I've always struggled with numbers, Carol Vorderman has been somewhat of a nemesis for me and more recently that Rachel Riley...she's somewhat easier to hate. Until I was old enough to understand Countdown (British game show involving word and number puzzles.) Take away the O and the down and you'll understand what maths made me feel like! Which is a more appropriate name for a game show for someone with all the dys's- dyscalculia, dyslexia, dyspraxia, disappointing my mother, distracted by anything, dysfunctional, disemotionally stable, disco genius, dis food tastes so good I'mma never stop eating etc. Anyway, until I reached the age of about 12 Sesame Street's Count Von Count was my arch enemy! That Transylvanian bastard (is that racist?! Can you be racist against a puppet? Is he stealing all our jobs?! Is he a refugee/terrorist?! Is he paying his taxes?! Is he on benefits?!!!) With his eternal life, strutting around in his cape (I always wanted a cape) and his flawless counting ability. Rubbing it in my face by laughing his head off at the end of yet another impeccable example of how his counting is far superior to mine. Twat.
At school I became fearful of maths, which started off by hating red pens. FACT - red pen never means anything good. NEVER. Even when there's a fake smiley face next to 2/10 - don't trust it! They are just trying to break it to that you are completely hopeless, in gentle way.
I've got to a point where I'm realising that you need to know basic maths for generally getting by in the world. So I've signed up for an evening class to try and learn how to count higher than 10 without breaking into a sweat and/or tears. I'm going to call it The Education Crowd- that's what I will call the sitcom.
This place is like it's been set up for me write about and it really needs it own production. When I first went in I felt like I was on my very own Truman Show the woman who greeted me had the look of someone on the brink of a stroke or suicide. Her face is a face not made to smile, her complexion that of a giant waxy Edam with blood spatter instead of blusher. Her eyes glazed with a slight look hatred. Hatred for what? Me? The customer, nervously looking for a friendly face? Was this too much to ask from a receptionist? Maybe just a hatred for her own very existence? We may never know. (Actually to be fair maybe it's just mental health issues - hey no judgement we've all got them.)
After this tackling this grey entity of a woman, she called over 'Demetrius.' Now take a second, close your eyes and let your imagination wonder...what would a Demetrius look like...I'm talking the epitome of a stereotypical Greek man, I'm talking smashing plates, I'm talking skipping instead of walking...I'm basically talking Stavros Flatly from Britain’s Got Talent circa 2009...everything you are picturing is correct except for his personality which that of a mouse trapped inside this Greek gods body. Demetrius looks like the most Greek man a Greek man could be until he opens his mouth, and then he is the most softly spoken gentlemanly man ever. Timid in his demeanour and almost apprehensive to approach me...and soon the reasons became clear.
I've got to a point where I'm realising that you need to know basic maths for generally getting by in the world. So I've signed up for an evening class to try and learn how to count higher than 10 without breaking into a sweat and/or tears. I'm going to call it The Education Crowd- that's what I will call the sitcom.
This place is like it's been set up for me write about and it really needs it own production. When I first went in I felt like I was on my very own Truman Show the woman who greeted me had the look of someone on the brink of a stroke or suicide. Her face is a face not made to smile, her complexion that of a giant waxy Edam with blood spatter instead of blusher. Her eyes glazed with a slight look hatred. Hatred for what? Me? The customer, nervously looking for a friendly face? Was this too much to ask from a receptionist? Maybe just a hatred for her own very existence? We may never know. (Actually to be fair maybe it's just mental health issues - hey no judgement we've all got them.)
After this tackling this grey entity of a woman, she called over 'Demetrius.' Now take a second, close your eyes and let your imagination wonder...what would a Demetrius look like...I'm talking the epitome of a stereotypical Greek man, I'm talking smashing plates, I'm talking skipping instead of walking...I'm basically talking Stavros Flatly from Britain’s Got Talent circa 2009...everything you are picturing is correct except for his personality which that of a mouse trapped inside this Greek gods body. Demetrius looks like the most Greek man a Greek man could be until he opens his mouth, and then he is the most softly spoken gentlemanly man ever. Timid in his demeanour and almost apprehensive to approach me...and soon the reasons became clear.
The next character is a beautiful, black haired, elegant older woman. She is sitting down but you can tell she's positively statuesque and the personification of glamour. She has a leopard print bangle on her arm over her jumper. She looks like she could be one of the glamorous mothers from Made In Chelsea, who can calmly threaten to cut off a young stockbroker's ball bag whilst making it sound like she's offered them the deal of a lifetime, simultaneously guzzling Champagne- in the same way I used to drink Lambrini down the park when I as 14 *looks wistfully on* ah memories... Damn Lambrini nostalgia side tracking me...
'Bee' is the statue's name. Which is peeeeerfect - I almost died when I heard it. I've already decided she will be my mentor; she will coach me into becoming maths genius and man eater. I will lose 2 stone, become addicted to exercise and avocados. Will find a way of cooperating a leather pencil skirt into my daily attire and for some reason carry a cane that I'll use to intimidate hot men into doing things for me by using evocative S&M montages (I haven’t got time to do anything except montages - because I'll be far too busy and important.)
Anyway, Queen Bee's one flaw is juxtaposed to Demetrious...Bee's voice should be husky and sexy and soft and fucking flawless! But when Bee opens her mouth she sounds like a fruit and veg market seller from Dagenham. If you heard her voice without seeing her you would picture some sort of hairy toothed, grubby smelling, tracksuit clad, 40 ciggies a day, reprobate screaming at her kids. (Perhaps Demerious and Bee should swap voices....) But Bee doesn’t have kids there to be'slave so that role falls upon the hen pecked Demetrious and the one remaining member of this oddball crew. I'm going to call him Darren. Darren has the smallest role in The Education Crowd but it’s a very important one. I didn’t even notice Darren until my third 'experience' there. From as far as I can see Darren’s main purpose in life is wear some form of England t-shirt. Any form of England t-shirt. As long as there is some sort of English flag stretched across his rotund frame Darren is dressed for the day. ( Still no judgement I haven't got the flattest stomach!) The rest of his outfit is a pair of those Adidas tracksuit bottoms that were popular in the '90s. The kind that are made out of shiny, highly flammable, synthetic material with three white stripes down both legs. I feel like Darren is the main reason the room smells of scalp. It’s almost too cliché to tell you that he has dirty hair, way overdue for a cut, with a matching beard that almost covers his mouth...and of course the look wouldn’t be complete without the textbook, extra thick NHS glasses, smeared with some sort of substance that doesn’t bear thinking about...
Disclaimer - these people are lovely people, slightly mad, but all genuinely lovely.
So apparently setting the scene of meeting this clan of misfits has overwhelmed me and taken away from the actual point of this post. Therefore part 2 to come at some point.
Yours still numerically challenged,
Kitty Lo
