I was a very dramatic child and it's been said that I do still have flair for drama. Many times I've heard people mutter under their breath "he should be on the stage". When I hear this I normally turn around very slowly and smile a regal smile. If I'm feeling overly dramatic that day I may even remove my hat and take a deep, swooping bow. If I'm having a "down day" I normally just fall into a half curtsey and look up in a very shy, coquettish way but If I'm having a really awful day then I find I'm more inclined to just narrow my eyes and give the finger.
That's the thing with having a dramatic bent. I never really know how I'm going to feel. Sometimes I wake up and I want to throw open the curtains and flood the boudoir with sunlight, bird song and roses. Other days I just want to draw the blinds, play torch songs and strike dramatic poses. I'm very sensitive to what's going on in the world and when the world is crying then it's very unlikely you'll find me with a dry eye.
When you're as delicate and sensitive as I am you have to protect yourself from any ugliness. I have an unspoken rule that I mustn't be subjected to any horror or unrest before 10.00am on a weekday and 2.00pm at weekends. The slightest sniff of an uprising before this time will have me reaching for a box of Kleenex. I feel the only way to cope with an uprising is to become increasingly hard, and that upsets me no end.
I need to finish my morning ablutions before I can even think about entertaining any darkness in the world.The last thing I need to know about is turmoil in the middle east when I'm standing stark naked in front of a mirror with an electric toothbrush in my hand. I've still not recovered from a bloodied Gaddafi being flashed across my screen ( I was still wearing last nights lenses) and don't even talk about the starving in Africa. It puts me right off my food. If I've caught as much as a fleeting glimpse of a distended belly and a little black face before 8.00am then I find it difficult to even nibble on a Danish. I truly believe news reports should come with the warning "hungry, crying, poor person ahead" just so that I have time to finish chewing or spit my food out into a piece of tupperware. I've lost count of the number of times I've lost a perfectly good breakfast all because Somalia's in the midst of a drought.
If I have to watch television then I will usually have the sound down and watch behind a gloved hand. I have learned how to lip read and I'm now fluent in Sesame Street and re-runs of Dallas. I have perfected a language that is half Big Bird, a quarter Elmo and a quarter Sue Ellen lip tremble. It looks terrific and goes down a treat in Tesco's. I've found it's the only way I can order a pound of salami and get a smile from Gregor behind the cold meat counter. That's the about the only time I can manage seeing blood and torn flesh, when Gregor's got his meat in his hand and he's going at it with his chopper. He's Eastern European and I've found he's very good with a cleaver and a pound of flesh.
I worry about the youth of today and the rising unemployment. There isn't much hope for them really is there? The way I see it they have two choices, riot or enter a talent show. The message they get is if you can't hold a tune then you best get good at throwing bricks and handling stolen goods.
I was a nervous wreck during the riots. The sight of all those electrical stores being robbed and then going up in flames had me afraid to switch on the toaster. I didn't know what those thugs would think of next and I didn't want the only thing I have left to warm my muffins ending up on the black market. When I was a child the only people I saw dressed in black with their hoods up were nuns. The last time I approached what I thought was a nun and asked for forgiveness I had my watch stolen and got punched in the kidneys. Now If I want to ask for forgiveness I drunk dial the vicar and I don't hang up until he threatens to call the police.
The safest thing for me to do is stay indoors and order everything I need online but the internet has opened up a whole other world of filth, turmoil and horror to me and it's not good for my delicate disposition. I've tried putting parental controls on my internet but I live alone and I keep telling myself the passwords. I can't remember the amount of times I've ended up with a lump in the back of my throat because of something I've ordered on the internet. Also, the internet is a 24 hour hobby. I've found out ways to self diagnose illness, hot wire a car and order a black market baby. Any day now I could be dead from Malaria and no one will discover poor baby David strapped into the back seat of the brand new Lexus I've hidden in the garage.
My whole life is nothing but a drama and someone once said the whole word is a stage.
I just wish I was ready for my close up.