Glynnis hitched up her green plaid skirt, loosed her knickers down around her ankles and squatted awkwardly adjacent a seldom-used public footpath to urinate on the home pregnancy test stick. The 17-year old sixth-former had come deep in the southern woods outlying her East Kent village to avoid any possibility of being interrupted by her mother and the uncomfortable questions that would inevitably follow. There would by time for that later. Meanwhile, accompanying her was best friend Vicky, who, with a steady hand, simultaneously helped her classmate stay balanced and held the skirt well away from the warm jet of pee Glynnis was now producing.
“Now we wait,” she said finally.
“And you still won’t tell me who the father is?” asked Vicky sheepishly.
“No, I can’t,” replied Glynnis. “Not ever.”
“If you won’t give a clue about who he is,” Vicky persisted, “can you at least tell me what he’s like?”
“He’s a talented singer/songwriter, for a start,” began Glynnis slowly.
“He’s cute, funny and whimsical (sometimes too whimsical for his own good),” she was smiling now. “My baby’s father is sensitive and knows how to tell a good story with a moral. He’s delicate, soft, has great taste and is a bit old-fashioned. I think he knows what it’s like to be lonely and he tries to communicate that in a kind of ironic way.”
“But, please,” Glynnis begged, “Don’t make me reveal his name.”
“Well, have you thought of a name for the baby?”
“Yes, I was thinking of calling it Harry Nilsson, Jr.”
EDITOR: Aerial Pandemonium Ballet is an odd compilation of edited, remixed and, in some cases, re-sung tracks from Nilsson’s first two RCA albums (1967 and 1968). It’s quite good, actually.