Author Archives: Ms Invisible

About Ms Invisible

I live in the gaps between words, the pauses in music, the invisible space between objects in a landscape. I am a stay-at-home mum. My dog helps me to get enough exercise and my cat keeps me in my place. None of these things have any status in modern western society and yet they are mine and I wouldn't change any of them. Mr. Invisible is the Dennis to my Margaret, the Del to my Raquel, the Fitzwilliam to my Elizabeth, the David to my Elton, the lucky man who shares my life.

Olympics

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I’m finally excited about the Olympics again. I was excited in July 2005, when Dogford and I heard the announcement on the radio in our old kitchen (oh how my life has changed!) I was excited when the diggers moved in and the electricity pylons moved out. I was excited as Bear and I saw bits of Olympic Park take shape through the windows of the Docklands Light Railway. All those diggers, cement mixers and other complicated bits of machinery couldn’t have come at a better time for my young Bear.

My enthusiasm has been gradually chipped away by lots of niggly things. Firstly the sponsors. How are junk food, sweet chocolate and sugary soft-drinks supposed to ‘inspire young people through sport?’ Then there was the school-fayre fiasco, when schools and community groups were prevented from holding Olympic-themed summer fayres and fun days. I can understand that the sponsors don’t want to pay all that money for their competitors to cash in, but surely these events would foster enthusiasm for the Olympics across the nation? I’m not even going to mention the first round of ticket sales. Next up, the good people who were named as flame-bearers were asked to pay if they wanted to keep their torches. I’m actually excited about watching my friend carry the torch on the 22 July. Although I still don’t understand why it takes under 10 minutes to the Olympic Park by tube, but it’s going to take the flame 6 days to get there! I know that running is slower than the Central Line (most days), but come on!

There’s definitely a buzz now. The flags and bunting have started to go up and the final preparations are in progress. The car park at Westfield shopping centre is already closed for the duration (excellent news for our local High Street), we’ve finally been notified about road closures and lots of people have signed up to work for free just for the pleasure of making it happen. But why am I finally jumping up and down? Because our tickets arrived this morning, so Mr. Invisible, Bear and I are going to be part of it.

Food with a Face

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A couple of days ago Bear shook his head to dippy-egg for breakfast, until I pointed out that his egg had a face. Incidentally, permanent marker doesn’t come off even when boiled for five minutes! He requested dippy-egg again this morning. This time we drew ears and hair too. I secretly want to draw long hair and curls and plaits, but I know I have to settle for spiky hair, glasses and moustaches unless I do one for myself too (certainly not on a school-morning.)

We had pizza today. Bear decorates puts his own toppings on. That way, he can eat a whole pizza as big as his head. It works for stuff he has grown too, like broad beans and herbs. But why does his pizza always have a face? In these days of special dietary requirements, ‘nothing with a face’ is a common theme. Not for Bear. Now I’ve never fancied myself as an Annabel Karmel type. I’m in awe of her, I’m just more of a ‘Come on, eat it up, or you can’t be that hungry!’ type of mum. So why am I imagining ways of serving sausages and mash to look like a face with peas for hair and strips of courgette arranged as spectacles? I guess it’s because we eat for pleasure as well as survival and the way food looks is part of the package. And arranging it for himself gives him a chance to test the feel of the food as well as smell, taste and look of it. I hope he’s developing a lifelong love of food and a healthy relationship with it. I think I can feel a yoghurt and summer berries session coming on – nothing like strawbs, raspbs and bluebs for a smiley face!

A Bit of History

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Auntie (my sister) and I were sorting through stuff at our Dad’s house today (long story) and came across the pink Playtex girdle tube that my mum used for storing her knitting needles. I could barely contain my excitement and failed miserably at pretending to put it in the recycling pile. Auntie thinks I’m a bit mad, but she did anyway so nothing lost there.

There’s something that tickles me about the whole thing. It was even retro for my mum. And although she got it from my nan, I’m not even sure it belonged to her. In those days, it didn’t matter that packaging was not environmentally-friendly because no one threw anything away. I can imagine the conversation now: ‘Do you need a long tube for anything love?’, ‘No thanks, it’s not quite wide enough for my spanners. Does little Elsie need one for her crochet hooks?’, ‘No, but Betty down the road is always losing her number 7’s …’

It also brings to mind the sort of shop from which it would originally have been bought. Every High Street would have had one, with a charming window display, lovely wooden drawers containing all the merchandise and an elegant lady or two to serve. They’d have sold a bit of clothing, stockings and suspenders (not like the ones you can get now – we’re talking underwear here – ‘ladies’ who wore ‘lingerie’ shopped elsewhere!), knickers, nylon nighties and nothing bigger than a size 12 (hence the girdles!) My mum took me to just such a shop for my first bra. I was a respectable age too. Oh how times have changed.

I must hide my treasure from Mr. Invisible, as it’s just the sort of thing he would whip into the recycling bin before you could say ‘bit of history!’

 

Bear Time

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Whoever said time is linear hasn’t spent much of it in my life. There are lots of types of time. Holiday time runs too fast, so it’s over before we’re ready. Negative time is where I somehow get to school to pick up Bear, even though I was just hanging up that last bit of washing five minutes before the bell. Secret time is when I arrive ten minutes early and grab a chai latte at the Larder (café just over the road to school) to stop it from becoming slow time. But in our house there is mainly ‘Bear Time’. It started when Bear was born. Before that he was in my tummy. Before that was nothing.

Yesterday, he told a friend that my mummy died while he was in my tummy. My friend started to condole with me, but Mum actually died two years before I became pregnant. So she didn’t know a bit about Bear, even for a bit. My missing mum has always been a hole in my own experience as a mother. Then my friend pointed out that all of a woman’s eggs are already  there when she is born, so in the dim (and very) distant past my mum carried Bear in her womb too. Cheers Mum!!!