Attention isn’t Always a Good Thing…

When I decided to publish my first book, I would periodically daydream about being just a little bit famous. Not too much, you understand – I am much too old to be in the sex, drug and alcohol scene that they all seem to get caught up in. And for heavens sake what would one do with all that money? Apart from pay the credit card, buy new clothes, go to the hairdressers, pay the council rates/electricity/water/ house insurance, pay off my mortgage, buy a nice little cottage on the West Coast of Ireland, pay off the university fees, own Argos, give to the poor and needy, donate to all my favourite charities…

Think how awful it would be to have no private life…“Ooh! Look everyone, there she goes – that’s her!” or, “I used to know her!” and, “Who’d have thought?” Perhaps I might even have to purchase an (expensive) brand of sunglasses to replace the ageing Bundaberg’s. No, I wouldn’t like to be too famous, though I warned my ego, as I don’t like being the centre of attention (unless I’m singing on a stage…no, don’t try to figure that one out), or to stand out in a crowd, (If I were slim and beautiful, well, ask me again..).

People sometimes look twice at me – it must be that they are ‘aware’ of my being a foreigner by just looking at me I’m sure. Surely it couldn’t be the fact that I’m always tripping up kerbs, down paths & stairs, breaking limbs down mountains etc. I’m a somewhat socially awkward and honestly your preschooler would have more dress sense than I. Maybe I remind people of old Maudie Gwyn from up the Graig? I am unremarkable really. Not stunningly beautiful (not even a little tinsy bit), yet am hopeful not to resemble Medusa on a bad-hair day. Attention isn’t always a Good Thing.

Once I ran into the newsagents to buy something on my way home, and people were giving me second looks, ‘Ohh I must be beautiful today!’ I thought, fluffing my hair up, ‘Well! It does help to put that bit of lippy on I spose.’ I ducked in to the fruit shop to grab some apples and grapes, and again people were casting furtive glances my way. ‘Goodness,’ I wondered, ‘Perhaps I look like some famous person…?’ Though not being a Faithful TV Watcher or Newspaper Reader I wouldn’t know Meg from Mog. I shrugged the fruit into my bag and hurried back to my car, and as I was glancing into the rearview mirror to reverse, caught a flash of plum. Upon closer inspection, I saw with horror why everybody was STARING at me. I had slashed my lipstick on and forgot to go around the ‘bow’ part in the middle and had just gone straight around and resembled Great Aunty Lily when she was getting on. I still shudder when I think of that…

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