My Role As Millie’s Chief Tormentor

Two conversations, within five minutes, with my eleven-year-old daughter Millie:

1

When seeing Amanda Holden on television.

Millie: “My friend Sienna has met Amanda Holden.”

Me: “So have I.”

Millie: “Really? You’ve met her?”

“Me: “Yes.”

Millie: “Once?”

Me: “More than once.”

Millie: “Really?”

Me: “Yes, I’ve met Sienna lots of times.”

😂😂

Followed by:

2

Feeling the gap caused by a recently lost tooth:

Millie: “You know like I’ve lost a tooth? This girl in America was on YouTube and she put a tooth under her pillow and got a hundred pounds off the Tooth Fairy.”

Me: “No she didn’t.”

“Millie: “Err yes she did!!”

Me: “I bet you she didn’t.”

Millie: “Okay-shake on it then.”

Me: “Alright. If that girl in America got a hundred pounds I’ll give you fifty quid. If she didn’t you have got to do every job I give you for a week.”

Millie: “Deal!”

We shook hands on the wager.

Me: “In America they don’t have pounds they have dollars.”

😂😂

Yes goodnight Millie! Sleep well!

(He)art of the City

In the wake of the Arena bomb, the city drew the creatives to itself, as though, in some act of self-healing catharsis, beauty was brought to counter the ghastly.

Along the city’s highways, and especially in St Anne’s Square which was fast becoming the focus for the people’s outpouring of grief and defiance, artists could be seen hunched over easels and pavement flagstones, etching hearts, bees and other symbols of resilience onto the bones of her wounded body.

Even now, on the eve of the anniversary, we turn to art to express our deepest responses.

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In the wake of the Arena bomb, musicians could be found playing the music of their fellow Mancunians; recognisable core DNA transmuted through classical, reggae and ballads of bleeding. Mourners broke vigils with spontaneous outpourings of adopted anthems.

Even now, on the eve of the anniversary, we quote the words of some of her favourite sons.

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Tomorrow is twelve months. The healing goes on.

 

 

 

The conception of ‘(He)art’ was created by my fellow blogger Laura Bruno Lilly. http://laurabrunolilly.com/blog/

A Random Conversation In The Library

(Background information: this took place in my local library. I sometimes take part in clinical trials, and if a book I’ve ordered comes in while I’m away my wife picks it up for me.)

 

I called into Middleton Library today. Two librarians were stood at the desk, one greeting me in surprise:

L: “Hello! I’ve not seen you for a while! I was only thinking about you the other day.”

Me:”You thought I’d died, didn’t you? On a trial. Never came out again alive.”

L:“No! I saw that comedian on the tv . . .

Me:”Don’t tell me-Jason Manford.”

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L:”No but . . . yes! You are like him!”

Me:”You’re the fourth person now to tell me that. Who was it you was watching?

L:”Peter Kay.”

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Me:”Well thanks a bunch!”  I did that thing with my double chin.

L: ““I mean the way he tells his stories!”

The other librarian now joined in, thinking it an opportune moment to extricate her colleague from a conversation running amok.

L#2: “Didn’t I see your wife in here? While you were away?

Me: “With another man?”

L#2: No! With the kids.”

Me: “To be honest I’m more worried about her being with the kids than with the other man. She’s not supposed to have access.”

 

My book was overdue. They waived the fine.