Lining up the liquorice comfits on the dashboard was my first awareness of it – the nerdy-ness, the tiny flash of the inherited autistic streak that’s in all of us really.
Was that the rainbow? Could you be the rainbow?
Or are you orange? Can we have an orange rainbow? Maybe you are the muted rainbow, or my murky rainbow. You’d probably find that funny. Hopefully?
Orange is the sunshine, the vitality, the warmth. Standing in the kitchen at 2am eating oranges was when I really felt it. The vitality and the warmth. The connection.
Further back, it was always there. Buying me owls carved in sandstone, letting me choose an unsuitable dress with a peplum, being there, supporting. Literally and figuratively.
But which colours? I can see some of them, mostly green and orange, I think. OMG you’ll end up being those awful curtains if we’re not careful. Let’s get a grip on this one.
Stripey maybe? Brown and the sick jumper of course, but was that green? I’m not sure.
The liquorice comfits were multicoloured, not really rainbows, but definitely multicoloured. Not a normal rainbow, again, I’m sure that would tickle you. A rainbow, sure, but not the normal one. What is normal, anyway? You were the first person to make me question normal.
So, comfits, not really rainbows, but multicoloured. Fastidious comes to mind. Can you have a fastidious rainbow? Are we really pushing it now? Maybe that’s it. Not a rainbow, but multicoloured, multifaceted. And fastidious.
Finance, writing, fishing, water fights, alcopops, motor bikes, camping, oranges, comfits, language in general, Latin in particular (Dictum Mayum Pactum), singing, pubs, being thrown out of nightclubs, elite and pocket money. In no particular order. Variety. It’s the spice of life. Everything is in there. Everything that informs me, supported me, originally in the literal sense – now supporting me in a different fashion. Guiding, encouraging, helping to distill the essence of what should make it all tick. Coaching, questioning, constantly. Encouraging my own questioning.
A rainbow, tied up with white, once.
A rainbow, close to white, once.
Like the prism, white comes in one side, the rainbow leaves through the other. Closely connected, both are constant, yet separate. Two sides of the same coin. Two complementary manifestations of the presence of light and of the amalgam of colour. Murky rainbow and white.
To quote the murky orange rainbow,
“Well I’m still chasing rainbows, so why shouldn’t you be? Keep chasing your rainbows, folks, it’s better than growing old.”
The eternal Peter Pan. Educated and informed, but still Peter Pan.
Murky rainbow on the outside, Peter Pan on the inside.