my mother told me exactly the same story, Robin, sans fast car

apparently i tipped over and out of my high chair, probably in shock at some
radio announcement of the failure of the attlee govt to fully seize and i
mean seize the means of production

and the earth, gravitationally attracted, rose to collide with my now
available head - i think i was trying to space-waddle to downing street

my mother, missing my expression of political outrage and only arriving to
see my head hitting the concrete of our home fit for plebians, assumed my
outcry was of pain rather than ideological distress - what is the pain of an
artisan's son when the future of mankind is at stake? - and took me to the
doctor. He examined both of us and prescribed her something to calm her down

He may even have said _babies bounce_, but the records do not record this
either way

It may well be that baby bouncing was a common sport in those days before we
became new elizabethans

it may be that an alien anthropologist would note that one way or another
all human children are dropped on their heads

at 8 years old my step daughter, from behind me, said stand there, I'm going
to jump on you, are you ready, no dont turn round

What are you going to do? I asked

It's all right she said, ran across the room, jumped, landed on my back,
climbed up troops in training, made something complicated of a move over my
previously dented head and dived her own head first at the floor

Then, rubbing her skull, she asked why I hadnt caught her

I pointed out I had no idea I was supposed to and that she had quieted my
attempts to gain information

My Dad catches me when I do that

Well, I said, her dad was a very clever man who knew about such things but I
needed gymnastics manouevres explained to me

disconcertingly, she accepted that; but refused a trip to the hospital

I consulted with her mother but she said that children bounce

I never thought to ask her mother if she had been dropped on her head. Very
probably I'd have thought.

We're all brain-damaged, man


L




-----Original Message-----
From: Robin Hamilton <[log in to unmask]>
To: [log in to unmask] <[log in to unmask]>
Date: 10 March 2004 13:55
Subject: Irony and Height


>dave bircumshaw narrates:
>
>> One discovery I have made today, and this possibly relates to God, is
that
>> irony is a matter of height. It came about like this: someone said to me
>> that women don't do irony,
>
>To my chagrin, I realised that my daughter doesn't do irony.
>
>Dunno whether this is a matter of height or sex or gender-roles, or because
>I bounced her head off the pavement *** when she was six months old.
>
>Honest, folks, it may have been terminally stupid, but it really wasn't
>deliberate ...
>
>This is the one thing my daughter has never forgiven me for ...
>
>(Darling Only said, "Jeezus, dad, if you'd never told her about it, she'd
>never have known, so you've only yourself to blame.")
>
>Anyway, whatever, whether it's because she's female, (relatively) short, or
>because I bounced her head off the pavement at age six months, my daughter
>doesn't do irony.
>
>Arrabal the Man.
>
>*** I was holding the Demon Princess (as she would later come to be known)
>in a carry-cot in one hand and trying to open the car-door with the other
>hand, when my hand slipped ...
>
>OK, terminally stupid, I know.
>
>Thing was -- and what I suspect Catherine doesn't forgive me for is how I
>tell this story -- I slapped her into the car and drove at 60 mph to the
>nearest doctor's surgery.
>
>The doctor palped Catherine's head for all of 30 seconds, said "Babies
>bounce," then sat me down in a chair and spent ten minutes trying to
prevent
>me having a heart attack.
>
>(It was the SOUND of my daughter's head hitting the pavement -- dear god in
>heaven, I think that was the worst moment of my life ... )
>
>It must run in the family -- my father did the same thing to me at the same
>age.
>
>Why I don't do irony either, mibee.
>
>Soren
>
>{dave missed out, or left for me to tell, the punch-line of The
>Executioner's Song.
>
>I was only an accidental executioner, understudying for the real
executioner
>who'd come down with the flu, when I walked into the audience of James
>Saunders' +Next Time I'll Sing To You+.
>
>As I'm sure everyone knows, the warm up to this -- sixties absurdist
>audience participation drama -- runs:
>
>"Is there a doctor in the house?"
>
>"Is there a politician in the house?"
>
>"Is there an executioner in the house?"
>
>(At that point I cringed deeply into my seat and thunked the ever-living
>doog thot I hadn't brohgt ma axe wiv me.)
>
>The Second Executioner
>