I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my childhood recently…I think there are a couple of things Mum used to say to me that always come back and comfort me and make me smile.
The first is that being the seventh child Mum had decided by that point to stop using “baby words” like doggy, horsey, or whatever. She often said “I taught you to use proper words, and when you started talking, you didn’t stop”. The other memory I recall was being called a little helper by Mum (she of course used a Dutch word.) This stemmed from always tidying and helping others. Which of course I still do today.
I am the “if you need me and I can help, I will come running” type. I guess that’s why some offer me gardening and jet washing jobs? 🙂
Yet, the former is the thought that sticks with me most.
I love to talk.
It’s not always easy as sometimes the words stick in my throat…(as the old enemy raises its head and steals my confidence) but if you know me, really know the real me, then the words will flow.
Over the few years I’ve learnt when not to talk. And this stifles me.
I’ve written recently that there are some things that just encourage and beg the words to fall easy like from key to screen… or perhaps tumble gently from my lips as I’m stood telling you a story with passion, with grace, with excitement at an “I get that” moment… or with the hope you’ll listen. Just that. Listen.
I am going somewhere with this… the key in the excitement is the topic. I’m never going to wax lyrical if I don’t need to. Some things can be said more succinctly if it’s something we have all probably tried or experienced, why? because of that. If I stumble upon a new burger that let’s for arguments sake say it contains a most delicate and intriguing array of spices that when you’re served it, it actually piqued your interest and got your senses craving what’s in front of you. Then I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you about the restaurant and the waiter who laughed as I dropped my napkin, spilled my wine, or returned a smile.
I’ll tell you its colour, its texture, how juicy it is…how it took me back to a time or a place or a daydream. I’ll tell you how it made me feel. I’ll tell you it’s oh so good as it’s waiting for me to sink my teeth in as a dribble of its juicy centre falls to the plate. Because, after all, who wants dry manky meat in a run down cafe?
I’d convey all this in the hope that it would excite you enough to go and find one yourself because it’s something that makes me feel like I’ve found the Holy Grail.
But at other times a few words simply say enough. I went to McDonalds today. Had a double bacon burger. Never had one before. Nice and tasty. I’ll try something else next time. Or a delicious coffee, you know from Starbucks…need I say more?
If it hits the spot and we’ve mostly all had experience of it then to me describing it as it is is enough?
It all comes down to confidence, and the subject…if I have the time and I know people will listen, then I will tell you a story, and regale you with details and, sights, sounds and scents. I will smile and and share with you the moments that made me smile, the moment will then become a memory to look back on. And then hopefully smile again…
Am I glad Mum taught me how to speak properly? Yes, of course I am. Perhaps I just wish I had someone who wanted to hear my words…Whatever the case, I have a phone full of notes and moments, some I share(d) and some I shall keep to myself…
So I do hope you enjoy reading my festival stories, the odd tastings, mishaps and reads like this. I guess these all show the real me.