Godfathers.

All of this got me thinking what I would hope for these kids in the brave new world that awaits them. What morsels of dubious wisdom could I impart? Nothing novel or earth shattering, of course, and by no means an exhaustive list, but here goes, kids:

1. Do not define yourself or other people by what they do for a living. Unless you live in Hollywood where you find yourself to be one of those nauseating types who say in interviews 'I am so blessed. I love going to work every day, I get to lick Brad Pitt on the face every 5 minutes' (or whatever it is they do in the racier talkies nowadays), there is a very good chance that you will not spend every day feeling fulfilled by your job. Deal with it. Find the rebels and have a laugh. Make your lunch hours count. Write a masterpiece on work time.

2. I hope that you do not understand the expression "coming out". I hope that there will be no closet to come out of. I hope that you fall about laughing at the thought that, in the olden days, folks had to make grand, nerve-wracking pronouncements about their sexuality. That said, you may want to, for your own edification, research quaint and charming terms such as 'haberdashery'. Perhaps also look into 'feminism' and 'auteur'. I would like to see all three return with a vengeance.

3. Nothing, neither good nor bad, lasts forever. Think about death every day. Get used to the idea. Mark occasions and passings. And celebrate, celebrate, celebrate. No pretext is too flimsy to bring out the bunting.

4. Of course you are not unloveable. Just stop that nonsense. At once.

Oh, and I hope you learn to "make do". You are certainly going to have to. But just remember: If you learn to make 'do', you can also learn to relish the pleasure of occasionally making...how should I put this?...'don't'.

You know what I mean.

PS And, at the risk of sounding shamelessly self-promotional, always remember to look up. And smile.*

*And to remember that Autumn is the best month, and to watch 'La Regle du jeu' on a regular basis and to listen to 'Baby it's you' by Promises and jump about without inhibition and...

 

Comments

[Elizabeth]

Oh that exchange about haberdashery made me laugh! I now want to write a big-band-type song called "Who puts the fud in fuddy duddy? (You do, that's who!)" Luckily for you, I don't know how to write songs. Not that that's ever stopped me before.... Hmmm.

Anyway, I will teach my youngest the meaning of haberdashery tomorrow. She loves odd words and will probably find some way to use it in conversation (and I was surprised that she was bullied in public school!).

You'd make a wonderful father. And who knows? Maybe you and Dear Patient M will decide that his patience is as yet under-challenged!

Anyway, hope your bunting bunted successfully and added to the festivity of your festivity!

[a thousand shades of twilight]

Oh, the thought of that Big Band tune made me laugh! Please don't hide your songwriting talent under a bushel!
I hope your youngest embraces 'haberdashery' and all other linguistic oddities! Yay! It would be interesting to know what her guess as to its meaning would be..
Thanks for your comments about fatherhood. Having watched my friends and family raise their kids (often singlehandedly) has helped me appreciate just what bloody hard work it is! And even then, it's been from the comfort of my self-indulgent, childless environment.
Actually I think having kids would be a doddle for Dear Patient M after dealing with me...(I say that merely because it's my schtick. I don't think I am THAT trying...)
Will let you know if the bunting bunted sucessfully in a few weeks time. There is a good chance that it will end up a sodden, tangled mess..I say that also because it is my schtick. Enough of this schtick, I say!
:)

[Jacanegra]

What a wonderful post, not only "littlies" would benefit from your wise words. I've felt the mysterious pull of bunting at times too.

[a thousand shades of twilight]

Thanks so much, Jacanegra! That's a lovely comment. And, PS, keep on bunting!:)

[Gabi]

Thank you for your wisdom (schtick to your guns!), and making me (lua)smile, yet again. Miss your wit and pictures on flickr; you can't be THAT anti-social!(I pride myself on taking the prize for that in recent months...)

[a thousand shades of twilight]

Thanks so much Gabi! Will schtick to my guns for sure! (Ha!) I'll be back on Flickr soon. I'm finding it hard to spend as much time as I would like to on there lately. It's a busy year so far, but in a good way. I think of you all often, even when I'm not there!
PS I was really chuffed with the bunting, if I do say so myself. I have a photo of it which I may upload at some point. It has Dear Patient M in it who would be mortified if I shared his lovely visage with the world. So I might replace him with, I don't know, a picture of a cat or something...