Masked Man

Posted by Jill Chivers in My Story

 Welcome to the soup (reference to the weather here on the Steamy Coast (recently renamed from Sunshine Coast as it’s not living up to that name just now)) and also to Blog # 18. Am about to jump on a Jetstar flight to Sydney and beyond for the rest of the week…. the trip is for me to catch up with friends and I’m also running a workshop on Type Dynamics, which is linked to the MBTI (personality profiling tool) in Melbourne.

The glorious photograph left  is of me with my good friend Greg (the G-Man), taken some years ago at a masked opera event. My mask is homemade (if you couldn’t guess) but Greg’s was a proper professional mask and he did look dapper decked out in full battle dress. Greg and I have been friends since University (the first time around) which means we go back over 20 years now. Yegods, are we really that old? Well, 40 is the new 20 — have botox will remain young (kidding! am a botox-free zone, at least for now).

Gregoire was kind enough to share some of his responses to my recent blogging with me…. being a man of quick wit and dry turn of phrase, I thought I’d share a snippet of what he shared with me. Most amusing.

“I’m following your blog with interest, partly because I don’t suffer from this affliction and partly because I know people who do. Rather smug though I may be, I can cruise Chermside shopping centre without disorientation… I don’t have a scout badge to prove it though.

In the past, I have been gently chided by the intonation of the name “Imelda” while my shoe rack is on display. That’s shoe rack, thanks very much. Feel free to say “nice rack” next time you’re over. My position on shoes is probably indefensible… just like my position on jackets. I’d like to have one of each of the classics. We are talking a terracotta suede, velvet smoking, black leather, camel coloured corduroy, an 80s Country Toad sports coat, plus the pin stripe, double breasted grey and …. anyway, you get the idea.

Moving house caused me to cull my shoes… jackets, well, less so. Mostly because they were overseas purchases. Which brings me to my point: sentimental value.

There was a wrench when I consigned one purchase to the rag bag: it was my original second hand terracotta suede jacket, bought in London over 15 years ago. From the front, it looked the biz and felt very comfortable. Unfortunately, the back was holey – no hope of resurrection. The wrench did pass, after purchasing a new second hand terracotta suede jacket at the Valley markets, one or two winters ago.

Sentimental value means some things may never go to God (or his/her agent on earth, the Salvos). Buying them when I was bigger only adds to their charm”.

Charm, wit, intrigue, good looks – a man among men, you are, G-man. Thanks for sharing. (and for those reading this in type, G has self reported preferences for ISFP, which fit like a glove in my mind, knowing him as I do. If you have no idea about what I’m talking about and I just may as well have slipped into Macedonian, just skip that bit).   And you don’t even need the mask. Right?

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