A weekend worshiping the newborn. Me? Broody? Who said that?

Friday March 7^th.

I don’t know how he gets the time off work but Dad called at lunchtime saying they had arrived at my house, had left themselves in, exercised Callie and had a drink. They were going to zoom off over to Horsforth for the afternoon and we weren’t to bother about dinner because they’d be back at 6 with an Indian Takeaway for us. Did I want Jalfrezi as usual? What would Loll want?

What can you do with him, eh? He just does stuff. He always has. This is probably where I get my sense of adventure from and love of travel. [It is certainly not from Mum, that’s for sure.]

We met up with the science bods again and their Professor. He [it always seems to be a “he” have you noticed?] was of the opinion that they could use any work done on our project as credits for their degree course. They will be mainly using multi-spectral imaging and if they need a different approach they can go down the x-ray fluorescence route. I sort of understand the multi-spectral stuff but x-ray fluorescence left me floundering. Felice wasn’t floundering as far as Eddie was concerned and when we got back to her office she told me they had arranged a date for tomorrow.  Laura thought it was a hoot and that she was only being true to her character. Leopards and spots.

I mentioned the male bias in professorships to our supervisor and she told me that a few of the female professors on the staff had made a video for the local newspaper about that very issue. I went and searched the Sheffield Star pages and sure enough, among all the coverage for Sheffield United being in the FA Cup semi-finals if they beat Charlton (Yawn Yawn) was their video. Laura’s own professor was on it! Plus the woman from Bible studies whom I have met a couple of times. They were pretty damning of the culture where undergrads and post grads are about even in gender  numbers (being 50/50 across the board) but when it comes to Professorships the ratio drops to 90/10 in favour of men.

The Bible Studies lecturer had a theory about this, namely not enough women blow their own trumpet about their achievements. In reading between the lines she was arguing that we are too self-effacing and we don’t lie like men do! According to her when we encounter the word “NO” we just accept it and move on to something new, whereas men keep pushing and kicking against it. It struck me this is also the reason so many women get raped and sexually abused. We say “NO” but men’s psyche makes them not believe it. In other words, it is the rapist mentality in men which gets them their professorships! I don’t imagine she meant it in quite that way but if you extrapolate the logic behind what she is saying it is obvious.

Laura thought I was just being too radically feminist in my condemnation of men but I had to contend it was that very attitude of hers which meant men would always take the lion’s share of everything. They still bloody do in our society despite our so called equality. She had to agree I was right. I don’t think it is my lesbianism which is turning me into a man hater, it is just the way society (run by men) has organised itself to keep us women oppressed which makes me so angry. A world organised and run by women would be so much nicer.

Dad (and Louisa) weren’t home when we got back so we had a cuddly snuggle on the sofa. Callie made nary a sound when they did roll up (5.45) and so Louisa walked in on me stroking Laura’s hair whilst cuddling on the sofa. Her reaction was quite weird, she pulled a face like a sucked lemon and went “Oh, Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt….” I think she thought we were up to some “perverted” lesbian act on our living room sofa.

Dad came in like a boisterous puppy and said, “Right, enough of the lovey dovey stuff, get your arses to the table, Grub’s up!” Laura woke up at this and was none the wiser to what had transpired. I know it’s nothing really but I was a little surprised by Louisa’s face pulling and comment. It is not as though we have made a secret of our relationship and at Dad’s we regularly cuddle up and caress each other (nothing sexual) on Dad’s sofa in front of them both. Maybe her hormones were out of kilter at viewing the new baby? Who can say? Perhaps I was just reading too much into a fleeting glance and an unguarded comment?

Indian food is gorgeous. We had different mains each and Dad had also brought sag aloo and chana masala as well. We had a taste of everyone else’s main and wolfed the lot. I love the flavour of Jalfrezi it is so spicy but it doesn’t blow your head off. Dad had also managed to purloin several bottles of Indian Lager, which only he drank; we cultured ladies drank wine with our meal. He was disappointed to hear I had none of the Belgian Blue beer left from the Bradfield brewery as he would have like to try it. He is going to drive over the hill tomorrow to see if they have any of the Christmas brew left. I very much doubt they will.

The Aged parent came with me as I walked Callie at the end of the day, which was nice. He thinks seeing the new baby has upskittled Louisa a little as she and he have been trying for a baby for a while now. He was impressed by the way my child skills had manifested themselves at the hospital; apparently Jane couldn’t get over the way I had held Sophie in one arm and pointed stuff out to her as naturally as though I had been doing it for years! I hadn’t thought about it, I’d just done it! It seemed obvious.

I suppose quite naturally this lead on to him asking if I had thought about having one of my own. I told him I had thought about it a lot and if all things had gone to plan he’d have two grandchildren from me by now! That shut him up a bit and he did have the grace to say sorry. I told him what I tell everyone, when I have completed my PhD and got settled in the next phase of my life I will think again about the question but until then it is off the agenda.

The cheeky bugger said he understood and that living with Laura would present a complication. I bit at that one and replied that if I was still with Laura (and I didn’t see why I shouldn’t be) getting pregnant could be quite easily achieved without having to abandon our relationship. It had the desire effect, I shocked him. When I told him I could always do a Garp’s mother, it made him almost swallow the mint I’d just given him.  Not to be out done (I think) he answered “That’s My Girl!”.

As we walked back to my little house with an arm round each other’s waist like a May to September couple, I sort of wondered was that a normal sort of conversation between a 26 year old girl and her father? I suppose it is with my Dad.

Saturday March 8^th.

Arrghh! Four newts and a frog/toad squashed. I am going to stop keeping count. It is just too upsetting.

We went to the pool this morning and Sarah was all ears to hear about baby Sophie. [She wasn’t on early shift yesterday.]  Laura told her it had made me broody and that I was contemplating having sex with a complete stranger just to get pregnant. The floor could have opened up and swallowed me on the spot. Where does she get it from? [Erm… That would be me, actually. It is kinda cute and kinda scary hearing your own sarcasm being voice by someone else.]

We were able to reassure her we were only joking. The description of Sophie and her shock of hair made her forget about our silliness. Laura did go on to tell her that I was a natural with little Sophie, so much so that Sophie’s Mum (Jane) had told my Dad about it.

After the splash we had a family breakfast and the Aged P & Louisa announced they were off to Meadow Hall for the morning and then they’d drive straight up the motorway to Phil’s after lunch. As soon as they’d gone I got on the phone to Mum who must’ve broken the land speed record from Holmesfield to my house. [She did tell me she had driven round the edge – our name for avoiding the town centre.] We made Phil & Jane’s by 10.30.

Luckily we had none of the “Oh Vicky is a born mother” type chatter. Although, I did catch Mum giving me a sideways look as I played with a toy rabbit with little Sophie. Maybe she is too young to want a Mr Wabbit of her own yet because she didn’t find it as interesting as I would have hoped. She is less than a week old though, so perhaps it isn’t surprising.

Mum just loved the idea of another girl in the family. Coming from one where she was the only girl I can sort of understand it a bit. My older brother and sister are really so much older compared to me that they don’t really count I suppose. I was almost like an only child when I was old enough to realise these things. Angela is so delighted that the three of them will be able to gang up on Peter and her Dad when Sophie is older.

I asked Phil whether he would have preferred a boy and he snapped my head off with a snide aside. I don’t know why as I hadn’t been outrageous or anything. He whispered, “Typical bloody non-parent stupid question!” I made sure I poked him really hard in the ribs as he walked away. What a git! Sometimes he can be a complete arsehole, my brother!

At about 1pm Dad’s car pulled up outside! I recognised his huge Citroen swinging onto Phil’s driveway so I went and told Mum (discretely). I guess I was expecting World War Three to break out but I needn’t have worried. Mum and Louisa hit it off like long lost chums and even Dad held the sarcasm in check for the whole of the time we were together. The look on Dad’s face, though, when he walked into the lounge to see Mum holding little Sophie was priceless. He sort of went through about five or six different faces, ranging from surprise through to petulant annoyance before he settled on his “addressing a full lecture theatre face”. His first words to Mum were in a sort of surprised awe in a way, “Is that your Audi out there, then?” It was as though he couldn’t believe Mum was capable of buying such a cool car on her own.

He actually gave her a quick peck on the cheek (that must have cost him something) and then introduced Louisa to her. I am pretty sure they have met before but I could be mistaken, Mum and she seemed to behave as though it was the first time they had set eyes on each other and they started as friends straight away. By the time we were getting ready to leave I could almost imagine them synchronising their diaries for a girly get together to discuss the foibles of father! From Dad’s expression I think he could too.

As we left yet more people turned up to see the new arrival. One of Jane’s Aunts and Uncles who live in Dewsbury. (Someone has to!) In the car on the way back to chez moi we heard Mum’s opinion of Sophie – a little angel; Phil – a complete prat (she had heard his comment and was surprised I’d only poked him); Me – a star in the making for being so sensible about my brother and so competent with the baby; Dad – a patronising pillock as usual; Louisa – just like Susannah, what was Dad thinking?

Laura chose this moment to pipe up with, “I wish my family were as interesting as yours, Mrs S.” (She always calls Mum Mrs S. Mum has tried to get her to call her Helen but Laura can’t bring herself to do it.) Just out of interest I have been told to call Mum Helen too, but I can’t do it either.

I asked Mum if she wanted to stay for tea but she declined when she realised that Dad & Louisa would be here too.

In the evening I discovered why I hate watching Live commercial TV. Dad had discovered Crufts was being shown on Channel 4 so we sat and watched all of that. The adverts are so annoying. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. Luckily our choice of viewing next was Salamander – BBC 4 no adverts and with subtitles. In fact the subtitles and the French being spoken veered away quite a bit tonight but I think I am the only one who noticed. Dad and Louisa obviously were not happy bunnies watching episodes 9 and 10 of a serial they hadn’t seen before so they very kindly offered to take Callie for her walk while we watched the last half an hour of Salamander by ourselves.

When they came back in Dad was amazed at Callie, “She’s been pointing newts!”

“Well, yes. I trained her do it so I can move them. If I leave them on the road the chances are they’ll get squashed.”

“Oh.”

With that he and Callie set off again, leaving Louisa behind. He may be a bit of an annoying old fossil at times but he can come good when the occasion demands it. I explained to Louisa how they had suddenly started appearing in large numbers during the last week. She thought it was a very noble thing to do, moving them so they wouldn’t die on the lane. She is alright really. Apart from the fact she wants to give me a half-sister or brother. Actually, when she is behaving like that I don’t think I would mind too much at all. [TBH my only real worry is the health of a baby born to a woman in her early forties, it could be handicapped which would be so upsetting for everyone. I sort of guess who will be called upon to unpaid babysitter for any offspring. Since this week, I don’t think I’d mind at all. Just goes to show how you can alter your opinions given the right circumstances.]

Sunday March 9^th.

A glorious fantabulous day, more like June than March. I persuaded the Aged P and Louisa to stroll from my house to the pub for lunch and then to walk back via the convent (don’t ask) and Coumes Brook to home. The round trip is about five miles. To be honest I had booked us into the Horns for lunch anyway, I just wanted to see if they would come walking with us. From the top of the hill, where the Bolsterstone road crosses you can actually look out across the flat expanse of Yorkshire to the east of Doncaster and on a clear day there are five huge power stations in view. Today was really clear and with my Minolta bins we could make out all five belching beasts over on the flatness.

I detoured by the ruins of the Motte and Bailey castle in Bradfield. These are a sad disappointment for a historian like me. If I ever manage to make Professor I would love to organise the complete and proper excavation of the site and then make a permanent display of the feature. As it is, unless you have a trained eye you could quite easily miss the thing altogether. Maybe the people of Bradfield don’t really want any more visitors than they actually have already and wouldn’t be keen on the idea?

I had a massive amount of lunch for a wee creature and two glasses of wine more than are good for me.

I pointed out the brewery to Dad as we hiked our way back round toward Kirk Edge Convent and he wanted to go and see if it was open. He discovered that girl power often is more dynamic than people expect and he didn’t get his way at all. The convent is open for Mass at 8am every day, naturally I haven’t been but the idea is very tempting I must admit.  The building itself is a copy (of sorts) of one in Paris which is why it looks so out of place and unusual in its location –that is if you get to see it. I have been in the grounds once since I moved here and the huge wall along Kirk Edge Road certainly deters any casual visitors I suspect.

We strode past this Carmelite wall and then round into the top of Coumes Brook. This can be a disappointment, being prone to muddiness however, the recent dryness had turned the putative Grimpen Mire into a minor bog which wasn’t so unpleasant after all. We climbed out on the Onesacre Road, just opposite Onesacre Hall, from where it was a spit back to my little house and a cuppa and a snooze – well for Yours Truly anyway.

I went upstairs for a kip. Dad and Louisa, apparently dozed companionably in the lounge whilst the Lollster given to contrition, no doubt, by passing the convent felt forced to decamp to the study to catch up with her studies but where she entered the land of nod too!

I woke about five thirty wondering what the hell was going on with my hand only to find a googly eyed Weimaraner nuzzling against the aforementioned appendage with something akin to affection. I sallied forth and roused the house for a swift round of sandwiches and cup that cheers. Dad & Louisa decided they needed to zoom off back to Cumbria poste haste after afternoon tea and so we waved them off as the dusk began to fall.

I am sorry to say we were glued to Crufts again after they had gone and were thoroughly disappointed that the scraggy necked weasly excuse for a dog was given best in show. We all thought that the Samoyed should have won, not the bloody poncy poodle. Even Callie had to agree though she did admit to having a soft spot for Colin! I was shocked. I thought she’d have gone for the Irish Wolf Hound. LOL 

Sporting post script (added Tuesday 11th ) Sheffield United won their football match and are now in the semi-finals. They play Hull City. Whoopy doo!