Hashtag. Hashtag. Like. Dislike. FaceTime Instagram Mcdougall.
All of these things make sense to a lot of people. What these people fail to remember though is that remembering, above all, is fun. They’re too busy trying to WhatsApp a soup bowl to Pinterest to remind themselves that all of it is nonsense and unless they start doing things that they can remember, they will never experience the fun that is remembering is fun.
You can’t remember tapping a slide trap on Tinder or going live on Facebook when Charlie chundered into a sieve. These aren’t the kinds of stories you can recount to your grandkids when you’re eighty-five. Where’s the joy? Where’s the laughter? Who is the fun?
Take for instance the following photo:
This was taken almost three years ago when a certain someone turned thirty. But that was merely something going on in the background that nobody really took any notice of. The main event was the filming of what is commonly known as ‘Essex Highway’. As Chris decided to mention David Bowie earlier on this month, I remembered how remembering was fun and that something involving Mr Bowie had occurred once which was fun.
This was before filming had started. Kevin, a keen perfectionist, had spent three hours getting his hair just right. At the point where he uttered such a bilious scream, and we rushed to expect him having trapped his hand in the plughole, only to find out he had just finished styling his hair and it was the smoothest it had ever been. The hair, donated by Crystal Park zoo, smelled of custard creams and answered to the name Alistair. Kevin would high five it after every successful shot.
Alistair would take most of the directing and producing credits for ‘Essex Highway’ and started a successful catering business once filming was over.
Kevin bought a wind farm and fathered seven children.
9 comments on “Remembering is Fun – May 2014 Edition”
Remembering is SO much fun. I’d forgotten just how many children Kev had reared on his child-friendly wind farm and now that you’ve reminded me I’ve had a whale of a time remembering it.
The whale eventually moved to Andover to run a fried chicken franchise.
That whale made so much money from the venture. I’ve tasted the chicken and it’s like gold sheens.
I remember taking this photo, which gives me added fun. Where were you when this photo was being took? (deliberate grammar mistake)
It’s possible that I was in the living room when this was took, somewhere just behind the camera, gazing at the David Craig Face Clock in awe and wonder.
David Craig joined the navy and married a girl he met on shore leave in Honolulu.
That clock made so much money from looking like David Craig.
I would like to think that it was taken to your new flat, and gazes out onto the veranda on sunny days like a newborn baby, but part of me also thinks that it will have been thrown into a bin on the way out.
I think it’s probably the first of those two, but unfortunately I don’t know where the verandah is, or where you would have to be to look out on it, so at the moment there’s no real evidence that it wasn’t actually the second of those.
You don’t know where the thing that doesn’t exists is located in your own flat? For the love of monkeys, you’re just making things a lot harder than they need to be.
It’s on the thing next to the other thing.
Oh yeah. I’m not at home right now but if I pretend to have seen it can we move on?
*considers his options*
No. No you may not.
You draw me a plan of your flat with the veranda(h) on and we’ll call it quits.