Private Thoughts Made Public

Christmas for me can be summed up in one word this year – different. Never before have I spent a christmas day with no turkey dinner, with no screaming kids running around, and with no televison (well, not much televison). Instead I spent christmas day with my parents at their house, stipping wallpaper in my old bedroom. Told you it was different!
My parents have decided, a mere 20 years after I moved out, that it was time to redecorate my old room. The room had been used initially as the computer room, until they redecorated my brother’s old room about 10 years ago and moved the computer and all its paraphernalia into there. So my room was used as “the spare room”, where the grandchildren slept when they stayed over (sometimes one, sometimes two, occasionally all three), where my grandmother slept while she was in between houses, and where I slept while I was in between houses a couple of years ago. I can tell you it was certainly a strange experience moving back in with your parents and sleeping in your old room again at the age of 35, after a break of 18 years. The room was still complete with the “Eddie Kidd” sticker I stuck on the chest of drawers back in 1979, and the table my dad built in 1978 so I had somewhere to do my homework when I started grammar school. I remember when all the furniture went in, but I don’t have the faintest recollection of what the room looked like before it all went in, nor do I remember him actually building it. So the room has looked pretty much the same as I remember it looking my whole life. With the exception of some new wallpaper and some new shelves on the wall above the bed, it’s looked the same for the last 25 years, sliding door and all.
But no longer. Last Monday my dad and I ripped out the wardrobes he put in when they bought the house in the mid-60′s. We ripped out the homework table, the “new” shelves, and the bookcase he put on the wall for my schoolbooks to live. Some of the timber we took down to the tip, but a fair chunk of it is downstairs in my living room right now, waiting for me to decide if there’s anything I can do with it. There may not be, but you never know.
Last Thursday I made arrangements with my ex about seeing my son over the next few days. I’m back in work from Wednesday until the end of the week, so we were both keen that I should see him again before then. We arranged that I could have him Monday afternoon and Tuesday afternoon. Not only does this give me more time with him, but it also gives his mum a bit of a rest! So my cousin S and I tried to find something to do with him on these two days, and it occurred to S that it would be a good idea to take him to see Disney’s Toy Story on Ice at the MEN Arena. We tried to check with my ex first if that would be ok, but she’d turned her phone off at that point, so we booked the tickets anyway. On Saturday morning I had a call from the ex. “Can you make sure that when you bring him back today that you don’t forget his hat? We’re taking him into town tomorrow to see the Disney show.” Gah! “Ah”, I said, “I’m taking him into town on Monday to see it as well.” “Well, we bought the tickets months ago. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure he’ll enjoy the show twice.” He’ll enjoy it, yes, but whether I will enjoy it with him telling me everything that’s going to happen next is another matter. Ho Ho Ho hum.