This is a short film of a poem I wrote based on something that happened few years ago. It is directed, edited and photographed by my great and talented friend Kim Buikema. We filmed this short in South London one Sunday in the summer of 2009. I’d like to thank my good friends Michelle Madsen, Jamie James and Chris Freeman for being such good sports and joining in on the fun.
Quick related story about this video:
The last time I read this poem was in December at my Master’s program’s final reading. (Note: This is the full story that was briefly mentioned two Story Time Tuesdays ago in my Lost and Found article). I was one of the lucky six people who got to read on this night and I chose to read this poem as I have found it to be quite the crowd pleaser. Knowing that my work is quite different than most of my British classmates I was nervous and began to sip only water all night until I’d finished my well-received reading then I headed straight to the free bar to have a glass of wine. A few free glasses of wine on an empty stomach later I read the wonderful comments I had received on my final portfolio: “This is such an engaging, humourous, witty, well-crafted piece of writing” and “this proves to be a publishable novel.”* Then I found out that the award I had been shortlisted for went to someone else. Oh well, more wine! Yay me! I’m a Master! This is possibly the last time I’ll ever see these people – bottoms up!
Then a group of us decided to take the party to a nearby pub. Now, I should mention that during my year in London I rarely got drunk. There were several reasons for this 1) it’s bloody expensive! 2) I was already eating so many carbs I didn’t want to drink five more pounds on to my body and 3) I’m not that big of a drinker – especially compared to the Brits – which is why I never felt like I would ever fully belong there. So, we’re at the pub and people are buying me drinks, I’m taking silly drunk girl photos with my good friends Natalie and Arleen then BLACK OUT. I mean, complete black out. I wake up 6 a.m. because I’m staying at Kim’s and I know she has to get ready for work now. I’m totally fine and then fall back to sleep. A few hours later I wake up, massive hangover, check Facebook, get a message from someone I don’t know who says he has my wallet, I freak out, luckily I’d stashed some cash in my luggage and I get in a cab to meet my father and brother who were arriving from Canada that afternoon. I send a reply to the guy who found my wallet with my UK mobile number and … later that night I have my wallet back! Total f-ing miracle!!
Perhaps reading this poem Recipe for a Lost Wallet that night was really a recipe for dramatic irony. Now because of that I’m slightly afraid of what will happen after I post this possibly-cursed poem for this week’s Story Time Tuesday. Perhaps I should leave the wallet at home today or perhaps this will serve as a reminder that you should keep an eye on yours.