I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, one of the most rewarding things I’ve gotten from this whole blogging malarkey is the friendship.
I worked for a while in the Housing Department of the Local Authority, it was by far the most challenging and traumatic job I’ve ever had. It was renowned for being the section of the Council nobody wanted to work in. It was overworked, understaffed, battered by internal and external politics and just plain manic; although the area is predominantly a retirement haven and full of second-home Londoners it naturally has its poorer patches. Council estates sullenly squat between the holiday homes and listed buildings and with issues such as teenage pregnancy and the number of immigrant workers already on the increase there was simply more demand than supply. Poverty and poor housing have always made excellent, if somewhat miserable, bedfellows and as a consequence there were a lot of frustrated, unhappy people to try and help and unfortunately you literally received abuse on an hourly basis, eight hours a day, five days a week. My colleagues and I were sworn at, screamed at, spat at and, on occasion, even physically assaulted. I hated it and I knew I wouldn’t stay. I had started to dislike humans as a race and I wasn’t comfortable with that, because that’s not who I am. I’m a people-watcher by nature, I always have been. People genuinely interest me, I like to think I’m fairly compassionate and find real pleasure in the smallest of quirks or peccadilloes in others. But by the time I left the Council my opinion of people in general had sunk to an all-time low.
Rediscovering a fondness for my fellow man after some of the things I witnessed and was exposed to during that time was no quick or easy task. Even today, some years later, I am still reluctant to answer a phone if I don’t know who’s calling and I will cross the street to avoid large, angry-looking women in leggings and flip flops. But to be fair, so would most people.
I don’t tend to make new friends easily, I can be rather shy and find talking to strangers a bit of a challenge, plus, if I’m honest, I’ve always had my faithful band of cronies who I’ve known for years and am comfortable with and therefore never really seen a need to make new ones.
So it has come as something of a pleasant surprise to me to have found and made friends online. It has also (almost) fully reaffirmed my faith in mankind. I know I may not have met them in real life, and possibly never will, but I’m starting to realise that friendship can exist on many levels and all levels are valid and valuable. I can get as much pleasure from seeing one of my blogchum’s names pop-up in my inbox as I do from bumping unexpectedly into a friend in town. The emails I get are full of humour, interesting conversation, advice and support and I can enjoy them without even having to worry about whether I’ve brushed my hair that day or whether my socks match.
And I have to say that I’ve truly been touched these last few months by my friend’s concern and kind words of support. I’ve only told a handful of my closest blogchums about the full extent of my health problems, but all them have been superb and encouraged me, each in their own unique way, in my recovery.
They are a wonderfully varied bunch of people from around the world and I can’t help but think that under no other circumstances (unless I was some kind of wealthy nomad with a bad case of wanderlust … or maybe Alan Whicker) would I have been fortunate enough to have found all these different folk. Through blogging I’ve been able to interact with all kinds of people and get glimpses into their lives and their minds. I’ve discussed books, politics, fashion, cats and the potential live showmanship of Stephen Hawking, amongst other things.
Most recently I was asked the following by one of said chums:
“If, hypothetically, you were asked what you think of the following flavors, what would you say?
Hypothetical Chocolate
Hypothetical Ginger
Hypothetical Cranberry
Hypothetical Marshmallow”
Now, the blogger known as wordsx3 has always been a little … out there. But that’s a good thing! It’s just one of the many reasons why I like him so much. He’s funny (although he still seems to be labouring under the delusion that he’s funnier than me, poor man) and intelligent, is always an interesting and entertaining writer (you can find his blog here if you don’t believe me), he makes chipmunks dance, he once found chocolate high heels for me on the internet, plus he sends me links (he refers to himself as Sir-Links-A-Lot) to pictures of the most drool-inducing food that he’s actually made himself! Although I do get the distinct impression that this is more a subtle method of mental torture that he takes sly delight in. Despite that, I admit that I would happily track him down and force him into marriage if there wasn’t a ruddy great ocean between us, because any man that can make you laugh and keep you well fed is a keeper in my book.
Anyway, what with him being a bit of a foodie, I didn’t bat an eye at being asked the above question … plus there had previously been mention of the possibility of a grandiose-sounding care package, and I was unscrupulously hoping to get a wheelbarrow full of chocolatey goodness, or even a chocolate wheelbarrow, I’m not fussy and am very amenable like that.
I needed about 5 seconds in which to answer … chocolate (obviously) AND marshmallow. It’s one of the all-time classic combinations as far as I’m concerned. I pinged off my reply with a happy, expectant grin and waited for my chocolate-mallow wheelbarrow to arrive.
A few days later a box was delivered for me, with enough Sellotape on it to encircle the entire globe at least twice (why do men DO that?). I knew straight away that it wasn’t my dream wheelbarrow but 20 minutes later, when I’d finally managed to remove enough of the tape to allow me to actually open the box, I was in no way disappointed.
First was a rather groovy little card with lots of well wishes and smiley faces to warm the heart cockles …
Then came a CD, made just for me. Once I’d nervously scanned it for Def Leppard tracks and heaved a sigh of relief at not finding any I was pleased as punch …
I really like this kind of thing, it has the personal touch and shows that thought has been put into the gift. It can also tell you a lot about the person giving the gift and it’s always interesting to find out another’s taste in music.
Next came an intriguing little tin, which in itself was a small treat as I love tins and decorated boxes, they’re great for keeping pens, pencils and, er, other small stuff in …
In my opinion every gift should involve tissue paper if at all possible, it invariably adds to the enjoyment of opening it (unless the gift actually IS tissue paper, then it would be too much – and a bit cheap) …
Oooh! What are these? …
Hmmm, now I’m starting to think they might be some kind of double-baked marijuana, happy-flapjack …
No wait!! Is that … chocolate! Marshmallow! Oh, sweet mother of all that is good and crumbly …
Can’t you just feel your arteries hardening in the most glorious way as you look at it? I know I did as I stuffed my fat little face with them as I watched Gilmour Girls that afternoon …
Apparently they’re called “S’mores”, which is very apt, although wordsx3 and I have discussed it and we agree that Crack Tarts™ would be even more apt …
Not wishing my beloved family members to be exposed to the possibility of a long, painful addiction I thought it best to keep them all to myself and to eat them as quickly as possible, thereby effectively removing all possible temptation. I know, a brave, generous act that even Mother Teresa herself would have wept to witness.
But that wasn’t all …
Never let it be said that wordsx3 doesn’t pay attention … or maybe he’s just come to know me rather well. Either way, I loved it, it appealed to me on so many superficial levels that there may even have been a girlish squeak or two and a little excited clapping of the hands for good measure. My mother has often muttered “Little things please little minds” with a sardonic raise of one eyebrow and a glance in my direction, maybe she’s right, but at least it’s a happy little mind.
And the glamour didn’t stop there, aaah …
And finally, came the pièce de résistance, it was swathed in bubble wrap and my sticky little fingers (I was eating the first of the Crack Tarts™ at the time) trembled with excitement as I freed it from it’s plastic, air-filled prison …
Yes indeed. A Hollywood snow-globe.
It’s ok, go ahead and take an awe-filled moment to appreciate it’s magnificence.
Not since Christmas 2003, when as part of the traditional “Old Tat Secret Santa” I found and purchased a large, day-glo comb with in-built calculator (God bless the Japanese!) for my somewhat follicley-challenged boss, have I been so enraptured with something …
Just check out that detail. I love the use of bold colours and the wobbly writing. I’ve never been to Hollywood, but I find it totally feasible that there is humungous Dalek dominating the skyline on Vine Street …
I’m not sure what that is in the brown box on the base, I think it could be body parts …
This is my absolutely favouritest (yes, I know that’s not an actual word, but it suits my purpose for now) part of all. Quite rightly a top director is being portrayed here, the globe says he’s “Hollywood Eddie” … I have no idea who that is, I was just a little disappointed that it wasn’t Roman Polanski, although I guess, what with the big killer Dalek and all the body parts they didn’t want to push the bounds of decency.
But then I looked at it more closely, and I think I know what is perhaps really being shown here … Gene Simmons is branching out as a director of Sci-Fi snuff films! Who knew! He looks very dude-ish in his shades, although I don’t quite understand why he’s only wearing one biker boot? Maybe he’s hoping to start some cool and crazy fashion trend, that would be so Gene! Although I can’t really see it catching on, except for maybe amongst the one-legged biker community.
And what’s with all the skittles lying around? Surely that’s a health hazard and potential billion dollar lawsuit just waiting to happen?
The other thing I really like about it is the realistic way they’ve gone more for a smog effect rather than the traditional snow! It’s little touches like that which make my heart sing with joy!
It was a good day. And wordsx3 is a good friend, and more pertinently a supplier of sugary treats with all the addictive power of a Class A narcotic.
I’ve already wheedled my way onto his “Christmas Cookie List”.
Life is sweet.
