How does it change many dyslexics to take a light-bulb?

August 13, 2008

Good morning one and all, and welcome to my little corner of t’internet!

 

‘tis a bright, sunshiny morning here in Londontown, and I feel bloody marvellous. How the devil are you?

 

A big good morning especially to my wonderful friend Gemma – hi Gems! More on our rather lovely evening last night in a bit.

 

Oh… where to begin, eh? Is it even worth mentioning work? Sadly, it’s not. Work = bollocks at the moment, sadly. I’ve got more chance of waking up next to Liz Hurley than I have of being mentally engaged at work at the moment.

 

Today is the birthday of three, yes THREE of my fellow Hoffmani (plural, see) – Lucy, Patricia, and John Boy, who is currently running around Ireland causing lots of mischief. On the off chance that they are reading this – HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to speak to them all soon.

 

For a forgetful person such as myself, and being that I was only informed of this triple birthday celebration on Monday, mistakes are always likely to happen – and, of course, they did. I’ll brush over the specifics if that’s ok with my dear readers, but today, someone will be receiving a rather large bunch of birthday flowers, despite their actual birthday being in nearly half a year’s time. A frantic call to Interflora got what I am sure would have been a very embarrassing (and quite confusing) birthday balloon changed to some rather more suitable chocolates, and I had to endure a rather awkward telephone conversation with the Interflora customer services lady as she relayed my heartfelt message back to me time and time again, destroying the anonymous security of pouring one’s heart out on the interweb.  Oh well, it’s always nice to get flowers, I guess… I hope the person who ends up getting them at some point today enjoys them.

 

I have spoken previously at some length about reconnection – how I was reconnecting with myself, and with others. I am pleased to report that this is a continuing theme. (No Gemma, this isn’t the bit about you just yet) Yesterday afternoon, I received an email from Gabi, a wonderful Austrian teacher we had on our course – this completing the set of 27 people (teachers and students) on our course who I have spoken to in one shape or form since we left Florence House. I’ll write more on this nearer the time – I want to work out just how truthful and… detailed I want to go into this one – but I also made arrangements to see another ‘drifted’ friend, Orly, next weekend for what we mutually agreed was some needed hell raising and, darn it, some good old fashioned fun. I imagine a sensible night in with fruit teas and ‘Kerplunk!’ isn’t exactly what we were referring to.

 

(Ok Gemma, this is your bit)

 

Last night was pretty important to me. Gemma is one of my all time great friends in the world, and coming from Hoffman, I was quite aware that (a) I wanted to be friends with her again, and (b) in the few years past, I had probably done a bit of a disservice to her – not that I wasn’t interested in her life, or engaged in conversation – more that I was just not in the ‘care about Gemma and her needs too’ headspace that any real friend should have been.

 

So, last night, I endeavoured to put it right. And I think we did, personally. Gemma and I connected on a much deeper, visceral (my favourite word at the moment) and much more emotionally honest level than we probably ever have. After pizza and sensible (and dare I say, extraordinarily disciplined) bites of desert at West Hampstead’s Pizza Express, I dare say Gemma and I, like so many of the people I have managed to speak to since I came out of the Hoffman Process, actually became ‘real’ friends.

Oh, and I managed to step in an invisible puddle. Seriously.  

 

I normally introduce all my friends on this blog, simply because I realise that the vast majority of people reading it are from my course, and won’t know who they are. Gemma is no different – but I am also going to tell you one of our favourite shared moments, and a story always told to people who dare ask how we met.

 

Gemma and I met through two people: my best friend Daniel, the only person I am really struggling with post-process, and her sister Samantha. The two of them were friends, and I vaguely remember going to their house with Daniel one summer’s day, and meeting her, and then somewhere over the course of the next ten years, we became friends.

 

Now, the story: Well, as you do, Gemma and I decided to spend a Saturday evening in together watching a movie at her house. Being that massive, obsessively collected DVD libraries were not what they are now, Gemma and I took the short trip to her local Blockbuster Video, as was the style at the time.

 

Like all video stores on a Saturday night, you had a very simple choice: either scramble for the one remaining copy of a new release, or wade through endless shelves of crappy old dramas starring Tom Berenger, or comedies with Danny De Vito until one of you knows a film the other doesn’t, and convincing the other that it was perfectly acceptable Saturday night fodder.

 

Long story short – if it’s actually possible for me to be capable of such a thing – Gemma and I split, I stayed in the comedy section, and after a short period of silence, I shouted Gemma’s name across the store to draw maximum attention to myself, held a video aloft, and then allowed my jeans (which I had undone – this was totally premeditated) to drop to my ankles, at which point Gemma collapsed with laughter. Or embarrassment. Maybe she can clear that one up. My reasoning was – hey, it’s the comedy section; do something funny! I guess that’s just the kind of guy I was back then.

 

And with that mental image, I am going to draw today’s blog to a close. If it helps put a smile on your face, feel free to keep the image of the 18 year old me with my trousers round my ankles in your minds – keep it clean though. This is a family show, folks.

 

Lots of love,

Closed Box

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One Response to “How does it change many dyslexics to take a light-bulb?”

  1. Gemma Says:

    It was embarrassment, my dear, definitely embarrassment!!

    Thanks for a lovely evening x


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