Every parent can relate to that. Your child is your whole world: you love them more than you ever thought possible; you spend every waking moment fussing over them, cuddling them, cleaning them, feeding them, cuddling them some more, and fantasising about what they’ll be like when they’re older. But if you get the slightest chance to dump them on someone else and run the f*** away, you seize it with both hands and scarper.
It’s not a matter of lacking adult company. After all, every time I leave the house, I am accosted by random strangers striking up conversations about my ridiculously winsome sprog. She is adorable, but what I’d really, really like is the opportunity to consider that from 100 miles away. To spend just a few precious moments being anything other than someone’s mum.
JG Thirlwell’s music has long been my refuge from the stresses of the day, and Manorexia is particularly soothing. This is the Foetus man’s chamber music project. Like Steroid Maximus, it’s the soundtrack to a non-existent film (though Manorexia tunes have been used in soundtracks) – but it’s the thoughtful zag to Steroid’s bouncy zig.
I’ve previously likened Manorexia to the feeling of someone massaging my soul. It makes me feel unknotted. It’s like floating in calm waters.
On Thursday, I get to float on aural waves in the bar of historic Union Chapel, where Thirlwell’s ensemble will be on stage at 9pm. There might be one or two tickets left, though it was almost sold out when last I checked.
It will be my first night out in over six months, and something of a holiday from spit-up and gripe. I’ll enjoy the break almost as much as that beautiful music, and then return refreshed and eager to see that little smile.