Day Eight: In Which I Am Reminded Of Childhood

This lunchtime, while I made my dinner and ate it, I finally got around to watching Fantastic Mr. Fox. This film bears little relation the to Roald Dahl book that inspired it (indeed, it's mostly a bunch of George Clooney in-jokes) and must have gone completely over the head of most children watching it in the cinemas. I'm all for films being watchable on two levels, but I'm not sure this had much of a child level at all.

It did serve to give me a very vivid reminder, though, of a specific moment from my childhood, sitting on the sofa in our living room in Horsforth reading the book, in its entirety (it's not that long a book) out loud to my grandmother. I used to love reading out loud, it was one of the things that pushed me into acting later. When I read out loud to my mother, though, I stuttered and stumbled over my words, because I lacked confidence.I'm glad to say I was over that by the time my mother was in the midst of her what proved to be terminal illness, and I'd spend the evenings reading Terry Pratchett to her in bed with nary a hiccup.

Reading to my gran I didn't stumble over my words, because she was far less intimidating. Bless her heart, my gran was never the smartest person in my life, and there were few books that I could read out to her that she would have followed,. Reading that book, at that age, was a perfect confluence of my ability, her understanding, and her tolerance to put up with a child wanting to enjoy the sound of their own voice for once. It is a lovely memory that I thank the film for conjuring.

A much less welcome reminder of childhood was delivered in the evening with children from the local estate again throwing something at the window. They're trying to bully me, into what I'm not sure they've even thought through, and have been doing this on and off now for months. In the snow they threw snowballs, in the rain they threw mud, and previously the banged on my door before running away. It's more than a little pathetic, but I'm not sure what to do about it. It isn't consistent enough for the police to do anything, and I'm left with the personal choices of ignoring it or chasing them down the street, which is both inelegant and unlikely to yield the desired result (given they're prepubescent and I'm unfit and 42). Either of those options is likely to lead to escalation, which is the only thing I really fear.