Tears Over Breakfast
‘The problem with him is he suffers from sexual anxiety’, says one bellman to another as I pass them on my way to the Art Institute. That’s a pretty sophisticated level of conversation, I think to myself.
‘Hello. Welcome to “Working With Ceramic Tableware”. My name is Emma Biggs and for more than fifteen years of my working life I can’t say I liked a single mosaic I saw made out of pottery.’
‘Emma?’
‘Hmm?’
‘You know the book we’re writing?’
‘Yes’
‘You know our least favourite projects?’
‘Yes’
‘Shall we divide them fairly between us?’
‘OK Tessa, as long as I don’t have the do the flowerpot and the birdbath.’
‘That leaves you with the panel made from china and working with mesh.’
‘Uh oh, OK.’
‘I can’t say I liked a single mosaic I saw made out of pottery’ I state firmly. Their faces fall. Why have they signed up for this class? It is a provocative opening line. I will have to win them over.
‘But often you learn most from addressing your prejudices directly, and today I would be happy to work principally in ceramic for the rest of my life. The key to success is to analyse the nature of the materials, and …’
The hotel is confusing. It is laid out symmetrically. There are two banks of elevators, so if you mistake the one by which you enter, it is easy to go wrong.
‘Are you here for the SAMA Conference?’ I asked a bright young woman smiling at me from the lift.
‘Yes, I’m just off to breakfast’
‘Me too.’
‘We get out together, and I head in the wrong direction.
‘It’s this way’ she guides me, gently.
‘Thank you’ I say.
‘As we approach the door, the room rings with applause, and I realise I’ve misunderstood her. She is off to a lecture.
‘I’m so sorry’ I say ‘I’m going to breakfast’ and veer off in the other direction. A look of confusion crosses her face. Soon I creep back, hoping she doesn’t notice me. The applause was part of a series of tributes paid over breakfast to volunteers, donors and benefactors.
The buffet is a feast. I choose scrambled eggs and bacon. Tributes are paid to individuals, listed in groups. At the end each group there is a ripple of appreciation.
‘And I would like to thank Sonia King’ says the speaker.
I don’t know what comes over me, but recognising my friend’s name I burst into spontaneous applause, compelling the audience to go along with me. It slows down proceedings considerably, as, out of politeness, it now becomes necessary to clap every new name.
The noble efforts, the good will, the lack of guile, the kindness and sincerity of the membership. I am overwhelmed. Oh no, please no, not here, I think. And – embarrassingly – I find myself lifting my napkin to my eye.
Oh, thank you, Emma. I cried through most of Dawnmarie’s thank-yous at the raffle and then again during Karen’s farewell at the dinner. I felt like such a sot… you’ve expressed it so perfectly : noble efforts, good will and kindness – exactly.
Aw, Emma, so sweet. xoxoxoxo
Oh, thank you, Emma. I cried through most of Dawnmarie’s thank-yous at the raffle and then again during Karen’s farewell at the dinner. I felt like such a sot… you’ve expressed it so perfectly : noble efforts, good will and kindness – exactly.