Hey Mum. I never told you this before, but...

Hi there Mum!

Mummy, mama, m… and so on.

I’ve given you many names throughout my life. I don’t remember any bad ones. I don’t remember an awful lot to be honest with you.

Though I can remember moments, and many happy times, the proportion of what I recall remains minimal. And even what I do remember is rife with inaccuracy. Or so you tell me. Or I tell you sometimes. And you tell Grandma.

Memory is one of those things that we present as evidence yet, if we saw a video of what we remember, there would be differences. Some, more than others.

This is one of the many reasons, or maybe excuses, I haven’t told you everything I maybe should, or even wanted to. What if I was wrong? What if I misremembered? What if I shouldn’t have brought up something that you remember in a very different way? After all, you were an adult for my memories of childhood, and I well, wasn’t.

The embarrassing thing is, that I’m not writing to confess a childhood mishap. I’m sure you already know all the things I had tried to hide from you since then. I was not as covert as I would have wished to be. This was only a few years ago. Before I moved back home after film school.

It all started with stress. A foggy mind. A cluttered desk.

I say desk, it was a thin table in the living room and a sofa-type thing on which were piles and scraps of paper, a pen pot, laptop and soft toy pig (a gift from my sister).

I had signed up for a one-year, intensive, course. I don’t think I quite understood how intense it would be. I don’t think anyone did, at least in my class.

So, I was overwhelmed. Working on one of the many projects I was part of in that year and a half (the course was extended due to lockdown). I wasn’t getting anything done. I wasn’t in the right state of mind to get anything done. So, I decided to take a walk.

It was a bit of a damp day; I had a hoodie and a hoodless coat and my favourite boots. As I say, I wasn’t calm, though I do like those boots, and I’ve been told I walk quite quickly since (but by people in Vancouver so, probably not so quick for a Londoner).

So, I was walking quickly, across my street, past the shopping centre, round the corner, across the street, across the next, round another corner, up the road. And listening to music – I expect I haven’t told you how I turn to music when my thoughts are too loud, or too muddled, though I expect you know I like music (and how often I listen to it).

Whilst walking quickly with my headphones in, I hear a voice behind me. I ignore it. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be speaking to me and I hadn’t heard what was said. A few seconds pass.

“Why do you walk so fast?” says the man to my left.

I almost jumped when I saw him. But I managed to keep my cool. You know the cool I usually am. The kind of cool that gets you extra homework and crazy friends.

So I took out a headphone and slowed to his pace. He seemed to have been running, or a least a light jogging, to catch up with me.

My name is Mary. He misheard me when I told him. And I should’ve let him believe that I was married and that he should get back to his day as it was.

I didn’t. I clarified that my name was Mary. He took this to mean that of course I was interested in continuing this conversation and coming back to his apartment for a beer (it was like 2, maybe 3,pm). Or maybe actually a tea, since he was Turkish and I’m British.

I managed to decline (though it did take me several attempts for him to understand that’s what I was saying). He asked for my number nonetheless and I negotiated my email.

He told me he’d left his phone charging at the shopping centre (in order to catch up with me, I don’t fully understand the logistics either) and asked me if I had a pen so he could write it down. I did not. He clearly had not thought this through when, I assume, he saw me pass the shopping centre in slow motion to swelling music and instantly leapt to his feet to fulfil his destiny.

Now, I could have given him a fake one, but I barely had the brain capacity for the conversation, let alone fabricating emails that I was 100% sure wouldn’t go to someone I’d come across in real life and that sounded real enough. So, I didn’t.

I just told him my email and he tried his best to remember it. He walked at pace back to the shopping centre and I never heard from him again. He may have sold it to marketing agencies or fishing agencies but at least I didn’t get any inappropriate pictures like my roommate thought I would.

So it’s stupid but I never told you about that. And I thought it might be something you’d like to know – or at least find funny.

Love you Mum x

P.S: I did a slightly bigger loop to get home since I did live quite close to the shopping centre and I didn’t want to risk passing him on the way back. I also did make myself some tea when I got home. How else would I chill out after that?