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Jo Bunting treads a perilous path when negotiating extra-mural activities with her ten year old...
"Last weekend, I realised that I had reached a profoundly disturbing stage in my life. It was simply that I realised there was no longer one single activity that I and my ten year old daughter enjoyed doing together.
When she was a bit younger she was happy to tag along on any activity really, as long as she got sweets on a regular basis. In a couple of years time, she'll be old enough to leave on her own at home. But at the moment we're in a sort of limbo. Now the big problem is that we love each other's company - we really want to spend time together, we just don't want to spend that time doing what the other person wants to do.
Unfortunately, the one outing we were both happy enough to participate in is now off the agenda. I'm referring to swimming: simple, fairly cheap, and suitable for adults and children alike. However, I am still recovering from a rather traumatic incident that took place on our last visit to the indoor tropically heated swimming pool. If my swimsuit hadn't been quite so old, and if I hadn't gone down the giant slide quite so often, it may never have happened. But, it did.
As I hauled myself out of the pool for the umpteenth time, I became aware of a bit of a draught I hadn't hitherto noticed. A little covert investigation and the awful truth dawned. I had a large and completely round hole in the back of my costume. Suffice to say that Lily had to sprint to the lockers and fetch a towel, while I stood with my back to the wall, keenly aware of sidelong glances from the lifeguards.
So now there is no common ground between us at all. At weekends, for example, I want to stride out over the saltmarshes of wildest north Norfolk or poke about in country auctions, get my bike out and breeze along country lanes or have a wander round a car boot sale. Lily - well, in a nutshell, Lily doesn't.
I blame children's parties. For her best friend's birthday, they all got taken rollerskating and the secret was out. Ever since then, I've spent regular Saturday mornings driving to one of Norwich's vast wind-swept industrial estates and paying hard-earned money to watch Lily scooting round and round in circles on a laminated wooden surface. Now this wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't also in effect a disco.
The only entertainment I can rustle up for myself is to listen to the resident DJ. A man in his late thirties, or possibly early forties, who I suspect once dreamed of having his own show on Radio 1, stands in a little booth, keeping up a steady patter in between records, which largely consists of passing on messages from one tweenager to another.
Basically, Lily and I have had to resort to a kind of trade off situation.
Saturday morning it's her choice - hell on earth at Superskate, or the lasergun centre, or buying glittery eye make up in a heaving shopping mall. Sunday - my turn. A lovely tramp in the countryside, the enjoyment marred only slightly by the fact that Lily insists on wearing vast purple flared trousers which are caked in mud within 45 seconds and then weigh so much she can hardly pick her feet up.
She accepts that it has to be done, but does have a habit of climbing out of the car, gazing out at the distant horizon, and saying stoically "Right - let's get this over and done with."
I thought the bartering system might break down last weekend, actually, when I pushed her about as far as I dared. I can't describe Lily's expression when I explained that we were on our way to see a display of unusual chairs at the University of East Anglia.
Once there, I discovered a leaflet advertising an art exhibition at the Norwich Museum on The Cut Flower through the Ages.
The Cut Flower through the Ages, she repeated, rather icily I thought, and with a small incredulous pause in between each word.
"Fine", she said, calmly. "Next Saturday, we'll go ten pin bowling, and you'll have to wear those shoes that you hate because they're still sweaty from the person who had them on just before you, and could well have had verrucas".
A killer blow, and she knew it. I never did get to the exhibition, and Lily didn't get to go ten pin bowling. I've decided to buy a new swimsuit instead.
漏 Jo Bunting (edited text)
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