In early December, I went to Montpellier to visit Daire and his family. Daire is the proudest of fathers - all he wants to do is show off Ceara to the world whereas I got the distinct impression poor Jasmin wanted to curl up in a dark room and never see anyone ever again.
Both parents are absolutely smitten and extremely conscientious. Dr Spock appears to be as out of fashion as a leg-warmer, and now one must pick ones child up at the first hint of noisiness or risk social rejection. I always thought you let ‘em screech till they fell asleep, so that was the start of my education. The amount of time and effort that goes into a six week old baby was a real eye-opener.
Although I was enchanted by my new niece and could spend hours just holding her and watching her scrunch up her little face and blow bubbles, I have to admit it was a relief handing her back to her parents at the end of each day. I was exhausted just watching them.
Obviously, the recent and frequent Johnson’s Baby Oil scents, the clench of tiny fingers, and the lines of babygros strung out on washing lines have all made me consider the prospect of motherhood.
On the other hand, the squall of little lungs and the malodorous whiff of nappies has made me think about other things entirely – like the parsnip yield in Eritrea and the life-cycle of the fruitfly, for instance
