Category: Memories

I think we’re alone now

[This post originally appeared in Dullicious, where I blogged as Barbie-dull for several years.]

The song by Tiffany crept in my head last night at dinner, for some reason. Amy and I were having a nice meal at the Bistro. I just can’t see what in the world brought this song into the conversation. Anyway. YouTube has everything, both the 1987 video clip and some 2006 footage of a concert by Tiffany. Enjoy, people.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKVaGYJkokU&w=425&h=350]
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4b_dHGMTu8&w=425&h=350]

Language barrier, problems reaching out

My parents sent me to the UK for 3 weeks, one summer, when I was 10. I stayed at the Carvers’, in Frome, not far from Bristol and Bath.

I don’t know why, but today I was reminded of watching TV during a weekend afternoon with their daughter, who was 13 years old. A soap opera was on and I was struggling (and quite failing) to understand what was going on.

I thought I had figured out the main female character was in early pregnancy. At this point I was barely paying attention to the show. I was looking for ways to speak to my companion. So I was rehearsing my side of the conversation, over and over.

Is she waiting for a baby?

That was the translation of “elle attend un bébé?”, which is the French for “is she pregnant?”, which I had never learnt to say.

And I rehearsed it (and other variations) for so long that eventually, it wasn’t worth saying anymore.

I had been concerned not only with the language barrier –I suspected my words weren’t right–, but also it was difficult for me to initiate the conversation. Yet, I wanted to. I didn’t.

I am not sure whether I wanted to find out if the woman was actually expecting, or if I simply wanted to talk.

Eugénie went for a walk

Impératrice Eugénie et ses dames
Impératrice Eugénie et ses dames

I dreamt of “L’Impératrice Eugénie parmi ses dames d’honneur” by Winterhalter (1855), that I know because there’s a small reproduction in my parents’ dining room.

The Empress Eugénie was having a nice and quiet afternoon with her friends from the palace, sitting in the beautiful and shady garden in Compiègne.

I could hear their educated, sophisticated and subdued conversations. Two were laughing lightly, another was humming a song, one was lost in the contemplation of flowers, two were whispering secrets, two were undecided as to which conversation to follow, and the empress was rather bored. I was on my way to the kitchen and wasn’t paying attention to them.

On my way back to my room, something was missing.
The Empress Eugénie had left.
I guessed she had gone for a solitary walk.

switchboard operators too have fun

[This post originally appeared in Dullicious, where I blogged as Barbie-dull for several years.]

When I was 20 I worked as a switchboard operator in a hospital during the summer vacations. One day as I was done with my shift, I stayed a while longer with the girl who was doing the next shift.

She asked if I would dare take the next call and goof around; I gladly took up the challenge!

I spoke with a fake foreign accent and pretended they were not at all at the hospital.

me: “The rehabilitation centre? no, Sir, not at all.”
them: “Ah. Oh, well, I’m sorry!”

They were about to hang up!

me: “But I’m so glad you called. I don’t have much company, you see…”

My friend was so worried she would get into trouble, that she started to giggle and gesture nervously, and that was contagious.

I became anxious to dispose of that potentially embarrassing call. I don’t recall what the caller next said or how I hung up.

My friend was eager to get back to serious work, and I was not eager to find out whether the caller would redial and speak with her; I was done for the day and darted out back home.