Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Innocence

We here at Glitter for Brains can often be found pondering mysteries of this wondrous world (are the headlines in ‘American Dad’ ever funny? Is there anything Eva Longoria won’t advertise?) which is why we get a little confused when one of our firmly held beliefs gets questioned.

In this case, it was the rock-solid notion that Children Should Not Talk To Strange Men.

Now, I’ve had this drummed into me – ironically – more times than I’ve had strange men drummed into me. You do not go and talk to people you don’t know, unless its an emergency and its a police man. This goes some way to explain my incapacity to chatting to people I don’t know in clubs; yet if they’re in a policeman’s uniform, I won’t come quietly. But I digress; it was while my Fella and I were in the park, enjoying the sunshine and reading the paper on a lovely Sunday afternoon that we looked up and saw a charming blue-eyed girl looking down at us.

“Er, hello,” said Ryan. I, whereas, was burying my head in the Arts section and slyly looking around for her father in the hope he was going to come and collect her without due haste, and hopefully, any dirty looks for chatting to his very young daughter.

“And what are your names?” she asked quite brazenly. “Mine’s Iona. I think its very pretty.”

Ryan agreed that it was, and introduced us both. I still wasn’t enthusiastic about having an interloper. Kids don’t normally warm to me. It’s the beard, I think. Or the squinty eyes. Or because I know more about ‘In The Night Garden’ than they do.

I leaned in to Ryan’s ear. “She doesn’t seem that fussed about the fact that we’re holding hands.”

“Perhaps she’s from one of those progressive families. Where they tell you about the birds and the bees, the bees and the bees, and the birds and the birds, so they do.”

Iona continued to dance in front of us, and was wearing her sun dress with the straps down. She was, in essence, topless. And had this worrying habit of sticking her hand down the front of said dress whenever she was asked a question. From a distance, we really looked like we were part of some paedo sting operation. And so we were in a dilemma: do we act as non-threatening and gay as possible so wherever the father was, he thought ‘she is with those marvelous well-dressed homosexuals, they pose no threat’. Or do we sit some distance apart as some people still think ‘Gays run off with kids, get her away now!’

I located her father, under a tree, holding Iona’s brother and sister. He didn’t seem the slightest bit fussed that she was over with us. In fact, if anything, he seemed glad of the break.

I swung my legs around so I could face our new friend. “Iona, would you like to be a princess?”

She nodded slowly, fingers in her mouth.

“Well then, lets make you a crown.” And I started folding up parts of the newspaper into a lavish hat.

“Don’t you want this bit?” she said, pointing at the sheets I was creasing.

“Oh no,” I said. “Let me tell you a secret. Because I am a princess too, Iona. And princesses never read the Sports section.”

3 comments:

Frank said...

You're no princess, Lee, you're a QUEEN!

Kezza said...

What a beautiful tale! I'm sure in years to come Iona will be lying next to her prince and telling him all about the day a she met two lovely fairies who made her into a princess!

Stepfordtart said...

Your diary's great, Lee. Unlike my piss-poor comments. s x