We write. Quite a bit. A lot in fact. And we think. But not quite as much.
Stories are the best bits of life. We tell stories, listen to stories and if we’re lucky enough, live in our own story – not the real world, which can be a bit rubbish, who wants to do that? Powerful stories will stay with us forever, we wrestle with wanting to live up to them, and they help us when life gets in the way.
We’re a family team, sharing the workload.
We have a head full of stories and to prevent a bottleneck situation we need to share them.
This head-trained as a teacher but thought itself too silly to actually do it – multiple accents in maths tests to year 4 was a favourite. But the head has always wanted to help children read.
We have two six-year-old heads who demand a story featuring them every night when the lights are out. It’s easy to make them laugh, but sometimes (mostly) detrimental to an early night. There’s serious bartering as to how many stories have to be told… all good signs for relieving a jeopardy-ridden story bottleneck. If only their teachers knew what happens to them when the lights are out! Their new part-time proofreading job pays them in loaves of bread.
Stories are more powerful than kryptonite (ha!) and to share ones that will resonate, reflect, help… to share something to counter the reality blip in the matrix, that’s the aim.
We also have a brain head. Everyone needs one of those in a family. It’s a reasonable-sized head (I mean, it’s proportionate to the body which is a good thing) and one that will be blamed for everything that goes wrong from here on in – world peace included.
To end with the mighty words of King Julien:
‘If I have only two days left to live, I will do all the things I’ve ever dreamed of doing…(Melman: Like what?) I would love to become a professional whistler. I’m pretty amazing at it now, but I want to get like even better, and make my living out of it.’
Madagascar 2: Escape to Africa