The Factoid Homework

Zoe and Cowgirl have zapped me. Seven handy and useful factoids about myself? Haven’t I told people everything? Is there anything handy left - let alone useful? You don’t really want anything from the dim and distant past do you, girls? Like coming top in needlework at the age of 7 at my village primary school and then obviously quitting while ahead. Apart from the occasional button or running repair I’ve never picked up a needle since. So what then?

I know some people are confused about my provenance. Well, I am a bit of a mongrel. Born in Scotland, I grew up in England and now live in Wales. I may go to live in France in the future. Having lived in Wales for 30 years I have a playing qualification should they ever need new blood in the tiddlywinks team. But as my four grandparents were born, respectively, in England, India, Ireland and Scotland I could play for any of those countries as well. I am told I could even qualify for status as a non-resident Indian, should I need to open a factory in Bombay. About as likely, I feel, as my joining the Welsh tiddlywinks team.

My favourite flower is the nasturtium. I just love the colours and trumpet shapes of the flowers and the big leaves that sensibly have the stem in the middle; and I love the way nasturtiums produce lots of seeds that you can keep and sow next year. My favourite vegetable is the potato, but as that is boring, I had better opt for leeks in winter and globe artichokes in summer.

I would opt for tomatoes but they, of course, are a fruit. I love tomatoes as much as ChrisH detests them. I won the family accolade of ‘Cook of the World’ for my tomato salad, which I make from fresh sun-ripened beefsteak tomatoes, sliced and drizzled with walnut oil and garnished with basil, feta, finely chopped garlic, olives and seasoning.

Maybe it’s the tomatoes, though, that give me surreal experiences. What was I doing, for instance ‘in charge’ of the Cuban vice-minister of Agriculture in a dried flower warehouse in Bridgend? Or how did I come to be playing snow hockey for a Danish team (Jutland) in Norway? After all, none of my ancestors have come from Denmark, at least not since the last beserker finished up on the rape and pillage detail and returned to his longship). Still there must be Viking genes in there somewhere for my blood group is A negative - characteristic of hairy gentlemen with horns on their head. (Now that I think of it, Cowgirl, perhaps this is why my avatar is horned and hairy).

Surreal though is not psychic: I have to tell you that I am not good with ghosts or the paranormal. I can’t made crystals turn, or dowsing rods vibrate. I can’t sense spirits or weedle messages from ouija boards. I am a complete failure, really, in that department. It’s always disappointed me. To compensate I try to imagine that I’m the reincarnation of some historical character. Rosemary Stewart was so convinced that she was the living embodiment of James IVth of Scotland that she even wrote his autobiography. I have it on my shelf. I have tagged the remainder of the Stuart dynasty, but thus far they show no sign of doing their homework.

On the other hand I have had an‘out-of-body’ experience, floating over myself aged about 12, sitting on a beach in a fetching aqua cozzy. It was like a film, except that I could actually feel myself being in two places at once. Seriously bizarre! I have also ‘heard voices,’ as when a good friend died and I was alone beside the coffin. He just started to talk to me. I could not have made up what he said or reproduced his accent. Much, much more than imagination.

And talking of dying you either loved the late Princess Diana or you loathed her. I loved her. I went to the funeral, watched everything in Hyde Park and cried all day. I was still crying, I remember, at the Severn Bridge on the way home. I wrote a cheesy poem of condolence that reversed the famous Dylan Thomas sentiments and ended ‘Go now, gentle, into that good night. A star eclipsed that once did burn so bright.’

As you will have seen from the last paragraph I am also part of that persuasion within the Purple Coo community that believes that if you start a paragraph, or even a sentence, with ‘and,’ your head will not fall off.

Is that seven? I have lost count. Who would believe that I actually passed Physics ‘A’ Level? As with the needlework example, further temptations in that direction have been easily resisted.

(I am not going to tag anyone, because I’m sure everyone must have been tagged already by others. With 7 tagged at a time, the 50 or so active members of this community can all be reached in a chain of two. Nevertheless if there is someone out there feeling lonely and unloved, like the small boy outside the sweetshop, do let me know and I’ll do a special hand-embroidered Fennie tag, just for you).