This is a support blog for our creative writing venture www.thewritespace.ie
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Cheer uping
Business course going ok. Yesterday found out that I would have to have a whole range of things for my classes to make them "viable." Namely stickers for hot and cold taps in the bathroom, a fire extinguisher and a blanket. "You're worse than my mother," I said daringly to the lady hosting the class. We all laughed, as we all do. So I was heartily surprised to hear how loud they roared when I made the sincere suggestion that one guy's relishes should come with sticky labels attached with possibly a sketching of his own face. As in the same as Paul Newman. "Now correct me if I'm wrong," says the person next to me, "but Sam does not look anything like Paul Newman. No harm intended." Raucous laughter. Someone mentioned I even "cracked them up." Took this as a non compliment. After lovely break with pick and mix chocolate biscuits, we had problem with no milk. Until Sam showed us the fridge which we had mistaken for a dishwasher. Second half of class I got chatting, as you do, to lovely man who informed me he had worked "all over the world" in a certain field which for his own security (social) I cannot go into and expand on. But talk about place-dropping, he only worked in America, (jaw dropped at the amount of locations parade lingustically about the place) and I think (the regular favourite for CV inclusion) Abu Dhabi. Then he said he had worked in the Twin Towers, upon which I gripped the plastic in my seat. "Really!" I was hooked. "When it went down?" "No, before that." "Before it went down?" "No. But it is too upsetting to talk about." The class returned to their seats and the conversation struck up about The Sale of Good Act 1980. "A receipt is a legal document for tender in exchange of goods?" he asked putting up his hand as I saw nothing but a white shirt infront of my face. All mention of the TT forgotten about, until he turned to me in a lull in the conversation. "Never look back," he whispered. "Ne-ever." I felt guilty, so shoved the one fingered variety Twix I had 'stolen' from out of my anorak and onto the table. Start as I mean to go on.
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