Things that make me smile no.91

The broken coccyx is a big cloud at the moment, but the silver lining is how my friends have rallied round me while I've been out of action. I've had calls, emails and texts every day to check up on me or to offer assistance, and a surprising number of people have come over to keep me company. It's touching to know I have such a great support network.

Where there's smoke there's fire

I picked up smoking sort of by accident during the course of one too many drunken evenings bumming the occasional ciggie. I was twenty, I think. Maybe twenty-one. Well past the age of peer pressure, and had only ever smoked a couple of cigarettes during my teens, to try it, and didn't like it! One of my school friends, who had smoked for many years, and whose lingering cigarette whiff was the reason my mother regularly accused me of doing so, couldn't quite believe the stupidity of my taking it up after so resolutely abstaining during my most impressionable years. As time passed, buying the odd pack here and there turned into a regular, if minimal, habit, which increased beyond all sense about a year ago, when I began working in an office where half of us smoke, and regular smoking breaks are tolerated.

Then two things happened in quick succession. Firstly, I burned my eyeball. A gust of wind picked up, snatched a burning chunk from the end of my cigarette and deposited it squarely in my left eye. I know. It's horrific. If that didn't make you slam your eyelid shut and say 'gah!', then I'm telling it wrong. Then, that evening, I went for a drink with some friends, one of whom recently lost his father to a smoking induced illness, and got into a conversation on the topic. It turns out there is nothing you can say in that situation to justify your decision to keep smoking. The little bleats of "But I enjoy smoking", "But it relaxes me", "But it's not like I'm planning on smoking for ever" sound indescribably pathetic when placed against the enormity of a friend's raw grief. He was pretty hard on me for a while. For instance......
S: It was all very well for my dad; at least he had someone to look after him at the end......
M: Whereas I'm going to die alone?
S: Not if you stop smoking!
Harsh, no? But when he looked at me all sadly and said "I'm sorry. I don't really think you're going to die alone. But you're my friend, and I want to protect you", I just thought.......Oh crap......I don't really have a choice here, do I? His concern (and skilful grasp of emotional blackmail) had already convinced his girlfriend, also one of my best friends, to quit, and now another victory was his.

That was two weeks ago. I'm doing well so far although, granted, I've been far too ill to want to smoke for about four days of that. Still....not bad going I think!

And breathe.....

So.....a facebook status bemoaning my awful day yesterday prompted a surprisingly large number of people to invite me out. One of the offers was taken up, and I was taken out for drinks and pizza. More importantly I had the opportunity to splurge the whole exasperating incident at a sympathetic ear, take a deep breath and let it go. All gone. Well.......perhaps there's still a bit of niggling rancour remaining, but it no longer dominates my thought processes as it did yesterday.

As a little treat today, I got to sneak out of the office briefly to watch a few moments of the Egypt vs Serbia Olympic volleyball test match. This was surprisingly entertaining, although my disinterest in sport is such that my personal highlight was the rows of boys who lined up and engaged in surprisingly intricately choreographed synchronised sweeping routines over the pitch - presumably in order to prevent the players from slipping on the own sweat. Nice thought, huh?

Pay attention

Last night I went out with some old schoolfriends and, at one point in the evening, I managed to miss a crucial scrap of conversation and was astonished to hear that, in one of the girls' home town of Ware, it's illegal to kiss in public. Apparently bouncers will kick you out of clubs if you kiss someone on the dance floor. I was stunned by this restrictive attitude, and bemused as to why Ware has different public decency laws to the rest of the country. Then I twigged. She wasn't talking about her current place of residence, but her imminent relocation to Dubai. Aaaaaaah, I get it now! That makes much more sense!

In a bit of a stew

The play is nearly upon us and, as we get closer and closer, the details start to be introduced to rehearsals. Details such as the 'practical' stew in scene three. Our lovely stage manager duly went and purchased a tin of stewing steak, to be served cold with instant mashed potato. Naturally I wasn't looking forward to a stellar gastronomic experience, but even my grade of pessimism couldn't have anticipated just how bad it would be. The thick film of jelly and congealed, white fat on the top of the tin was the first clue to what I was in for, swiftly followed by the reek of cat food that rose from within. As I sat at the table in the 'canteen' and delivered my lines, I pushed it dolefully round my plate. Granted, the sudden engagement with the character was fairly useful, but at some point I was going to have to start shovelling the nauseous mess into my mouth at great speed. I did so, wishing more than anything that I was able to turn off my tastebuds, and the sight of me sitting there with tears streaming down my face as I struggled not to boak must have been too pitiful to bear, as one of my castmates promptly offered to whip up a stew and bring it in to be doled out to me each night. I don't know when I was last so grateful for anything!

Incompatibility

D: We look weird standing next to each other.
M: Yeah, it's that 'we don't look like we should be friends thing again'.
D: Well it's hardly surprising when you aspire to look like you fell out of a fancy dress box, and I aspire to look like I fell out of a post-apocalyptic horror movie.