Back in the 70s I was doing a science degree at Middx, while a few friends were doing humanities there, and we used to hang out at the Hornsey and Cat Hill art schools. An interesting time!
Loved this! "People glaze over when I say, 'I used to ....'. The 'what I did' part of my life is silenced."
I don't get paid to do anything anymore, and spend my time volunteering. But goddangit, I used to be important!
Sitting in a bank with the male President of one of the organizations I volunteer for - in this case as the Treasurer - and the young guy (younger than my oldest, but older than my youngest) filling out the paperwork for our purchase of a GIC asks the Prez - who is not menopausal and I presume has a penis - what he did for a living. He didn't ask me and I wish he had because I could've told him, "Well, I was your boss. In fact, I was your boss' boss. Actually, I was your boss' boss' boss and then add a few more boss' (this being a bank) and you get the drift."
While I like the invisibility that comes with being an infertile old bag, it bothers me that men the age of my sons still can't fathom that an old woman could've been, well, maybe, somebody.
Brilliant, Cherry. Incisive and brutally funny. So many bright spots I don’t know where to start. And thank you for the mention.
Loved reading this. Particularly enjoyed that last image that we are all quilted collages. And all the best folk went to Middx Poly!
Thank you. V kind - yes - I missed a trick - Middlesex was IT!
Back in the 70s I was doing a science degree at Middx, while a few friends were doing humanities there, and we used to hang out at the Hornsey and Cat Hill art schools. An interesting time!
Wonderful.
This is fantastic, Cherry.
really? Very kind.
Yes! Absolutely. Poignant and very funny writing.
Loved this! "People glaze over when I say, 'I used to ....'. The 'what I did' part of my life is silenced."
I don't get paid to do anything anymore, and spend my time volunteering. But goddangit, I used to be important!
Sitting in a bank with the male President of one of the organizations I volunteer for - in this case as the Treasurer - and the young guy (younger than my oldest, but older than my youngest) filling out the paperwork for our purchase of a GIC asks the Prez - who is not menopausal and I presume has a penis - what he did for a living. He didn't ask me and I wish he had because I could've told him, "Well, I was your boss. In fact, I was your boss' boss. Actually, I was your boss' boss' boss and then add a few more boss' (this being a bank) and you get the drift."
While I like the invisibility that comes with being an infertile old bag, it bothers me that men the age of my sons still can't fathom that an old woman could've been, well, maybe, somebody.