Thursday 27 July 2006

Another chapter in the Life of Z

So, the decision was made to move to the Sage's family home. This would have been in the middle of September, 1983 - I know that we were on holiday over my birthday, as he bought me a gold necklace in Jersey (no VAT, good move). It could well have been 17th September when we had that momentous conversation over our sandwiches and glass of wine. A week later, we had another conversation, even more momentous and this one was initiated by my husband.

I should just set the scene a bit first. I was 19 when we married, 20 when our daughter was born and, two years almost to the day later, I had a baby son. And this was so wonderful, my children were so precious, that I wanted the experience again. When Al was about two years old, I said to the Sage that, if we were thinking about having a third, maybe this was about the right gap? He didn't answer.
This sounds unfriendly but isn't really. One just has to understand his way of thinking. He hates an argument and he can't bear to say no to me. So he avoids a situation he doesn't want to deal with. So I left him to think about it. And, in the intervening five years, I didn't raise the subject again. It didn't go away, for me, but I knew this had to be a whole-heartedly two-way decision and I wasn't going to put him under pressure by telling him how strongly I felt.

Back to 24th September 1983. In bed. "Would you like?" asked the Sage, "to have another baby? New beginnings and all that?" No need to consider, important decisions are the easy ones to make. "Yes. However," I added, "I don't want another April baby. Another April birthday will be too expensive. And not around Christmas either. Um, July next year is the earliest we could manage it, let's give it from now until February (which would make it early November) and if I'm not pregnant then, hold you hard* until August or so."
I may not be organised, but I am efficient and practical.

Anyway, the next morning (excuse me, squeamish/male/celibate people) I didn't take a pill. A week later, when if I was going to, I should, I asked if he was sure. He said he was, so we started to work quite hard on modelling the perfect baby. Needs quite a bit of practice, doesn't it.
We didn't take all that long however; I said I am efficient and so is he; and our third child was born on 24th July 1984.

*This is not some deviant form of birth control, just a bit of Norfolk-speak


y.Wendy.y said...

I want to tell you that your blog has become one of my firm favourites. Everything you write about..I find interesting.

Just regarding the post below: I can't get over that system of appointments...why? You thought that one up? It doesn't make sense at all.

And trying to get to grips with the meaning of 'hold you hard'..sounds a bit..erm...odd.

y.Wendy.y said...

Oh blimey - there I go again....not 'you thought that one up'...but 'who'...sorry..:-(

Z said...

Thank you very much Geena, it is so lovely of you to say that.
I've added a link to 'hold you hard'
And an explanation to the appointment senselessness.

y.Wendy.y said...

I was reading a blog this evening which commented on an interview heard on some English radio station this morning - a teenage couple being interviewed on their jobless status...and what came across, apparently, was their terribly poor English. (And they supposedly had a bunch of GCSE's)..

I commented that it has always fascinated me how languages change and redevelop and take new turns..even the downward turns are interesting as a study point.

Dialects and local idioms are even more intriguing.

I love the English language. It is so rich and deep and yet is losing so much nowadays. Which is saddening to a language nut like such as I.

Those little idiomatic expressions are part of what keeps a language vibrant and alive.

Z said...

Our children are being done no favours, too many of them do not even know how ignorant they are or don't think it matters. After a few years of trying to raise standards of English, a primary school teacher told me last year that, again, they have been instructed not to correct children's spelling or grammar unless that is actually the subject being taught. Mustn't stifle creativity. I'm all for encouraging creativity, but if you don't correct the English, how does the child know it's wrong?

But yes, I agree with you, there are huge and fascinating changes to the language going on. It's being reinvented, thanks to texting, blogging and messaging and, even if some of makes me wince, there's a vibrancy there that I have to enjoy. And street slang too demonstrates an enthusiasm for language that maybe we shouldn't be too sniffy about. It's the 'middle-management jargon' and dulling of language that I really reserve my fury for.
It's a pity that some of the old local languages are vanishing, but inevitable, as no one wants to be taken to be a yokel and that is the assumption when a country accent is heard.
Blimey, I've written a whole post.

y.Wendy.y said...

Wow - can't believe that teachers have been told not to correct errors..that is just WRONG!

Z said...

This was what went wrong about 30, 35 years ago - probably about the time the people who decide these things were at college.
Hello Ruben - thanks, geena and I do rant a bit but someone has to.........
Thanks for dropping in. I like your blog, looked at it a few days ago, and since as well, woo-hoo, you've posted again!

Z said...
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