The Invisible Something Or Other.

I wave a cheery "Good Morning!" to Madame Gomi ( Japanese for `rubbish`) Gestapo and turn to see next door neighbour staring intently at me. " There`s something different about you today!" she slides in between a yawn. " Have you lost the baby weight?" My baby is now the ripe old age of 3. I scan her face for a trace of that British trait I adore so much, sarcasm. The cupboard is bare. " No!" I reply pushing left crutch down to begin the Monroe cum Hunchback of Notre Dame hobble back to a warm, sugary cup of tea anxiously awaiting me on a tabletop. " Have you had your hair cut?" My gut reaction was to quickly round up the two greasy strands loitering over my right ear, back into the tatty scrunchy I`d herded my locks into earlier that morning. This was supposed to be an `out and in` job. Conversation wasn`t on the menu. Shaking her head,"I don`t know! Something is different about you today!" and strode off down the street, arms pumping air. `The something different about me` might have everything  to do with the big white cast adorning my right foot and crutch accessories I now wear, non too proudly, around either elbow.

I can`t say I am surprised. Arriving home with my baby girl three years ago, a couple of neighbours raced over and asked me whose baby it was. Ermmmmm....mine! "You were pregnant!" Well, unless you do it differently over here, yes I was. Nine months of it. Four quite visibly. Or maybe, to the background euphony of spades hitting churchyard dirt, I should have informed them that actually, foreigners lay eggs. Two minutes to push it out then a few months of making sure the spot lamp is set at the right temperature. Less chance of stretch marks but watch out your husband doesn`t mistake your bub`s egg for a common garden chicken one or tragedy will ensue.

My husband doesn`t notice stuff like I do. I am by nature a people watcher anyway but he seriously doesn`t seem to be aware of his surroundings on the same level. Walking down a street,late at night..oh many years ago with a female friend. This middle-aged man suddenly stopped in front of us.　Opened his briefcase to reveal an A3 colour photo of himself, taped to the inside of his briefcase. He was wearing only socks with those god awful suspender things. We stood, mouths agape as he deftly shut the case. Locked it. Bowed and uttered a sincere "Gomen nasai" (I am sorry for inconveniencing you!") and walked off into the crowds. Tens of people must have walked right past us with a clear view of his briefcase and it`s eye opening contents. My mate and I ended up going into yet another bar, hysterically giggling.