Yesterday I wrote a narrative disclosing ten things you probably didn’t know about me. It was light hearted list, deliberately made daft, irrelevant, and uninformative.
Without re-reading it, I can’t recollect most of the nonsense I penned; the only one springing to mind being ‘Little Jimmy Osmond taught my dog the piano.’…… A fact that was, of course, ridiculous and clearly untrue…….. Jimmy was a trombone teacher!
After reading the draft prose, my wife Karen expressed disappointment at the inane choices I’d included within the list. When I asked her to elaborate, she advised she was hoping to find out ten genuine facts about me, not read the nonsense I’d put.
Bearing in mind she knows my narratives are ordinarily tongue in cheek, her surprise at my disingenuous disclosures baffled me. I’ll give her the fact they were daft (and deliberately so), however, as we’ve been married for nearly twenty nine years there isn’t much factual detail that would be news to her.
If I had decided to make the ten facts genuine, I could have added ‘secrets’ like I have a terrible habit of grinding my jaw at home. It’s something I’ve done since being a kid, which seems to be getting worse with age. Hours a week are spent doing this, which can’t be doing my jaw bone any good, but as hard as I try cannot cease the annoying tic.
Thankfully, it is something I manage to suppress in company. If unable to mask it, my constant gurning and subsequent imbecilic look would no doubt deeply unsettle individuals in my company.
However, as I allude to above, as I’m more self-disciplined outdoors I needn’t concern myself with this aesthetically alarming habit. As a solution to deterring my indoor grinding of jaw, my brother Ian suggested imagining I’m outside when I’m in fact indoors.
I thought this was a hair-brained epiphany from my sibling, but in a desperate bid to discontinue this habit I asked our Ian to elaborate on his suggestion.
“Well make your front room ambience similar to your outdoor experiences.” proffered my brother.
“What, like building a bus stop in my front room?!” I sarcastically retorted.
“Don’t be daft, Gaz!……. I meant something such as eating a McDonalds in your front room, while pigeons scavenge around your feet.” Ian attempted to clarify.
“So you’re suggesting I try sell to Karen (my wife) that having loads of pigeons wandering around our house is a worthwhile sacrifice to stop me gurning uncontrollably?” I disbelievingly inquired.
“Well, sometimes you have to forfeit a clean carpet to stop your husband looking like a simpleton!” Ian highlighted.
I didn’t respond to that, leading to our kid suggesting a strategic change “Alright then, Gaz. What about eating the McDonalds in your front room, but without the pigeons!”
“I don’t eat McDonalds outside, so by your theory that strategy won’t work.” I pointed out despairingly.
“Ok then. What do you do outdoors?” Ian asked, desperately attempting to resolve my conundrum.
“I garden a lot. Sometimes I go for coffee with Karen.” I answered.
“There’s your answer then!” countered my brother, in an unimpressive eureka moment.
“My answer?…. So which one do you suggest I try?…… Walking around the kitchen with the lawnmower, planting a clematis in the fireplace, or build a chuffing Costa under the stairs?”
“A Costa under the stairs sounds good!” Ian mused.