Monday March 2nd.
Still excited about Chloe.
Showed Sarah the pictures
and even she said that Chloe didn’t look like the typical ugly baby.
After our swim the day progressed as normal until after
our evening meal, when Dad called and asked me if I would like to be one of
Chloe’s Godmothers. I was stunned. I was so stunned I actually said I had to
think about it and could I call him tomorrow?
He said that was OK and we left it at that.
I am now in a deeply metaphysical and religious quandary.
I would love to be Chloe’s Godmother. In fact it is quite likely Chloe could be
without a Father before she is in her twenties – especially if Dad’s heart
gives out again; he has had one heart attack already (aged 48!) and would need
someone to step into the breech. BUT…
It is the stupid Christening ceremony and all those
promises and declarations of your faith you have to make. I won’t do that. I am
a staunch, committed, almost evangelical, believer that all religion is
complete and utter rubbish; that none of it is true in the slightest degree;
how can I become a hypocrite and suddenly declare that I believe in the one
true god and all that crap? I just can’t. I won’t, I am not going to put aside
what I know is true even for my gorgeous new Half-Sister.
I spoke with Laura, post Trevor’s visit, and she said all
I had to do was stand there and not say the words when the priest asked
everyone to repeat them. If I wanted to I could just move my lips as though I
was saying it under my breath so people would believe I had said the promises
and such but I knew I hadn’t really. This is what happens when you have a
mathematician as a partner; they avoid the contentious and go for the heart of
the matter. It did make her ask what about our wedding and I said I would be the
same there too. I would only go through with any ceremony if god was removed
from it.
Tuesday March 3rd
I called Dad before Olivia arrived and he said, “It’s the
God thing, isn’t it?” H ethen went on to almost paraphrase what Laura had said
yesterday. I told him this and he said that great minds thought alike so I
reminded him of the corollary to that statement.
However, it is settled, there will be four Godparents but
two of them will be a Lesbian couple [Laura and Me] and if the priest doesn’t
like it he can stuff it. (Dad’s words, not mine.) There are times when I love
him so much it hurts. I am so impressed that he is going to allow Laura and me
to be Chloe’s godparents and not just have me by myself. I hadn’t realised that
was what he meant when he asked me. When I told Laura she was gobsmacked
because she had assumed (as I had) that the invitation was solely for me.
The only dampener on the news was a phone call from my
boring old fart of a brother who called to ask if it was true that Laura and I
were going to be Chloe’s Godparents. I told him it was and he sort of chuntered
unintelligibly as I expressed my excitement at the prospect and at Dad’s
wonderfully open mind for such a wrinkly. That was probably the wrong thing to
say because the BOF took it to mean I was insulting him. I simply said, “If the
cap fits…” and hung up. We argue all the time so this was nothing new. However
it did leave me feeling a bit disappointed that my stupid brother was more
concerned that two lesbians were being his half-sister’s godparents than the
fact I was going to do it!
I would call him an arsehole but arseholes are very
important and useful, whereas, a lot of the time, Philip can be a useless
tosser. I hope I have not blown access to my two nieces and nephew in Leeds
because of my reaction to his bigotry.
Wednesday March 4th.
More phone calls to Cumbria. Louisa is home and Dad is
knackered. He has done one day of driving to Lancaster and back and is going to
try one more. If he feels as whacked after his 160 mile round trip he is going
to take his paternity leave pronto. I told him he was a fool to think he could
do all that driving and be in a fit state to help Louisa with the baby.
He came back with, “Say what you feel, why don’t you?” He
then asked what had happened between Philip and me. As I was still annoyed by
the bigoted brother I explained everything. It was Dad’s turn to be annoyed as,
apparently, they had discussed the idea of me and Laura being god-parents and
Phil had been fine with it. I told Dad that was further proof, if any was
needed, that Philip was the Milkman’s baby, not his. He told me I shouldn’t be
so wicked. Not about Phil but about my Mum. It is sweet when he does that,
defends her even though they are divorced. I do know hates Phil’s chosen
profession and thinks he is a money grabbing little git at times.
He rang off saying he would have a work with Mr Phil Istine
but I told him that would only make things worse and I didn’t want to be
excluded from his children’s lives even if I wasn’t part of his!
As a post script to this little internecine spat, Jane
called and offered her congratulations on being a Godmother and apologised if
Phil had been a little brusque. I like Jane but I am sure she does this kind of
thing regularly to smooth over the shite storm my pillock of a brother has left
in his wake. I asked if they were all coming to the Christening as it is before
the school holidays start and she told me they are coming up anyway and are
staying at Dad’s. That is very unusual! I am looking forward to seeing them all
(Phil excepted) on the day.
Thursday March 5th.
Another lecture crossed off the list. I am getting into
the swing of things now and really enjoying myself. Once again the Q & A
proved the most interesting / distracting as we veered into Early Colonisation
of the Americas as a result of Henry’s actions. I went and checked I was OK
talking about this afterwards and was told to try and avoid “stepping on other people’s
toes”. I had to counter with; other people need to let me know where their toes
are. Which made my supervisor think. Surely if they (the powers that be) want
us to give a full and detailed analysis of historical events I have to go where
the students questioning takes us, not say “I am sorry I can’t talk about that,
it is part of Mr (Mrs, Miss or Ms) X’s course.” That is bloody silly. I am
going to have to learn to keep my gob shut and tug my forelock, I think.
There were no repercussions by the end of the day to my
little critique of the comments I received but I bet it has been written down
in the naughty book, to be brought up should I transgress again!
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