Andrew found himself dealing with the minutiae of everyday life from which the ministrations of a capable woman had momentarily freed him â only now, in addition to looking after his own needs, he had to care for John as well. Bathing his son, changing nappies, preparing his food, even playing with him, didnât come naturally, and an exasperated Karen would frequently have to take over the tasks with which Andrew had been charged. Impatience, the constant companion of young parents, grew exponentially, manifest most obviously in the arguments that took place in the relative privacy of the bedroom at the end of another unrelenting day.
It wasnât Johnâs fault, an understanding of which fortunately neither of the childâs parents lost sight. The simple truth was that they had not foreseen the amount of time that a baby demanded. It didnât help that John was active and inquisitive, proclivities that revealed themselves to often disastrous effect once heâd learned how to crawl. The video machine was his first victim, rendered inoperative by a typically unrelenting investigation into its mysteries, followed shortly by the pedals of the piano and, once summer arrived, a collection of potted herbs. After the piano incident, Karen and Andrew had systematically raised everything four feet off the ground, which worked until John started to walk some three months before any of his peers, leaving his parents wondering if their strategy had inadvertently been taken by their precocious offspring as a challenge.
For all the frustrations caused by his dynamic curiosity, John was charming and loving, qualities which his father would have done well to cultivate. For, since the shattering discovery of the composition in Amiens, Andrew had become aware that, in his wifeâs eyes, his usual self-centeredness had spawned a dangerously selfish obsession that often excluded the rest of the family. As much as it was the focus of Andrewâs attention, so it was the object of Karenâs resentment, both cause and symbol of the constant crises of which their home life seemed to consist.
The significance of the trip to Tours was not lost on either of them on that fractious journey to the airport, their argument inevitable. Andrew was desperate to go; Karen was eager for him to leave. It was this guilty truth that neither was quite able to acknowledge and which made Karen volunteer to drive Andrew to the airport and him accept. She framed it as a financial decision â a cab would be an extravagance â but behind it lay an unspoken hope: that things could change; that the trip might make Andrew realise something about his behaviour; and that the break would do them both good.
Why heâd left his suitcase on the bed he didnât know, nor why heâd told Karen that he had put his suitcase in the car when he hadnât. Karen would probably describe it as a slip of the mind, which meant that, even if he hadnât consciously intended it, a part of him had. He was guilty either way; the onus was on him to call one last time before he headed to Tours. It wasnât just that he needed to express gratitude for the lift to the airport and apologise for what Karen would see as leaving her literally and metaphorically holding the baby whilst he swanned off to Europe for three days to talk, eat and drink with interesting people. He knew that when he returned in three daysâ time his wife would be tired and stressed after caring for John on her own and, tired and jetlagged as he would be, a phone call now might buy him some much-needed credit.
Of course, he also wanted to tell Karen that he might have cracked the notational puzzle. The nagging sense that Earlâs naïve reading of the score might just work was now no longer possible to ignore. It made sense; the transition from the old to the new notation systems was not down to the theorists who explained it, but to the scribes who developed
It wasnât Johnâs fault, an understanding of which fortunately neither of the childâs parents lost sight. The simple truth was that they had not foreseen the amount of time that a baby demanded. It didnât help that John was active and inquisitive, proclivities that revealed themselves to often disastrous effect once heâd learned how to crawl. The video machine was his first victim, rendered inoperative by a typically unrelenting investigation into its mysteries, followed shortly by the pedals of the piano and, once summer arrived, a collection of potted herbs. After the piano incident, Karen and Andrew had systematically raised everything four feet off the ground, which worked until John started to walk some three months before any of his peers, leaving his parents wondering if their strategy had inadvertently been taken by their precocious offspring as a challenge.
For all the frustrations caused by his dynamic curiosity, John was charming and loving, qualities which his father would have done well to cultivate. For, since the shattering discovery of the composition in Amiens, Andrew had become aware that, in his wifeâs eyes, his usual self-centeredness had spawned a dangerously selfish obsession that often excluded the rest of the family. As much as it was the focus of Andrewâs attention, so it was the object of Karenâs resentment, both cause and symbol of the constant crises of which their home life seemed to consist.
The significance of the trip to Tours was not lost on either of them on that fractious journey to the airport, their argument inevitable. Andrew was desperate to go; Karen was eager for him to leave. It was this guilty truth that neither was quite able to acknowledge and which made Karen volunteer to drive Andrew to the airport and him accept. She framed it as a financial decision â a cab would be an extravagance â but behind it lay an unspoken hope: that things could change; that the trip might make Andrew realise something about his behaviour; and that the break would do them both good.
Why heâd left his suitcase on the bed he didnât know, nor why heâd told Karen that he had put his suitcase in the car when he hadnât. Karen would probably describe it as a slip of the mind, which meant that, even if he hadnât consciously intended it, a part of him had. He was guilty either way; the onus was on him to call one last time before he headed to Tours. It wasnât just that he needed to express gratitude for the lift to the airport and apologise for what Karen would see as leaving her literally and metaphorically holding the baby whilst he swanned off to Europe for three days to talk, eat and drink with interesting people. He knew that when he returned in three daysâ time his wife would be tired and stressed after caring for John on her own and, tired and jetlagged as he would be, a phone call now might buy him some much-needed credit.
Of course, he also wanted to tell Karen that he might have cracked the notational puzzle. The nagging sense that Earlâs naïve reading of the score might just work was now no longer possible to ignore. It made sense; the transition from the old to the new notation systems was not down to the theorists who explained it, but to the scribes who developed
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