A ‘remy’niscencs

*From the Memoirs of Remy Robert Hepworth Ellis

Chapter 1

I know Pa hasn’t published on this site for some time now and it’s probably my fault. He does pay a lot of attention to me and my little family and deserving as we are this severely taxes his free time. So it is that I have decided to blog on his behalf in an attempt to convey some of what I’m sure he would like to say to you.

He is very kind to and protective of me and despite his stained false teeth and the babbling brainless chatter is surprisingly good company to one such as I. I mean all I really care about is my next meal, next nap and someone to play with when the whim takes me and who wouldn’t? I’m in no hurry to get caught up in the egotistical games and subsequent toil that the adults around me regard as living. Hell I don’t even know that this fist is mine let alone that it could be put to work and frankly that’s how I like it.

Oh it is so fun to tantalise them, the adults, with my new found smiling skills. Their crazy for it and how easy is it? I realise that such behaviour is a slippery slide into their game so I ration them and refuse to perform on cue. Vocalising too, you’d be amazed how they go off their faces for a Goo or Ga let alone an A-Goog which really cracks them up. I actually have a comprehensive vocabulary of single syllable sounds some of which I will combine when the urge takes me as it did when mum put me on the phone to Pa yesterday. It made their day. Their so easy to entertain but I’m holding back from singing for my supper. Don’t do what you don’t have too is my philosophy. I got it from Pa. he says it worked for him but I’m not yet convinced. He is a bit dodgy. Have you noticed? His hairs funny and his nose looks like Jimmy Durante’s though I don’t know that yet. Maybe he drinks too much of that red stuff.

Pa comes by in the early work week as apparently the tyrants who employ him demand that he sing for his supper all weekend. It’s so cool. We always go somewhere for lunch, mostly pubs where Pa can get a glass of the red stuff. It’s luxurious to have lunch out according to Pa and he does know a lot of righteous stuff so I believe him. He says you only live once so you should treat yourself and those you love as well as you can afford. I’m still struggling with that word-afford-some motor car I think. Anyway when we lunch Pa always wears the Baby Bjorn pouch thing and tries to order one handed dishes like pasta, fish or risotto. He worries that with a two fisted steak like dish he might dribble hot gravy and mustard onto my still virgin scalp. He’s very considerate. I feel entitled to spew all over his shirt and jacket as I please and he doesn’t seem to mind. He was pleased with the purchase of his new light grey Vinnie’s jacket which he reckons hides the stains. It smelt mouldy bad at first and Papa insisted he have one of my wrap cloths between my face and it but now with all the spew it smells much better.

Next to Pa the most important person in my family is Mum because she has one hundred percent control of the food franchise. She has these two fantastic big boobs that have an endless supply of milk, or chicken as it is called in our family for reasons I’m yet too young to understand. All well and good till during a recent growth spurt when I was a bit grizzly at not getting the fire hose supply I wanted, Pa suggested it was a pity that mum had only two choices and wouldn’t three be good or multiples. Now that this multi boob image is implanted and I can’t ignore it and I think I have my first inkling of what it means to be a boy. Mum dresses me exclusively in blue black and grey stripes and cheques, not a floral or paisley pink to be seen. Pa teases about Barbie dolls but mum is steadfast. Luckily I’m not homophobic.

Actually, if you promise not to tell, mum is the most important human treasure in my small world. Aside from the food she provides the most love I’ve experienced in my now ten week long life. She’s also the world’s most beautiful person. She’s always there for me and holds the promise to be so forever. Papa is also very special but please don’t tell Pa as he might be jealous. When Papa touches and talks to me I feel an intensity of love that I cannot understand or communicate and I think it is the same for him. Pa on the other hand is easy to read but don’t tell him please as I do enjoy his company.

Enough then about others as this is and has always been Pa’s shared territory and it is for him that I now speak. Please feel free to comment, criticise, praise, lambast or question without fear. We, I mean I will be here to address your queries and quandaries (um, what are they) without favour (oh this is too deep and I’m only ten weeks old) Enough.....

Remy