Friday, August 17, 2007

A Bleeding Gums Sort of Life

Last night, I had the obligitary phone call from one half of that union that gave the Chipster life. In commonday parlance, let’s just say my father rang me up. It turns out that he’s been visiting his sister who lives out in the wilds of Norfolk. While there, my aunt drove Dad to see his nephew’s house while my cousin is away on holiday in Switzerland.

My cousin is a dentist and my aunt obviously basked in the pride of mentioning the famous people who live nearby. My cousin’s immediate neighbour is a very famous film director. Modesty forbids me from telling you more but the words ‘household’ and ‘name’ sum it up pretty well. What makes it even worse is that I’m also a huge fan of the man. I’d give canines just to shake the man by the hand.

In a different life perhaps...

I suppose in the course of their conversation, my father and my aunt must have discussed the Chipster. Comparisons would have been made, either implicity or explicity. I don’t know how my father gets around the disappointment he must face when having to explain what I’m doing with my life. Still not got a job? Still not working? Still no family? Still not married? Still living out his dreams….Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

How can I compare myself to a dentist living in a half-a-million pound house? I struggle every month just to pay the rent.

However, I’ll have a go…

I’m moderately happy.
I love my work.
I’m proud of the work I do.
I don’t spend 8 hours a day looking at bleeding gums.
People don’t consider me a social pariah.
I don't take money from people who can't afford it.
I have a heart and can also quote poetry by heart.

Do I win? I don't really care. Just so long as my father believes that I do.


Anonymous said...

Aw come on Chipster you know you can't win ,the family elders know better, just agree with them ,go into a huff or change the subject,they will have a go at you but that's family and that can't be changed.

Ms Baroque said...

...So, you never told Chip Sr about the stripping then? You never know - he might be chuffed. At the very least it'll surprise him into some kind of grudging Alpha-male respect scenario...

Why don't you try doing a strip for the family at Christmas, while reciting some Byron? That'll get 'em. The dentist will have to do pretty damn well at charades after that!

elberry said...

amusing, i deal with possible parental disapproval of my ludicrously high qualifications being wasted on temp jobs by calmly & smilingly blaming them, "But, mother, it's your fault, don't you see? Best if we never talk about it again. By the way, can you lend me a tenner?"

Big Chip Dale said...

Anonymous, but I want to win! I can't handle being compared unfavourably to a dentist.

Ms. Baroque, of course they know. You can't my moderate fame without them hearing. It's just they don't know the full details and being somewhat socialist, I've never told them about my Arthur Scargill routine.

Elberry, you mean you've still not got a job despite your Nobel Prize? I know the feeling. You must console yourself with the knowledge that there's always telesales. By the way, can they lend me a tenner too?