I get obsessions about things. In particular TV and book series. I suppose it started with Enid Blyton and the Magic Faraway Tree. Then onto the Bobbsey Twins, Malory Towers, Trixie Beldon, Ann of Green Gables , the list goes on….you get the gist. In truth, I live in a fantasy world.
My current obsessions of the last couple of weeks has been “Call the Midwife” a TV series based on the books of Jennifer Worth, narrating a Midwife's life in the post war East End of London, which includes as a character a large Pukka girl called Chummy. I have ordered all of the books on Amazon because I simply MUST have them!
On the other end of the scale, “BreakingBad”, is the story of struggling, cancer riddled school teacher who, for the love of his family becomes a meth cooker. His off sider is a former student, meth user, homey dude, called Jesse.
Pretty diverse, what! Unfortunately I become immersed in characters...I pull them apart and unconsciously adopt their mannerisms. (My husband and I recently read the "Game of Thrones" series and we drone "Summer is coming" to anything that bodes ill)
When I become immersed in said characters, anything is bound to happen. I talk the talk, I walk the walk. It is unfortunate when they merge to become one entity, like some kind of Sybil, multiple personality mutant.
It all came out in the email I was writing to somebody (nameless) who knew nothing of my obsessions. She had done me a professional favour. So, what did I write? Certainly not, "Thanks so much for your assistance." That would be too corporate...too banal. Instead I wrote, and I shall put it in capitals, because it was so ridiculous, that most would not believe it, and it must be exclaimed...I wrote, "YOU'RE A BRICK, YO!"
I will say it again. "You're a brick, yo!"
It belies belief.