So I got an email from the EbolaFan today. An old friend from secondary school who escaped the folds of Royston Vasey to run away to medical school in London. I know when he left that green and pleasant land we both so cordially called home he was planning on doing research, his big obsession with the Ebola virus now he’s complaining because only two women have let him deliver their babies and he needs to make it five before he graduates. Which he should do this year.
Oddly enough I found it quite interesting to hear about vaginal tears and the like, my obsession with female genitalia popping up I daresay or the fact that my usual companion these days is Skimble, an ex-biology major who can sex pregnant fruit flies in a flash.
That makes at least two schoolfriends who will become doctors this year, there were quite a lot who went to medical schools so I’ll assume most of them will be graduating…I was always the anomally at school. Medicine, Law and the Sciences, that was what the bulk of my friends went into and I ended up doing Art and Art History and teaching. All very strange.
I live in Japan in my own flat and I’m on the eve of my third art exhibition in this country. I am constantly amazed by my life and how trippy and wonderful it is at the moment. I am loved by and in love with two amazing men and things have gone so far and in such strange directions. I was eleven and pulling on those horrible white knee socks for school uniform thinking ‘I don’t want to go to big school but at least my best friend will be there.’ Before I met EbolaFan, before I met any of the BBS and spin-off series characters…wasn’t that just yesterday?
Life seems very strange if you go with your whims is what I’m really saying I guess. but the other thing is I’ve got to the end of my plan. Eleven years old with white kneesocks walking home from school that first week between the horsechestnuts trees that overhung the road and the fir tree hedge of the big house I devised a plan and it got me here. To be honest I’m reasonably surprised to find I’m not dead. And now I know doctors and people who work for the MoD and various governmenty type things… does this mean I’ve grown up? It’s funny because I can remember groping EbolaFan in the Rat Room and Blue Eyes crushing chocolate muffin into the Princess’s hair at Chess Club and further back lying on the bank of the stream with EbolaFan, Q-boy and Scuppy counting watershrimp. I don’t think I’ve grown up but I do have my own flat…and a job…and men friends…wish I was eleven years old with kneesocks because then I might have some idea of what to do next!