Today I was told I was ‘amazing.’ Repeatedly. I’ve never received so much positive feedback at such an intensity. I almost started to believe the hype. A welcome watering in the freelance desert. Do you want to know the source of this tsunami of praise and why I merited it? It was from someone from the Quooker tap trouble-shooting team (ah, the shimmering glamour of household appliances) and I had done absolutely nothing: I just answered questions. ‘Yes, I’d like to swap my old system for a new upgraded one please.’ This was, apparently, ‘amazing.’ It took every fibre of my being refrain from blurting, ‘It’s not bloody amazing. It’s boringly fine. Just pretty sodding average.’
It’s not the first time this has happened. Maybe it started with Professor Brian Cox. At least he was talking about the wonders of the universe which is about as far as you can get from a failed tap. It’s become a hyperbolic verbal tick. A bit like when someone agrees with you now in mathematical terms: ‘Yeah, a 100%.’ Really a 100%? Is it not 78.6%? Yet, when I was a sixth former, things were often ‘epic.’ To be fair though, the word was reserved for a great party, event or concert and not if someone had made a cheese sandwich. But you know, by the end of that Quooker call, I was almost punching the air with how amazing everything was, until I opened the cupboard under the sink and was treated to a facial steam from the leaking unit. I do worry though, if these people have children. Those kids will have an insufferable ego!
I remember Mrs Dunn, one of my English teachers, drilling us on avoiding the word ‘nice.’ It was bland, didn’t really convey much, and there were a plethora of wonderful descriptive words we could use instead. Now though, has ‘amazing’ been downgraded to ‘nice’? What if something really is amazing? I’m wondering if something goes slightly awry it will become ‘catastrophic.’
Amazing things aside, this week has been a gradual accumulation of what I call micro-irritations:
Every time I shut the fridge door, it now nudges the freezer door open ever so marginally so that it emits a cry of help. This will involve me being charged £££ for someone to look at it and assert that it needs a new seal or an entirely new fridge freezer;
Daring to put the heating on has resulted in the pump making strange noises and a loss of hot water. It’s the legacy of the sub-contracted plumber who fell out with our builder and threatened to come and take away all the radiators he’d fitted. We’re bearing the brunt of that tiff every winter;
Half-term means my kids organise their social lives with an aplomb I can only dream of, but it inevitably requires an element of chauffeuring and collecting. This is usually at the point when I’ve just sat down to start some work, or my ‘hobby’ as it is deliberately and provocatively called for ‘laffs’ which provokes me into an explosive feminist rant every single time.
Yes, these are indeed pathetically micro, particularly so in light of the current news cycle, but I think we can all relate to these tiny daily domestic disappointments. Those days when everything just underperforms and you shrug in a state of resignation, waiting for the cupboard door to fall off after you’ve swept up the detritus of the cup you’ve just dropped.
In total contrast to the domestic tedium of this week, last week I had the huge pleasure of chatting to David Mitchell about his new book, 'Unruly' for Waterstones at The Garrick Theatre in Lichfield, where I grew up (the city, not the theatre). When I was first asked, for a split second, I wondered whether it was ‘Cloud Atlas’ David Mitchell or ‘comedian’ David Mitchell as there is obviously going to be a very different vibe there.
I’m very much a details person, so I took more notes on this book than probably the entirety of my history A-level or degree, sorting my Aethelstans from my Aethelreds. I’m sure I was dreaming regal family trees at one point. I chose not to think too much about the fact that the other people hosting him on the tour were the likes of Ben Elton, Alan Davies and Jeremy Paxman. I hope he didn’t feel too short-changed!
In the run-up to the evening, I’d receive texts from my Mum saying, 'He’s on The One Show now.’ ‘Are you watching Would I Lie to You?’ It’s probably the first and last time I’ll get any kudos from the teens, among who ‘Peep Show’ is having a resurgence. It’s a brilliant book though, both erudite and hilarious which is a fiendishly hard balance to strike. It also enabled me to swear with abandon on a stage under the cloak of merely quoting from the book!
Having been very non-fiction focused, it’s time for me to dive back into my fiction TBR pile and resist the temptation to buy more and put them on a Christmas (whisper it) ‘wishlist’ instead. Yeah right….