Playing Games

Middle son and I have to catch the train to London Bridge to meet my
mother who will hand over the youngest. He has to come with me
otherwise I can't use my family railcard. I feel so tired it is unholy.
On a whim I buy a travel card game called Lexicon which is a bit like
scrabble in that you have to make words out of letters. We play it all
the way to Luton and he whups me. I am no good at games.

I feel too feeble to object when he lays down GI and Hakido. He has an
evil glint in his eye. I wonder why men are so competitive.

We have to change at Luton and I wander about in a daze peering up at
little screens which don't seem to have the right information on them.
Finally I ask. How was I to know we need to catch the Brighton train.
Briefly I am tempted to stay on the train and go to Brighton. I quite
often have small escape fantasies.

On Platform 1 at Luton we spot James Bond. Well Dan says it is James
Bond and the man in question certainly looks the part. He is suave. We
observe him swanking up and down the platform in his suit. He sits on a
bench and gets out a small gadget. Dan nods knowingly.

It's odd to see Dan out in the open air. He spends most of his time
glued into his room with his variety of strange mates. He blinks in the
light. We discover his many pocketed trousers are useful for holding
rubbish as of course there are no rubbish bins on station platforms
these days. I explain it's a security risk as people could put bombs in
them. Dan wonders why someone might want to bomb Luton station. He
begins a rambling thought about why they have bins on trains and
whether a bomber would get off the train before it went off if there
was a timer. I ignore him mostly.

Dan tries to persuade me to take him to Camden Market. He needs new
shorts so he says. I do not have the energy to go to Camden Market
today. It is a measure of his maturity that he doesn't throw a mardy
about this. Mind you he is an accepting sort of person these days and
seems convinced by my tiredness. I must look like death.

We look at all the people on the station at Blackfriars and I point out
to Dan that they are all the centre of their own universes and not just
extras in our story. The idea hits home physically and I can see Dan
begin to think about it. "Things aren't only how we see them," he
intones.

At London Bridge my mother and Kit are waiting for us. Dan has been
leering out of the window and pointing at the London Eye and so forth.
I can hardly keep my eyes open. It is good to see Kit for the first
time in 10 days though I admit I haven't exactly missed her. She has
plaits. She looks healthy and clean and cared for and has evidently
been cosseted to death whilst at my mother's. She always has trouble
readjusting when she comes back from there and nobody is dancing
attendance any more. I have a policy of healthy neglect.

Kit opens her backpack and begins to ply us all with fairy cakes and
midget gums and chocolate. Dan is absurdly pleased. Kit boasts that she
has got Sugar Puffs in there too. On the way down the platform after a
great number of hugs and kisses all round, Dan points out "that bloke
from Shooting Stars". Sure enough Vic Reeves is walking along with a
very glamorous blonde. Both of them look amazingly well groomed and
emanate fame. They appear to be glowing in a way that is different from
all the other ordinary people on the platform. Dan looks starstruck and
as Vic Reeves and his bird pass us Kit says very loudly "What's
Shooting Stars?"

We plan to take the tube to St. Pancras as they haven't ever been on
the tube. It is quite delightful seeing the whole deadly tube
experience through the excited novice eyes of these young people. They
ask a lot of questions and enjoy the simple act of putting their
tickets in the barrier and using the escalators. As we descend the last
few steps to the Northern Line I am momentarily overwhelmed by how
lovely my kids are. This doesn't happen often.

On the train home Kit takes to Lexicon with great fervour. I excuse my
appalling play by telling them repeatedly how tired I am. A kindly
older man across the aisle beams fondly at us. We evidently look like
one of those type of families who do this sort of thing. I wonder about
leaning over and telling him the awful truth. We are not this type of
family. Games are reserved for Christmas. I find myself hoping he can't
read some of the words Dan is laying on the table.

I get home and lie down immediately. I can hardly move and my good
shopping at the Co-op intentions slip out of the open window. The
boyfriend comes home from work and finds me comatose. Kindly he offers
to get a takeaway, he can see how vague I am and there is no food in
the house.

After we have eaten the take away the boyfriend gets wind of Lexicon. I
see the evil glint enter his eye too. Dan and I play the game with him
and he doesn't lose a round. "Not good at word games are you,
Ivoryfishbone?" he gloats.

I tell him I am not good at any games. I console myself with the saying
about "lucky at cards - unlucky in love" but then if I think about it
... then again maybe my luck's changed.