Conversation I was told about between two family friends who are like surrogate parents to me.
Toni: Don’t you think Jooles looks like Sophie Dahl?
Gerry: (Shocked) What? I don’t look at Jooles like that! She’s like a daughter to me.
Toni: I didn’t mean like that. I meant her eyes.
Gerry: Well, I don’t look at Sophie Dahl’s eyes do I?
I imagine my answer is likely to be the same as most peoples'. I want to be paid to write my little stories. If I could actually earn money from sitting in front of my computer all day with my characters and tell stories about them, I would be dammed happy.
That said, I also miss working with people. If I had the money to re-train, I would go into counselling.
I will also admit that it is my life-time dream to get paid to act on stage; just once would be enough.
During the silence my thoughts always turn to those that I know who are serving, and the friends and family of my friends who are serving. I am fortunate that at the moment my closest armed forces friend is tucked safely in this country with his wife and baby.
I also think of all the members of my family who fought in the last World War, and the ones that stayed at home and lost their loved ones.
But one man who always comes into my mind is a man I never met, and have never even known the family of. His name was Corporal Neville and I came across him a few years ago while researching an incident that my great Grandfather was involved in. The story is long and I won’t re-tell it right now, but 15 men worked and fought together in tough circumstances with no support. Over the months that I worked researching their movements over those weeks just after the capitulation of Singapore, I started feeling like I got to know the 15 men, as well as my great Grandfather. When I came across Neville’s death in action notice and discovered that he had died during their journey, I sat in the public record office and cried. He was the only one not to make it back from that mission.
For men and women like Neville, I wear my poppy with pride and gratitude.
My favourite word has been "diphthong[Error: unknown template qotd]" ever since I learnt it when I was about 7. I saw one in a book, where the vowels were printed touching and asked my mum why. I then fell slightly in love with the word; as much for how it sounds as for the fact that it's meaning is just so wonderfull odd and obscure.
My mum didn't have a speciality dish as such, but my favourite meal was - and always will be - a pasta and chicken in a cheese sauce she used to do. She didn't like making it a great deal so I got it rarely. She used to call it my trauma dinner and would make it for me on stressfull days throughout my life, like exams (all the way to A level), driving test, job interviews! I rather imagine the traumas were smaller things when I was littler, but I don't remember them.
I recently had some bad news the day I was headed down to see my folks.
My mum had it waiting for me.
An interesting one. I would like to say that I don't believe in regrets, but I do. There have been a couple of things that I have done that I wish I hadn't; one in partic because it badly hurt someone else who didn't deserve it.
But I have learned from my mistakes which is why it's hard to think of them as regrets. I also still stand by the fact that it is better to regret something you have done than something you haven't done. I'd rather look back and think "maybe I shouldn't have done X" than think "I regret not having done Y".
"You've got to Hide Your Love Away" or "Blackbird". I don't really have a reason for either, but when I last saw Paul McCartney in concert he sang "Blackbird" alone on the stage with just an acoustic guitar and other than him the entire stadium was silent. It was an amazing, beautiful moment.
I would travel with my Grandad. I didn't get the chance to spend enough time with him before he died and he was the cleverest person I've known. He loved to travel and explore, and loved history. So I'd travel with him and just listen to everything he had to tell me about what we saw.
So, lamest answer ever.
My name is Jooles and the 34 comes from me needing to add a number for something I signed up to years ago. Does it represent anything? Yes. 34 is my bra size. My brain works so sideways that when a snap decision is needed on what number to choose it goes for my bra size. *headdesk*
But I've had it for a few years now so I don't think I would change it. Plus I like it because it's a name that people can call me and use it to refer to me without sounding too weird. Jooles is very distinct from "real life" me. My family and people at work with use my real name and I am a different person around them to how I get to be in fandom and around my friends. Jooles is the real me.
It's also handy as my full name isn't easily identified from it so I can keep RL and this world separate. I have another screen name I use when I REALLY don't want anyone knowing who I am.