medical day 12: a day of small simple tasks

we can’t remember what the television program/programme was (was it the original series of Fame? perhaps it was). but we DO remember the phrase:

take it down a thousand.

so if it was in a series set inside the high school of performing arts with some very highly strung performers, that would make sense.

we remember it best because, we’re sure you saw this coming……people used to say it to US when we were at University (dreaming spires – yes – Oxbridge, no – London, actually, closer to the Dr. Marten’s supplier up at Camden Market, love).

so today we took that advice (after yesterday’s depths of despair).

we took it down a thousand.

and did some very small simple tasks. and It Helped.

we posted some letters (walking very slowly – but a block further each time and resting lots).

we loved this machine. it took us a minute to stop thinking we were crazy (what’s new) and realize it really did say that on the screen. so we had to deal with a real person – which is hard (for so many reasons) and we have to lean forward so they can hear us and do lots of eye contact so they don’t bark at us and say “speak up!” like some sergeant major and then they catch sight of the inky black scar on our throat under the “steri-strips” and you can see the double-take. “tattoo gone wrong?” (then they look doubtfully at our big blue eyes and hair (natural, darlings) loosely pulled back in a clip and very sort of someone’s french-aunt-who-writes and the black cashmere sweater (clearly earns her own living) “had her neck done?” (yeah, sort of). and we say “thank you” (mostly with the eyes) and put the big black shades on again and drift out into the early autumnal sunshine on our way.

we have been known to, yes.

mt came for tea. we talked about Everything. especially magical things. mt is a bit of a magical being himself.

and we read a lot of newspapers (such a rare treat.) without giving too much away – we started our career on newspapers – actually That’s Not True. we started our career in RADIO. age 4. yes, you read that right.

come again?

yup. 4.

we wrote at 4. we were (this cannot come as a surprise to you darlings – Very Precocious).

we – um – performed – on Brighton Beach (the one in England) in one of those (probably seriously dubious in provenance) “seafront variety shows” where children are encouraged by (probably a rather creepy old guy) old shoe-shufflers from the boards to get up and sing a song.

we had no interest, even in those days, for doing What Everyone Else Does.

so – apparently – we got up on stage and started doing an extraneous sort of a jazz/spoken word/partly sung solo piece of our own making. god knows if we’d practiced. or whether it was divinely inspired.

anyway. it thoroughly impressed a certain Friend of our parents who was at that time married to one of their friends. he was a young up and coming “DJ” on the local radio station (which had just become a BBC station – we do like to start with the best ;-)

and we ended up writing jingles for him.

seriously.

so there you go.

our first job was age 4 and we wrote jingles (and sang them) for a BBC radio show.

not telling you which year but we’re pretty sure we were in a very nice pair of cord trousers and something in a shiny daisy yellow on the top.

it all starts somewhere.

today it started with posting a letter and moved into various small simple tasks like getting a coffee, reading a newspaper, buying stamps and talking on the sofa with a friend and falling asleep and taking the pills as prescribed and sleeping some more and making a simple lunch.

because that’s all we are capable of doing.

it was a pretty good day.

we know we’re still not responding to your lovely emails and comments. but we want to let you know that we Are Reading Them (and crying and smiling and being Very Grateful).

sleep well, darlings.

4 thoughts on “medical day 12: a day of small simple tasks

  1. rebecca trahan says:

    i think i may have been lucky enough to receive one of the letters you posted, or maybe it is just my ego talking. sending jst back to you soon. keep me posted sweet gloria. xx rst

  2. William Godwin says:

    ‘Chase me Charlie chase me’ That has so made my day.

    ‘My mother made me a Queer’
    ‘If I give her the wool will she make me one?’

    I won a primary school fancy dress parade dressed as a busty pop singer. Wig, boots, microphone. What must she have been thinking? I coverted the tin of toffees I won – they were divine.

    Keep it up my love, you’re doing brilliantly.

  3. Andrew Blackwood Marlay says:

    Dear Friend,

    Sounds marvelous and quite triumphant today. I do love the description of the entire post office moment…exquisitely detailed.

    From the audience (in house seats only, of course), I am thrilled to see you suddenly making a major move forward in recovery. Very ambitious day and looks like you got lots accomplished.

    I am thrilled for you.

    A. XOX

  4. jdeval says:

    Well this post of yours summons a memory.

    My own childhood song recital could never have led to a BBC assignment. I was about 3 or 4 when Dad took me to a pub to show me off to his friends. Apparently I was asked to sing a song and was lifted onto the bar to perform. I sang. Yes I sang, but not the song he anticipated: “Chase me, Charlie. Chase me, Charlie. Up the legs of me drawers. Wooo!”

    The post also reminds me of a recent fact in the news: one of the dreadful Koch brothers is opening a charter school. It is called The Oxbridge Academy, a high school in Palm Beach. Who’d have thought that the idea of Oxbridge could be so perverted?

    XO
    J

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