Sunday, 12 November 2006

Sunday morning

Sunday began at 9:00 am with a call from Bobby, away in Brighton studying Philosophy: “Hi Dad, I’m just writing an essay, can you explain that stuff about the uncertainty principle again?” Although amazed today’s students, especially my own son, seem to think it’s normal to work at 9:00 on a Sunday morning, and despite the early hour, I found that I could indeed produce a tolerably coherent explanation of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle.

I spent the morning in the garden, and in the afternoon hosted Jackie’s parents, then visited Jackie’s brother Steve who was celebrating his 41st birthday, then visited my brother Jez. On the journey home, I was approaching a junction, touched the brake pedal and the car went into a skid, bumping up the kerb and coming to an abrupt halt. There was no serious damage, but the front wheel was slightly bucked. We were close to home so drove on carefully to change the tyre.

When I was younger, my two older brothers were both fanatical about cars. They have raced them across Europe, rallied them in Africa and taken them off-road in Canada; they have fixed them, serviced them and customised them. And the car gene seems to be a common feature in Jones boys: my nephews and male cousins seem equally fascinated. Only myself and my son Bobby seem to have escaped the otherwise virulent Jones car gene.

My knowledge of cars is on a par with the knowledge that might be displayed by Edward the Confessor or Marie Antoinette. My occasional attempts at car maintenance have not been successful. Some have described them as disastrous (I recently filled a diesel van with £80-worth of petrol). So, after spending ten miserable minutes in the dark and the rain trying to work out how to take the wheel off, I knew instinctively what I needed to do. I called Jez. True to his generous nature, he said he would be round in fifteen minutes, and meanwhile I was “not to touch it” (he said this with hardly any note of panic in his voice).

Fifteen minutes later, Jez arrived, thirty seconds later the hub cap was popped off (it was this that had confounded me) and ten minutes later the wheel was changed. At one point, he did ask me to lean against the opposite side of the car, but I think this was just his kind way of helping me to feel useful. Like the rest of the male Joneses, on the subject of cars, Jez regards me with affectionate pity. I resist the urge to tell him that I am really quite clever; that I can explain Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle and that I have just finished reading really quite a long book on the Spanish conquest of Peru.

For his trouble, Jez received a large cup of tea and profuse thanks. He didn’t even complain when I said there was no Swarfega in the house. What a nice man he is.