On a great weight lifting from my shoulders
Bloody Hell's teeth, I'm an idiot.
A good 30-something years ago, I read a book. I remember it well. Green, it was.
On one of the opening pages, the author went to some lengths to describe the main characters, including one girl who was "tall, with blonde beribboned hair".
Now. There was a word I'd not come up against before, and I had no idea what it meant, or even how to pronounce it. This – of course – from the youngster who thought that the world's most famous ocean liner was the "Tit an' Nick" and was openly ridiculed by his parents.
So. I was certainly not going to ask anybody what – exactly – "Berry Boned" meant, and went through life assuming that it was some sort of hair style known only to women and girls of the female persuasion, the word sitting at the back of my head, nagging away for three decades.
You simply cannot measure the mental anguish this has caused me. About three out of ten, as it happens.
Then, I woke up this morning, roused from a dream in which Sonia from EastEnders was hitting me around the head with a fence post, shouting at the top of my voice:
"It's be-ribboned. She's got ribbons in her hair. Be-bloody-ribboned, you complete ARSE."
After 33 years of HELL, I am now able go about my life. Thank you, Sonia from EastEnders, you were the second best soap lesbian ever.