I first met my children the day they were born. The moment they were born to be exact. The relationship and feeling I have for all 3 was created at that time and has not been changed. They in turn have not changed and have stayed the same. The character and personality that was revealed that day has stayed in place.

All three children were planned. All were anticipated with love. No gender was known in advance. All three births were different experiences. There were absolutely no similarities.

The first was the most physically demanding. The labour was about 5 hours but seemed to be difficult. Lots of pain and not much movement. Drugs were administered but did not work. I had announced at least 1 hour before birth that I could see its head – and indeed I could see a head with hair. After a lot of further exhausting painful effort the Doctor finally held up the forceps in a threatening manner and this did the trick. The forceps looked both medieval and veterinary and did look frightening. They did the trick and Tom was extruded shortly after without the help of the forceps. But Tom was born drugged and asleep. As soon as he came out he was whisked away to a corner in the room and tubes were inserted in his mouth and throat. After a short time however we could hear him breathing if only like a dentists suction tube. This was a relief. Normal breathing was soon resumed. The Doctor checked him over before he commenced the tiresome duty of sewing Jenny up. After Jenny was sewn up Tom was handed to us. He still had his eyes closed. We both held him close to our faces. He opened his eyes. Looking straight at us. Seemingly in recognition. HELLO. Hello we both said in unison.

Jenny asked for a cup of tea – the first she had had in 8 months. She had gone off tea while pregnant. Tom still looks at us in the same recognising way.

The next birth was on a Saturday morning. Jenny had feelings she wasn't sure of so she phoned the hospital they said to come in. There was no urgency. No hurry. However the moment we walked into the ward area she had a massive contraction and we were shown into the birthing room. We were welcomed by what appeared to be a 19 year old girl. What had happened on the previous Wednesday was that Jenny’s Doctor had been killed in a car accident. We had not been told anything apart that he was dead. I did not exactly ask if the girl was here on work study or what school she went to but she could see my concern and she laughingly explained that she was a Doctor – the Hospital Registrar and she was here to supervise the birth.

And she was wonderful. She took charge straight away. Jenny went into deep contractions close together and The Doctor announced that the birth was imminent. She just had to break the waters. Which she did and indeed the waters came gushing out like a fountain. She then told Jenny to stop pushing as he was coming too quickly. She said she wanted to get the head right. She inserted her hand into Jenny and held James down while keeping Jenny calm. She then said OK push and James immediately came out. He almost shot out. It was like he was coming out of underwater. As he came out he put his hands in the air as if to cheer that he had made it out. He started crying immediately. He was placed on Jenny’s chest while the umbilical chord was cut and he immediately tried to suck. He had dark hair. Lots of it. He was happy to be alive.

The third came slowly but surely. Were they contractions she was having? Should we go to the hospital or should we wait. We went to the Hospital and waited there. Jenny said it felt different. It must be a girl. It wasn't a big thing. We did not mind.

Suddenly things sped up. Jenny said she felt she was not prepared. And there was no Doctor there. He was away on an urgent case. There were two midwives and they reassured her that all was well and they would handle it. And they did. Their technique was to urge breathing deeply with every contraction. Jenny tried but requested gas and took it in hungrily. They reassured her that everything was OK. The baby was pointing the right way. They had their listening devices and they could tell the baby was not stressed. Their listening devices looked over 100 years old but they knew what they were doing. They appeared to be made out of Bakelite. They kept placing them on Jenny’s stomach and listening on the other end. Everything was OK. Just keep breathing and don't do any pushing as yet. Jenny said that she could not help pushing. She was worried she might want to go to the toilet. Not possible said the midwives. Don t worry about it. Just don't push. Jenny said she couldn't not push. "OK, Push" they said. She pushed with relief. And Alexander was born shortly after without too much trouble. He came out like he was still in the foetal position. The first thing I saw was his testicles. There was no mistaking him for a girl. I told Jenny and she was pleased. Another boy. Alex cried for a short while but then seemed to relax and went to sleep lying on Jenny’s chest.


Neville Gibb
September 2018

It was an unexpected meeting. One Sunday morning I saw a celebrity I recognised walking in a park alone. I was vaguely going the same way as him. He was in front of me but I would have recognised him anywhere. I wondered why was he here and why was he alone. He was walking slowly along. Ambling even.

This man had achieved iconic status. He was as famous as anybody was. What was he doing here? Surely he normally would have had someone with him.

Should I attempt to speak to him. Should I impose myself on him? Could I talk to him? What to do.

I followed him for a while. Suddenly he diverted to the left and quickened his stride. I summoned up what courage I could. I did want to talk to him so I ran after him. By the time I caught him I was more or less breathless. But I blurted out that I recognised him and would like to talk to him. Could I walk with him for a way?

He looked at me and gave me a once over before replying. He took his time but must have not noted anything untoward because he said – “judging by your accent it would be an honour”. This relaxed me immediately.

We fell into easy conversation. I told him who I was and where I worked. I told him where I lived. He seemed to relax. When I stopped talking he explained his position. There had been a mixup with his plane and he had arrived virtually one day early. He had a day to kill. He was suffering from jet lag. He was going to walk as much as he could and last out the day. He was in London on business.

I have to admit he was easy to talk to but then again he would have had a lot of experience at talking to people like me. We ambled along and talked of many things. Amongst other things he told me was that since his wife had died he did not like traveling. And also he wasn't too well off and could not afford to travel like he did when he was younger. I must have somehow expressed my skepticism because he said that just because he was famous did not mean he was rich. He had a good agent that got him lots of work but it didn't mean he got a lot of money. He had often been involved in money losing propositions. He had once been persuaded in going into renting theatres and it nearly sent him broke. The best he ever did was to wait it out in the South Pacific while Marlon Brando had sorted out his domestic problems. He only had a few lines but his contract said he was paid by the time he was held on call. These days he was often in Hollywood but he only got TV work. I said I had seen him in the Monkees TV show and he seemed pleased that I knew. “Aah Yes. Very determined young people” he said. He did not elaborate more.

I did not want to appear too gushing, so I did not press him on his Hollywood connections. In fact I tried to be as cool as I possibly could. I could tell by the glances we got from people around us that my companion was recognised. I enjoyed my being being in the presence of a celebrity. We ambled on and he suggested we have lunch. During the day I learned a little of what it is like to be well known. We ate in bistro style place where you got in a queue and told the people behind the counter what you wanted. They put it on a plate and you put the plate on your lunch tray. Everybody behind the counter knew him by name and the girl on the cash register handed him a menu without any explanation and he signed it. She said thank you. We then went into the Duke Of Wellington's House and looked at his paintings. I was surprised that the Duke had a Velasquez and my companion asked how I knew.

Later on he invited me to dinner at The Dorchester. I did express some concern at being able to afford this but he reassured me. He wasn't staying there but he knew the Doorman. He would let us in. And the Maitre D owed him a favour. Everything went to plan. The Maitre D winked at him and said “I know I still owe you”. We had a mixed grill. I had never been inside The Dorchester and I was surprised that no one looked especially privileged. No one spoke to us. He said he suddenly felt very tired and said he would go immediately to his hotel which was just up the street. He got up and went out without paying. He strode off. I didnt get a chance to thank him. But I had enjoyed the day. I had got to know a celebrity. Even became a friend.

There is however a sting in the tail of this tale.

On Wednesday a request came into our office for an appointment to sort out a passport problem. It was from my new friend. I was flattered thinking he was coming to me to get help. Why wouldn't he. He knew me. I was his new friend. Of course I would help him. I know him I explained to my fellow workers. I would handle it. You watch when he comes in how pleased he will be to see me. We would catch up on old times.

In due course he presented himself at out front counter. I went to see him and greeted him with great familarity – as if he was my friend. He was taken aback. A look of utter bewilderment came to his face. He was perplexed by my behavior. He looked at me with genuine worry. I could see he was unsure so I asked him if he recognised me. He replied that “he might recognise the dial but he could not place the face”. I could see that he had no idea who I was. I said that we spent last Sunday together. He said ‘Last Sunday” but with a complete blank trying frantically to think. “You remember I walked with you”. ‘Oh yes – of course” he said but I could see that he did not see. He genuinely had no idea of who I was or having ever been with me. He retreated into himself and explained his problem. I also retreated into myself – greatly taken aback.

We sorted out his problem quickly. I consoled myself with the fact that he would have fleetingly met and known hundreds of thousands of people. All of whom considered themselves his friend.

I was well and truly stripped of my celebrity status.

Neville Gibb
​September 2018