Perceptions & Perspective

Earlier this month, I was invited to a book event with Words, Wine and Wit. I had no idea what to expect and when I got there (sweating and bloated post-holiday, sporting jet lag) I walked into a room of grown up, glamorous women, mumbled something about needing the loo and ran out again, dogs under my arm.

A copy of my book was sat on each placemat and there were all these vases of dried flowers that I always send to my friends but have never treated myself to. I panicked. What did I have to say to these women about anything?

I went downstairs to have lunch. The waiter served my sweet potato fries to the wrong table and when I pointed it out, he went to go get them back but they were being eaten and one of the women going at them was also eating giant shrimp with her hands so I wouldn’t have accepted them back anyway. I could see all this because they were right next to us. I swear they knew they were eating my chips. The waiter apologised and ordered more, but they took ages so I was late and they burned the roof of my mouth when I crammed them in. This has nothing to do with anything, I’m just still mad about it.

When I went back upstairs, worrying about falafel in my teeth/smelling/everything all at once, I took my place at the head of the table which felt odd, like I was Ned Stark in Game of Thrones or something. Not that I think I am the King in the North or was worried I was about to get killed; I was just wondering what was going to happen next. I felt like I should have some sort of presentation at the ready. Some of those PowerPoint slides that whizz in from the left.

Jemma was the organiser. I need to say that she is ridiculously attractive and cool and has the best eyebrows I’ve ever seen which immediately made me feel crap because my old school friend plucked my eyebrows when we were fifteen and mine have never grown back. Hers did, obviously. Also, Jemma had a dress on and looked great in it. I tried on some dresses in ROSS while I on holiday (which is like TK Maxx). Now I don’t understand Spanish, but I know the women in the changing room were not being complimentary about me. I bought it to spite them and now I have a dress I don’t want to go with all the books I don’t want but bought to please people I don’t know who recommended them to me in shops.

So, anyway. Where was I? Oh yes, Jemma asked me what my book was about and I looked at these ladies, all dressed so nicely, one even had glitter on (you know who you are and we are coming back to you later!) and I didn’t know what to say. So I told them the truth, which is that the book is about lonely awkward women who don’t have any friends and never seemed to belong anywhere. Obviously I assumed they were all the best of mates and had nicknames for each other, but I was wrong, as I often am, because I jump to conclusions without thinking things through. This was written on a lot of school reports along with ‘engage brain, then open mouth’ .

Turns out most all of them hadn’t met before and were just as scared as I. (That is a line from this amazing story by Dr Suess called "What Was I Scared Of?" which is about a small yellow creature who claims not to be scared about anything but then he spots a pair of pale green pants with nobody inside them and is petrified. Look, it’s better than I’m making it sound. Read it yourself.)

So we went round the table, and you would not believe how insane these gals were. We had a woman who said she was a dentist (amazing teeth on her, I immediately stopped smiling) but actually only does extractions. She pulls out massive teeth all day! With these dainty little hands! One lady was a casting director. One lady designed luxury bathrooms. One ran an agency to help influencers. I can’t remember all the jobs. (I can’t remember if I took my anxiety tablets most days, or put on my estrogel gel.) Solicitor! That was one of them. Basically, all of them were ‘something’ and then this one woman said, ‘I am just a mum’ and I hated myself for asking ‘what do you do?’. She was the gorgeous glitter lady with this killer green dress on, the one that made me feel like a troll who had to go and hide in the toilet and clutch Enzo to my chest and do a nervous little wee in the dark; the light didn’t work in my cubicle, and I wanted to shout for help but also wanted to never leave.

Look, here’s my point. I don’t ‘do’ anything. I am also ‘just a mum’. I really am. I have no qualifications. I don’t know if I’ll ever get a book published again, and if I don’t, I don’t know what I’ll do instead. I am not quite unwell enough to register as disabled but too ill to get a job, and even if I could, who would employ me? I need a nap at 12.30 each day. I can’t remember what anything is called, I can’t count, or carry hot drinks or heavy items. I failed my driving test eight times ON THE SAME THING. These women, who had intimidated me, were incredible. Between us we could have successfully run a commune - which is an idea I think about a lot. Kind, decent people helping on another out all day. Group bedtime at 9pm for quiet book reading. A tea urn that is always fresh. But I’m getting off track...

I ended up oversharing as I do (yes Mrs Knickers, you know who you are) and laughing and getting a bit tearful and feeling seen and I realised, it’s not always what you do in life, it is the people you meet. (No that is not Dr Suess; well maybe it is.)

I met some amazing women on holiday too. There was this Irish lady who is just now training to be a mental health nurse in her forties (and is going to be amazing at it). And a cop from Brooklyn who let me hold her badge and showed me videos of gun violence which scared me so much I had to go and have a cup of tea and cuddle the pillow and who made my kids laugh by splashing everybody in the rapids and opened up slime in shops for them to play with, fearless of being told off.

And here is what I’ve realised. Life is not defined by what we do for a living. In fact, ‘what do you do?’ should go in the bin and be replaced with ‘who are you?’ regardless of how you fill your days or how much you earn or what letters you may have after your name. If you are a police officer or an accountant or a mum or a lifeguard. Who are you and what sunshine do you bring?