Showing posts with label tragedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tragedy. Show all posts

Friday, 30 November 2018

A True Toy Story

Whimsical Tarot

This music must be played, as it's relevant to the topic for a certain generation of BBCRadio 1 listeners:






Most children have one, I think - a lovey, I've heard it called: some stuffed toy, usually an animal of some sort, that has been a loyal and loved companion since birth or very soon after.

Destructo Boy has three: 2 stuffed dogs, the first one given him before birth by Belo; the 2nd is exactly the same - I found it in a tub in Woolworths by joyful accident and bought it immediately as a possible replacement in case the worst happened to dog #1. Nothing special, not expensive.

The third is a teddy bear from Laura Ashley - and it was not cheap; I bought it for him when he was about 5 or 6 years old on his express promise that he would love it and care for it forever.


Here are the boys:




As you can see, some have worn better than others. Here is Toby, the youngest:




And here is Barney:





And here is poor Arnie, firstest and bestest and mostest loved of all:





Barney was never an acceptable substitute for Arnie - there was some undefinable difference that no-one else could see except Destructo Boy. Perhaps his ears didn't rub as smoothly and as satisfyingly between the fingers. Perhaps his stuffing didn't roll as it should through the hands. Perhaps one eye was a micron more to the left. Whatever it was doesn't really matter - what matters is that he was Not The Same.

When he got up in the morning, Destructo Boy would often tuck the boys back in before he left for school. When I went in to check on him before bed, he would always have all three in bed with him, Arnie and Barney usually draped across his neck.

Suddenly I would find the boys at the end of the bed, not tucked in and at risk of falling to the floor.

Then they were down the side of the bed amongst the random detritus and dust of an active boy.

Then one day I couldn't find them. They were buried under a pile of rugby clothes. Dirty, muddy rugby clothes.

When questioned, Destructo Boy announced baldly he was too old for them now and had no need of them.

Friend, I removed them to the safe haven of a shelf in my bedroom, and I wept.



Friday, 24 April 2015

FO Friday 17/15: Tragedy

Tarot of Durer












I thought I'd find the original rather than a cover for you - and just tell you that my kids sing it as 'Tragedy ... when your butt gets stuck in a monster truck it's Tragedy''.

You're welcome.






So anyway, let me explain why you're going to have that earworm all today. I'm not sure that I will even need any words:




So you want me to wallow in it and tell you the sad story ? 

That's mean, making me re-live the experience so soon - but seeing as how it's you ... this is what happens when Titch sits down on your knitting and then it gets caught on his great big fat banana fingers. This had been 46 rows of the Sirin Bird Shawl, approx. 500 stitches in this row, of which half are OFF the needle.

This is what it looks like now:




Yeah, that's what 47 grams of size 8/0 beads looks like when it's no longer threaded painstakingly on a few thousand individual stitches.

What's that ?

Yes, I agree, I did do a remarkable job cleaning up the blood - not a stain in sight. But there's a bump in the patio paving.



Wednesday, 9 March 2011

No Post













I don't feel like posting. My cousin's 4 year old son was killed in a car accident yesterday. His Mom is in hospital, his Dad (my cousin) and his sister weren't in the car. My babies are staying home with me today.