I grew up in a family of 4. I was then and am now slightly in-awe of all 3 of them and consider myself a fortunate follower. I’m really quite comfortable to put myself in the role of underdog and knock them up a wicked-wow pedestal to dance around on (we love a good dance). You see, I want to keep them there. Forever.
There’s not much I do without considering what one of them would think and hoping they’d approve or will be proud and knowing (or thinking I do) that they’d frown-on something. I’ve unwittingly made them my moral compass. I have of course also painted myself into the role of a black sheep (panto-style). I must quickly add that this very trait drove and drives them bonkers. These, my IT support (just switch it off and f*cking on), my pit-stop crew, are THE ones who tell me how proud they are and how wonderful some of my doings are. In this vein I have unwittingly collected two more vital crew members, my BFF (met her as a co-goofy buck-toothed Kylie and Jason lover aged 6) and my cable boy (husband and fit friend of 10 years). They are my mattress to fall back on. Lumpy and slightly barbed in parts, those are the bits that force you to get the hell up and get the f on with it.
My mother told me about radiators and drains. Radiators are shamazing to be around and you can’t get enough. The ‘let’s just have one more glass’ because you don’t want the evening and the conversation to be over. The ones who make you feel you could and should apply for that job and that you must be a good person (beyond that bag of decent clobber you gave to Age UK) and a ruddy good laugh if they want to hang with you.
These 5 are my bustling, banging, super-efficient wall of radiators. They are my nest and I am warm-blooded.
Some of my biggest hopes for gumdrops and the bear are:
- Be a radiator
- Surround yourself with radiators
- Try out a drain just to know the feeling and move away quickly
Oh the other list starts with:
- Try smoking but don’t do it for a living, it feels cool but buggers your lungs up
- Don’t join ’em if you can’t beat ’em, start a new ‘them’
- Don’t ride a motorbike. Ever. Have you seen those gnats get squished on our windscreen?
Perhaps more on this another day!