Just last week I was on the phone to my friend Elda, saying I was sorry I couldn’t come to their house for supper on Saturday, because my friend Margaret was here from London for only just that night. And she said, “is that the Margaret with the chopped fringe?” And surprisingly there was not an easy answer to this.
And I said, “Three of my Margarets currently have chopped fringes, so I’m not sure.” And then together we tried to work out exactly which Margaret I was seeing on Saturday night. And then Elda said, “Is Mags one of the Margarets with a chopped fringe?” and I walked over to where Mags was and she actually had her fringe clipped back in a new way. But she is in fact one of the most prominent Margarets about which I shall go into some detail below, even though everyone calls her Mags. She has a cat called Jess. FYI.
I have seven Margarets in my phone and eight altogether, although one is no longer on Earth. All of these Margarets are beacons of light and hope in a dark and perilous world. Over the years I have slept on six of these Margaret’s couches, actually lived with three of them, worked for five of them; but am only the exact same size as two of them, who I have often borrowed dresses from. One of these that I have often worn the clothes of is called Magali, which is French for Margaret. Also I definitely have given them all a lot of homemade presents. On this Saturday night in question Margaret said to me, “Jess you should see my bedroom, it is just full of all your things”.
And then I tried to remember all the gifts I have foisted upon her and the others over the years: lights, bookends, weird little plaques, necklaces, tiles, a zillion pottery vases, candles, origami mobiles, home-made postcards and crocheted stuff. Is merely what I can remember. And my heart just filled right up thinking she had kept them. Because some people say you shouldn’t give people anything homemade. Only biscuits. Because otherwise it is Too Much. It is called Over Giving. But none of my Margarets have ever said anything like this to me. Also, none of them are known for much snark, or manipulative digs, like “Okay if you say so, Jess” in that way.
Also all of my Margarets are very inventive. Six work for themselves. As you can see from the postcard, most do very very interesting things, like recording people under bridges and also making films about cuckoo clocks. This makes me feel more like I belong in the world and for this I am utterly grateful, almost every day. I have got into the most trouble with three of the Margarets, but have in fact been out all night with six, wearing very short sometimes luminous dresses with four and recovering from car accidents with two. Mostly however, the Margarets and I are trying to be more mature now. We have all had broken hearts and bones, we are a bit calmer, we have learned a lot about our mistakes, and have given up many of our bad habits.
Although, one of the habits that is sticking to me and many of the Margarets is that of being kind to strangers too often. Definitely five of my Margarets used to say to just about anyone who looks lost and sad or lonely, “Why don’t you come along with me and let us skip through this meadow together or go for a swim? And let us be friends.”
But we don’t really do it too often anymore. Roughly, if you add all the being kind to strangers or people who are new in town (say average age of 45 x 5 Margarets plus me thats 6 = 270 years of being kind, perhaps not every day. Maybe once a week, so that is 270 x 52 = 14 040 of rescuing stranger units) it is frankly I think quite a lot. It has taken us quite some time to learn that many people sitting quietly by themselves in coffee shops do not want to talk to us, or want us to help them escape from their presumedly empty heart and screaming loneliness. Many of these people were just enjoying the sunshine or the rain on their own, for once. But also, and this is what lines the faces of the ‘fixers’ among us, sadly there is usually an enormously good reason why people have no friends. Like maybe they are psychopaths.
And on Saturday night as we reminisced about the highs and lows of friendship and Over Giving, I got up to go to the loo, and Margaret reminded me that the one thing we know for sure, that we can hold on to, is that there is a secret passage from the toilets of Cafe 99 all the way around the back to Unity.
We know this because once, at this very table, at this very restaurant, Margaret invited a person alone at a nearby table to join their party. Apparently the manager tried to say, I wouldn’t, the waitresses were trying to motion Don’t Do It but she ignored them. It is hard for rescuers to believe that their ernest compassion will not necessarily turn out for the best. Of course the stranger just endlessly drank all the wine and talked and talked and talked without stopping even for one mouthful or even one alternative opinion about her terrible husband and getting divorced over and over again. No one else could say one word.
And so one by one, each of Margaret’s original companions went to the toilet just to have a break. And from there the waiters showed them the way out. The secret passage from the toilets of Cafe 99 to Unity. Now and then one would pop back to check on Margaret, who was by this time just having to say. “I’m so sorry I think you really need to stop talking about this and move on”. In a firm and polite way. Until she also found the way out. And then taught it to me.
And I could go on and on about all the things I’ve done and learned with my Margarets, but I’ll get sentimental. Already I’m starting to say to myself When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries … I can actually say the whole poem and it is beautiful … And look upon myself and curse my fate … on and on all the way through… For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings. Five of my Margarets at least would be able to say this poem all the way through without stopping.