“Look at that.”

“Yeah. Wow.”

“Reminds me of the rainbows we used to see. Remember?”

“Certainly do. It used to rain whenever we met each other or did anything. And we never seemed to come prepared. We’d get drenched and still not bring an umbrella the next time.”

“That’s right. You still don’t bring your umbrella.”

“Sometimes. Yeah, that’s right. Sometimes.”

“You’d prefer to get wet.”

“Getting wet’s not so bad. When the rain isn’t heavy. It’s nice to be in the rain if you aren’t getting soaked. “

“But you get stubborn about it.”

“I don’t always bring my umbrella because I hate walking around with an umbrella all day and never opening the bloody thing. It’s pointless.”

“It’s not pointless. Not if it rains. That’s the point. That’s why you carry one with you.”

“Fair enough. It really isn’t important.”

“No. It really isn’t important. I just don’t want to see you get a cold, that’s all.”

“How often have I had a cold since you’ve known me?”

“You’ve had a few.”

“No. That’s not strictly true. I’ve had about three colds. If that’s a few then …”

“Yes, it is. A few.”

“I don’t get sick very often is the point.”

“Oh, that’s a point is it? Umbrellas have no point but some assertion you feel free to make, which is contested by another person who has seen all the evidence, is a point. Is that right?”

“Don’t be silly. Look at the rainbow. Properly.”


“It’s lovely.”

“I know.”

“Did I tell you about the rainbow I once saw on the other side of the playground at school? It was raining on the other side of the playground. About twenty metres away, and there was a rainbow as well, but it was dry where I was standing.”

“Yes, you did tell me. Several times.”

“Good story though.”

“It’s not bad. Loses a bit with the retelling.”

“What are the colours of the rainbow again? Red and yellow and pink and green, purple and orange and blue. Like the song, I Can Sing A Rainbow. Did you sing that when you were little?”

“Yes we did. But there was another song.”

“The one with violet and indigo and all that?”

“I think so.”

“Never learned that one. What sort of colour is indigo anyway?”

“Just a colour. What’s your problem with indigo?”

“Sounds weird and different and wrong. To me anyway.”

“Does it really matter?”

“No. Of course it doesn’t.”

“So don’t worry about it then. Just look at the rainbow. Don’t argue with it.”


“What did you want to be when you were grown up?”

“I don’t know. What did you want to be?”

“I wanted to be an actor.”

“Oh, that worked out well. You became one of those. Good on you.”

“There’s no need to be smart.”

“I really can’t recall wanting to be an anything. I said I wanted to be certain things, but that was more to entertain adults than it was about a burning desire to follow a certain path.”

“What did you say then?”

“I said I wanted to be a marine biologist. I said I wanted to study sharks, as sharks are very cool to a little boy, aggressive and deadly and so on. But I didn’t really want to be a marine biologist. I must have wanted to be an archaeologist.”

“Like Indiana Jones.”

“Sort of. Not really. I mean, I think I wanted to uncover new pyramids and that sort of thing. I must have been annoyed that there weren’t any left to uncover or excavate in Egypt. I think even as a little kid that I realised Indiana Jones was a silly Hollywood version of archaeologist. He is cool though. So you just knew about the actor thing?”

“Yep. I’ve always been a bit of a show off. I learned singing and ballet and did drama. Just seemed right somehow. To be a great actor. Or to be an actor of any kind. To work in that job. I just knew, and worked towards it. I must have been about ten when I knew.”

“I wish I knew.”

“Yeah, but that was then. Kids are strange. Some kids are certain about some things.”

“I mean, I wish I knew now. How does one know? How do you know?”

“You know. You just think you don’t know.”

“That’s rather cryptic. Explain that.”

“It’s something you do, and you have to do it. Imagine not being able to do it. Think of all the things you like to do, that you love to do even, and imagine what life would be like if you couldn’t do them. The one that would leave you most unhappy and unfulfilled if it was gone, that’s it. You just don’t know it. You won’t admit what it is, to yourself.”


“Well, have a think. What would you most hate to have taken away from you? And no, the answer can’t be “red wine drinker”. Be serious.”

“OK. I was going to say something like that.”

“I know you were.”

“OK. I think the thing I want to do, or should that be need to do, with the rest of my life, is to gamble on sporting events.”

“Be serious, I said.”

“I am.”

“No, you aren’t serious. That’s preposterous. You’re being silly.”

“I wasn’t trying to be. Let’s just look at the rainbow for a bit longer in silence.”

“Suits me.”

“Love you.”

“I’m being quiet.”


Published in: on February 21, 2013 at 7:29 pm  Comments (4)  

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4 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Delicious. Makes me want to be in love ….

    • Ooh, that’s a lovely thing to say! And thank you so much for following me.

      • You’re most welcome — on both counts! 😀

      • Awwww.

        On 11 June 2014 12:29, Johan Turdenmeier’s Miscellany wrote:

        > ninamishkin commented: “You’re most welcome — on both counts! :-D” >

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