I settled down to the three hour marathon that is known as Cloud Atlas last night. I used my newly purchased cafe tiere with a bag of coffee called Sunday Morning bizarrely. I had it sugarless and black (or vile, as you might know it), and I was surprised to find it an enjoyable taste. One which actually made me have a second cup. A couple hours later my caffeinated brain stared at the TV set wide eyed as my body was in overdrive but not in a terribly unpleasant way. Although I don't know how Edgar Wright for one, can drink many double espressos.
With work deliveries done i settle outside my sons school early and try to read a little more. But the sun coming through the windscreen at me is so damn hot that its hard to concentrate. Memories of being about 12 come to mind as I hear the children in the playground nearby. The long hot days which we sometimes had would have many long walks to the local moorland is something I remember most fondly. All of us kids wished we had more money for drinks and ice lollies from the local shop though. Hide and seek and other similar games would feature either side of a picnic of varying degrees. I knew I'd miss playing out in the upcoming years as I became 'too old' to be able to do it anymore in favour of staring out of my bedroom window and pontificating on just how bad my life would no doubt be (this was even pre radiohead).
Half or more of these kids will face a darkness which will consume them for their teens and I pity them. I'd like to tell them that there's light on the other side but maybe, for them, there isn't.
My life is just one outcome.
But as these 4-11 year olds play, it seems that all blackness is like a foreign country to them. The innocence of children is so precious and maybe this is one of the reasons that I love my sons company so 'extra much' since my separation from my wife. Adults see that I'm socially difficult, the young don't.
I hope my son stays young forever. And I've told him that.
To which he replied "I'm trying Dad"
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