Reports of my death... (From Daily Echo)

Reports of my death...

11:50am Tuesday 21st June 2011 in Single in the City By Simon Carr, Eastleigh Chief Reporter

Simon was surprised to see what his 'alternative' life story was

I WAS idly flicking through the obituaries some time ago when I came across something that made me stop in my tracks – my photograph.

After my terror subsided, I found out the publication I was working on at the time had inserted random pictures and old copy into a dummy paper to show how it would look after a redesign.

My browsing continued. I found I had had five kids, travelled the world, was in the forces, and had run my own hugely successful business.

I was slightly bothered that my head had become attached to someone who seemed to have done quite a lot with his life; I couldn’t think what I had been doing with my time.

I wondered what memories of mine would eventually find their way into my obituary.

Sadly, I could only think of public disgraces and sordid adventures.

I thought back to the high ambitions I had when I was a youngster.

My dream of punching a lion in the face seems unlikely to be realised, and I may be leaving dreams of Olympic glory a little late.

Then it struck me: I will learn another language.

By this, I don’t mean loud, slow English supplemented with hand gestures and a furrowed brow, but an actual language.

In the end, I opted for Turkish as I thought this would surprise people.

Also it seemed more useful than, say, French, which I did at school.

The problem with this popular language is that my friends who study it are at such an advanced level it would take me years to catch up.

Also, I have never met a French person who couldn’t speak English.

The only time I’ve spoken French in France was to tell a hot girl my hair was brown and ask where the post office was.

It was once suggested that I learnt Welsh – it probably sounds less outlandish if I point out I was living in Wales at the time.

The idea was put to me immediately after meeting my first Welsh speaker – after a mere four years of living in the country.

My friend, whose school-taught Welsh was at the same level as my French, managed to resolve a potentially awkward situation after I was asked a question in this man’s native tongue and just looked startled.

I was on the verge of asking if there was something wrong with him when my mate rescued the situation by announcing in Welsh that he liked coffee.