TWENTY MINUTES, TWENTY METRES, TWENTY MILES

The plastic graphic on the floor (20m ≥) arouses the girl’s interest, as she and her father loiter outside the public conveniences, perilously close to the commercial hell of Saturday afternoon.

As the private corporations of retail go about their lawful weekend business of preying upon the vulnerable, the young shopper is incited to hazard a guess, “Look daddy. It says 20 miles!”

She doesn’t indicate where the twenty miles arrow might be pointing to: somewhere beyond the outskirts of the suburban fringe into the marshy flatlands of birdsong and boy racers, drug dealers and waterways?

Her father is more intent on containment, correction and control. As if to accelerate the waiting process, he reins in any excess wandering, whether geographical or mindful. 

I think it means 20 metres, sweetheart.

Why, Daddy?

Well, the letter M is for metre. KM for kilometres. BBC is British Broadcasting Corporation.

What is an STD, Daddy?

Possible thoughts in his head are:

A] How much longer is her mother going to be?
B] It’ll be much more to pay in the multi-storey now.
C] I really hope it’s not super gonorrhoea.
D] Thank God for spellcheck.

Knowing which notions are simple distractors in the multiple choice of consciousness can take years; or else, like farting after beans, come organically.

Fifty-fifty, phone-a-friend, don’t tell the wife…. That’s the best wrong answer, I’m afraid.  

All mere diversions from the matter in hand: namely, a six-year-old soul hungry for attention and love and more information. 

He remembers when she drew the picture of the arrest, prior to the caution for battery during the Manchester United game; the arresting officers that looked like Lego robots rather than violent lesbians. 

No, sweet heart. It’s not twenty miles. It’s twenty metres.

The spell check offers up twenty meters, but is rejected on the grounds that, after water, gas, electricity or clap-o-meter, it’s hard to think of another one. The audience clap. Clap? 

C! Super gonorrhoea.
That’s inaccurate. Not to mention, inappropriate and incurable.I need to phone to a friend.
Too late! You must give me an answer.
The correct response is less than 20 minutes! 

That’s how long it takes the Family Court to grant a Temporary Order.  Goodnight, Daddy.