Out on the skateboards with Max and Jase

Jason and I headed down to Docklands yesterday for a skate. It had been a while between visits and sure enough, we got lost in an endless mess of display homes, fake parks and deserted marketplaces. Oh, and a fashion festival. It was great fun! Well, you be the judge of that.

Out on the skateboards with Max and Jase from Max Olijnyk on Vimeo.

Mornings with Fred

Sometimes when I wake up, Fred is lying next to me, black eyes gazing into the half-darkness. He’s lost in thought, staring at the light fitting or the curtains, or the cupboard. He’s been in and out of consciousness many times throughout the night and the last time, perhaps sensing the closeness of dawn, he was reluctant to go through all that again.

So Rosie pulled him out of his cot and put him in between us, and cuddled him until she dropped off to sleep herself. Of course, I’m only speculating on this because I slept through most of it, but here we are, Fred and me. 

I kiss him on the top of his tufty head and he flinches slightly, but keeps his eyes fixed on the light fitting or the curtains, or the cupboard. It is only when I prop myself up on my elbow and insert my head in his field of vision that he really acknowledges my presence. 

I smile widely and make the little clicking noises with my tongue that have become our morning language. He smiles back at me and returns a click, then sighs and returns to his gazing. 

I click again and rub his chest, demanding attention. He searches my face for clues. I raise my eyebrows as if I’m amazed, and click. He squeals with delight, reaches out and paws my cheek with the back of his wet little hand. 

I pick him up and carry him to the spare bedroom, where I change his nappy while he stares at the picture of ‘r for rugby’, and then we walk around the house, visiting every mirror. 

His favourite by far is the one in the bathroom. I turn the heat light on and we stare at ourselves, narcissists in arms. Actually, I mainly stare at him, the mass of hair and damage that is my face a secondary prop. 

I kiss him on the top of his tufty head and he squirms happily, his mouth open like a musician in the middle of a solo. He loves it. 

We shuffle back to bed and I lay him down again. He is disappointed and begins crying. Rosie stirs and smiles at him, and makes her own special Fred cooing noises. He looks up at her in relief as she picks him up to feed. 

You may have noticed that the photos that accompany this story are of skating, not Fred. That's because I went skating yesterday at both Knox parks, young and old. It was fun and the usual shenanigans occurred. Tricks are by Tom, French, Jim and Gorm.