Whenever I order takeaway for dinner I sing Enya’s Orinoco Flow (Sail Away) to myself and replace the lyrics
to the chorus with “takeaway, takeaway, takeaway”. I think it’s the first sign
I’m turning into my father, who’s repertoire includes such classics as Helen
Reddy’s lesser known “I am mower, hear me roar”.
In kindergarten, my teacher would always play Enya during
naptime after lunch. I never wanted to nap, and me and my friend Kate would get
in trouble for whispering and playing games together. We did most things
together. On mufti days we used to call each other in the morning to co ordinate
outfits. (Once the school scheduled a mufti day for April 1st and my
parents thought I was having them on when I came downstairs in non-uniform
clothes. It took all my powers of persuasion to convince them I was telling the
truth.) One time in kindergarten, Kate couldn’t hear what the teacher asked
her, so she got told to move to a spot closer to the front and when I tried to
go with her the teacher told me to stay where I was and that we didn’t have to
do everything together. It was pretty lonely, sitting on my own up the back.
I didn’t like Enya for a long time after kindergarten. For naptime,
we had to bring a pillow from home, and mine was an ugly brown and green one. In
high school I stole the filling from it for a pillow case I sewed in Home
Science, and now it’s on my bed. I’ve grown to appreciate naps more than I did
when I was five. Music, too, I’d like to think.
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