My Favourite 6/1
What’s the most time you’ve spent apart from your favourite person, says the prompt. Ooh tough one thinks I. For favourite come and go. By the very nature of the beast, they fall in and out of favour, as your life changes and develops. You have – as the Beatles sang – “places you remember, with lovers and friends I still can recall. Some are dead, and some are living. In my life, I loved them all.” Replace love with favourite and you see my dilemma. But, I shall do my best…
My Nana May was my first favourite person though. She spoilt me, played with me, gave me my view of the world. Helped me understand that sometimes you have a big bad and you have to fight it. She was never a member of the silent generation. She was the generation before. She died in 1983, at the age of nearly 84. That’s a long time to be out of my life. But I teach history. I use her as an example to explain 20th century to my students and pupils. So really she’s never really out of my life. I may blog about her, later.
My publisher is another of my favourite people. He comes in and out of my life, to nag, to bounce ideas upon. To tell me I am talented. To tell me I can do this. We catch up on Twitter. We talked today on the telephone. Had good laughs and made plans. He’s one of my favourite people, because he took a chance and published my work. He has faith in me. A plan to nurture my writer’s soul.
My constant favourite person, must be my OH. My soul mate. We’re apart at the moment. He’s in Eton, making a mess and sorting out a kitchen. He’s back tomorrow. I don’t like it when we’re apart. Telephone conversations and texts don’t cut the mustard with as contact with this favourite person.
When I was at school, my favourite person was a teacher. More about him in a later post. When I first started work, my favourite person was a colleague. He taught me a lot about how theatre worked. You see places and people are intertwined. They are all loved in their way… But, are they the only “people” you can favourite?
Lankey is my favourite toy. He’s 18 months younger than me. I post about his annual wash day. I post when he tweets up with anipals (thanks to Llechi for the picture). The longest time we’ve been apart was during a move. I was under 10. We were moving. Thigns were going into store. The removal men took the wrong box. I didn’t see him for 3 months until the move was completed. That’s a long time, when you’re only small to be parted from your favourite toy. I never forgave the removal men. It’s a child thing. We were also parted when my car got stolen from Oxford. He was in the boot. He was returned to me by the garage men, who restored the car and realised he was an important part of my life. He came back in a box with holes in – so he could breath. I was lucky the parting wasn’t permanent. It was the time when cars got stolen regularly and dumped in Blackbird Leas. Mine was the last car not to be torched when dumped.
Favourites for this blogger come and go. What I’ve found stays constant is the fact that I remember them fondly. I’ve loved them all.