Hydrangeas and Etaoin
Last night at the grocery store, there was a display of hydrangeas. They filled me with memories of Etaoin. During our university years or just after, before she got into the exciting world of sewage treatment, Etaoin dreamed of being a horticulturalist and worked in a greenhouse. One of her jobs in a greenhouse involved dealing with thousands of hydrangeas. She had to prune, repot or something she found incredibly boring. I think it was at about that time that she developed the horrible mould allergies that ended her horticulturalst ambitions. Her eyes swelled shut and she missed a lot of work because she was so sick. I remember meeting up with her after she got back to London from that job in Grimsby and she just kept repeating (ranting) about how much she hated hydrangeas, just hated fucking hydrangeas.
Since then, whenever I see hydrangeas, I think of her. When I lived in Brazil, I once had to go to a town with an airport so small there was one wooden bench in the waiting room, and the building was separated from the runway by a hedge of the biggest hydrangeas I have ever seen. I had a picture taken of myself by the hedge, just so I could share it with her. I knew it would make her laugh.
Etaion, I'm still hating hydrangeas on your behalf.
Since then, whenever I see hydrangeas, I think of her. When I lived in Brazil, I once had to go to a town with an airport so small there was one wooden bench in the waiting room, and the building was separated from the runway by a hedge of the biggest hydrangeas I have ever seen. I had a picture taken of myself by the hedge, just so I could share it with her. I knew it would make her laugh.
Etaion, I'm still hating hydrangeas on your behalf.