Friday 24th December, 2021
No need to isolate me, Boris! Be I an Omicron spreader, or not!
Not this Christmas Eve.
Stupid woman thought I was a has-been. And I have to admit, it wasn`t the best, to find myself in a soup-kitchen queue; especially not when the server turned out to be Wifey. I say Wifey, because at that time, she was still, officially speaking, married to me.
She was mine.
Sure, I ` d just spent the night in a homeless hostel. Not that I said it was a homeless hostel, as opposed to a hostel for the homeless. I still had a home, even if I was no longer in it. Just as I still had Wifey, even I was no longer in …. No. I ` m not going there, not even in my head. It was all such a long time ago. Things have moved on. Moved on considerably.
Who would have thought that losing my old job, as much as losing the old hag, would have been not my undoing. Not my end. Quite the reverse.
Just look at me now. I cut a fine figure in the mirror.
Quite handsome. But never mind that because, behind me, reflected in my gold-edged mirror, I can admire what I have become. Everything. A full wine cabinet. Gold-framed Best Headteacher of 2021 Award (cost me a bit). Harrod ` s finest Christmas tree, complete with lights and decs. Chocolate-leather-power-recliner armchair from Hooker. And no I don ` t mean from that kind of hooker; I can afford the highest-class of lady to entertain me for that kind of thing. In face, I was able to acquire a Belle Fleur Slipper Chair for just such an occasion. On hindsight, perhaps I should have secured a couple of them; a couple of slipper chairs, I mean, not a couple of hookers. Just a couple of chairs for for a couple of. Oh, yes, perhaps I did mean … I meant everything. I really have become the finest of everything that there possibly is to be.
Goal achieved. Success. Almost. If only Wifey could see me now. No, I take that back. If she could see me, that would mean I could see her – wrinkles, cellulite, grey hairs – all of it! Some things are best left in the past. Besides which, with Wifey, and her excessively-expensive tastes, still in tow, what would I be now? Nothing. I would be nothing and nobody, with not a hope in heaven of ever getting close to that final piece of me. The me that is the OBE still to come.
Imminent.
Imminent, as in it ` s definitely coming closer. So close that, I ` ve left enough space on my picture wall for the newspaper cuttings of myself and Her Majesty. And I have a 24 karat gold-frame, all ready and waiting. It ` ll be just me and LIz. Me and LIz in pride of place, surrounded by memorabilia of the many other awards I will have received by then. Not that by then will be a very long by then. As I said, it ` s imminent.
It ` s imminent and even more imminent is the imminent that is tomorrow. Christmas Day. And what I really enjoy about this view of myself in the mirror is that I can ` t see my feet. My slipper-less feet complete with my long-as-long-is toenails. Wifey always used to do my manicures, followed by massage, foot-creaming and the provision of lamb-skin slippers. And that old PA I used to have – name escape ` s me – always did her bit too. Polished things off in the comfort of my Headteacher ` s office suite, on that lovely chaise longue, with a touch of the old toe-sucking. But enough of that load of old tosh. Nostalgia has no place with me.
This is now. That was then. Tomorrow is Christmas Day and I can ` t wait to open my . Oh. Almost forgot. My mIrror-view is deceptive. Cuts out the base of the Christmas tree. I have no presents to open. It matters not. I have myself. And I have the New Year Educational Awards Ceremony to look forward to you, in which I am fully expecting to receive recognition from the Right Honourable Nadhim Sahawi, for my service to education, in narrowing the attainment gap between the rich and the poor. My rags-to-riches road to success, has made me a role model for young people the world over.
With a new look, a name-change and a creative CV, it really is possible to …. Best not give away too much. Best stick to the basics.
Unidentifiable homeless man, beaten to a pulp by louts, and found to be suffering from complete memory loss, transforms his life. After relearning basic life skills, he feels it his duty to coach others, his reputation becoming such that he is awarded an honorary degree for his services. Today, he is Great Britain` s leading educator. Tomorrow, he will be the best in the world.
Too much?
Today. Christmas Eve. No Wifey.
Been all on my tod anyway, since the old hag left.
Tomorrow. Christmas Day. Will still be no Wifey.
The next day? Boxing Day? Who knows?
The New Year. January. Start of new school term. But really, if one is going to reinvent oneself, why create a replica of what one was before? Why a Headteacher again? Why not a Head Waiter?
Crap pay, but draws in the birds. Or a Pop Star? Good pay, and even more birds. Or a ….?
Headteacher?
Best stick to the familiar. To what one knows one can ….
Wifey?
Copyright by Suidae Trough, December 2021
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