We went to Nick and Maxine’s today in the second to last day in the Orman game “pass around the visitors.” Every family we told we wouldn’t be able to see seemed offended by our desire to leave, until we were forced to relent and visit anyone who asked. We had initially planned on leaving Brian and Sylvia’s after a week…two and a half weeks later here we are still. It wouldn’t be so bad but we did a quick calculation and found that even with free accommodation and lots of food from the generous host families we are still spending almost as much money as we would camping.
Dinner at the Middlesditches was mostly uneventful, a pleasant evening out. Nick and I walked to the local fish and chips shop by a path that left me completely lost and confused. We passed an Islamic shop, at least the owners were Muslim, and the front was adorned with an enormous pair of British and American flags. Even here people are very nervous about world events.
Nick chatted excitedly the whole way. He seems like child at heart who is having absolutely no difficulty adjusting to life as an adult. He chatted as eagerly and as excitedly about stocks and retirement options and the aches and pains of age as Colin did about model planes and Emily does about her Barbie’s. Nick was very excited by the idea of our trip and congratulated me heartily for having conceived of it. He seemed very disappointed that he was not doing something similar until I mentioned the adventure of having a family, he perked up immediately and started chatting about that. He is the most excited father I have ever met and is very into his children’s lives.
The fish and chip shop was very much like every other fish and chip shop in Britain, small, overheated and with a sheen of grease that makes the shop sparkle when hit just right by the too powerful lights. The Chinese couple running it seemed very nervous, hardly daring to meet their customer’s eyes, looking up only to toss a grease-soaked package of paper across the counter.
I am a little surprised at the quality of seafood in Holbury and the area surrounding the Southampton water, or perhaps I should say quantity because we have seen virtually none at all. I suppose with the power station and refinery, along with millions of tons of shipping every year that the fish from this area might be a little polluted, but it seems odd to be within spitting distance (a metaphor that, not tested) of the ocean and to be unable to get much seafood. I have a bit of a craving for crab but it won’t be satisfied here.
After getting our fish we walked back to Heather, Maxine, Sam and Emily, going by another path completely that left me even more lost than before. Dinner was quick and quiet. Emily was very bouncy, eager to show off her Barbie pants and Barbie everything. Not being around very many little girls back hone I’m not sure if there is equal obsession of all things Barbie. Imogine is having her room repainted Barbie pink, a color that strongly reminds me of bubble gum after it has lain on a sidewalk for a few days.
On the topic of toys there was a little boy with a machine gun on the way to the shop. I had never really given my parents “no war toys” policy much thought before but in light of recent events it was more than a little disturbing to see a child running up the street pretending to murder someone. How will people learn not to devalue life unless brought up to it from the beginning? I could be answered that children are only playing and having fun, that child’s games are meaningless and normally I would agree but children can have fun in so many way, their minds are creative and unstructured, so what makes us put guns in their hands instead of cardboard boxes or pens or…anything else? Thoughts that wouldn’t ordinarily trouble my mind have grown dramatically more important in this new state of affairs that plagues the world.
Sam’s toy are for a younger mind and seem better suited, a steering wheel and games with flashing patterns. Both Heather and I were soon entranced. I believe that toys for toddlers, perhaps all toys, are made with the adult buyers in mind. Maxine was very excited by a light sensitive puzzle of Sam’s, every time you put in a piece the animal it represented made a noise because the light sensor was covered. It also made a noise if the house lights were turned off so Maxine kept running between kitchen and living room, to shutting off the lights to hear the puzzle roar. It was bizarre to be sitting in the room with four, sorry three; other adults and listening intently to a child’s puzzle sound off.
Maxine, as a podiatrist, has been writing a series of children’s stories with shoes as their characters. One story was a blatant propaganda piece in protest against high heels.
After dinner it was time for Emily to go to bed, something she could not do without Heather to tuck her in. I’m so amazed at the patience Heather has for children. While I respect children’s role as replacements for dying adults sometimes their minds are more alien to me than the furthest foreigners and I am more comfortable leaving them to others. I am a spectator child raiser. I don’t mind watching them, but I have no talent with them.
After the children’s bedtime it was our own and Nick drove us home. Immediately upon leaving the house, even before getting into the car, they began to bemoan our imminent departure from England, telling us to stay longer and visit them again. It’s nice to be wanted but Brian and Sylvia are coming home soon and might want their own home.
I am a little worried, tonight my throat was sore and I sneezed a lot more than usual.
Next Entry: Day 45. Holbury
Previous Entry: Sitting here, thinking quietly, looking at this pretty flower.
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