"Tangerine" by Amanda Prowse
No 3 "SHE SAID WHAT!??!"
No 3 “She said WHAT!??”
I talk to myself. We all do it, don’t we? Or at least I assume we all do. And I’m not talking about the odd “Ooh, it’s chilly today,” when we first step outside or “I fancy a cup of tea,” and “Did I turn the iron off?” as we look up from our laptops/phones/PCs on a dreary afternoon or set off in the car. This I feel is not so much talking to yourself as letting your brain know you are present, sense checking anything that springs to mind. Oh no, what I’m talking about is full-on chit-chat. The in-depth conversation and most crucially the giving of advice! Just me?
I particularly like to talk to myself when I drive. And no, I don’t care what anyone next to me in the traffic jam might think. I figure they’ll assume I’m on a hands-free device chatting to someone or singing along to my Duran Duran CD. It’s not a planned thing, and there’s no introduction or agenda, I’m not mad! But more a gentle easing into a topic that’s been playing in my mind on a loop and which I need closure to. Here are some examples of recent discussions (some quite heated!) that I’ve had in the car…
1. “I know I need to lose weight, but I find it so hard in the cold weather when all I want is toast and chips. Would moving to a hot country make it easier to eat healthily?”
2. “I wonder what happened to Martina who was in my class. She was nice, the kind of girl that had I put more effort in with, I’m sure we’d still be mates now… you know, nip in and out for coffee, know each other’s kids really well. How can I look her up? And would that be weird after forty years of radio silence?”
3. “I have definitely got Covid, again. Definitely. No doubt. All the symptoms.”
4. “I don’t remember there being so many seagulls when I was growing up. Where have they all come from and why?”
5. “If I was going to get a tattoo, what would it be?
6. “I’m sure I could have been an Olympic archer if I’d really put my mind to it… I mean it’s true I’ve never fired an arrow, but how hard can it be? Is it too late for me to try and make the team?”
7. “I feel so bad that Paul took the blame for breaking that vase. And I let him. I should have intervened. But I was seven and didn’t know I’d still be wearing the guilt of it all these years later…”
8. “Cheese… C, I love cheese! I don’t eat meat and want to be more Veganish but CHEESE! I am weak. Weak for cheese… remember to put another slab of Brie on the shopping list.”
After much debate the answers to the above questions are as follows:
1. “Just stop making toast and eating crap already! Enough! You don’t need to move country. Just buy some gaffer tape and stick it over your gob! Or better still, invest in some salad!”
2. “Now I think about it, wasn’t it Martina who took a dump in her sleeping bag on our school camping week? It was!!! I don’t think I can be friends with someone who did that. Sorry Martina. I’m sure your kids are lovely n’all, but eeuuuw…”
3. “Do a test!” I did the test. Then I did another test. No Covid. Again.
4. “More seagulls are a result of more food to scavenge. Landfill, urban bins and waste. Our landscape must be like an all you can eat seagull buffet…”
5. “I’d get a little inkwell on my wrist with a quill pen coming out of it. Yup. An inkwell and quill. Nice. And maybe MUM written underneath, just because…”
6. “Maybe try and fire an arrow before announcing to the world your ambition to be in the Olympics. Maybe start with flicking an elastic band or two across the room and work your way up… what would come after elastic band? A catapult possibly?”
7. “Thinking about it, I doubt Mum will remember the vase incident, let it go! I mean on some days she barely remembers me! But maybe apologise to Paul. Sorry Paul.”
8. “Vegan cheese!!! It’s a thing. I’ll try it! Cancel the Brie.”
So, you see, talking to myself can be quite useful, helping to resolve all manner of issues and I even use it a means to work through plot holes or to expand on characters or ideas in my books.
I also talk to the dogs, which I guess is the same as talking to myself… I ask their opinion, I tell them how I’m feeling, I cry into their fur when the mood dictates, and they do respond. Frequently I feel a little paw on my arm of reassurance or get a good hard stare that I take as understanding. And I’m convinced that one day, one day they will answer me, like properly answer me. I’ve already decided that Beau will have a cockney accent with a deep baritone and Dottie is slightly more refined, breathless and edgy… as if she’s about to panic. I’m also certain they chat when they they know i’m out of earshot.
One of my favourite stories is when my gangly, teenage brothers jumped off the school bus in the North Yorkshire village where we lived and a rather stern matriarch a little way behind them in the lane shouted out, “Walk with me! Come on, walk with me!” my brothers, ever polite, slowed down until they flanked her and at a snail’s pace, wandered awkwardly, in silence up the winding lane until they reached her house. “Would you like us to help you inside or open the door?” They didn’t really know how to proceed without causing offence. “What on earth are you talking about?” she shouted. “Do you need any help?” they clarified. “No, I don’t! Go away!” she barked. “But you told us to walk with you,” they looked at each other in confusion. “I was talking to him!” she pointed to the verge where a small, scruffy mutt emerged from the undergrowth. They still laugh about it now. It makes me wonder what on earth she thought was going on when they walked very slowly either side of her up the long and winding road…
Anyhoo, off to fold laundry and discuss what to make for supper, hoping I come up with some fab, quick, tasty recipe and tell myself about it.
Your posts always make me smile, just what I need at the moment 😄
Do all of the above and have full on convo’s with my dogs 🤣😂just off to the asylum to visit myself 😂🤣xx