About Me

My photo

Blogger, full-time bum and proud owner of a rubber duck named Bert. Come say hi. I don't bite. Unless you're a cheesecake, then I'd recommend backing away slowly.

Tuesday, 26 February 2013

The Lonely Gherkin

Today has been odd. We're going to ignore the fact that my eye is beginning to twitch out of stress and concentrate on what's been happening today. 

College has been productive as usual. It, once again, resulted in a gang of us heading to the pub at the exact time it opened (because 11am is a completely acceptable time for students to start drinking).

Maddie had a burger at the Old schoolhouse. She left behind no trace of it beside on lonely little Gherkin.
ME: ... Do you think I could write a children's book called 'The Lonely Gherkin'?
MADDIE: ... Probably? 
Challenge accepted.

'The Lonely Gherkin'
"Life on the edge of the plate isn't much of a life at all." Little Gherkin sighed, staring at the greasy spot that the burger he was once a part of had left. 
It isn't easy knowing that you don't fit in. It's not nice feeling as though you're not needed. 
Little Gherkin was used to days like this. People would often order burgers and, upon realising that he was hiding beneath the bun, they would flick him to the side as if he were nothing more than a fly.
They'd groan and throw him at their friends, and he'd do no more than lie there patiently, happy to receive some attention, no matter how hurtful that may be.
Baby Bun would hug Little Gherkin at the end of the day, soaking up his tears.
"One day, you're going to be so loved, they'll name an entire building in your honour." Baby Bun whispered.
"I don't need to be loved, I just want to be accepted" Little Gherkin cried. 
Baby Bun didn't understand what it felt like to be this way. The chef always used her in recipes. He needed her just as fish needed water. 
The chef has a set of ingredients that he uses every single day: buns, burgers, cheese, lettuce... they all snigger, one on top of the other, as the chef wavers his hands over Little Gherkin, considering whether or not to risk wasting him on fussy customers. 
He usually does.
"We're in this together" Baby Bun told Little Gherkin as they were being taken to the customer outside.
But once again, the promise fades as hungry forces pull them apart, leaving Little Gherkin alone on the plate once more.
"Why doesn't anyone like me?" sobbed Little Gherkin.
"It's because we're not the same as everyone else. We're different, and not everyone can accept that" Replied a strange voice coming from across the table.
"Who said that?" asked Little Gherkin.
"My name's Anne. Anne the Anchovy." She beamed back. The Little Gherkin smiled.
"Why did they leave you on the plate?" He asked her.
"They're just not ready for me yet. They can't bear the thought of trying something new." Anne the Anchovy replied.
"Aren't you sad that they don't like you?" Little Gherkin questioned. Anne the Anchovy chuckled.
"If they don't like me, then that's their problem. Not mine. Everyone is different, and that's okay. People like us won't be suited to everybody's tastes. But there are people out there who love us, and there are people out there who accept us. And those are the people who truly matter." 
Little Gherkin had a long think about what Anne the Anchovy had said in the cupboard that night. She was right. We are all different, and no two people share the same tastes, so we should stop worrying about those who don't like us, and start concentrating on those that do.
So, to answer to my earlier question of can I write a children's book...

Ryan told us about the time his Dad almost got sent down for murder (not going to give you the full details, but SPOILER: he didn't do it). 

Maddie in turn told us about her Dad's crime story, in which he played the hero who caught a teenager who accidentally shot a man in the head with an air rifle after he and a group of his friends had been playing about with one. 
ME: Your Dad is like a British Chuck Norris.
Maddie texted this to her Dad.  He responded initially with something in the region of "what the hell?" but after she explained that she'd just told us the air gun story, he merely responded with:
MADDIE'S DAD: Ahhhh, indeed!
I haven't met her Dad yet, but after all of
the stories I've heard about him,
this is the mental image that springs to mind

The afternoon was spent doing one of three things:
  1. Stressing over the fact that I need to cast people by next week or my project will have to be scrapped
  2. Hooking up three keyboards to a computer, switching off the display and taking it in turns to write one word 
  3. Playing trousers, shorts or jeans
The keyboard word game is infectiously fun for absolutely no good reason. If you want an awesome band name? Just play that game, seriously. Banarama tiramisu and swashbuckling goodness were two of the very few that I can actually remember.

We played that game for twenty minutes too long... in other words, that game amused us for twenty minutes.

And as for trousers, shorts or jeans...

It's basically a game where you look at people and judge whether or not they have 'the right' to wear shorts, if they have nice enough legs for jeans or whether they should just stick to wearing trousers, and you have to say shorts, jeans or trousers accordingly.

You know me when it comes to judging others based on appearance, so I didn't really get involved, but it was all in harmless fun, otherwise I wouldn't have mentioned it.

After college, Maddie and I went to Baskins and Robins because I was craving a milkshake and she needed to break a twenty. I played it safe and bought a mint chocolate chip shake. Whereas Maddie...
MADDIE: How would pistachio almond and coconut go together?
To say the guy behind the counter looked skeptical would have been a huge understatement.
MAN: English toffee and coconut go well together.
MADDIE: Okay, I'll have pistachio almond, coconut and English toffee then. 
It actually tasted really yummy.

I bow down to you Maddie, Queen of cool!

Lauren xxx

No comments:

Post a Comment