Saturday night was The Decemberists gig that my wife and I had been looking forward to for ages, as I wrote about a while back. Although it was Valentine’s Day, it wasn’t intended as a romantic night out, as we were going with other friends, but still, there are worse ways you can spend Valentine’s Day with your wife than watching one of your favourite bands.
As a parent though, I should realise by now that the best laid plans of mice and men often go wrong (as Robbie Burns and Eddie Izzard fans will know). The first bad sign was when I woke on Friday morning feeling horrendous. With an important deadline at work that day I couldn’t bring myself to call in sick, but did leave early going straight to bed in mid afternoon and understandably not too optimistic about my chances of making it to the show the next day.
Suprisingly though, I woke up Saturday feeling almost normal again, and suddenly it seemed we were back on. Then we noticed Frida seemed strangely listless, and checked her temperature to find she had a fever. Not serious enough to require a doctor or emergency room visit, but enough to concern us. Her temperature fluctuated throughout the day until eventually by bedtime it was still too high and we decided not to go to the gig. We’ve been pretty lucky with Frida’s health so far, she’s suffered nothing worse than a cold. So it didn’t feel quite right going out and leaving her the first time she might be properly ill. And it didn’t feel right one of us going out without the other on Valentine’s either.
By the time we finally decided not to go, it was 7.15, our babysitter (mum) was already here, and the Decemberists were due on stage in 45 minutes. We couldn’t even give the tickets away as it would have required finding someone who a) liked the Decemberists enought to rush off and see them at no notice, but not enought to buy a ticket b) had no Valentines/Saturday night plans c) could drop what they were doing and dash over to our house, pick up the tickets and get to the show in 45 minutes.
So, disappointed, we ended up staying in with pizza and a good film, which is a typical Saturday night for us in any case. The coda to the story is that Frida, for the first time ever, slept for twelve hours solid and woke up the next morning with temperature back to normal. So we probably could have gone out without any problem as it turned out, but we weren’t to know, and we only would have worried in any case. A shame, but there will be other gigs, and other illnesses, we just hope they won’t coincide again.