Gamiila (gamiila) wrote,
Gamiila
gamiila

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Dreaming my dreams

I had planned to spend the day (window)shopping in Amsterdam, but it rained; so I stayed in and read the paper instead. And this is how I found out that, after an absence of 18 years, Queen are going to tour the UK again in April 2005.

God, this news takes me back a bit! The date is 1977, and my sister and I, both massive Queen-fans, are getting ready to go to our very first pop concert. We dress carefully; we haven't a clue what one should wear to a pop concert, but we have been to the opera before and reckon it'll be toned down from that a little...and so we end up horribly overdressed ;-D. Still, this doesn't deter us from having the time of our lives, and in the following few years, we go to each and every Queen-concert we can. I must have seen them 8 or 9 times before I lost interest in them in the early 80s...and now they're going to tour again! With the guy who sang 'Alright Now' in 1970 taking Freddie Mercury's place...I wonder why they're doing this? And I wonder if I should buy a ticket? I'm going to be in the UK that month, anyway. Nah, I don't think I'll bother. CoRo and JM will be enough for me -- which reminds me, I still have to book a ticket for the Islington show, or calove and bogwitch will have to go without me.

The passing of time...suddenly today, it's become something I can't ignore. The other day, my sister confided that she'd started to use a Botox cream, and that she felt it was really working. My sister is younger than me. This morning, after my shower, I looked in the mirror. Really looked...and yes, the signs are there. Crowsfeet around my eyes, and the upper eye lids seem heavier, more tired. And my face looks like it's slipped down a millimetre or so in the last 10 years. Maybe I should write in to that TV show...

I'm completely mesmerized by all these extreme makeover shows. All these bored, unfulfilled housewives who think their lives, their circumstances, their inner selves will suddenly, magically, be transformed if only they had a new nose, new lips, new boobs, new tummy and new teeth. They go through weeks of painful surgery in order to end up looking like each other, looking fake...and common. They're so happy on the day when they see their families again, but I wonder, 6 months down the line, are they still that happy? Did their new façade lead them to that more interesting existence that they dreamed of before they embarked on their course? Now that would be a show I'd love to watch!

And speaking of dreams, I've been sitting here thinking what I'd do if I won the National Lottery's New Year draw (which I won't because I haven't got a ticket): 20,9 million euros! I could chuck my job. I wouldn't, well, not immediately -- I'd wait until the money was safely in my bank account first, but then...what would I do with it?

I might buy a car. Nothing fancy, just a nice reliable car I could use on the grocery run and for going places. Or, I might throw caution to the wind and buy the car I've wanted ever since I was a small child: a Citroën DS. I hated the fact that my Dad, whenever he bought a new car, always came home with another Mercedes. For this reason, I will never ever buy a Mercedes-Benz. But a Citroën DS...never has a more beautiful car been designed. And when I say beautiful, I mean that strictly in the sense of visually pleasing; for all I know, they could drive like shite, but I love their size and their lines.





And after I'd bought the car, I'd buy another flat. In London. With a huge big living room so CoRo could come and play. Or maybe a castle in Scotland; I could see myself going all Monarch of the Glen up there. I'd have a ceilidh and CoRo could come and play! Who knows, my budget might even stretch to a pad in New York -- I hear Park Slope is nice...

I'd book a ticket to Australia, and see my auntie who lives in the Blue Mountains somewhere. I'd tour the continent a bit and then when I got back, I'd look for a parttime job, 3 days a week doing something I'd really enjoy, like working in a museum...

Maybe it's just as well I have no lottery ticket. I'm totally unimaginative and selfish when it comes to deciding what to spend my imaginary millions on.
Tags: real life
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