Half my life story

Another day, another day. That is as far as it goes. Besides the rain that stopped me doing more photos of places I've been to before, so many people around me seem to be having so much activity in their lives they insist on sharing in detail I thought was confined to my grandma, and all I can do is nod and say very little. When I have activity in my life I rarely mention it as I am quite busy enough doing it. I talk far more about what isn't happening than what is, and have so much time on my hands. And do they fucking moan! Because they aren't getting exactly what they want (while I am getting precisely nothing) all they see are the holes while everyone else sees the cheese. And there's nothing I can do to get any of my own without paying for it, which I have never done.

So my quest to drag someone out of the past continues, with no more results than stage one where I've discovered them and then goes straight to eliminating them. I'm still not sure if it's worse when they don't reply or they do and don't remember me. I have the sort of photographic memory that lasts unchanged through time and misses no one. Some may need a push but if I see a familiar face I've yet not to recognise who it is. Maybe many would rather forget, and unlike me their lives have steadily improved over time rather than buried themselves. So as I need a few decent people around again I prefer the route of what you know as finding new ones happens so randomly it may not happen for years. And in 48 years you meet thousands of people so however low the odds (and remember it's happened to people I know) even one in a thousand means it should happen sooner or later.
My little twist today was not emailing someone directly but their brother, as men keep their names so are easier to find. If he remembers me that'll be a miracle but was the only route open to me for a woman who was one of the best looking I've known, although a pretty miserable bitch.

As it is, I spent a few years with her around one way or another, as although she only turned out to live a couple of miles away I met her on my annual music holiday where she was part of the large crowd of teenagers who all roved the area together while their parents went to concerts and played classical music. She was one of the many girls who was just a bit too young to be interested in me but all what you would call on the verge of aristocracy, public school, parents who ran the country and my standard type. After she stopped going there she turned up on TV, with massive tits which suited her perfectly (very similar to Dolly Parton, short, blonde but natural, and well endowed), and was nice to see her and a number of others I knew on the same programme over its many years on BBC. My school was a showbiz one, and some of the kids followed their parents into the business not through talent but sharing a surname. Occasionally a parent would turn up on school business and that meant seeing greats like Paul McCartney, Jim Dale and John Alderton walking up the school path which doesn't happen in many other places.

I never knew the background of the girls I used to chat up until I'd started chatting, but always managed to find the upper crust ones somehow, and not that I'm showing off as it meant nothing to me, one from Roedean, an MP's niece, an ambassador's daughter, and had one date with a minister's daughter. Coming from a totally working class Jewish background finding myself meeting women who had spent weekends at Buckingham Palace and having lunch with retired MPs was certainly not planned but clearly something I must have resonated with. I met girls from Marble Arch and Kensington and was then introduced to all their even posher friends, some who tried very hard to get me to speak properly and not use common words like toilet and couch. Very much like the Woody Allen films where he goes out with the most gentile of gentiles, and looks like the sore thumb visiting their redneck or upper crust families. Those days are well behind me now, and my connections since then have nearly all been from identical backgrounds as my own. Poor Jewish families who did well through education. First generation professionals whose parents couldn't afford further education. A very well trodden path and not without a vast slice of neurosis along the way.

I suspect this entry should be split into chapters, I rarely read beyond a page myself so shouldn't expect anyone else to, but it's a very long life story which needs more room than these provide.