Getting recognised in 2019 is slightly tough, wouldn't you say? And, unless you've swallowed a bath bomb or discovered the next big meme, you probably aren't going to stand out to anyone but your own family. Honestly, that's a bit sad. And, like most, I've often dreamt of making a name for myself. But, I'm a writer, so those ludicrous chances went from one in a hundred, to a straight flat zero in seconds.
You know, one of the first things a stranger said to me when I took my newborn daughter out for the first time, was, "Oh, you're too young to be a parent!" But, as much as Pauline, the waitress from Pizza Hut, might've offended me that afternoon, as I scoffed my face with sundae sprinkles, I never quite took it too close to heart. Because I felt like I could prove the bitch wrong someday. And it started off by complaining to management and getting a £20 refund from our next order. But that was besides the point. I was going to prove to this stranger and anyone else who doubted my parenting methods that I was capable of raising a child. Even if that did mean having to lose the balloon hats at TGI Fridays. Because, you know, I'm an adult, and adults don't wear balloon hats. Unless on special occasions. But anyway, as I was saying.
Funerals. Dead bodies. Black ties and baggy eyes. There's something quite concerning about it all, isn't there? Working in the funeral trade isn't for everyone. That's something I can say with confidence. Because like most, I assumed it would be the most morbid, depressing, and mundane career on the planet. And to be fair, I guess I was half right. When I took on the job as a part-time undertaker at the age of fifteen, I wasn't overly sure what the trade consisted of outside of the funeral service. I mean, I knew there was paperwork and travelling, but besides from the obvious, I wasn't aware of the 'special tasks' that would take place behind closed doors.
Ask any writer in the world their favourite hour to work, and they'll probably tell you something ludicrous like between two and three in the morning. Or, something along those lines, anyway. Because, honestly, our finest time to crack knuckles and shovel bucketfuls of creativity out is usually when the sun has long set and the vast population of the world has tucked themselves in for bed.
If, like me, you had ranting and raving parents who looked down on those little virtual characters when you were younger, then join the club. Because, honestly, I can't tell you how many times I've heard things like, "Oh, your eyes'll go square if you play much longer," or, "You'll resort to a life of violence if you play that one!"
Okay, so it's been a bit of a hectic week here in the home studio. For starters, my kids have been driving me up the wall with their persistent whining for Peppa Pig montages. And my wife has been badgering me for a holiday like it's the only thing left to do before she can die happily.