time

Finally had a long weekend off work,from one pm Friday until eight am Tuesday.It seemed so precious that I wanted to do exciting and memorable activities in order to feel the value of this gift of freedom.Now it is nearly midday Monday and the time has disappeared as it always does, consumed by sleeping late,shopping,television and a film.With my wife visiting her sister interstate , both boys studying(you can at least hope) for medical exams,and my older daughter living her busy independent life,much of that time has been spent with my thirteen year old girl,a colourful exotic creature  somehow spontaneously generated within this very house.
Her interests and goals are foreign to me and yet I try to understand and share in them.Music is central to her existence,but by preference this would be only from the genre of popular songs by female performers and the occasional feminine teenage male.I said that a current boy celebrity reminded me of David Cassidy.She said,"Who?" And yet once he occupied the thoughts ,the emotions,the daily lives of a prodigious mass of young girls.With an admirable component of self-parody she says that she will marry this new shooting star,this idol of millions who actually lives on another continent,or perhaps a prince : another continent again but no obstacle to fearless teenage ardor.
Her time is most enjoyably occupied in conversation with her schoolfriends, girls of course.I can hear her animated voice as I type[ in my laborious slo-mo touch technique which never seems to metamorphose into                            
the fluent action of secretaries and young people].School is not the burden that boys endure,but a delightful opportunity to share thoughts ,ideas,speculations and gossip with her acquaintances -  though often blighted by teachers who misunderstand this most important purpose of education.I must concede however that friends who become pregnant,contract sexual infections ,get themselves expelled and wear unfashionable clothing or poorly applied make-up have provided far more learning this year than any class at school.They have also supplied that most treasured possession of a girl : the secret.
I recently read a book called The Female Brain (whenever I mention the title of the book people ask whether the author is male or female before considering its legitimacy).The author states that exchange of a secret results in an orgasmic reward response in the female brain as powerful as sex or drugs.This explains the attraction of gossip although I am unsure of its evolutionary purpose.Since women are generally more concerned with relationships,cooperative behaviour and the well-being of the group (or tribe) then interest in news(or tidings) and exposure of hidden information would perhaps enable women to better defend the cohesiveness of society. This reminds me of the traditional rhyme (of which there are many variations):"One for sorrow,two for joy,three for a letter,four for a boy,five for silver,six for gold,seven for a secret never to be told." Originally related to the number of (European) magpies in a group, it has also been adapted to crows elsewhere.
A group of magpies can also be called a tiding or a tribe.
Years ago a hard-working friend was surprised when his son had serious behaviour problems despite a stable and supportive family.It was eventually determined that despite often occupying the same space there was very little dedicated time together.The solution was to arrange a joint undertaking for just half an hour a week without any of the other children present,the details to be mutually agreed.A similar plan was set up for the benefit of the other siblings.Group activities were still valuable but did not count as part of the treatment and neither did fortuitous co-occupation of an area.It had to be an organized commitment.My understanding was that the strategy was a success,so I decided to do the same thing.Each week each child had a guaranteed half an hour with their father often at bedtime,often including the reading of a chapter of a book,but sometimes a weekend activity.If I had a week off in school holidays then each child would have their own day.After four of these days my wife would want her own day with me and also compensation for the fact that every time I was with one child she had up to three of them.However, she was supportive of the concept, although whether it is as important for the girls and whether it has been of any value at all can never be proven(or proved,since both are past participles of to prove,although only proven is also an adjective and that is a proven fact).As it happened, the girls have certainly  managed to use the allotted time to buy some clothes.
As the children have left home one by one the system has declined until now there is only one.I fear she may receive too much of me rather than not enough so I try to be a little more like my own father who had just the one child.He would sit in the kitchen with a cup of tea, unfiltered cigarette and cryptic crossword,simply available to listen,though not above a little Socratic irony.I would gravitate to the kitchen and conversation with my father like the cat who always seems to find his way to whoever is still up at night.I would complain about the stupidity of people and he would encourage me to elaborate.This can also be known as getting enough rope to hang yourself.This is said to be an educational method but I am not sure how much I learned .The only advice he ever gave me was to try to be more tolerant.
If I was talking to him now I would complain about the progressive erosion of meaning in words such as irony,where situational irony is now just coincidence or incongruity,and literary or verbal irony is no more than sarcasm.I know that the language is constantly evolving and complaining is pointless.I think I am more tolerant but fear that I haven't really changed.
If my father were still alive and watching he could temporarily remove the cigarette from his lower lip,take a sip of tea,then turn to my unseen audience and, in a true example of dramatic irony,tell them that I could yet be a little more patient.If only time had not taken him away.