I remember the first time I realised I could read. I remember that I was 4 and I remember how I was sitting and where I was sitting and the time of day and where my mum was (although I don't remember where my brother was. Sorry James, nowt personal) and that I ate a banana afterwards. I remember that the first time I watched Peter Pan, when I was about 3, I was eating a banana at a point where Captain Hook puts a sword in the map. Now every time I watch it, I taste banana. I remember the night before I first went abroad, I was 7 and wearing a Forever Friends nighty and I picked a scab on my knee and it stuck to it, then I ate a banana. I can remember the exact lay-out of page 23 of my GCSE French revision guide (it was about weather, not les bananes. I swear, not all my memories revolve around bananas) and how my teacher told Momma Ginge and I that I'd only get an E, because I never went to lesson. And I remember telling her I'd get an A. And I remember getting an A. I don't remember some beautiful days (well, mainly nights) and not remembering is a beautiful rememberance.
You can have a right adventure through your memories, I've had a fun day out today. Generally, I only remember the bad things. I have flashbacks and nightmares of horrible things, and that doesn't really make for a nice day out. So today I read a really, really fantastic book and finished a really, really fantastic book and drank some Pepsi Max and spent some time being utterly mental. Mental, like... mental maths. Um, yeah.
Had I blogged first thing today, (or yesterday, or the day before, or...) then this would have been yet another bit of a garbled fukmalyf shite. So I waited out the storm, although storm is not at all the right word for it; it was more like drizzle, and now here I am. It's garbled, but it's not fukmalyf.
My kidneys are squeezy today, I think they might be getting infected. I like infections, I like anti-biotics. I might be sort of hypochondriac-ing this a little bit, although generally I'm pretty much the opposite of a hypochrondiac, a hyperchondriac? Honestly, how long did I go without getting Quasimodo eye sorted? My whole body looks ill right now. There's no other way to describe it. I'm not underweight or owt, but my hair is that horrible malnourished colour and dry and brittle and... blech. I'm going to dye it dark because that usually makes it look healthier. But I'll miss being ginge. My skin looks yellow-y and dull and my eyes are flat and so on and so on. All the joys of malnourishment without even getting to be slim. OK, OK, fukmalyf ;)