Despite his best efforts to look as though he lives on a different planet to the rest of us, he has been coming out with some pretty sensible stuff of late. Relatively speaking. In some of what follows, I could nearly see where he was coming from.
We were on our way to the Science Museum on the tube. As we went into the tunnel, he asked, “Will we see worms when we’re underground?”
Out of the blue, “Why did the ancient Romans have roads if they didn’t have cars?”
Juno was sniffing about at the open booze cupboard door in the kitchen. Jet was walking through on his way out to the garden, and spotted her. “I did not know that cats drink gin!” he declared.
The children have both had chicken pox. Whilst Stella suffered through it, Jet was his normal self but with spots. We waited until the healthy children of Enfield were safely at school before venturing out to the park on Jet’s bike. We had explained to him that he couldn’t use the equipment and why. He got the message, “Arnold might catch it! That wouldn’t be a good thing to do to one of my old friends!”
A lot of time spent at home poorly meant Jet branched out a bit with his TV choices. A nice bit of commercial telly and he was like a little walking advert. One evening, out of the blue, he made the following suggestion:
Jet: If our washing machine breaks down or stops working, we could get a Hotpoint.
Jet (conspiratorially): I don’t know what Hotpoints are or what they look like.
Whilst I doubt they’ll be using it in their next campaign, ten out of ten for listening!
It’s goodnight from him…
The children have new bunk beds. This was a risky business – I was half convinced that rather than saving space we would end up with bunk beds and cot beds in their box-like room, as one or other of them would refuse to sleep in the gigantic thing. But it has worked out for the best. As Jet lay down in his top bunk on the first night, he announced, “Ah yes. I think I will have some good dreams here.”
But then there was this…
Walking along past the park, we saw daffodils poking their heads through the bars of the fence. I waxed lyrical about the variations in colour – different shades of yellow and orange, and we agreed they were lovely. Continuing on our way, we passed some more growing in a flowerbed. I pointed them out.
Me: Look Jet, those are pretty. Really pale yellow.
Jet: Yes. (Reaching around for just the right comparison) Like sick.
Jet is a man of many contradictions, perfectly illustrated by this exchange:
Me: We’re having rice for dinner.
Me: Rice is lovely!
Jet: Oh yeah. I want lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of that.
There he is! Not so sensible after all.