Sometimes a pronouncement is made that is so dramatic you never forget where you are when you heard it. It is an utterance of such earth-shattering import that the only option available to you when you hear it is to feel your knees buckle in slow motion as you sink to the floor. At such times people tend to adopt a certain tone of voice. A hushed whisper full of feeling and pathos, quivering with intent. You know the sort of voice, the one that says David Dimbleby is about to say something to which you are going to want to listen. Let me tell you something though, it is not the sort of voice that you want to be faced with when you get home one day. Things said in this voice are rarely nice, life-affirming things are they?
So there I was, walking in after another successful day as the greatest wildlife photographer ever, (well, I can dream can’t I?) when I was accosted by N, who, in her best David Dimbleby voice, told me,
“I didn’t have any flapjack because I had a breakdown.”
It wasn’t so much the words which shook me, although they were perhaps not the best chosen words she could have used, it was the tone they were said in. A 6 year old girl should not have had the life experiences necessary to be able to sound quite so dramatic. Like the whole world was imploding and she was then only one who could see it. Either she is a superb actor, able to imbue her whole being with the character of a person who has lost everything, or she just really really likes flapjack. Honestly I’m hoping it's the second option. I can barely keep up as it is, I don’t need her being the next Robert de Niro as well, I won’t know if I’m coming or going.
We finally got the whole flapjack thing sorted out, and I am yet to be met by the voice of doom since, but I know it's there, just waiting to come out, perhaps next time it will come out at a more appropriate moment, like if she could only have two scoops on her ice-cream or if she had been given her spoon the wrong way round. Just hope I’m not here to hear it when it does.
