The noble Precision has tagged me; daring me to list 5 Things About Me That No One Knows; i.e. 5 Things About Me That No One Could Really Care Less About. However. I shall press on.
1. I am a pro-wrestling fan. I remember watching my first Smackdown, taking a look at the Hardy Boyz and thinking, uh huh, that's for me. When, during the heat of a match one or – thrilldom – both would tear off their shirts, well, that was just some fine television viewing. Now, the Boyz are no longer a tag team – Matt Hardy is on Friday's Smackdown, Jeff is on Monday Night Raw. Both are extravagantly easy on the eyes. Oh, and the rest of the WWE is fun, too.
But the Hardys – woof!
2. I achieved my adult height – 5' 6.5" (NEVER forget that half-inch - it's good for an extra two pounds) by the time I was 10. That same year I started receiving a particular monthly visitor. Now, etiquette always dictated that if a person arrives at a soiree early, that person should be the first person leaving. So let me put it this way: THE PARTY'S OVER!
3. I had a World War One veteran as a pen pal. His name was Bert Stokes, and he was a survivor of terrible battles, like The Somme and Passchendaele. I was a member of the Western Front Association in 1994, and had noticed the name as one of the heads of the WFA's New Zealand branch. I had also read that name in a book on The Somme, and wrote to him asking if they were one and the same. It was indeed, and we corresponded for the entire year – he passed on in December, shortly before his 99th birthday. He was the oldest living veteran in New Zealand at that time, and was much loved. A bible he kept in his front pocket had once stopped a bullet. I guess once is enough.
4. I was a member of the Fairfax High School tennis team. But I would get so nervous before matches that I took part in only one – it was against Hollywood High. I played doubles with Gizella and was so appalling that people were not only irritated with me, but were giving me those suspicious side glances as if they thought something was seriously wrong with me. If they were just mad, believe me, I wouldn't be merely speculating 30 years later.
5. I'm a sarcastic person. Goodness, very much so. I think it's a gift, a blessing, an art. If you think sarcastic people are rude, then you've just been unfortunate enought to meet people who, shall we say, simply don't know how to handle a gun. Anyway, it's accepted: I'm sarcastic. However, I am also Highly Sensitive – which can make things rather difficult. In other words, I can dish it out, but can't be served. My advice to people similarly inclined – get your word in first.
Well. That's done. I toss down the gauntlet of revelation in the faces of the following five:
Sabba (welcome back – HAH!)