Faux pas: History on Repeat

I can be a very social mother when I choose to be so, also, I am directly on the school route.

I've had a couple of children over after school for extended play recently and have been reminded of what an interesting old thing that scoping out of the peer's homes is. I make a cup of tea or coffee for the accompanying mother and we sit at the table and have exhausting conversations. Exhausting for me because I can't abide the small talk and the big talk just ain't happening.

So far, I have been a bit too opinionated about the pulp mill and the mother suddenly felt extremely awkward and left soon after. And this week I did a cursory post-visit objective look at my kitchen table to see what exactly I had revealed. Ah yes. My recent photocopying effort of early 80's poetry/art including an image of the word "SEX" as bait on a set mouse trap. A poster for my brother in law's play "Zhombie Theatre presents THE BODY SNATCHERS". Tame stuff to me, perhaps even tame to these mothers, but the feeling is distinctly . . . odd.

It brings to mind numerous experiences from my childhood. The time a mum came to pick up her daughter from my birthday party (c. primary school). She took one look at my parent's living room, was visibly distressed by the print over the fireplace, became speechless and couldn't leave fast enough. And the print? It is called The Last Cigarette and features a landscape littered with severed heads.

I always get a naive shock with this stuff because I, and my parents, have never been driven by a desire to be confrontational, or 'out there'. And to most people we are not, don't even come close, but occasionally, these situations arise and the minutiae of your life suddenly feels exposed and weirdly, can have freak show impact.

ho hum