OK, Friday Five, that’s it – you and me are through. I tried to make this relationship work, I really did (well, I tried twice, but who’s counting), but the thing is, Friday Five: it’s not me, it’s you. I mean, it all started out well enough, with questions about stuffed animals and, er, extremes of temperature, but soon you were all, “Which one of your friends has the dreamiest eyes?”, “what’s hanging from your ceiling?” and “where is your nearest playground?” and I was all, WHO CARES? I’m pretty sure no one wants to hear me listing the names of my friends, talking about my ceiling or providing the utterly fascinating information that there is a playground not five minutes walk from here, so that’s it: enough.
From now on, I’m going to be playing a new game every Friday, and you are welcome to join me. It’s going to be called the “Friday Photo”, and what will happen is that every Friday I will post … can you even begin to guess?! Yes, I will post a photo! Well, that’s the idea, anyway. The problem with that is that Friday is my Bad Day – the day when it’s all workworkwork, so I don’t really get the chance to blog much on a Friday, hence the fact that I am actually writing this entry LAST SUNDAY, with my words coming to you as if from THE PAST. Spooky, no? I really hope I don’t die between now (Sunday) and the time this entry is published, otherwise you’ll all be really freaked out to see me suddenly start bitching about The Friday Five from beyond the grave.
Anyway, here is this week’s photo:
You can probably tell from the hair (and the butchness) that this photo is another in my occasional series of embarrassing photos of me as a child. This particular photo is notable, not so much for the “Double Dummy” action going on there (yes, we in the UK call pacifiers “dummies”. Never fails to make me smile.), but for the fact that when I was shown this picture when I was a slightly older child, I immediately started up a weeping and a wailing, and the only thing my parents could get out of me were the words, “MY LEG! I ONLY HAVE ONE LEG! WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME I ONLY HAD ONE LEG!”
Indeed, when you look at the picture again, you’ll see that it does indeed look like I have only one leg. You’d have thought the fact that, when I was shown it, I was very obviously standing there ON MY TWO LEGS would have been a clue, though, hmmm? I think this says a lot more about my mentality than I really like to dwell on, to be honest.
Also: in a related incident, when I was a bit older again, my grandad once told me that my leg had fallen off and rolled under the chair. Yes, I believed him.
Anyway, I think I’ve probably embarrassed myself enough for one day now, so it’sback to work for me. (Unless, of course, I really did die in between writing this entry and it being published, in which case at least I don’t have to spend my Friday night working.)
Well, folks, it’s Father’s Day in this here neck of the woods (and possibly in other necks of the woods, too, only I wouldn’t know about that), and as I managed to completely embarrass my mum with that photo of us and the monkies, on Mother’s Day this year, I thought it was only fair to embarrass my dad, too. I’m all heart, me.
So, without further ado, Forever Amber Enterprises is proud to present one of my other favourite photos of all time:
This was taken during a trip to Edinburgh Zoo back when I, as you can see, was but a tiny wee person. Unfortunately history does not record what was in those sandwiches that made us look so shocked, but I guess we got off pretty lightly, whatever it was, because if you look carefully, almost all of the people in the background are lying down dead.
It would be uncharitable to suggest that my mum, who hates cooking, must have made the sandwiches, but to be honest, she probably did. (But mum, your dinner last night was lovely, honest.)
So, there you have it: number 2 in an occasional series of "embarrassing pictures of me and my parents". Coming soon: the one where my dad has his head in a plastic tube. And no, I’m not even joking.
Happy Father’s Day, dad 
Tagged dad, father's day, parents, zoo
It’s Mother’s Day here in the UK, which is as good an excuse as any, I think, for me to post this picture of me and my mum, which is one of my favourite photos in the whole world ever:
Yes, those are live monkies we’re holding. It was the 70s, okay, you were totally allowed to stand around clutching tiny clothed monkeys to your chest, so we totally did. I love the way my mum is cradling her monkey carefully, like the precious little living being it is, while I have just stuck mine under my arm with a “Yeah, it’s a monkey. SO?” expression on my face. Ah, those were the days…
Happy Mother’s Day, mum. Sorry I couldn’t get you a monkey.
Remember that novel I was writing? Yeah, it would be good if I’d actually done that, wouldn’t it? Why, I could be sitting here with a book deal and an agent right now, but instead? Well, instead I’m sitting here with the remainders of last week’s cold, no novel and no money (Note: SEND MONEY). Way to go, Amber!
Actually, I’m not surprised at the non-completion of the novel: it’s pretty much par for the course by now. The reason I know this? Well, earlier this year I stumbled across my very first diary – what would have been my very first blog, in fact, had blogs been invented in 1987, which they hadn’t. You should be pleased about that – trust me. Anyway,here are some extracts:
August 7th, 1987
“I have started writing a book called Jumping for Joy. It is about a girl called Elaine Shaw and a pony called Carmen.”
August 9th, 1987
“I have given up writing my book.”
December 2nd, 1987
“Nothing else exciting happened so I’ll go now to finish the book I’ve started writing. It’s called ‘A Horse of My Own’ and I think I might possibly be able to keep it up.”
March 1st, 1988
“I’m also getting on well with my new fiction book, ‘Jumping for Joy’ and I’m hoping to get it published when I’m finished.” (Amber’s note: Ha! Yeah you are!)
June 9th, 1988
Things I must remember to take on holiday with me:
1. camera and plenty films
2. diary and pen
3. book I am writing, ‘Ponies Galore’
4. extra notebook and pen (What, just in case you finish Ponies Galore and decide to dash off another one? Wait… am I having a conversation with my younger self, here?)
5. Observers Book of Horses
6. Riding things
7. Ted
8. Walkman and cassettes
Did you pick up on the fact that I liked horses? A lot? And that I’ve been failing to complete novels since I was TEN YEARS OLD? (Actually, I did finish one of them. I think it was ‘Jumping for Joy’. I’d give you an extract of that, but I gave it to my friend Rhona to read, and she never returned it. I like to think that Rhona re-reads it every year, just to remind herself of the antics of Elaine Shaw and her pony Carmen, but, y’know, probably not.)
It makes me sad to think that I’ve been failing at something for such a long time. I doubt that ten-year-old Amber would be impressed with the adult version of herself. I mean, for one, I have no ponies, for two, I haven’t even written any books about ponies, and for three, George Michael turned out to be gay, people. I also didn’t grow up to be a pop star, which was the career I had in reserve, just in case the whole Olympic showjumper/latter day Patricia Leitch thing didn’t work out. Which, of course, it didn’t.
I really should go and write that book now, huh? (Or maybe just go to sleep?)
Tagged childhood, old diaries, ponies
|
|
|
