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There were three bears, three wise men, and three blind mice:

Or was it three beers, three wise hens and three kind lice? (Even if they're kind, don't forget to check your work colleagues frequently...):



The scene is set.

Here are three embarrassing confessions. They reflect moments of past confusion and continue to haunt me.


1. To uproarious class laughter, I remember telling my 3rd grade class that the sun rose in the NORTH and set in the SOUTH.

"Well, that's what my compass said!" I said in defence, adding further hilarity to the confession and turning red as an outback sunset.

The mean kid sitting next to me laughed so much that I stabbed him in the leg with a pencil and I was sent to the principal to be caned.

Will I ever escape the clutches of this memory? Whenever I start to feel cool I hear a wicked whisper in my ear taunting me: "Where does the sun set again?"

I get over this angst by cutting to a stage version of 'Annie' - the orphan with the mad red pubic afro is me and I'm belting out 'The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow!' to a standing ovation.

This creative imagination exercise seems to help me in between my therapy visits.


2. I did not know that planes could not go backwards until recently.

Honestly, I had never given it much thought. I just imagined a shift gear stick or something in the cockpit. Or maybe a 'Reverse' button and a clutch. It was never a question in trivial pursuit. I had never discussed it with friends. How was I supposed to know?

"Look, there's a little car attached to our plane's front wheel!" I remember saying to Daniel on our trip to Australia at Christmas, pointing out the window as we departed from Zürich Terminal E.

Champagne was being sipped and I was trying to open my mixed peanuts. They exploded in a hand grenade of macadamias and cashews which flew in all directions. A chunk of almond was still visible in the hair of the woman sitting in front of me as we landed in Singapore 14 hours later. That's another story though which I am using now to distract you from my embarrassment. 

Anyway, I had to repeat my comment loudly. My boyfriend was listening to Barbara Streisand on his Ipod®. He was wearing those giant 'We Are The World' recording studio earphones that would make even Quincy Jones jealous. I tapped him and pointed out the window again, waving in excitement. He turned the volume down and looked at me in pity. "Every plane gets taken backwards like that," I was told, deadpan. The shock! It was like someone telling me that Santa Claus didn't exist. I had to order a top-up of Bollinger to get over my surprise (and some more peanuts).


3. I thought that Kurt Cobain was the friend of a neighbour until he went into his first coma.

My friend Tabitha, a Nirvana fan, left my house in disgust when I told her that I didn't know who he was.

Tabitha came exploding into my shared household terrace one morning in a hail of doorbell ding dongs and shouts. I ran to the door in a panic, thinking that there'd been a car accident. Tabitha practically collapsed into the entrance hall, hair all over the place, hands gesticulating madly.

She looked like she was making one last desperate attempt to rid herself of a swarm of killer bees. I asked her what was wrong and she collapsed to the floor on cue, wailing. I passed her a tissue and squatted to floor level with a hand on her shoulder, eyes misting in sympathy. Was it her cat, Missy? Another break-up? A bad hair day? She gathered herself together, shaking, and whispered: "Kurt Cobain is in a coma!"

Hearing the words said out loud was just too much for her. She glanced fearfully at the naked light bulb hanging from the living room ceiling. It swayed in the breeze and made her cry for some reason. Tears rolled down her face in that Right From The Centre OF The Eye And Down The Cheek way that it did for Demi Moore in 'Ghost' (she never stops crying in that film!).

Everything was always breaking in the shared household. The house was old. Our oven was on the blink at the time. I was arranging to have it repaired. I have no idea why I attempted to put 2 + 2 together in my own fuzzy way but I did. I responded softly: "Gosh, that's such weird timing. I think he left a message on the answering machine earlier about the oven. He was supposed to be here in a few hours. I guess I'll have to find another repairman." Tabitha flashed me a look of horror and left immediately, slamming the door behind her.

Courtney and Frances Bean... please forgive me! Kurt – rest in peace. I have since discovered your exceptional talents.

There. 3 confessions of mine are now 'out there' for forgiveness. I can relax now during the weekend as I wait for you all to either say 'that's ok, we understand' or dump me forever as a friend.


Copyright © 2008 Richard Cannane Publishing
03. Mai 2013