#cabin pressure

Carolyn Month, Day 6: Birthdays

@cabinpressurechallenge

“Mum, did you know—”

Carolyn braced herself for the peculiar while Arthur interrupted himself with a big bite of his home-from-school toast.

“Did you know,” he repeated, so as to restore the flow of his remark, “That half of a half is a quarter?”

“I did, in fact. I didn’t know you knew, though.”

“We’re revising fractions, ’cause Mrs Westerby said there might be some people who were a bit confused.”

“Mrs Westerby is a diplomat of the highest order.”

“She’s my maths teacher.”

“That too.”

“So I was thinking,” Arthur continued, “You know how we celebrate my birthday in October and my half birthday in April…”

“Goodness, I wonder where this is going,” Carolyn muttered. “Yes, then? What were you thinking?”

“Well, shouldn’t we celebrate your half birthday in September? Otherwise we’re only doing half the half birthdays. Which is a quarter.”

“Oh,” said Carolyn. “I thought you were going to say we should pencil in your quarter and three-quarter birthdays for January and July.”

His eyes turned to saucers, then dinner plates. “Wow! I never even thought of that.”

“I realise that now.”

“Can we do that? Is it allowed?”

“Allow— who precisely do you think makes laws against how often you wear a silly hat?”

“Well, you. The birthday police?”

“Oh, I should think we can fly under their radar. Not a proper party, mind. But you can sing the song and do….whatever it is that produces that cake sort of thing.”

“And wear the hat?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She chuckled. “Of course, wear the hat.”

“Brilliant! Wow, fractions are great!”

“I’m thrilled you think so.”

Toast now fully devoured, Arthur sprang out of the room, only to return two seconds later. “Oh! What about your half birthdays, though?“

Carolyn pretended to consider. “I think I can manage without,” she said grandly. “But it was a lovely thought.”

“Thanks! I do a lot of lovely thoughts.”

This, she had to admit, was true. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that six months after February was August, in any case, not September. But either way, once a year was quite enough for her own birthday. More than enough, even.

“Homework?” she prompted him as he departed.

“Just maths!”

His newfound love of fractions, Carolyn was sure, would not outlast the worksheet.

Carolyn Month, Day 4: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

@cabinpressurechallenge

Carolyn had phoned her mother afterwards, having as she did the vague notions that a) one phoned one’s mother in times of great change, and b) getting divorced from one’s husband of six years more or less constituted a time of great change.

“We’re finished,” she said, her voice clipped, sharp: well-kept like a hedgerow, like a hand of nails. “Ian and I. I thought you ought to know.”

“Oh.”

Carolyn waited. Her mother didn’t usually keep to single syllables, would surely have a judgement to render.

“Well, that’s a shame, isn’t it. Still, five years, though—”

“It was six years.”

“Oh, really? Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

“Of course. Of course, you’d know. Well, that’s rather good innings, considering, isn’t it?”

Carolyn’s grip on the handset tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you know—nobody really thought—we all thought he was sweet on Ruthie, at the start. You and he just didn’t always seem to fit. Ian’s….”

Her mother trailed off, but Carolyn had heard the end of that sentence many times over. Ian’s such a dear. Ian’s a wonderful man. Ian’s just so terribly nice, isn’t he? Really solid. Really reliable.

What on earth is he doing with you?

This last, only once, the Christmas between their engagement and wedding. Ian had stepped out onto the patio to smoke a cigar with her father and Carolyn’s mother had said it laughingly, watching the silhouettes of the two men through the window. Yes, yes, he’d liked Ruth at first and wasn’t it a turn-up, nobody could have seen it coming, wouldn’t put you two together, but don’t they always say opposites attract?

She should be in floods of tears, Carolyn reflected, should be in pieces now because it was all over and Ian was such a dear, just so very… nice, wasn’t he?

And that was just it. He was nice. So awfully nice. And it wasn’t that Carolyn wasn’t nice, exactly… She could be nice when the occasion presented itself, but in-between times, she preferred not to be bound to one adjective. Ian, she presumed, would be more, too, with somebody who knew how to draw it out.

So in the end – thinking about it as she had over the eons that had fled in the few seconds since her mother’s sentence had frittered away into static – in the end, she wasn’t all that offended. She and Ian had been a mismatch - right from the start, and not in a magical, binding sort of way. Just in a ‘what are we actually doing?’ sort of way.

Six years. Not bad innings, considering.

“Yes,” said Carolyn. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” But then, because at the end of the day she was going to be divorced at twenty-nine and her mother had not so much as asked her if she was alright, “So now you know. Goodbye, then.”

She set down the receiver and sighed and wondered a little if she might cry.

No? Well, then. Onwards.

unionjackpillow:

Herc: Oh my!

Carolyn: What is it now. Oh good lord. Herc, give it back. Where did you even find it? Ugh, it doesn’t matter anyway. Just give it back and we can both pretend that you’ve never even seen it.

Herc: But why would I do that? I know why *I* fell in love with you, but now I know why Gordon did. And I must say I can’t blame the man.

Carolyn: I hate you, you know.

Herc: No, you don’t. But you will if I show it to Douglas.

Carolyn: If you show that to Douglas, your next birthday present won’t be a dead sheep.

Herc: All right, all right! Here, have it back.

Carolyn: Thanks. I presume the fire in the living room is still going?

mjn-air:

mjn-air:

transparentgentlemenmarker:

And the days he sees “dad” are just good, unfortunately… T.T (See? I’ve just made myself sad, here… -_-)

mjn-air:

hellyeahjohnfinnemore:

I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas! And, if you do find yourself flying today, I hope you do so with Noel (who shares a birthday with the little baby Jesus), Holly, Nigel, and Merry Christmas.

(Also, well done John for figuring out Twitter threads.)

mjn-air:

Happy Christmas, y'all.

hellyeahjohnfinnemore:

Geeeeeeeeet Dressed Ye Merry Gentlemen for it is Christmas, Christmas Daaaayyy

outofcontextcabinquotes:

The customer is always wrong, rude, late, witless, loud, drunk, thieving and sly.

thekenobee:

thekenobee:

hellyeahjohnfinnemore:

Hear ye, hear ye

Would there be any interest in doing a Fandot Secret Santa this year?

Reblogging this again.

crazyatyou:

memeuplift:

@unionjackpillowBrilliant!

Hear ye, hear ye

Would there be any interest in doing a Fandot Secret Santa this year?

stoppablethetramstory:

“he is … a man i know”

“we’ve not been going out, we’re just often in the same place” literally what else in the world matters but them actually

who else is excited for good omens season 2, congrats john finnemore