I am finding the radio recordings (and the walk up stairs) very physically and emotionally draining and though I had hope to use today to work on some of my other projects I was too tired and filled with ennui. Instead I finished reading the Da Vinci Code which I started yesterday. It's silly nonsense, but quite gripping and well worth the read.
Watching breakfast TV this morning a bit hungover and tired, I heard someone mention knickerbockers and was reminded of an illuminating story from my childhood, which says much about human nature.
I must have been around about 5 and had become obsessed with the idea of having a knickerbocker glory ice-cream. Not surprising I suppose. It was after all gigantic and made out of ice cream, so what child wouldn't want one. I think I also fixated on the dessert partly because the name sounded so exotic and wonderful and partly because such big ice creams always seemed to appear in the wonderful world of cartoons that I dearly loved. The idea of having such a treat all to myself seemed like an unbelievable and unachievable luxury. I'm not sure if my parents were a bit stingy with treats or not, but I do remember that for years it was also a dream of mine to be able to eat a whole bar of chocolate (just a normal sized bar) without having to share it with anyone. Maybe I was just a greedy little shit, or maybe being deprived of things has led me to focus too heavily on them and resulted in me being a greedy big shit in my adult life. Did such a puritanical attitude lead to me being unable to control my appetites in adulthood? I doubt it very much, but then again, when I see that Jamie Oliver doesn't ever let his kids have chocolate and read that his wife carries carrots with her, so she can give them to the kids at parties instead of cake I wonder if they are setting off a timebomb which will leave these kids sitting in a big pool of chocolatey sick the minute they have independent means of buying their own sweets. But then letting them have junk food when they want will have similarly bad consequences. Who's be a parent? You idiots. Hardest job in the world. I have difficulty enough coping with my own demands let alone anyone else's.
Still it's fun to blame my mum and dad for things that are my own fault. Especially after they tried so hard and were such attentive and loving parents. Ha ha, that means nothing. If you'd let me eat chocolate and hadn't grabbed me when I was jumping off that barge I wouldn't be the emotional cripple that you see before you today.
Then again, I probably wouldn't have been a comedian if I'd been well balanced, so thanks for helping me to buy my house. You're not getting anything back. You're straight in a home the minute you're the slightest burden to me.
Anyway, my parents can't have been as mean as I like to pretend, because I remember that after what seemed like an eternity of wishing (though was probably actually about a week or two) my dad finally did get me a knickerbocker glory when we were out for dinner somewhere (which wasn't something that happened very often. There wasn't the money for those kind of things in those days, which possibly also explains the parsimony when it came to unnecessary and unhealthy luxuries).
It arrived at my table, and looked huge (though not quite as huge as I'd imagined) and as delicious as I had hoped. But I recall that when it came to actually eating it the thing was a disappointment. I don't know if there was too much of it, or whether I didn't like the stuff that was in it or a bit of both. But my memory is one of overriding disillusion.
Of course this was to be a sensation that I would feel many times throughout my life, but with the possible exception of finding out that Jerry was the mouse, this was the first time. So often the longing and the chase are the best thing and the actual experience is only going to be an anti-climax.
Most of the knickerbocker glory (which probably set my dad back an extortionate 50 pence) was returned to the kitchens and thrown down the sink. Or possibly it was just poured into another glass and then topped with some whipped cream for the next child to taste and then leave and so on.
Anyway, there's a lesson in there somewhere for you all. Even if the lesson is that I am a selfish prick and always have been.
