Wise words? The advice that I can't forget
It’s funny, the things that stick in your mind for ever. When I was little, my brother and I would usually go to our grandparents’ house after school. We would be given our tea in front of the telly, which we would sit and watch while Grandad read the Express and Star and Nan read a magazine. I noticed that every time she turned a page, she licked her finger first. Deducing this was the kind of adult modus operandi I should be aiming for, I started doing the same thing. I went so far as to pick up magazines I couldn’t even read properly, just to practice and perfect my finger-licking page-turning technique. Before long, my Nan saw me proudly in action.
“Oh, don’t do that, Ade,” she said.
“Huh? Why not?”
“That’s only for grownups to do,” she explained.
Duly chastised, I took this on board and didn’t do it again until I was a grownup. To this day, whenever I turn a stubborn page with a wetted finger, I feel a bit guilty about it.
Why did this thing stick? Was there something significant going on with my brain chemistry at that particular moment, which stuck it in there as fast as an uneaten cornflake to a cereal bowl?
Another example: when I was growing up, there was always a sponge of some kind supplied for my use in the shower at home. When I went off to university, I took my first shower and, sponge-less for the first time, beheld my shower gel wondering how best to apply it. I managed, but it was unsatisfactory. I had just made a new friend, John from Bristol, who I felt I knew well enough to consult on this matter. He advised me to use part of my, erm, body hair to lather up the gel. For this reason, I’ve thought of John from Bristol during every shower I’ve taken in 34 years. He’s a primary school teacher in Plymouth now, where I trust he continues to dispense invaluable wisdom to this very day.
