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June 29 A Day of big stuffToday I had to take a trip down the M25 to attend a course I've been on, and the road was busy so I daren't let my mind wander. This was good, except for the danger of my falling asleep at the wheel which I never thought was possible before now, but it is. Scary stuff. To combat this, I let my mind wander. Just a bit.
Facing the arse end of cars and lorries for an hour or so affords a different perspective on things - the odd stuff people keep on their parcel shelves for instance, or the variety of businesses winging their way up and down the country.
I was stuck behind one for miles - a white van with:
"A Distributor of HUGE Cheeses" painted on the back. It didn't seem a very big van for such cargo, but for a while I wondered what would happen in the event of an accident ( motorist survives crash only to be crushed by HUGE rolling cheese), and then for another mile or two, I considered the mechanics of making HUGE cheeses, then what it must be like to spend years making it:
'What did you do with your life?'
'I was a distributor of Huge Cheeses.'
'Is that what you always wanted to be?'
'Yes. I planned it from a young age. From the first time I saw cheese. That was it for me.'
It's odd the paths people take into different careers. How you end up dedicating your life to producing cheese for eg, or advertising gherkins. What was it we wanted to be at first? Where did we hope to be? Why are we not? Why do I keep asking all these pointless questions?
I mean, how many kids do you know who, the first time they were asked the question 'What do you want to be when you grow up?' answered, 'I want to work in a big room with no windows, pulling the handle of a machine that makes plastic bags.' or, 'I want to spend my days sitting behind a table putting calls through to some bloke who makes HUGE cheeses.' I began to wonder why I was on this course, why I do the job I do. Where my goats went to.
When I reached my destination it was a beautiful day, but lagging somewhere in the back of my heart. The sun was hauling itself up over the yard arms of the tallest trees and there was nothing wrong, just no peace. I couldn't concentrate on the day's events - not least because of the view of the golfers straight out of the windows ahead - just what is that little wiggle of the arse needed for, before you take a shot? No. I was wondering where it all went, and what to do now.
I had it all worked out once. I was going to spend my life dressed as a wizard, farming goats on an island, bringing out one book a year. I know because I found this written in an old First School notebook. I was a bright, sparky, if slightly solitary kid before I let it go tits-up. Then I made the mistake of taking my goats and retreating - to an internal island which I seem to be damned if I can escape from.
Boats come, now and then - some of them the most beautiful boats you ever saw, with sails like sheets of white paper slapping in the wind, fittings of gold glinting in the sun, the sound of life affirming and gorgeous belly laughs coming from the galley - and they sail right up close to the rocks and throw me ropes - but the damned goats keep crowding me away. Damn me, no one told me they could get so stinky.
June 19 SuckerI went back to work the other day. Money needs to be made, food to be eaten. It was like surfacing after a long sleep to find the world the same, yet different. The lawn is a bog, the plants I put in two or three weeks ago with such optimism had drowned or died from lack of water - a contradiction like so much else.
The first thing I had to do was monitor a maths exam. A roomful of 'special' kids who qualify for help of various kinds and need a separate room and a separate invigilator. All I had to do was sit for two hours watching a woman respond to their requests for help, and the faces of those with learning problems creasing with concentration as they wrote out ten lots of £2.00 down the page to add them up, not knowing you can just move the point; watching the pierced, bleary faces of those who have brains but don't use them because they just don't care, or are 'hard nuts', sighing and settling down to a boring hour and a half and a paper with most of the answers written thus:
"I dunno cos I dont get it do I."
I was doing ok, until about half way through. Then, when the stillness of the room was broken only by the odd sniff or scratch, and its really hard to stay awake, I looked up and saw her. A girl. Well known as a big drinker and smoker, a girl with a mouth like a sewer, about as lovable as herpes, began to nod off at her desk. Her mascara streaked lids drooped, her head dropped, and then....
... almost asleep, her thumb sneaked into her mouth, her head went back on her shoulder and the room filled with a gentle sucking sound. Heads went up, eyes swivelled round, and I got ready to quell the storms of laughter. One boy, known for his Mickey taking and mean spirit saw her, and just for a moment all the sass and bullshit faded from his eyes, he just looked at her and then with a sigh turned back to his chewed paper while she slept on, like the little baby she still is, deep inside.
That was the hardest moment of my first day back. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to pick her up and run her away somewhere where we don't have to hide behind these walls that start off fencing us in, and end up fencing us out. Here in the cold where you really don't want to be.
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