So this post was scheduled to go out in July- and that's where it will end up in my blog. But the reality is that I am writing it in October because I am WAY behind. And lately what I've been doing here in the future is a class called Book of Stories. As part of the class I've been given a bunch of images and quotes that are intended to trigger stories that are important to me to tell on Scrapbook pages. One thing that has come up a lot via the triggers for a variety of reasons is Jim. And I figure if he's on the list- and I'm not yet ready to dig out the photos and do a scrapbook page then I may as well write the story here now so I'll have it for later.
When I was in my final year at University I was incredibly fortunate to be granted my wish. The wish was thus: When I was in my second year at teachers college I got to do a teaching practice in an amazing class, in an amazing school, with a truly extraordinary teacher. So when my final year posting was coming up I asked (begged and pleaded) to go back to Arthur Street and learn everything I could about teaching from Neil Clayton who is one of the most respectful teachers I have ever had the good fortune to know.
As an extra special bonus my school had a Montessori satellite class when had grown too big in numbers and so the older children were spilling over into Neil's class and he was adapting his already fabulous teaching style to accommodate the learning style and delivery that these kids had grown up with. It also meant that our class was right next door to the Montessori class and working relatively closely with them.
And we went to camp with them too!
In the class next door was Sophie- quite possibly the cuddliest student I've ever met and maybe the curliest too. :-) And in my class was David- somewhat aloof, quite charming and very smart.
David and Sophie's Dad is Jim.
When we went to camp Jim came too.
I do believe he gave me endless shit about all sorts of things from my dress sense (or lack of) to who knows what. Therefore we totally hit it off.
I became a friend of the family and kept in touch after I left town to bigger (but not better) things.
And now 21 years on I'd say that Jim is one of my best friends. A bury the body with me friend. A trust my dumbest moments to him friend. One of those people that comes round only a few times in a lifetime- if you're lucky.
I can't say I would have expected this. And sometimes I'm not even sure how it came to this. But I'm glad it did.
We share a love of: pretty things, typography and interesting graphics. Photography, nature, antiques, and ephemera. Bizarre adventures, crazy ideas, swear words, and road trips. Starbucks, long grass, writing, reading and Indian Takeaways.
Jim is my go to person for advice. He's generally one of the first in line to hear my good news. He's the first to call me out when I'm doing something daft. And he also knows my boundaries, my sore spots and sensitive points better than anyone else I know. He's also my personal geek- who doesn't need one of those?
As I came up with writing this post on the spur of the moment I can't think of any specific Jim stories off hand- this is something I'll definitely have to think on. That said it's never been about the epic stories it's mostly the small stuff- that's actually really big.
Maybe one day we'll kill off our respective spouses both be widowed then we'll travel the world taking photos of weird shit and laughing at stuff that no one else would find funny- and drinking a lot of Starbucks- that would be cool.
♥
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