Small Talk

I'd like to tell you, my wonderful readers, about a little event that took place two - well, three if you want to be picky - days ago.

Picture the scene, if you will. The man I love is hanging out with some of his friends, people I like and admire very much, when suddenly the theme tune of a 90s quiz show comes on. Small Talk. The concept behind the game is that adults have to guess how colossally stupid any one of 9 opinionated, extroverted children are. My beloved volunteers the information that I was on this programme as a child, and that I am still very much traumatised by it. At that very moment, the jolly announcer chappy introduces Annaaaaaa! And there I was, waving at the camera, no doubt smiling a goofy little smile. Or possibly just looking smug.

He called me at that point to inform me of my reappearance on television. My response was (but of course) the epitome of maturity - I believe it was something like "NO SHUP I HATE YOU!" and then hanging up. Smooth, me. I then sat down in my living room, head in my hands, and - dear God, why - telling my housemate.

So, yes. we watched it. She found it hysterical, accurately describing the situation on the phone as "my housemate's on TV, it's hilarious, she's absolutely hating it!" We watched as the contestants called on me time after time, confident in my knowledge and wisdom, which my 8-year old self was only too glad to impart. We watched my thoughtful little face, listened to my posh (and higher than I remembered) voice, as I described hammocks, humiliated a classmate, and denounced war as "a bad thing". Way to go, little me.

I was hiding behind a cushion for most of it, emerging only for the half time pep talk from my love. Apparently all his friends thought it was very amusing, and possibly even something to be proud of!

Proud of? Hmm. Novel idea.

Another phone call at the end of the show had the rather strange effect of actually convincing me that maybe it wasn't so terrible. That maybe it was even a good thing that he'd seen it; and indeed that it was only fair since I've seen video footage of Little Gav. I was even told that the same mannerisms I display now were evident in little me. (So maybe I haven't changed as much as I feared...)

And suddenly, it's not such a big dark secret any more. Suddenly it's ok. Not least because, with both episodes out of the way, I can sleep at night knowing that nobody will be putting me on youtube!!

Ah yes, both episodes... well, the one detailed here was the second. A few days previously, I'd received this facebook message out of the clear blue yonder.

Well, it's time I went to bed like the good little diddums I am. But I would like to ask one question of you all first...

What are the freakin' odds?!