AKA The Unmentionables
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I’ve got a book out.
I’m sitting in a bar in Budapest being interviewed by a journalist about my new book, The Budanest. The journalist is called Attila and he’s from Index.hu, the biggest news site in Hungary with a daily readership of more than one and a half million (GULP!). A tape recorder has been placed in-between us and another gent, sporting a lovely ponytail, is continually photographing my face from about a distance of one metre away. Despite the papping, and me forgetting how to smile properly whenever I notice the camera, the atmosphere is relaxed.
“So, Gareth. Tell us about how you ended up in Budapest?”
I’m about to respond, but a little voice in my head distracts me.
“Do not mention the thingamejig! DO NOT MENTION THE THINGAMEJIG!” it says.
I roll my eyes at the little voice in my head, turn my back on it and begin regaling Attila with the story of the brain fart that drove us to move to this beautiful city and start this whole crazy adventure.
“Hey! Gareth! Don’t turn your back on me! I’m only trying to warn you. If this goes wrong, don’t say I didn’t try!” says the voice.
“And the book, The Budanest. What was the inspiration?” says Attila.
“Do not mention the thingamejig!” Says the voice. “You know how Zsuzsa doesn’t like you talking about the thingamejig! Imagine her reaction if she discovers that fifteen percent of the population of her homeland have read about the thingamejig whilst enjoying their breakfast!”
I pause for a moment and consider this. You know what? The voice in my head has a point! Zsuzsa was always expressing her displeasure at my mentioning such things in my blog, but the audience then was much more contained! She wouldn’t like it if suddenly the thingamejig exploded all over Hungary (so to speak)!
“That’s what I was saying you fucking idiot!” says the voice. “You know, sometimes I think you never listen to me. Take me for granted! Such a prick!”
“Uh, what was the question again?” I ask Attila.
“Your inspiration for the book.”
“Ah, okay.”
I then go on to say how it was such a cataclysmic life event, full of so many new experiences that my cup was overflowing with inspirational juices. I talk about the language barrier, the awkward situations, my panic at impending fatherhood. We chat for the next hour all about my experience of both Budapest and fatherhood and not once was the thingamejig brought up. Not even during the potentially treacherous birthing section!
Later that evening Mila is watching Frozen for the seventeen thousandth time. In the next room I’m chatting to Zsuzsa whilst simultaneously spooning yogurt into Lola’s mouth.
“If I write a blog about this it’ll be a bit like Deadpool won’t it?” I say.
“What do you mean?” replies Zsuzsa.
“Well, I’ll be writing a about a situation in which someone is writing about me writing.”
“Does Deadpool do that? I don’t remember him writing. I remember him shooting someone up the arsehole, but not writing.”
“Well no, but what I mean is he breaks the fourth wall. He talks to the audience. It’s a bit like that isn’t it?”
“I guess so. Hey! What if it’s made into a book again and then another journalist writes about it?”
My eyes dart frantically as I try to compute this idea.
“So you mean someone will write about me writing about someone writing about me writing?”
“I think so.”
“Woah! That’s like level four inception or something? Actually I don’t even know what level that is!”
My mind is blown.
“You know, if this does get made in to another book, you won’t mention my thingamejig at all will you?”
“Er…okay. What if I use a code word or something like that.”
“A code word? Like what?”
“I don’t know. A ‘whatchamacallit’ or a ‘thingamajig’. Something like that."
“You better!”
PS While I’ve got your attention, go buy my book. Actually, buy two! One to read and another to keep in a safe place in case you ever lose the other one. Go! Now!
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Are you still here? GO!