Eight’s the age, alright. You stop being an idiot, dropping things and not knowing what you’re talking about the way you did when you were five, six or seven.
Ages one and two don’t count, obviously – or do they? – and I won’t even mention three or four, those terrible times ‘in between.’ But maybe you were never happier at those ages? Do any of you remember, have examples?
By all means go into it! This is about YOU!
Nine or ten mean nothing at all without eight, in my opinion, and as for the incredibly choppy waters of eleven, I’m not even going there. I refuse to go there. Count me out. I don’t know what happens after 11, and I don’t even want to know.
Eight is everything. Isn’t it obvious? Isn’t it the age when you have to shape up, not necessarily for THEM but for YOU?
Isn’t the clue in the spelling? E-I-G-H-T. What kind of spelling is that? It’s telling you something, isn’t it? It’s a message, a clue, perhaps even a warning, probably the first and most important one in your life so far.
Eight could be a part of the plot, but it’s not, is it? It’s your moment, your time. It’s yours. It tells you, advises you to be on your guard. To start THINKING. To start realising that you’re in this on your own, more or less.
Don’t even think about your parents or your siblings. That’s another clue in itself, isn’t it, SIBLINGS? What kind of word is that? Was it invented to knock you off your balance. Look it up and you’ll find it comes from sibb, Sibb. ‘Old English’ sibb. “Hello, pleased to meet you, this is my sibb and these are my siblings.” Influenced by the German word Geschwister. “No, she’s not my sister, she’s my geschwister!”
Let’s get back to the spelling. How can EIGHT in English begin with an ‘E’? Followed by I-G-H-T? If you don’t know it’s a warning by now – a plot – maybe it’s best to stop reading this and do something else.
So why doesn’t Eight begin with an ‘A’? Or, as the Americans say, a ‘A.’ They say ‘a apple;’ ‘a aeroplane.’
Okay, that’s up to them. That’s their business, like Trump. Let’s get back to us. You’ll notice I haven’t mentioned teachers yet. That’s okay too. The hope is that they’ll join us in this adventure to get us to think. To think about ourselves. To think about our best age between nought (nought?) and 11. Perhaps you think it’s seven. Or three or four. Or six or five. Two?
I can remember being one and wondering when they’d ever be listening to ME. So, what we want you to do is THINK about it. When was YOUR best age and WHY?
Falling in? Getting the point? Five, Six and Seven make sense, more or less. But One and Two? How can One begin with an ‘O’? And as for that ‘W’ in the middle of Two, surely it confirms the conspiracy.
It could be the beginning of a lifelong con for all children. Them wanting you to be just like them. All I’m saying is THIS is all about YOU.
Tell it as it is from YOUR point of view. How did you feel from ages 0, 2, 4, 6, 8 and 10? 1, 3, 5, 7 and 9? What was YOUR favourite age? Did you have one? Do you remember one, or do they all merge together like tapioca? Oh, how I hated tapioca.
We’re listening to YOU! What do YOU remember? I remember my Nan’s lap being bonier than my Mum’s. Last year I learned to bowl and run. I still can’t draw like Jimmy Morse, and Christopher Hadley is still much cleverer than me.
I’ve voted wholeheartedly for Eight despite the spelling. You’re suddenly grown up without the fear of growing up. You can’t paint but you like writing. Seven sevens are still 49.
So, happy birthday to me. Today I’m EIGHT. If there was a special form to fill in, I’d sign it straight away to remain EIGHT for ever. Because I don’t think this will last, do you?
And what do YOU think? What’s YOUR favourite age between Nought and Eleven? And WHY? We’re listening and want to hear from YOU!
DoubleSpeak 