Fishface

Peace the sailor prays, caught in a storm on the open Aegean, when dark-clad clouds have hid the moon and the stars shine no longer certain;

Peace prays Thrace furious in war; peace prays the Mede with quiver richly adorned; peace Grosphus, that cannot be bought with gems nor with purple nor with gold.

It isn't treasure nor even the consul's lictor that can banish the soul's miserable tumults and the cares that fly unseen about the paneled ceilings.

He lives happily on a little, on whose frugal table shines the ancestral salt-dish, and whose soft slumbers are not carried away by fear or sordid greed.

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Care mounts even the brass-bound galley nor fails to leave behind the troops of horse, swifter than stags, swifter than Eurus when he drives the storm before him.

Joyful let the soul be in the present, let it disdain to trouble about what is beyond and temper bitterness with a laugh. Nothing is blessed forever.

Quintus Horatius Flaccus Ode II-XVI "Otium"




So, peace is to be valued above wealth or power, says Horace, and he is right. Peace and quiet are something you come to value when you become a parent, that is for sure. And now I have my otium between 9 and 12pm I thought to post something. Today was mine and Paul's first anniversary. He gave me a lovelly bouquet of flowers (I'm a sucker for flowers!)I returned the love by buying him a babmoo plant and some awsome biscuits, and a joke present that he will no doubt use as a wedge for a table or something. (See Paul's blog). We valiantly chose to venture to the West End to Soho's Cafe Fish for a fab meal avec l'enfant terrible, which had to be cut short due to the demands of said enfant. I was blessed with the Holy Trinity (vomit, piss AND pooh) during my meal!!! He has terrific comedic timing, my son. It was like acting in a Marx Brothers' film, where the pies are flying across the room but you've been hit so many times, you are the body who is writhing and floundering hopelessly on the custard and cream covered floor with no chance of ever getting to your feet!

At the end of the day there is fuck all you can do except clear the shit up, smile and say 'God bless us, we have a beautiful baby!' and beam as you do the walk of mortifying parental shame from loo to table, hoping that that the other punters will be dazzled by your smugg, though taut, artificial and slightly-disturbing-if-you-look-for-too-long smile, hoping they will not notice the matching streaks of vomit which adorn both front and back of your carefully chosen outfit for this special occasion. We fed and changed him but he proceeded to squeal till we hurredly paid and left, convinced that the one generous feed we'd brought and fed him was insufficient, as anxious new parents with a huge guilt complex do. When we exited the restaurant the little bugger fell into a deep slumber while we battled through crowds to secure a carton of formula and a find a bus home.

Never take your infant to your first anniversary dinner! It'll be an unmitigated disaster.

Once home, the real fishfaced grumpiness set in after his supper. In order to pacify the uppity little man, we dutifully abandoned the movie we were going to watch and settled for Dr Strangelove as it was on TCM. But the sound had to be turned down so low that Paul started to feel terribly tired and had to go to sleep.

There endeth the lesson: Horace is rightly in favour of otium over power and wealth but there are nights when otium is the last thing on your mind. Plus, I heard it was an ambivalent state: in order for otium to exist here, there must be war, famine and pestilence elsewhere. A bit like the pleasure/pain priciple. Well, welcome to the Hotel Slocoravdis. You can check out anytime you like but you can never leave without your keys and Oyster card, too much formula and two of everything.

Restaurant review: Dunno. Wasn't in there long enough and ate so fast i didn't taste anything. There was vomit and faeces.