I collect one of Vicky's children after school - Vicky has been delayed by a surprise giblet text and is in no fit state to drive.
We go to the playground.
"Where will you be?" texts Vicky. I tell her.
"Playground!! U poor fk. Hands still shaking but shld be able 2 drive soon."
The little girls are on bikes. On the way, Deborah sees the big brother of another schoolfriend. She waves at him with one hand and points him out with the other to the friend, unfortunately while still pedalling, and immediately keels over as if felled. The friend is so intent on watching the collision that she carries on pedalling, too - straight into Deborah. It's like a traffic pile up tribute.
The big brother, aged 15, is walking along with two of his friends on the other side of the road. To my amazement, they sprint straight over, pick up the girls, the bikes, dust all four down and await further instructions, issuing soothing words as they do so. When I explain that we will need to return home for plasters, they turn the bikes round, help the girls get back on and, with a final check to make sure we're all OK, depart.
I tell Vicky about it when she comes to collect her daughter, and tears come to my eyes. "You're not drinking enough," she says. "The only way I got through the school concert was by smuggling in alcohol in soft drinks bottles - strong Pimms masquerading as Diet Coke and white wine in a green bottle. Works every time. Then you only cry if it's something really bad."
Next day I go a performance of the St. Matthew Passion. Despite repeating "I'm an aetheist," I cry from beginning to end, so noisily that the people on either side of me find other seats after the interval. How bad is bad? Pass the meths.
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21 comments:
I have a big brother. Think his reaction would have been a jolly good laugh. At me.
Me, too. Mind you, it was a younger brother, CJ, in my case, so he'd have laughed even more. I think it was the contrast that did it.
It's so sweet when you come across lovely teenaged boys. There were a few on our wet camping weekend, and I tried to stroke the hair of one of them.
He moved away pretty sharpish, probably reported me to someone.
You're so right, Beta Mum. I found myself getting a little breathless because they were so nice and......STOP THAT RIGHT NOW
How absolutely sweet! Clearly the have good mothers who brought them up right.
And I'd take tears over alcohol suppression any day. Crying's good for you, you know.
That was a really sweet gesture by those boys. Think no further...thats an order!
I'm just glad I'm not the only one who gets choked up by acts of kindness and beautiful music. Pass the tissues...
Hi 3kidsnojob - love your blog - i've added your link to my blog
best regards
Dulwich Dad
Alda: I am opting for alternate no tears/no drink days to see which works best.
DJ: OK, captain
The Good W: Catch!
Dulwich Dad: Thanks so much. That's lovely. Chuck over the tissues again, The Good W....
It's not unusual to cry during St Matthew Passion. I've rehearsed it - endlessly. And sung it at a choir performance - twice. And can still be heard to sob over it at times.
It warms one's heart to hear about those kind boys though...
And: wasn't it you who was talking the other day about reading Proust? I've staggered through it all, and believe me, there are some magnificent rewards for the brave and persistent!
And then there was this tiny thing which I thought you might like... I was reading a brief Life of Proust yesterday (as one does); and came upon this observation made by his manservant to a group of people who were being denied entrance to the sealed apartment of the asthmatic Proust:
"Monsieur is afraid of the scent of princesses" the servant explained....
That just about sums it up, really. He was afraid of the scent of princesses and he wrote this amazing book!
So have a sustained go at it, do! And then come back and talk to me about it. Nobody ever talks about Proust, I find...
(Sorry if it wasn't you, but someone else who was talking about Proust btw!)
IB: Yes, Proust was me - in an idle throwaway comment on your or Stay at Home Dad's blog, I think. How clever of you to remember. I will try him. I've been wrestling with James Joyce and can scarcely get to grips with it at all but am prepared to try anything. Glad tears are a common reaction to St. Mat. Singing it must be amazing.
Where do you find these lovely sensitive boys. I certainly don't know any.
On the subject of crying - I cry at most things and would probably have cried in the same situation. Re films - some are just made terribly emotionally and even if you wouldn't in normal circumstances find the situation sad the emotion of the film will make it sad.
How sweet.
Very good show by the boys. As for Vicky.. I just don't quite know what to say..
It's all right, years ago I was on board a flight from Paris to Geneva when I was reading the last chapters of "Exodus". I was crying so badly the stewardess (as they were then) asked if I needed a doctor or a drink? And I'm not Jewish, so there you go.
Gwen: There's some nice boys on their way to you now.
Snuffles: You sound disbelieving...Perhaps not?
Lady M: 'Exodus' As in the Bible? Or film? Love the stewardess' remark.
Brought a tear to my eye, omega mum (seem to be close to tears rather a lot lately!). In a world where we criticise and disapprove of teenagers as a default position it's important to remember that them majority of them are really nice people
I was a teenage boy. We're not so bad! Yes, stop that OM.
I, Beatrice, I was that Proust fan...
Debio: Faith in mankind restored etc etc.
SAHD: A Proust reader and a gorgeous teenager? OMG. Forget tagging. Let's do stalking instead.......Me first.
PS It's all Mutley's fault. I was quite normal before I started reading his blog.
It's all down to Dick Dastardly, OM.
Of course, SAHD. Wish I could replicate that snicker. What would Proust have said about it all???? Ou sont les snickers .......
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