Confession, I have a ghost writer. Actually he’s more a colleague who sits a convenient desk away, and one who seems happy enough to proof read my newsletters before they “go to print”.
Another confession - he’s my mate as well. It’s an odd arrangement as I’m old enough to be his mother and we come from different worlds – AND he has a girlfriend, before you start going all weird on me. He was born in Hong Kong and I was born in a sleepy Australian town. He’s an artist and I’m an upstart. No REALLY.
We were both employed at the same time. I thought he had no personality and he probably formed no opinion of me – maybe an upstart - AGAIN. I can’t help it it’s what I do best.
Now, years later we are still working in the same department and he still makes me laugh uncontrollably at the most inane things. If we find something mutually amusing, we can repeat it for months and still squeal with delight. It’s not unusual for his girlfriend to glare at us disapprovingly, telling us to take “it” outside, implying I imagine, to just grow up.
He’s a skinny kid who thinks he’s built like Arny Schwarzenegger and just as tall. He “smashes” down drinks which means he sips on a couple of light beers. While others hurl themselves amongst the maelstrom of writhing dancers, he chooses to affect a James Dean “cool” and slump somewhere “smashing” another shandy. Good choice, he really can’t dance.
This newsletter is a tribute to the friends who are always just behind us. They help with the onerous task of moving house; they take us to the airport; they fix “stuff”; they listen to your venting; they care enough to offer advice; they offer help when you’re sick and mean it. They “get” you.
I need to tie this in to Bindle somehow or it won’t get past the boss, so in an unofficial capacity you could say my mate is part of the Bindle staff. I rely on his keen eye to evaluate my newsletters, and to assess whether they will be well-received or prompt a thousand “unsubscribe(s)”.
I think I will send him a BINDLE.