It’s a recurring theme. I’m oblivious early in the morning, still dressed in my robe, as we are, just for a change, behind schedule.
Wednesday’s the half way mark of the week, and therefore attractive to some, because it’s also a half day. The weather forecast predicts coldness and some of us, even thin-blooded Californians, are more susceptible than many.
My son looks through the window to see movement of trees and quivers with wide eyes. His pale, exposed, little, shell-like ears seem to shrivel as his palms cup them for protection from the buffeting wind.
What a pity his new jacket lacks a hood.
As he leaves to go and curl up on the third stair I wonder how on earth we’ll be able to transport him from house to bus, a distance of fifteen yards with several metres of 40 kph blustering winds?
It’s not an easy calculation.
I remember the hat from England, a Plymouth Argyle Football Club supporters’ knit cap. It’s green – the wrong color, but it does sport an icon of a soccer ball and a cat in mid leap. Since felines of all descriptions find favor lately, I decide to give it a go.
I grab a Sharpie in the kitchen and write his name inside. Within seconds I’m through the kitchen, past the dining room, round the sitting room, the hall and two steps up to entice him. I can’t hear the bus engine through the closed window, yet, but it’s on the way, very shortly. I play teasing temptress as I lean over him before ramming it on his head, with my hands pressing the fabric against his ears, capturing the warmth.
“Wot is dat smell!” he asks – more of a statement than a question. I find it hard to recall my itinerary with any degree of exactitude. I examine the options over a period of more than two hours; vat of espresso, unwashed after a hot night, Dial dish wash soap, 409 – killer the germs – solution, new Clorox toilet block, trash bag contents and recycling today, hand soap, laundry soap, as it’s best to start early, mouth wash to neutralize coffee before kiss, is there some kind of preservative in the pristine new hat?
All in all, it’s a veritable nightmare of toxic waste – a cocktail of chemical smells – but which one would predominate……
“I think perhaps….its…?”
“I always love dah smell of Sharpies Mom!”
p.s. How to have a ‘hot night’ when you’re all on your own with your spouse many thousands of miles away, abroad?
Go upstairs, turn off the lights, get into bed and put head on the pillow, pass out, awaken intermittently to find a big, fat, furry, demented orange cat on your head. Bark at cat. Fall asleep again. Repeat.