4. Moments of Note
A classic Dad joke, an unusual couple eating breakfast & Pritt-Sticking millions of moments.
Over the years of loss and complications trying to conceive, I have had to work out how to stay mentally well. It’s a full-time job, to be honest. Being open to the world around me helps me to take a much needed break from constant loop-like thoughts about my situation.
‘Moments of Note’ is a little project of mine to ensure I’m noticing, resonating and engaging with objects, people, feelings, ideas beyond the very narrow, often suffocating world of infertility. Naturally, as I do this I’m able to analyse my inner landscape, which invariably links to my perceptions of these moments. There is a reciprocity. An echo between what resonates externally and what is going on inside.
What are your recent ‘Moments of Note’ and where do they echo?
One
Recently, I was waiting for a lift in the car park of a train station. A teenage girl was waiting as well.
Her Dad pulled in to collect her and I noticed the automatic movement of her younger brother vacating the front seat; clambering through the middle of the car to settle into his demotion — the natural order of things.
She reached to open the door and the car suddenly lurched forward. Sighing from a place of familiarity, she walked the few steps to try the handle a second time. The car jolted away again, like a playful pup, her fingertips just brushing the bodywork. Exclaiming “Dad!”, her tone morphing from annoyance to amusement across one drawn out adolescent syllable.
Third time lucky she made her way to the door, pausing to try and catch her tormentor out. I smiled at my own memories of a seemingly universal Dad joke. Thinking that she only had a few years left of these exchanges.
I watched as the boys giggled inside and saw her ‘very funny’ expression burn through the glass towards them — a flare sent up from the edge of womanhood.
As she opened the door and finally sat down, I noted the shifting sands of her demeanour. Secreting away the adult persona she had left the train with, like a diary hastily hidden under a bed.
Two
Last week we spent a night at the hotel where we got engaged. It’s a members club that also allows for people like us to stay. The kind of place where the order in which you are asked ‘are you a member or a guest? A guest or a member?’ can denote what you appear to look like you are.
Over breakfast Joe noticed an unusual couple enjoying toast and jam. A brother and sister who were no older than 7. We watched as the waiter came to take payment from them. The little boy assuming the role of the person in charge of the finances. It was the oddest sight in an establishment that has no children’s menu.
The waiter towering over the boy’s bird-like frame, holding a card machine possibly asking if everything was okay with their hunks of sourdough and hot frothy milk? The boy opened a large leather travel wallet, located the credit card inside it with hands no bigger than the card itself and settled the bill.
Instructing his sister to sit on the Trunki suitcase parked by their table, he then proceeded to pull her out of the restaurant, past bemused breakfasting adults, cheerily calling out “Bye!” and waving to the waiter.
It was a sight I doubt I’ll ever see again.
The relative security of such a place allowing for a slice of adult independence to be tasted for one meal, no imagination required. Just confidence, knowing to tap the card against the contactless symbol, and as siblings, to always help each other move through life.
Three
I’ve been collaging recently to help with my mental health. When I focus on a task that increases my right-brain output I get some respite from the churning of my analytical mind, which is proving difficult to escape lately.
That being said, a little bit of left-brain action got me thinking about how many moments interconnected for me to be able to create the collages.
How many other people are involved, in some way, for me to sit, happily ripping magazines up and arranging what I need to communicate on a subconscious level that day.
Photographers, models, art directors, advertising executives, designers, artists, writers, editors, publishers, printers, delivery drivers, shop assistants — it’s fascinating the millions of moments that contributed to the wielding of my Pritt-Stick.
Here are my latest pieces:
And finally…
I’m having a much needed break to Devon soon where I’m hoping to collect some new ‘Moments of Note’. To increase my powers of noticing (and help with the general mental load) I’ve decided to go ‘dark’ — airplane mode will be on the entire week and Joe has agreed to be my PA, to make it possible. (My day job is being his PA) What a treat! I’ll definitely report back on the difference it hopefully makes to my mood and well-being.