My mum says she always knows when I have been home to visit as she can never open the bottle of Diet Coke, or the jam jar lids have been screwed on impossibly tight. When I'm having a meal with friends, you can guarantee that once the plates are collected in, mine will be the space with the large and widely distribued pile of crumbs (and not only on the table but my lap, the floor...). When I was a child, if there was 'WET PAINT' to ruin a new outfit with, I would be the one to walk into it, if there was a hair catastrophe to be caused by mishandling of chewing gum, my follicles would be the unfortunate ones stuck to it and needing hacked off en masse, (I blame Roald Dahl for irresponsibly letting one of the characters in Charlie and the Chocolate factory keep her chewing gum stored behind her ear...ridiculously appealing idea to an 8 year old!) or if there was a bubble blowing carton to be landed on right between the eyes whilst ducking under bubbles...yep I'm now the girl with the half moon scar. (wow that unintentionally sounded quite exotic and Twilight-esque).
This clumsy duckling sadly has not yet grown into swan-like gracefulness as she has become older, no siree! I am still spilling things, cracking cups, bowls and glasses, pulling blinds and curtains off the wall left, right and centre, destroying jewellery, ruining items of clothing, rugs and books by the dozen. Getting from the living room to the bathroom in my flat can sometimes feel like running the veritable gauntlet for bemused house guests, as they stand to discreetly 'use the facilities' they are firstly commanded 'Just yank it' as they realise the living room door doesn't easily budge, then 'It's up on the right' as they fumble to find the string for the light that the bauble at the bottom has long since fallen off, and 'Don't worry we'll remember you're in there'.. as I remember I still haven't got a lock for the door since the last time I had a group of people round. And they'd better hope I remembered to warn them that my toilet seat which I proudly puchased for £1.53 at IKEA is 'not quite attached' and 'may cause slippage' whilst sitting on, or approaching the toilet. This is probably after they have arrived into the flat having accidentally rang my neighbour's doorbell (as 'Judy' hasn't lived here since 2004 from what I've been told- how are they to know?- and sometimes 'Caroline' just seems like a safer bet...no idea why- would love to do a survey on that one, is it a 'right/left' of the door thing, or does her bell just look much prettier?! Or do people see me as more of a Caroline than a Judy? Who knows.)
But at least they get a warm welcome, hospitality, a good chat and a laugh while they're here, right? I mean, being clumsy and careless surely ain't the worst flaw in the world to have- it can be quite amusing, and it kind of makes me 'me' and it sure leads to a good story or two for a dinner party. And maybe I just can't help it...I'm naturally a butter fingers, Awkward Annie, Calamity Jane, I have limited core stability, I'm 'spatially challenged', I'm heavy handed, I 'don't know my own strength' and I'm just in too much of a rush and have too many other things to think about. So I don't think my clumsiness is the end of the world (well at least not for most people, except temporaily perhaps for the distant relative I once caused major eyebrow bruisage to, whilst playing a family game of rounders and enthusistically flinging the metal bat at full strength behind me as I ran to first base! Or the people whose stuff I borrow and mess up or lose. Or the guy whose brand-new car I reversed into 2 days after he got it. ) But despite this I'm not too worried about it. Part of it is carelessness, part is rushing too much, daydreaming a lot, these can probably be changed. But then the rest is just kind of who I am. And in light of the extent of it all, I hope it's endearing at least sometimes, or else I must just be 100% a pain to be around!
I read the most beautiful love poem from a husband to his clumsy wife a few years ago and it really inspired me- not necessarily to try to be more spatially aware or dignified (sorry!) but the beautiful contrast of his wife's endearing clumsiness with her warm and gentle spirit just struck a chord deep inside me, and almost moves me to tears every time I read it. I really and truly want to be that person, but how can I when I am also clumsy with keeping in touch with friends, getting birthday presents to them on time, or meeting up with them regularly; clumsy with recycling, clumsy with spending my money wisely or saving and infinitely worst of all -clumsy and careless with the words I say to and about people on a daily basis. That's a kind of regular spillage that no Dettol can make better and it's a stain in my personality that needs something (Someone..) a heck of a lot stronger than Vanish to remove. However I hope and pray that:
a) if I do end up getting married and living with someone they at least find my breakage/spillage rate a little amusing/endearing at least some of the time
b) even if I can never become a physically graceful person, that my heart and personality and delicacy of feelings will somehow be a contrast and not a complement to my tornado-style material presence.
Love Poem (John Frederick Nims)
My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases,
At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring,
Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen,
And have no cunning with any soft thing
Except all ill-at-ease fidgeting people:
The refugee uncertain at the door
You make at home; deftly you steady
the drunk clambering on his undulant floor
Unpredictable dear, the taxi drivers' terror.
Shrinking from far headlights pale as a dime
Yet leaping before apoplectic streetcars-
Misfit in any space. And never on time.
A wrench in clocks and the solar system. Only
With words and people and love you move at ease;
In traffic of wit expertly manoevre
And keep us, all devotion, at your knees.
Forgetting your coffee spreading on our flannel,
Your lipstick grinning on our coat,
So gaily in love's unbreakable heaven
Our souls on glory of spilt bourbon float.
Be with me darling, early and late. Smash glasses-
I will study wry music for your sake.
For should your hands drop white and empty
All the toys of the world would break.
