How embarrassing. I just nipped across the road to ask the neighbours if they'd be ever so kind and keep an eye on the dog while I venture to London for my interviews next week. Despite my parents already mentioning it to them, they stared back at me, blank-faced; "Sorry, I don't recognise you?"
I started to worry that maybe they were going senile, but they're can't be a day over 55.
Then I wondered if I'd changed, and when was the last time I'd seen them? For sure, we used to go catching frogs in their pond, asking if their boring daughter wanted to play out, and they were always happy to lend me the spare key when I was locked out after school. But then it dawned on me that I've been away from Leamington for three years. I've been back during the odd holiday, but those three years have really flown by. And, thinking about it, I really have grown up since the last time I was locked out and knocking on their door.
The teachers I bump into in town and still recognise won't recognise me back; they still remember me as the little child they taught. Isn't it strange that we grow and change so much when we're younger, but older people change very little and stay recognisable?
Sunday 10 August 2008
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1 comment:
That is embarrassing. I hate it when that stuff happens, the same as calling like your mum's friends or something (sometimes my mum will ask to call someone if she's going to be late somewhere or something) and I'm always worried that I'll say 'Hi it's Jo' and they'll be like...ummmm who?
argggggggggggghhhh
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