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Mr Greene and the Places He Takes Me

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The continuing diary of an accidental mother - week 30

The thing about Mr Greene is he takes me places I have never been. I refer to Graham. I was on a Graham Greene roll. The Quiet American lay across my lap, the tip of page 89 gently folded over, stifling the Saigon heat and opium haze. My gaze lifted and fell upon evidence of the Glam Rocker's existence. It hung in the shape of two suits from the lower rail of my wardrobe. His bathrobe hung off the back of my door. There was a rubber chicken (don't ask) in the kitchen which delighted the tween-ager but that was about it. Nothing else of the Glam Rocker is apparent.

The last I saw of him was a rushed farewell at Paddington Station. There had been road works, diversions forcing several illegal turns and a drive down a one street, the wrong way. Still despite all the hurdles thrown, I ensured his safe delivery to the Heathrow Express and hastily waved him off. For the next month I would be single, though in reality double; what with two beating hearts, two brains, etc. and of course Boy Wonder, who was in studious mode, his 13 plus exams fast approaching.

Anyway, all was blissfully quiet. The upheaval of the previous week passed, the dust resettled (I made a note to have words with my very expensive cleaner). In esoteric terms, I was at one with the universe. Okay, at two with universe.

Life continued at a hum drum pace. The alarm screamed at seven am, and Boy Wonder chivvied to rise up, up and not ignore his breakfast, remember his school lunch, sports kit, home work, where I wondered where my keys... our daily routine.

On this morning the clouds above parted, the rain ceased and we weren't late for the eight am school start. From there it was down to Regents Park, my constant London muse.

Hardly a week goes by without a visit. I circled it as I have done on many occasions over many years, solo, at my own pace, without anyone pulling on me without an 'other' to consider. Conscious it would not be long before laden down with a baby, every step tread was relished. I have always enjoyed a solitary state without distractions, so I can 'away with the fairies' or lose myself in the lull of a soft breeze, carrying smatterings of conversations, bird song, the distant flow of traffic, barks, bells, road works and that which is named silence in a city such as this.
Already the bump weighs me down and with a mere ten weeks to go, I wonder how long before I run out of puff.

My route begins at Charlbert Bridge and takes me round the inner perimeter, along the lake side, south toward Baker St then left toward Portland St, left again, up along the Avenue Gardens, all the way north to St Marks Gate toward Primrose Hill.

There is time to reflect on these morning revolutions. A year ago, I had only met the Glam Rocker. Total opposites, he is rock 'n' roll whereas I, am out of tune. I walk in circles and he zigzags. It was pure chance our paths overlapped. It is still too early in this relationship to say if we are both on track, though it seems so. At least we are traveling in the same direction despite different modes of motion.

Lazy So & So's
Before their journey to the outer world your baby is spending 80% of its time, asleep, (if only they remembered that particular skill on the outside...!) They are about 40cm long and weigh about 2lbs 8oz.

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