In conversation with my 18 year old self

Ok, 18 year old me, I’d like you to calm down a little bit. Just…. calm down. You’re a bit crazy and all over the place. You’d do well by scaling it back a bit.

Also, I don’t want to ruin the dream but that ambition you have, to marry Michael Jackson… That’s, um, it’s not going to happen unfortunately. I won’t tell you why. The other ambition, to see him in concert, also doesn’t come true. He does plan a tour in England but, um, he doesn’t make it. Again, I won’t tell you why.

Also, your expectation that you will have a terribly meaningful and world-changing role in life… yeh, turns out you’re a bit ordinary, like everyone else. What a thought, hey?! After all that time being convinced of your own superiority and differentness.

O, and your thing about being ‘boring’, you hate that idea, right? Hate it. Urgh, imagine being boring, that would be the worst! Well, you’re not that bothered anymore. You enjoy the simple pleasures in life – cooking, being outside, growing vegetables, seeing other countries, having lunch with nice friends. Just calm down about the ‘boring’ thing. It’s going to happen. Get over it.

You know how you love going out dancing? In a few years, you won’t really ‘go out’ at all. You hate the idea of being squashed in next to a load of sweaty strangers, actually. You dislike the drunken nonsense that you talk and that other people talk to you. In fact, in about ten years, you’ll barely consume alcohol at all, a few times a year maybe. It’s better that way, trust me. We both know what we get like with a drink in us.

And you don’t wear make up at all. I know, after all that time poking your eyes out, trying to work out how to wear eye liner. No, you don’t wear anything now. You’re too lazy. Sorry to break it to you but you’d rather spent the time in the morning having a cup of tea and blogging than poking your eyes out.

Yeh, you’re a ‘blogger’ now. You’re mad for it! You’re one of those. One of those sad people who thinks others want to read about the minutae of their everyday life. Yup.

And tea is very important to you. Very. Important.

You’ll run off to Africa soon, little Laura. And it will be fabulous. You’ll be enthused. You’ll be good at something. You’ll be in your element. For the next ten years after your gap year, you’ll refer back to it as a time of excitement and adventure. Just a few words of warning though – don’t get too excited by your new friends who take you in on the first night, they’ll drift away in a few months; also, please try and eat better – a plate of rice with some sweetcorn mixed in does not constitute a real meal, unfortunately; another thing, you’re going to mess up the article for the Namibian Independence Day by sleeping through the celebrations, shame on you.

And now, last but not least, F. Scott Fitzgerald still rocks your world. That fact is unchanged throughout your life. They make a new film of The Great Gatsby with Leonardo DiCaprio. I’m going to let you watch it for yourself and make your own mind up….

Things it’s ok to do as a child

Stop a party of six whilst out walking so that you can wish on a star.

Fart and blame it on the TV.

Have long conversations with your reflection in the mirror.

Have plain spaghetti and green ‘olibs’ (olives) for dinner.

Say things like, “I’m going to marry Adam. When I’m 13.”

Have people accompany you to the toilet, just to chat to them about Barbie.

Declare loudly, “I don’t like hippos!” at the dinner table with absolutely no prerequisite.

Reply to the sentence, “I’m scared of monsters,” with the advice, “You should eat your carrots then.”

Jump in all puddles, even ones which are tiny, five hundred times before moving on, even when everyone’s in a rush.

Dig around in your nostril for a massive snot then wipe it on the nearest person forehead (Danda’s).

Tell everyone in the room whether it is a wee or a poo that you are going to the bathroom for.

Drink your entire body weight in apple juice.

Laugh hysterically for ten whole minutes at someone pulling tongues at you.

Rub novelty Gruffalo shampoo all over everyone’s faces and necks and tell them it is make up.

Paint a grown man’s fingernails (Danda’s) with silver glittery nail varnish then insist he go out to McDonald’s with it still on.

Talk for twenty minutes about the best way to defeat dragons.

Eat a whole apple before holding up the core and saying, “I don’t like apples.”

Put animal stickers all over your face in public and sit on a windowsill looking around and waving at strangers.

The Game

There was a girl who lived on my road when I was growing up and we would always be playing out together. One time, we balled up loads of grass from the green in the middle of the cul-de-sac we lived on and ‘painted’ the road sign green. I remember there was definitely a distinctly green tinge to it for a few days afterward.

Another thing we did was pretend we were estate agents and go round the road ‘selling’ the houses to each other by loudly proclaiming what a ‘wonderful gold letterbox’ this one had, for example.

We had lots of games of this sort. But at some point we came up with The Game and honestly must have played it for a few years. Whenever we were playing out or at each other’s houses, we’d check we were out of earshot of everyone and start playing The Game. It was top secret, although I’m not really sure why.

The basic outline of The Game went like this. We were grown ups. My friend was married to Gary Barlow from Take That. I was married to Mark Owen from Take That.

And that, in essence, was the whole game. I remember that we both divorced our husbands later because they were cheating on us. I think my new husband was called John. I remember my friend being more ethnically enlightened than I and calling her new husband Ahmed, or something like that.

We both had children with our first husbands, I think I had a girl. Mark was constantly trying to win me back but I was happily settled with John. At one time, there was a heated moment when my character in The Game, fell out with my friend’s when she and Mark fell in love briefly and tried to have my child taken into care.

We clearly had both been watching waaaay too much Eastenders….

I was very shocked when I heard my friend announce that, as a grown woman, in The Game, she was not going to wear any make-up! But all grown up women wear make-up, don’t they?! It was the first time I had ever heard the idea suggested that a grown woman was not going to wear make-up! I just thought everyone did it.

One time, when we played The Game, we were teachers in a school and spent the whole time speaking in robot voices. I’m not sure how the two are connected, teaching and speaking like robots. Maybe that’s what we thought they did….?

The secret of The Game was highly guarded. My brother once hid in my wardrobe in my room so that when my friend and I went in there to play, he could listen in and discover the secret of what The Game was. Except that day we decided to play Neighbours instead, so I was Gabby and my friend was Lauren and we picked up from the last episode which had been on. After ten minutes or so, my brother burst out of the wardrobe, laughing and saying he knew what The Game was! We were like, ‘The joke’s on you actually, because we were just playing Neighbours. We weren’t even playing The Game!’

But now I’ve blurted it out. I’ve just said it, as though it wasn’t the most closely guarded secret of my childhood. I feel a bit bad towards The Game, that I’ve blogged about it in such a casual manner. Well, I had to get it off my chest. The weight of carrying the secret for so long was becoming too much…..

Evidence of a misspent youth

I still know all the words to the ‘rap’ in Mysterious Girl by Peter Andre.

 

My Barbies and Kens had specially made (by me) paper underwear.

 

I know all the words to 99% of Backstreet Boys songs and can still do the dances that my cousin and I made up to about four of the songs from the album, Backstreet’s Back.

 

There are hours of video tape of me doing a ‘chat show’ on the camcorder.

 

My friend and I spent two weeks waiting anxiously for a reply to a letter we had written to PJ and Duncan (AKA Ant and Dec) saying we were going to their concert soon and were really good dancers and did they need backing dancers because we were obviously the people for the job. We had even made up some routines ourselves.

 

I have a drawer FULL of hair straightening products in my old bedroom… My hair has always been, and will always be, wavy/curly.

 

I have another drawer FULL of different coloured pens. I was extremely religious about what colour I underlined the date with, and whether it was a double underline or a squiggly line or a cloudy bubble thing.

 

There are hundreds of pieces of novelty wrapping paper dotted around my old bedroom. I never wrapped anything with them. I just kept them.

 

I have an exercise book full of ‘song lyrics’ I wrote (!). They were full of unrequited love and grand statements about life….. I was 14.

 

The vast amount of make-up I owned and the hours I spent in front of the mirror, with a copy of Cosmopolitan magazine, learning how to apply it… It always looked ridiculous and now I can’t remember the last time I wore any.

 

I spent at least 50% of my entire teenage years watching/re-watching/discussing/quoting from Friends.

 

I am now a Tetris demon.

 

I must have tried 5000 times to get past the big baddie at the end of the Starlight Zone on Sonic The Hedgehog and could never do it.

 

I spent a significant portion of my time wishing I was George from the Famous Five and pretending to be tomboyish. I even joined the girl’s football team at school and played half a match. Once.

 

I used to write and re-write (in different colour pens, with different underlining, in swirly writing or bubble writing) a list of the names I liked for my future children…. What a ridiculous idea!

Things I believed as a child

A girl who lived on my road told me that sometimes flies can burrow through your scalp and get into your brain.

She also told me that if you swallow chewing gum it can go into your insides and wrap around your heart.

When a plane flies overhead, if you wave to it and it flashes its red light, it means the pilot has seen you and is letting you know.

 

Be careful!

If the wind blows while you’re doing a stupid face, it will stick that way.

My parents once convinced me that my birthday was on April 25th (it’s not). I remember being extremely doubtful at first then thinking it must be true because they were so convincing.

You never digest sweetcorn! It stays in your tummy FOREVER!

A teacher at school when I was about eight told us that there are lots of little men living inside your body, making sure it works properly and when you feel ill, the baddies were winning. If you take a little nap, it means the goodies can concentrate on fighting the baddies and making you feel well again. I think she meant it symbolically but I was fascinated for many years afterward about this whole little-men-living-inside-me thing.

This one is from infant school. A rumour flew around that when you moved up to junior school, if you wore glasses, the big kids would call you ‘four-eyes.’ We were quite intimidated by this rumour. I’ve no idea why it made such an impact on me as I’ve never worn glasses.

If you step on the lines while walking down the corridor at school, you fancy Marvin! (If you were a boy, I think you were told you fancied Hayley.)

When you’re a grown up, you wear make-up. That’s just what all grown-up women do. When the girl who lived on my road, and who told me about flies and chewing gum, said she wasn’t going to wear make up when she grew up, I was shocked.

My dad once told me that if you eat the instant custard powder straight from the jar, you have to be careful because it would get to your stomach and form a big lump of custard that would get stuck there.

If you sit too close to the TV, your eyes will go square. I was pretty terrified of this one because sometimes my dad would say, ‘O they’re already changing a little bit! Be careful! You’d better sit back!’

O is for…

OLD!

Now I’m not going to patronise anyone born before me by suggesting that I’m ‘old.’ I’m not. It’s my 27th birthday today and should I avoid any more life threatening situations (my recent one is still fresh in my memory), I’ve probably got a good long while to go yet.

But 27 is older than I’ve ever been before, and as a girl who thinks of herself as ‘still a bit of a trampy student’, it’s quite a shock to realise I’m only three years away from 30. I guess I’d better get on and actually do some ‘life things’ then!

I wonder if people think I look almost 30? I don’t. I think I still look a bit silly and young. Should I take to wearing ‘power suits’, maybe? Stop finding swearing and the word ‘boobs’ so hilarious? Pre-empt middle-age-ness and start using anti wrinkle cream? Join a gym? Start wearing make up? Own a pair of high heels? Own a little black dress? Do something with my degrees? Any suggestions?