The Pram In The Hall

Type of writing: Health Visitor appointment in the style of boxing weigh-in. How long did it take to write?  Hour and a half. (Mother and baby were asleep.) The downstairs of a home. A living area once belonging to two adults has now been colonised by a baby. A Sleepyhead Deluxe is on the floor, a battery-powered rocking chair too; muslin cloths are strewn all over the shop – hitherto the word ‘muslin’ was unknown. A dining table is at the far end. It was once a budget IKEA one, an afterthought to fill space, a lie to hide TV dinners. Now, there’s a proper one. Pretentiously, a bench tucks underneath. The mother and father believe it will make dinnertime more fun for older children. A bench! They are fools.  Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to begin the weigh-in process of this our main event. In the green and white vest sporting an Aldi nappy, he is Kit James Raj Theivamanoharan. Commentator 1:   Just a bit of history for yo...

Type of writing: Diary from a washing machine's perspective. How long did it take to write?  1 hour. April 5 th , 2017 I’ve just moved into my new gaff. Have a good view. I can see all the way down the hallway to the front door. A perfect vantage for seeing all the comings and goings. It seems to be just a couple, which is a relief. They put me through my first cycle; I’ll be honest I felt nauseous afterwards. Like a head injury in a cartoon, a halo of birds encircled me. I’ll count my blessings though. The boys in the factory said, ‘The fewer the people you live with the better.’ I live with two - seems like a decent result. April 20 th , 2017 Been here a little bit now. Beginning to see the lay of the land. Both seem to be schoolteachers. The exercise books on the worktop a dead giveaway. Him wearing suits is good for me. It means his washing is subcontracted out to my mates down at the cleaners. It pays to have limitations. I mean, he would know: he’s us...

'There is no more sombre enemy of art than the pram in the hall.' (Cyril Connolly, English art critic, author and journalist) I was going to write a blog about losing a father, then becoming one. A meditation on life and death: the big bookends in the story of existence. But then I thought about the idea, and the solemnity of it depressed me. Instead I'm going to write in response to the above quotation to see if I can still create something interesting within the time constraints of parenthood. Each week I'll write a piece (I'll try to do this in a different form or technique: poem, sketch, letter, diary, personification, surrealism etc.). I'll include a fact linked to the writing, where the piece was written and a picture of my boy so we can track how he changes. This is the first one: Fact Babies sleep around 16-18 hours a day. (Not all of these are at night.) Type of writing: Poem Where was the idea conceived? Children's Centre Car Park (o...