Wednesday, 1 January 2014

A Groovy Education with Bev and Carol

 Bev and Carol are characters from my two (soon to be three) humorous memoirs.  See right side panel.


Girl in next room called Helen.  Very classical.  Name, not girl.  Girl upstairs called Sylvia. Vicious Bitch from Hell.  Best friends with Helen.


Helen - thinnish, tallish, with curly brown hair that shines (lack of hair product abuse), fine set of teeth, pale skin, slight Irish accent. Overall assessment:

Sylvia - bulky (moves like a wrestler), square-faced, goggle-eyed, greenish aura (oozing calm and balance).  Overall assessment: she doesn’t like me (and never will).


Difficult to get Helen alone.  VBFH omnipresent.  Also omnivore (specialist subject – Toblerone). 

Invest in Christmas-sized triangular chocolate.  VBFH happy.  Still hates me.

Give up for a while. Lull VBFH into false sense of security?

Academic concerns lend yours truly smug aloofness. Lectures mixed.  Bad to bloody awful.  Lecturers bored to death with bog-eyed zombies viewed from lectern, presumably. 

Today’s literary topic:  ‘Kingship in Shakespeare’ (capitalised at centre top of A4, underlined).  American lecturer, not ancient – nice legs, no-nonsense delivery.  Distracted by ‘Miss Whiplash’ image.  Literary references too thick, fast and spangled for pen (and brain).  Long hour.  If had crown would let slip over eyes.  Would be glad of kingly gowns too big for bearer.  Lecture room door very far away.

Cold outside.  Inadequate fake fur jacket (used to be white).  Running home.  La di da!  Brrrr!

Helen alone – BINGO – in need of normal friend!  Have tea and listen to ‘Wishing on a Star’ Rose Royce.  Difficult for AC/DC fan like myself.  Interminable slush - gift from Helen’s boyfriend.  True love, apparently.    Listen and sympathise (exercising eyebrows) until VBFH arrives to ‘smile and smile and yet be a villain’.  Find am harbouring residual Shakespearean insight. Sylvia would make good hag.  Anaemic.

Frozen out by Sylvia’s stare.  Send out threatening vibes: ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown’.  Leave gracefully.  Smug (unjustifiably).

Elsa, new friend from neighbouring block, knocks - we go out.  Elsa has plan to punish Andy (boyfriend) by surreptitiously ignoring him in Union bar.  We sit, aloof.  I am eyes/ears.  Reporting back.  (HOW IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?)  Elsa – baby blonde, squeaky voice, pouty, size 8.  Adored.  By all. Knows everyone.


Realise am invisible in glow of superior beauty.  Quietly outraged.  Sneak back to hall for curative toast and tea. 

More uncalled for Rose Royce. 

Retaliate with ABBA.  No longer 17, but still aspiring Dancing Queen.  Oh, yes.

To be continued…

No comments:

Post a Comment