I woke up this morning to find that the Oedipus Complex had taken over my daughter's development- she suddenly only wanted daddy to pour her shreddies and to get her dressed. This, by the way, as you can tell by the bags under my eyes, has NEVER happened. It's around this age that little girls, according to Freud, go through a phase of wanting only their fathers and tend to then reject the mothers, and if this is a sign of things to come (as much as I will revel in the fact HE has to do more) I'm not a happy bunny mummy. What if I am no longer the apple of her eye?- more the dried prune wilting in the corner, seeped of most of its life and goodness? All the years I've put in giving her my undivided and unconditional doses of love/attention/organic vegetables, and she might turn around and want the man who's spent most of the last five years hidden behind a copy of the Friday Ads. Nah- I'm exaggerating slightly, but it hurt. I shall attempt to wallow in my new found freedom and it is ace that she and Andy are closer.
We went to a brilliant exhibition today called 'Sonic Body' at the Blank gallery in Portslade. The installation basically invited you to stand inside a human body created from felt and foam: a throbbing, intestinous, red tinted vessel, with an orchestral soundtrack, created by how we moved and touched the various body parts inside; whistling veins, squelches, gassiness (is that a word? she says- the would-be copy editor...according to spell check- no) and high pitched squeaks...I felt like Raquel Welch in Fantastic Voyage, only with more accessibility to prodding and poking the bodily bits. And also not as hot, obviously. It's only on for another couple of days so if you are from Brighton GO AND SEE IT; see www.sonicbody.co.uk
I also got a lovely pressie from my mate Luce today- a badge of a sheep called Herdy-very cute. Thanks Luce!
Soundtrack- Britney Spears vs B52s- Toxic Love Shack
Later: Oh my god, Malcolm McDowell, with his strawberry nose, is Mr Linderman in Heroes!
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