Decision Made

Andy and I have decided upon our new careers based on the tenuous results of a Facebook quiz. I am not on Facebook. Andy is. Andy's friends have already done the quiz and been given jobs that are either a) predictable b) ironic or c) wholly unsuitable. So we thought, hey, this seems like a good career guidance tool! Let's see what it can do for us!!

Andy is going to be a professor. Yup, the results of the quiz proved what I already knew - that my dear husband has a brain the size of the universe which retains masses of mostly useful, but sometimes Doctor Who/ retro-game/chemistry based information, and he is very entertaining and thusly would enthral a lecture hall full of students with his comedy genius and singing ability. Plus he is also a master at the art of falling asleep in lectures at veterinary conferences and therefore would know the importance of keep the heating turned right down and maximising the taser charge in each seat in order to keep the students awake. Plus he has a Doctor Who tie and a tweed jacket and (when it grows too long) crazy hair, so he would look the part, too. Plus he is forgetful which I believe is an essential requirement to being a professor. 

Professor Andy it is then. I am already taking bookings for his first lecture - 'Sweet Dough Buns and How To Stop Them Sagging.'

'When is this lecture happening?' says Daisy, who has dropped in for a crumpet and cup of tea. 

'This afternoon,' I say. 'You and Primrose have front row seats, so you may want to wear something waterproof and wipeable as there is likely to be a fair amount of moist dough flying about the shop.'

'I shall wear my all-weather poncho,' says Daisy. 'It has been seeing a fair amount of use for the last two months.'

'I'll bet it has,' I say. 'Bloomin' rain.'

'Rain has nothing to do with it,' says Daisy. 'Custard more like.'

'Custard?' says I .

'Custard,' says Daisy. 'Primrose is determined to enter the World Custard Pie Championships this year and has been practising with her team which currently consists of herself and Tango Pete. She tried to get me involved but I said, 'No!' Just like that. Exclamation mark and all.'

(For the uninitiated and especially for Deanna who wanted to know all about quaint English traditions,  the World Custard Pie Championships do exist and they happen in Kent every year about 3 miles up the road from where we live. They were about when I was a teenager, then they stopped for a few years during the season of Let's Be Sensible and Not Waste Good Custard, then they started up again about oh, eight years ago, I imagine because either there was a glut at the E.U custard lake OR people just wanted some silliness in their lives again because Gordon Brown was at or near the helm of the Good Ship Britannia and everything was sooooooo boring. But they are real. Really real.)

'So,' says Daisy. 'What are you going to be? What is your new job?'

'I shall read you the results of my test,' I say. 'Ahem...You should be a designer...'

'That's very relevant,' says Daisy. 'Given your recent start in learning to be a textile artist.'

'I know,' I say. (By the way, I have decided upon 'The Language of Fans,' but before you all get huffy because I rejected your suggestions, I haven't rejected them at all! Oh no! I have arrived at a cunning textile design plan which incorporates ALL your malarkey ideas, to wit I shall elucidate during a future blog - in the meantime, hang on to your boots!) 

'So, I continue,' I continue. 'You are an artist. Creative juices are oozing out of you...'

'You'll be needing a mop and bucket, then,' said Daisy, wrinkling her beak ever so slightly in disgust. 'Or a soapy J cloth at the very least.'

'Do you mind?' I say. 'My oozing juices are NOT ending up down a drain. Now, where was I? Ah yes ...'You'd make as good a designer as an artist as long as you get to create something.'

'Have you completed your blanket yet?' says Daisy.

'Almost,' says I. 'I reckon another couple of knitting evenings then I can start the sewing construction. I am thinking of making it double sided with a bit of wadding 'twixt the two sides, held in place with some strategically positioned and large fabric buttons.'

'Like a wool duvet?' says Daisy.

'Exactly,' says I. 

'Are you working to a pattern?' says Daisy.

'No,' says I. 'I am making it up as I go along. Like a proper designer.'

'Oo-er,' says Daisy.

'You live your life like Michelangelo...' I continue.

'Hanging from the ceiling?' says Daisy.

'Painting men's willies?' says Primrose, who has just arrived, covered in custard and wanting to avail herself of the shower facilities.

'She won't be painting them grey, will she?' says Daisy.

'No,' says Primrose. 'Grey wouldn't like right at all. Not on a willy.'

'Unless it was a statue of that whale from that film called Free Willy,' says Daisy. 'That might work.'

'More black than grey, don't you think?' says Primrose.

'Can we compromise on a very dark grey Willy?' says Daisy, who is starting to enjoy this conversation far too much.

'For goodness' sake you two,' I say. 'I live my life like Michelangelo because  I am constantly looking for the sculpture within the stone.'

Daisy looks at Primrose. Primrose looks at Daisy.

'What does that mean then?' says Daisy.

'Well,' I say. 'You know you have developed a penchant for fat balls?' 

'Indeed,' says Primrose. 'In fact, I just offered one to Tango Pete but he couldn't quite bring himself to have a peck. Said it reminded him too much of home, whatever that means.'

'Well,' I say, conscious that this is a Sunday and I need to keep a rein on the saucy-horse before the hens gallop off with it and cause untold shock and horror. 'From the outside the fat ball looks like a ball of lard. Plain and uninspiring. But when you start pecking at it with your little chisel-like beaks what do you find?'

'Seeds and insects!' says Daisy.

'And they are the statue within,' I say.

Primrose looks at Daisy. Daisy looks at Primrose.

'Nope,' says Daisy. 'Still don't get it.'

I sigh. 'Anyway,' I say. 'The Facebook quiz says my ideal job would be a designer. And my back up options are architect or editor. And as I don't have a long enough ruler to be an architect, and I do enough editing in my current job as a teacher, I am going to be a designer/artist and make stuff!' 

And this thought has cheered me up no end!