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Hands and hands

Hands and feet

With every great exit, there is always a great entrance. And none is truer than with the recent events of the labour and birth of our daughter Emilia Krystyna Rodseth. 

Born at 3 am on Sunday 29th of May 2011 and weighing in at 4 kgs, here are some insights into child birth and new parenting.

The labour process is long. It’s a slow builder; and not in a good way. From when my wife tapped me on my shoulders at 4 am and told me ‘it’s starting’ to the final push - I experienced 24 hours of escalating intensity and a crescendo of knee curdling, scalp fizzing adrenaline and emotion. She experienced white, all consuming pain, exhaustion and incredible resolve. 

John Lee Hooker was played throughout the labour process. Some people like Enya. My wife loves the blues. 

Dads are pretty helpless beings. Saying that, we do have a few tools in our arsenal and these include: 

• words of empathetic comfort (carefully placed so as not to be misconstrued as condescension or dismissal of your dear wife’s mighty ordeal). 
• massage skills – although bear in mind that rubbing frequently and fast does create friction
• stress ball – make sure your hands are gripped by the palm and not by the fingers
• cheerleading – summon more will than a crowd at a world cup final cheer her on. It helps.

Some things dads shouldn’t do 

• make jokes to lighten the mood
• remove the tens machine (at full capacity) before turning it off. (a colleagues advice wisely heeded)
• stop cheering
• fall over
• have too much ‘gas and air’ as this can lead to the above

Post labour, dads are ghostly beings floating around the hospital. We are not fully registered by midwives, nurses or other hospital staff. We are a dazed species like we’ve just emerged from a bunker after a nuclear war and are surveying a changed world. Possibly not the best analogy as the mix of adrenaline and euphoria – and a few sneaky hits of the gas and air – is one of most exhilarating experiences of your life. 

I don’t smoke any more but when I got home, I did. 

To quote the great John Lee Hooker who played his soul out all night:

My baby got somethin’

My baby got somethin’

My baby got somethin’

Man, that I sure do love

John Lee Hooker, My Baby’s got somethin

The adventure game was officially buried on February 22, 1999. On a day which is now referred to as ‘Chainsaw Monday’, Sierra Entertainment - the company behind legendary adventure games such as Kings Quest, Space Quest and Leisure Suit Larry - axed a third of its workforce including some of their top creative talent. Scott Murphy, co-creator of Space Quest, was one of the many to be given the boot. In this interview, he speaks openly about the price the employees paid with the companies growing success; like being paid less despite incredible success of the games they worked on. But what is most apparent from the interview is the deep hurt that was inflicted by the company heads on their brilliant team who invested all they had in producing a revolutionary series of games.

Article first published as LA Noire: Not as good as Kings Quest 1 on Technorati.

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What lies beneath.

Here are some things I’ve learnt about foxes in London:

1. There are approximately 10,000 foxes roaming London, RIGHT NOW!
2. The average lifespan of a Red Urban fox is 2 years.
3. Given the perils in urban areas, that’s quite a long time.
4. These wily creatures are not afraid of much, including:

Things foxes aren’t really afraid of:

1. A man in his pants with a hosepipe
2. All settings on said hosepipe nozzle, including ‘Jet’
3. Hissing
4. Shouting
5. Staring Contests
6. Our cat
7. My scent in the corners of our garden. (This advice could have been a mate wind up)

The battle has been lost, as well as the war. But at least I fought with valour and pride.

The strange looks I get from familiar faces in the neighbourhood must be quiet recognition. And that light which came on at two in the morning whilst I was building an olfactory perimeter was a great beacon of recognition.

It feels good to be a neighbourhood hero.

PS: A warning to all fox lovers. An animal was harmed during the making of this story. Harmed beyond the point of repair whilst crossing a road. But then dear reader, nature is cruel - especially when it comes in the form of an impatient London motorist.

As it turns out, the next time I saw fox he was dead. Dead I tells ya. Statistically speaking, he may not have been the same fox but my vengeful brain ignored that unsatisfactory truth. For all intensive purposes, Justice had been served. Served I tells ya.

As I walked passed the body and examined its twisted head which seemed to be staring at me from an awkward angle - I felt a sympathetic pang. A pang I tells ya. Okay, I’ll stop that now. Now I tells ya!

“The Fox is my enemy. The Fox is not my friend.” After a few repetitions of this mantra I re-aligned myself with dark side and celebrated one less vermin in Grey Old London.

I marched on to work but Fox still lingered in my conciousness. He was gone but not forgotten. 

My war with the foxes continues.    

Just the other day the sanctity of my breakfast - eaten outside on a warm spring morning - was violated. Perhaps the crunching of my cereal attracted the beast or just a misguided perception that he was invited for a quick cuppa; but there it balanced precariously on the fence with it’s tiny vermin eyes watching me munch on my cornflakes. I chinked my spoon on my bowl loudly but it stood firm, perhaps thinking I was about to make a speech in it’s honour.

Next, I hissed. It did a double take and retreated a bit along the fence. Calling me out for the snake fraud I clearly was he began to edge closer once again - giving me a noxious smirk-glower. Rage began to descend.

Slamming the table with my fist and rattling my seat like I’d been hit by a mini earthquake did the trick, but at the expense of my coffee.

Fox scampered away into the next garden and I mopped up the spillage.

It was a bitter-sweet victory and one that I knew would be short lived. Fox would be back. I didn’t know where and I didn’t know when but I knew our paths would cross again.