I have literally had no time to do anything besides work, eat, sleep and remember my name. The latter one proving all too much last Wednesday after FIFTEEN hours at work. I turned to my friend calling out 'Jo, Jo?' awaiting a response until she finally worked out that I was calling for her attention. I suddenly realised when I saw her raised eyebrow that she was not Jo. Did it then dawn on me that I, myself, was Jo? No, no it didn't. In my perplexed state I asked who Jo even was. Who was this strange person I was calling for instead my wonderfully grumpy colleague? That's when the penny dropped, this simple piece of information came rushing back to me, 'Oh Shit! I'm Jo.' It was 10pm and it was definitely time to go home. I guess that's what 12 shifts in 9 days will do to you.
I have had the weekend off though and was able to attend The Mature One's engagement party (she's not at all mature I might add, she's as blissfully ridiculous as I am and we have been known to spend hours on end simply performing different accents to each other - don't judge until you've tried it - and when you add those accents to songs, I am almost uncontrollable. I once pulled a muscle from laughing with her for so long. The girl is a damn wit! The reason for the maturity label is that she was my rock, my savour, the only other mature student not to behave as if they were a hundred years young during my time at uni) and it was beyond glorious to see her this weekend. Her drunken speech thanking us all for our attendance to her wee celebration was a completely unexpected bonus.
I didn't even mind that on my train journey home (having forgotten my iPod AND book - moron!) I had to suffer a conversation between two teaching colleagues (one a drama teacher, one a music teacher...which leads me to ask, why is it that ALL secondary school drama teachers must wear unflattering black leather jackets and have one ear pieced with a dull gold stud!? Are you not allowed to become a secondary school drama teacher unless you don this fashion faux pas? Because surely, SURELY, no one would if they had a choice?) which was made up of the exciting 'short cuts' they had both discovered on several train journeys they have taken over the years. This was before the actual exchanging of their latest train tickets. At least it made them happy, I only wish their happiness had a volume control button. I tried sleeping through the journey instead only to give myself a mild heart attack when I awoke in the station of 'Salfords'. The train was at a complete standstill and there were no announcements to be heard. I was sure my three glasses of wine had not rendered me too tipsy to board a train home to the SOUTH coast. I didn't remember Salford having an 'S' on the end, but then I didn't remember heading north to our friends in Lancashire. As it turns out the 'S' on the end makes all the difference and is the name of a wee town just outside Gatwick Airport. I hadn't boarded a train T'up North at all and was still en route to get home. Shame, as The Nice One had offered to be my hero and come and rescue me.
With the smell of regurgitated Chinese food in my nostrils (only the very best trains were out on Saturday night you see), I tried once again to drown out the teachers talk with a trip down memory lane. Yes, I was all on my own, and Yes, when I giggled to myself at an old memory the rest of the train probably thought I was either drunk, mad or possibly both, but for me it made this long train journey far more enjoyable. One memory that came to mind was a time that The Mature One and I were driving through Richmond Park singing our hearts out to a little Take That. A Million Love Songs came on and I confessed to having thought the lyrics were 'A million love song and Take That' when I was a wee nipper (I sometimes still sings these lyrics just for the hell of it. Who said teacher weren't wild!? Knowingly singing the wrong lyrics. Crazy!). The Mature One laughed at the thought of my tone deaf voice getting the words so wrong and confessed that she had thought they were 'A million love songs are made of...' I began to laugh before I realised that that is in fact what I was now singing. What a fool. How could I still not know the words? The massive child fan inside me tutted so loud, I think even The Mature One heard her. The Mature One revealed that the words were 'A million love songs later'. I didn't believe a word of it. There was no way on God's green earth that these could possibly be the words. I know that our wondrous Gary is a northerner but there is no L sound pronounced in that chorus. Anywhere! (well, apart from in the word 'million'. Oh, and 'love'. Obvs). The Mature One turned the car stereo up an alarming amount and sure enough she was correct. I guess this probably does not seem all that amusing to you, but after over three hours of intense 'Design and Technology' and whichever machine toxins we had inadvertently inhaled that week, I genuinely remember tears falling down my cheek, as well as the snort that likes to invade my laugh from time to time.
So here, although it may be one of the mushiest songs of all time, because it kept me sane on my joyous teacher dominated, foul smelling, dirty and cold journey home and because it will forever remind of my Mature One, I present my song of the week...
...A Million Love Song by Take That.
P.S. Note to ALL record producers today; whatever happened to our love affair with the saxophone? Did Kenny G take it too far and ruin it for everyone else? There's always one.
Put your head against my life, what do you hear?A million words just trying to make the love song of the year,Close your eyes but don't forget, what you have heard,A man that's trying to say three words, the words that make me scared,
A million love songs LATER,And here I am trying to tell you that I care,A million love songs later,And here I am,
Looking to the future now, this is what I see,A million chances that pass me by,A million chances to hold you,Take me back, take me back,To where I used to be,To hide away from all my truths,Through the light I see,
A million love songs LATER,And here I am trying to tell you that I care,A million love songs later,And here I am,Just for you girl, A million love songs later,And here I am,Here for you babe, here for you baby,A million love songs later,Here I, here I am,
*The mighty saxophone fade...*
(Written by the (now) beautiful Gary Barlow. I do not own the video nor do I own the lyrics)
Wowsa, they just don't write heart felt mush like they used to. As much as I adore Take That, my cold hearted phobic ways want to run and hide in Mount Vesuvius at the mere thought of a man singing those lyrics to me. And I thought being wooed to 'Two Hearts' by Phil Collins was bad.
(Obviously, I loved both songs. I sing along with all the force in the world. Just don't use them in any form of wooing. How many times do I have to say it; Nutella!)
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