I have neglected this blog for over two months now, time to make amends! My excuse, if I needed one, was that I’ve spent all my time establishing my short stories blog. You might be wondering why I should choose today, almost two months to the day since my last post, to return to this blog? You wouldn’t be alone, I’m also trying to work it out. It all started this morning at the coffee shop …………..
As is my habit now on a Friday morning I was sat in the local coffee establishment, whiling away a couple of hours. My notebook was open in front of me just waiting for the latest short story to leap from my pen, but nothing happened, not one single decent, or even half decent, idea entered my head. I then remember reading somewhere that if this should happen you just need to write, it doesn’t matter what, just write, any gibberish will do. I had nothing to lose so I started writing.
Instead of a wonderful idea for a story emerging I found myself thinking about this blog. I began questioning myself, on paper, as to why I had abandoned it and I couldn’t come up with any good answers. I could conjure up lots of excuses, but no good reasons for stopping. At the same time I was watching people coming and going and noticed the typical dysfunctional middle class family, mum, dad and three toddlers under school age. That’s when I had the idea of writing posts for this blog under the title ‘Observations From A Coffee Shop’
Let me tell you about this family, but first let me put my ‘grumpy old man’ hat on. Mum and dad stood outside the coffee shop chatting to friends oblivious to the fact that their toddlers were running riot, in and out of the coffee shop, in between tables and under the feet of busy staff. Everybody looked and just smiled. Then mum comes in to order drinks while two of the little ones play with the heavy glass front door and letterbox. We observers (the older ones at least) know that there is going to be an accident and we just smile. Mum is ordering drinks and talking on her mobile at the same time, having completely forgotten that she’s got children. Meanwhile dad is sat at one of the tables outside merrily changing the youngest child’s nappy, holding him up by his ankles to wipe his bum, while nearby coffee drinkers try not to let it put them off their slice of carrot cake.
Then the inevitable happens, the letterbox has its revenge and bites the fingers of one of the toddlers. The peace and quiet is shattered by a high-pitched wailing as the child lays prostrate across the doorway. Dad is too busy trying to decide where to put the dirty nappy and mum still hasn’t noticed that it is her child crying. When she does she picks him up, hugs him and mutters something about dangerous doors being a hazard for young children.
As peace returns I feel inclined to go across to my dysfunctional middle class family and thank them, not for the fact that they’ve no idea about bringing up children, but for the fact that they have inspired me to take up this blog again.