Parsley people

January 14, 2012

As I write this I am very lazily allowing the world to pass around me from the serenity and solace of my bed. Dreading the knowledge that Ronald McDonald owns my soul and today has decided I must earn my penance, I’m contemplating the physics of time delay.

But I need sustenance for my brains unusual activity levels, at this point, delightfully, mother comes to the rescue. She just shouted through to me an interrogative of what I would like from the (overpriced) waitrose. My reply was simply, ‘ooh! Pasta and meatballs please!’ as any man knows, that’s the ultimate, unannounced, comfort food. After a few seconds of silence, the unsure, wavering response I got was, ‘parsely people?’…

Naturally I laughed with all the noise I could produce, but then I realised that this is a frequent joke now. My mothers hearing is dwindling and just how hilarious really is that? Suddenly, the implied infinity of years that parents own hit the back of my mind with Santa and all the careers I listed as goals in my infancy.

So what to do about this sudden realisation that my mother will, one day, be much like my dear grandmother? Simple, drain it of all the laughs I can before the world turns serious. Time is an infinite concept and principle, and I personally intend to laugh my way through the tiny amount I’m rationed like the unimportant microbe I am.

This is just what it boils down to. Everybody has their own dramas, in relativity to themselves. Some cry and mope and milk it for a cheap, passion voided hug, others buy a saddle, and cowboy the fuck up. Time will always be a pain in the arse and will always win. But there is nothing to stop us laughing at it.

Jack Robinson.