All I've ever wanted, my whole life, is to be one of those people who answer the phone by saying 'safe'. Kayt lets me do it for a little lol but I think I will try doing it in real life, to everyone. Safe Mum. Safe Gran. Safe Job Centre. (Although I'd like to point out, I only signed on for three weeks then I signed off to go to London. So don't anyone be judgy-judging me.)
It sounds better when boys say it though. I might set up a sex chat line that girls can call and on the other end there's just a recording of a deep male voice saying SAFE. I'll probably do it later on today. Probably.
Anyway, stop imagining boys saying 'safe' on the phone because I actually have something important to say.
I was going to put up the link to an article I wrote for fashion and house music website House and Heels- a review of a house music night I went to a few weeks ago. Then I realised my real name was credited at the bottom of the article and as we all know I keep my identity Top Secret, for a variety of reasons ranging from the paranoid to the delusional. Then I thought... is it time to finally shed my black, floor-length cloak of lies and reveal my real name?
I don't work with kids anymore, so there's no chance the parents could stumble across my blog to discover how I was so hungover that I fainted at the school gates, or read about how I never planned my lessons for the nursery kids, so most of the time we just did the 'Okie Kokie' until one of them would inevitably run into the middle too boisterously and hurt themselves.
I think I'm going to tell you my real name, so that I can link articles to my blog and vice versa. Tell me, are you:
a) so excited you can't breathe and have just been sick?
b) not arsed?
c) bemused, because you already know my name and are in fact my friend in real life?
Anyone who said b) can stop reading now.
Right so, I don't want to write my name now, because your eyes might have scanned down from earlier on in the blog post and it will ruin the surprise. I might hide it in the middle of a paragraph to make sure people read it at the appropriate point in the post. My name is Tabitha. Now you know my name, I can tell you about French people never being able to say it, because they can't pronounce 'th'. The closest most people got would be 'Tabeeta', which was hilariously shortened to 'Tabeet' by some of the kitchen staff when I worked in the restaurant... For anyone that doesn't speak French, ta bitte is slang for 'your dick'.
So, now you know my name, CLICK HERE to read the review I wrote for House and Heels.
Have I done the right thing, revealing my name? Is it the kind of name you imagined I would have?
Let's all pretend I'm still called Left Bank Manc, ok?
In other news, I miss Paris a lot. When I listen to this the nostalgia hits me so hard it's like being smacked in the stomach with a stale baguette and I'm back at Coco Beach and the sun is shining and I don't have to think about leaving Paris for weeks and weeks and weeks...