Monday, 30 November 2009

The agitation knife-edge

I do not know about you, yes you, the one person reading this........................but I am in a near permanent state of expectant agitation.

It is normally well quelled, but sometimes, the tiniest little thing can take me the point of having to shout obscenities to relieve my irrational angst.

Like when I am doing something I would rather not be, for example, Christmas present shopping – a process I could live without – at such times encountering increased traffic levels and added strife in finding somewhere to abandon my transport, is that smidgen too much, that even though I know an extra 30 minutes is far from doomsday, I turn my swearing dials to ‘expert’ and passed ‘when applicable’ onto ‘to precede every other word’.

Yet at other times, when the world and its moons appear to panic, I am calmness personified.

Perversely, in my experience, adding children to any situation can increase intensity, of both extremities.

I encountered standstill traffic twice in one day last week.

The first, en-route to the pain that is shopping for Jesus’ birthday, during which I may have frothed a bit.

The second was after picking the boy up from school, and on the way to the grandparents’ for tea.

On this occasion the situation seemed much worse. I was on a motorway, thus less able to find an alternative route, and, in the company of a tiring four year-old, who may have got irritated and only add to the annoyance levels.

But he did exactly the opposite.

And I became playful.

The stop-start nature of bumper-to-bumper driving boded well for an excellent game of faking brake failure. We were both giggling, as probably was my next supplier of brake pads, even if it put the occupants of the cars behind onto the other side of the agitation knife-edge.

I am unsure of exactly how long the journey took, but it included guessing what was in the trucks we spotted, plus some fake CB talking into my coat to gain confirmation of payload in my favour.

We playfully argued about the contents of a horse-box.

Then there were disputes over what was towing what, being pushed or pulled, and all sorts of daft, yet enjoyable, nonsense.

I ended up feeling a little disappointed that our longer-than-necessary journey was over.

It also reminded me of a conversation I had with Mr Hughes about a similar phenomenon in the Supermarché. Sometimes children adding to the pain, but more often, making the mundane a ridiculous amount of fun.

And for that, I herald their invention.

Cheers kids, keep up the good work.