Despite the fact that I am over 30, there has been some recent evidence that I am not quite a grown up… which added together suggests my inner child is mounting a fairly successful campaign to express herself.
I first noticed, that while lying in bed watching a scary tv series on dvd that I was, well, more comfortable tucked in up to my chin, okay, up to my nose in some very special thrilling moments! In other words, I felt safer not being exposed to what can only be the thin and familiar air of my lovely bedroom, just like I did in my childhood bedroom all those many years ago. And just exactly what is the protection offered by a mere sheet?
On a subsequent evening of the same activity… scary dvds…. I was turning down my covers ready to hop into bed, and felt a thrill of fear that my bare feet were under my bed. Under my bed! I felt a thrill of fear like I was anticipating someone grabbing them! Ridiculous but true and believe me, I took care that those feet stayed well within my sight from then on.
I definitely felt like I wasn’t a grown up (and might have to surrender my voting rights) when I chose to eat a bag of crisps for dinner one night instead of getting my act together to prepare something genuinely resembling a meal.
Then there was the lovely afternoon I caught a white daisy and recited ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ while removing the petals one by one… and I didn’t even have a ‘he’ in mind.
There was the afternoon, when playing scrabble, that I made the word ‘oink’ and then lost myself in hysterical, uncontrollable laughter for a good twenty minutes… the more I thought about how the word wasn’t that funny, the funnier it became. I was in the end laughing at my own stupid enjoyment of the word. I am pretty sure my opponent thought seriously about phoning someone to ‘take me away’.
Finally this, last and crucial piece of evidence, and there is no delicate way to say it. This is most inelegant. I still laugh when I fart.
I rest my case.