I fell asleep watching Call the Midwife last night. For those unfamiliar, the series follows the lives of several midwives and their community in London’s East End in the 1960s.
As I was drifting off, I heard a character call another character “pet.” I was half-asleep so I don’t remember who was calling who “pet.” All I remember is it was an adult calling another adult “pet.” It sounded something like this:
“Pop the kettle on, pet.”
“Okay, love.”
I’ve noticed the midwives issue a lot of nicknames. They do not discriminate. The call babies everything from “young sir” to “old bean.” They call old women everything from “sweetie” to “old thing.” They call women who’ve just given birth “brave girl” or “good girl” or “lass” or “precious.”
If I were to witness any of these “nickname moments” in real life, I’d be equal parts suspicious and pissed. But there’s something super special about the way the midwives do it — I listen for the nicknames and love every single one, including “pet.”
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Why do you watch the telly when you’re trying to sleep, pet? Help me understand.
When my husband is out of town, I tend to sleep with the TV on. I like to watch / listen to dramatic television series that I think are perfectly written. Call the Midwife is one example. Mad Men is another. The Queen’s Gambit is also excellent. I was born in the 60s and am naturally drawn to the decade. Also, I cling to an absurd hope that listening to good television writing while I sleep will help me write better.
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Why do you write this blog, pet? Help me understand.
I cling to an absurd hope that blogging will help me write better.
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How do you feel about being called pet, pet? Help me understand.
In my imagination, I like it. In real life, I don’t. So I let the voice inside my head call me pet, but no probably one else.
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Not a lot of time to write today. Thank you for reading. Do you like nicknames? -Connie
Constance Kuntz 