March 24th 2015

Today I spent the day with one of my favourite people.

My Grandad is a crazy old man, but he’s brilliant. We went to the driving range today, as we do every Tuesday when I’m back at home. Golf is something that we’ve always shared, and done together. Every golf club in my set was once owned by him. When he gets bored of a club he passes it on to me. And then he gets mad at me for hitting the club better than he ever could.

He and I are similar in our attitudes (he describes it as NAFI. No Ambition and Fuck All interest) insofar as we don’t care too much about trivial things. We’re similar in our sense of humour, (dark, sarcastic, dry) We’re both pretty anti-social, my Grandma’s the one that has dozens of friends in dozens of different groups around the village, my Grandad has me and his gold partner, and that’s fine for him. He doesn’t need friends. I’ve never had a massive friendship group either. I surround myself with a small group of people I like a lot, rather than a large group of people I like a small amount.

But what’s different about us is that my Grandad can talk to people far better than I can. He’s antisocial on days that aren’t Tuesday’s, when he’s not at the Golf Club. When he’s there he’ll talk to anyone and everyone in a way that I can’t. He’ll ask a complete stranger how many miles they’ve done in their car, or what handicap they play off. He’ll talk and talk and talk, but I can’t do that.

I struggle meeting new people, and talking to them. It’s odd because for my job I have to meet new people every day, every hour, even. But today when Grandad was talking to some man called Don about a car he had in the 60s, I stayed silent. And I’ve always been that way, and I don’t know why.

Until tomorrow, I’d like to change that.



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