What fortuitous timing for today’s word.
I was driving down to the nearest town to do a bit of food shopping. These are heady times we live in.
And I was listening to a Best Of album by Alison Moyet – she’s tremendous; those who don’t already know her, find her, she’s magic.
Anyway, as I pulled into the car park, searching out a space at kid kicking-out time – not sensible, 4pm on a weekday – the song Invisible had come on, and I may have got a bit carried away as I locked my car and entered the shop.
I surprised myself a little, in that I didn’t start singing. Little victories. But I almost imagined myself as being invisible. I was quite taken with the idea, having decided it wouldn’t be so bad to blunder through, unnoticed in the world.
And then it happened.
A small boy – he could have only been three years old – came running up to me. You know the way that small children run, like they can’t quite coordinate their limbs, or rather, they can but the limbs occasionally do their own thing.
As he came rushing up, I was rather more concerned with his not falling down than what he was yelling at me.
He must have called the word two or three times before I worked it out.
All excited and animated, he ran and called out, “Nana! Nana!”
Oh, please be joking. I’ll be thirty-six in June. Give me a tiny break.
His mother came dashing up behind him (I guess she was mid-twenties), caught the little lad and explained, red-faced, “Sorry. No. He means… You look like a friend of mine. Her name’s Hannah.”
Nice save, mother.