I am a trained classical pianist… at least I used to be, along with the violin, viola, guitar and a bit of flute. I also used to sing until years of debauched behaviour exacted their revenge on my vocal chords. These days I am reduced to whistling, which I do pretty much all the time. It drives my entire family nuts. The dog is constantly confused about what I want her to do.
I became seriously unwell about 30 mins into a non-stop 36 hour second-class train journey from Madras to Delhi. My friends clambered up and down the carriages looking for a doctor, but could only find a vet. Needless to say I took a dramatic turn for the worse when they decided it was worth a shot.
I got a job as a waitress in a Buenos Aires restaurant before I could really speak any Spanish. I guess that tells you as much about the restaurant as it does about me. I cannot tell you how many orders I got wrong– it was an inverse version of Fawlty Towers. But much like Manuel I was never fired. Just restricted to clearing plates and filling breadbaskets. After a few weeks I had enough vocabulary to actually wait tables, but had got too used to living off the leftovers by then so… Que?
I have a freakish memory for birthdays, middle names and other extraneous details. Addresses, jobs, parents names, weird stuff like that. It has lost me many potential new friends. I have to pretend not to remember things in case they do a runner. But I still have to use my fingers to add up.
I have less than no sense of direction. I once got lost walking from Tottenham Court Road to Oxford Circus. I know it’s a straight line but there were big crowds so I ducked down a side alley and… you know the rest. Arriving at work almost an hour late was up there with “the dog ate my homework.”
Post source: Female First