That. So much that. I am famous for triple and quadruple booking and turning up on the wrong day... 🤦🏻♀️ Oh gosh, my palms are sweating with the humiliation of it all. But - it’s not an excuse, I agree. It just is - and I have to really manage myself.
What a delightful and personal insight. Perhaps I should share something without giving too much away. At the age of nine my daughter told me that she could not read. She was lucky because she went to a school that understood dyslexia. Indeed the headmistress said she had it too. The saddest part was that poor young Miss Arrius faked all sorts of things in order to hide her lack of reading skills. "Couldn't see the blackboard" or nodding sagely at something that went right over her head. I ached for her every day. I should say now that Miss Arrius is now one of the brightest people I know. Not only that, she runs her own highly successful business, is married (to another lady) and has two kids.
School was a trial for her as it was for me. We were lost and confused. I never did anything bad but I never did anything good either. I was bullied mercilessly. Both for me and my daughter that carried through to the world of work. We both rose above it. How we did that is a question we shall probably never answer but brains, as you imply, seem to be part of the formula. When I did a proper degree later in life, just as computers were becoming available, I would spend ages trying to find the quote that would just fit my point, one that I knew existed but could not find; it was a post-it spattered affair. My memory is terrible. Thank goodness you can more or less google all the things you know, but cannot name.
Eeesh, the mucking up calendars, so familiar. Always makes me want to sink into the earth...
Utterly humiliating, and very inconvenient for everyone else.
That. So much that. I am famous for triple and quadruple booking and turning up on the wrong day... 🤦🏻♀️ Oh gosh, my palms are sweating with the humiliation of it all. But - it’s not an excuse, I agree. It just is - and I have to really manage myself.
I don't tend to like memoirs, but I do think you'd write a good one.
I'm trying my hand at it here, I have to say (my agent is fully aware, ofc).
Yes please, Helen.
The wolves would accept you, even if you were a hound, missed an anniversary and had glassy eyes.
Great image.
What a delightful and personal insight. Perhaps I should share something without giving too much away. At the age of nine my daughter told me that she could not read. She was lucky because she went to a school that understood dyslexia. Indeed the headmistress said she had it too. The saddest part was that poor young Miss Arrius faked all sorts of things in order to hide her lack of reading skills. "Couldn't see the blackboard" or nodding sagely at something that went right over her head. I ached for her every day. I should say now that Miss Arrius is now one of the brightest people I know. Not only that, she runs her own highly successful business, is married (to another lady) and has two kids.
School was a trial for her as it was for me. We were lost and confused. I never did anything bad but I never did anything good either. I was bullied mercilessly. Both for me and my daughter that carried through to the world of work. We both rose above it. How we did that is a question we shall probably never answer but brains, as you imply, seem to be part of the formula. When I did a proper degree later in life, just as computers were becoming available, I would spend ages trying to find the quote that would just fit my point, one that I knew existed but could not find; it was a post-it spattered affair. My memory is terrible. Thank goodness you can more or less google all the things you know, but cannot name.