So love that expression - the elephants in the room. The big issues that remain undealt with, unspoken. I tell you, so many elephants in my rooms it's no wonder that I'm being suffocated by the biggest herd of all - the past. Those elephants tickle me with their trucks at very regular intervals, especially on Tuesdays when I head off for my book keeping class. They're with me at the bus stop, queuing in a nice straight line, waiting for the No 50 bus aka the elephant bus. Another thing that elephants never do is forget, and I have been cursed with an excellent memory. Not the sort that remembers useful stuff, just all the crap that floats about in the back of the brain. Who was wearing what at some teenage party in 1977, who gave me a funny look in 1973, and that sort of stuff. Useless, pointless stuff that only makes me unhappy and eat more crisps.
So , back to the No 50 bus. It takes me down memory lane. Well, the South Circular, actually, and up a bit of the A24. It takes me past the road where Bob Geldof and Paula Yates lived, past where I went to secondary school, past the houses of people I used to know, past the common where I played hockey, treetrunk legs under a swishing blue sports skirt thundering up and down the pitch, past where I first went to school - in someone's house, believe it or not!- so that when the elephants and I get off at the pub where I drank as a teenager, Laura Ashley skirts spread out on the grass, I'm in need of a rescue remedy drip! Talk about my memories serving me far too well!
One day I met the mother of someone I was at school with. When I explained where I was going, she looked me up and down, as only Italian ladies can do, and told me that I was too old and too busy to be messing about with courses! Took me some time to recover from that one.
And it gets worse. The college is no refuge - there are more elephants in that classroom! They deal with other aspects of my life and I have to watch myself very carefully. But thats enough for today.
Why can't they just stick to leaving their paw prints in the butter?