Big hands I know you’re the one

Yesterday began with me holding a copy of my book, and ended with me singing along with the local School Principal to a song from a bygone era.

Allow me to elaborate.

I had to get the final edits to my editor Christa by yesterday. Christa had thoughtfully sent them to me with a return envelope as she really needed it not to be late. Due to my natural lax nature, I had to hand deliver it as of course, I had forgotten all about it.

So into the Allen and Unwin office I went, clutching a huge wad of paper which was my book. Jane, the publisher, relieved me of them and then showed me a room that had dozens of copies of my bookie wook ready to go out with sales reps to flog the bejeezus out of it. And also for reviewers to flog the bejeezuz out of it. It was quite the moment.

Jane gave me a copy and I flicked through it. I MADE SOMETHING.

I shoved that book in my handbag and with steely determination, I headed to Chatty to embark on my Christmas Shopping.

Holy fucking moly, everyone else had the same plan. I wandered around Target with a pathetic little basket that I had to drag behind me because all the trolleys were taken. I think I spent about half an hour wandering around with nothing to show for it. And then I was rammed by a lady with a full shopping trolly.

Turned out it was my old, dear friend Annie. Annie was my bridesmaid and I am sure she would not object if I was describe her as as mad as a cut snake.

I showed her my book and she went a little nuts and ran over to the book section. She shoved aside the number one seller, and replaced it with my own.

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After I acknowledged her enthusiasm, we parted ways as I was on a mission. I whipped through my list and looked at the line for the register which snaked around the store. 99% of my brain screamed at me to abandon ship but the 1% wisely advised me that if I didn’t join the queue, I would just have to come back another day and do it all again.

And because this time of the year is completely mental, I remembered that Horatio had his Farewell Dinner Dance on that night, so I bought him a bow tie to wear.

He looked so grown up and handsome as I delivered him to the school hall. A set of parents who lived across the road from the school had volunteered to host drinkies on their lawn, so armed with a bottle of bubbles, I arrived. I sat under a tree next to a bloke. We introduced ourselves and had some supremely good small talk. Mike, as it turned out, used to be a Champion Chinese Gymnast but he now works for City Rail. He looked very young, but turned out he was 50. I asked him if he wouldn’t mind showing me a few moves, and for a man of his age, I must say, he was extremely lithe. As he cartwheels across the lawn, some speeches started. At the commencement of said speeches, we went back to the school hall to dance away to the last 30 minutes of the do.

Horatio and I banged out all the moves I had taught him over the years. The robot. Start the mower. Do the shopping and the Bollywood spectacular. The DJ announced that “This next one is for all the parents!” before YMCA started blaring from the speakers.

Now, YMCA was released in 1978, when I would have been 5. It is not relevant to me as a nod to my own heritage.

Later I put in a protest regarding this to the School Principal as we stood up the back of the hall. We both agreed that a little Violent Femmes might have been a better choice before we both stood there and sang…..

When I’m out walkin’, I strut my stuff — yeah, I’m so strung out
I’m high as a kite; I just might stop to check you out
Let me go on… like I blister in the sun
Let me go on… big hands, I know you’re the one….

And then it got a little awkward so I left. With Horatio. And that song has not stopped playing in my head. And now it is in yours.

Can you tell from this post that I am just about done with this year?

How are you travelling?