the smell of biscuits...

JACK: Today I went for a hair cut. My hairdresser was not in a talkative mood. So for a short while I sat in silence. I briefly caught a whiff of biscuits. The kind of smell you catch on someone’s breath when they are having tea and biscuits. Warmed by the tea the scent seems to carry that much more.
This is not a nice smell by any chance; they certainly won’t be bottling it any time soon. New Christina Aguilera fragrance, "The smell of biscuits"! Don't get me wrong, it's not a horrible smell, either.
Anyway, it took my mind to somewhere else, Sometimes, when I get home from a long day at work and Pippa is sitting in the lounge with Tea and biscuits, legs tucked under a cushion beside her, cat balled up in any space he can find or make for himself. She'll be watching one of her "Stories" on the box and I'll lean over to give her a kiss. The cold from the day would have made my skin all taught and craggy. Her skin, on the other hand, is lovely and warm; her lips are hot and moist from the tea. That subtle little smell of biscuits wafts up my nostrils. I feel satisfaction and decide to sit with her before doing any of my usual things like showering, changing or Xbox. The cat gets evicted from his spot and has to find a new place, whatever show she is watching is of little interest to me. I'll normally attempt to steal some heat by injecting a cold hand into a warm bit of skin. The stomach and breasts are always the choicest spots.
After stealing some tea and biscuits I'll be satisfied, gone. After crashing past a couple more time, one time dripping wet and one time dropping socks, I'll be gone. The sound of aliens being blown up will trickle down the stairs.
My mind wandered from this onto what would be. Where would a child fit into my ideal (Well, not ideal but a beautifully typical) evening? Would Pippa have time to let me steal the heat from her beautiful and feminine body parts? Will she be to busy feeding the baby or have sore nipples to let me sneak a hold her beautiful round breasts. What of the biscuit smell? Replaced by Farley’s Rusk’s (Not bad at all) or shitty nappies (Erk). And what of the cat? Boiled in a stew to feed the ever hungry chubby little infant? OK, too far. But, point made. The cat would make a lovely stew. No, I mean the feeling of anxiety.

For many couples, all that is needed for procreation is a quick fuck. It doesn’t even have to be a good one. Pippa and I have been doing this with clockwork regularity for the past couple of years now. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes not so good, and hey, sometimes it’s fan-fucking-tastic. But it’s always with the same result, no pregnancy. This, as even the slowest of blog readers may be screaming at the screen, is obviously the source of this anxiety. But it’s not just the not being able to conceive. It’s the waiting in between, the abstaining from sex in the build up before each attempt and now IVF; Doctors hands all over your bits, filling in forms, blood tests, needles, endless questions, ejaculating into pots and rushing to the hospital with them in your armpits or between your legs. Or my favourite, masturbating into a pot in a hospital toilet whilst other patients were waiting outside. Where I found the right frame of mind to carry that one off, I don’t know. “Please wash your hands”... Sure!

You know, if it was wham bam thank you Maam, we would be well into the stresses and hormonally induced emotional states that the rest of the lucky buggers get to go through already! It’s a strange thing to admit, but so far, part of me would miss what I have experienced. Don’t get me wrong. If I was given the choice, I would opt for a perfect pregnancy, beautiful twins with all fingers and toes, a lottery win and finding the keys to an Aston Martin like the next person would. But for all the stresses and trouble it’s been. If we come out of this with a healthy child, it’s going to be worth it. And I would be proud to admit I had the strength to go through this. It is a testament to the relationship between Pippa and me. It’ll be so worth it when I get home from my long day at work. All three members of my clan look up at me as I come in from the cold. More warm skin for me to poach the heat from. After all, it’s just anxiety isn’t it? All these thoughts I’ve been having? Any of these thoughts can be beaten with the right frame of mind and with the right partnership.

I wonder what smells will wait for me after the baby is born, the smell of biscuits from my wife? the smell of baby from my child? and if that cat does not shut up and let me type this blog, there’ll be the smell of cat stew!

Jack.