The Things You Find When You're Moving

We have moved.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I hate moving. Passionately. This results in a situation whereby we reach the night before said move, nothing is packed, and I spent 12 hours mentally packing, another eight hysterically cleaning, and then the next two years trying to find stuff again.

This move's rediscovery was salad servers from my grandmother that, I swear disappeared from the kitchen bench one day. I have no idea how it ended up in a box in our basement. Oh and a full frontal naked shot of a guy I went to university with which I gleefully flashed at Josh with  no warning.

Hmmm that sounds dodgy and I suspect that trying to explain will make it just sound even worse but I'll give it a shot.

At my hall of residence in university there were the positions of female and male "house streakers". The requirement was that each one had to streak at least once during the year.

All previous years the streakers had done what was expected - but generally sometime late at night, in front of as few people as allowed (which I think was five) and generally with closely spaced bushes to preserve as much dignity as humanly possible.

That all changed my first year when the make streaker was very um enthusiastic about getting his gears off. We'll have him M. Day, night, in front of the masses or the few you never knew when he who shall remain unmentioned was going to pop up sans clothing. 

On this particular night he was singing in a band and started doing a Robbie Williams song, the trauma has wiped what it was from my mind, but its the one with the music video where Mr Williams strips down to his skeleton.

So M starts getting his gears off. Now despite his repeated forays in flasherdom, no one thought this would be another of those nights. We were in a dining hall, all the doors were shut, there were multiple obstacles between him and well there were guests. Him shaking his wild thing about that night was about as comprehendable as any of us doing so at dinner party hosted by our parents where the guest list included our high school principal.

So, innocently, I raise my camera and an unexpected rip precedes my click, and 150 of us discover that his pants were held together by velcro and he was flying solo beneath those. And, two weeks later, I find myself in possession of a photo of a very naked, very full frontal M.

It's at this point that I hear you ask "Well that sounds all very possible, though implausible, but why, nine years later do you still have said photo." Honestly? The best I can remember of my 18 year old logic was that it might come in handy one day of he was ever to become a politician, or some other public figure, where having a sans clothing photo of him might be a useful aid to funding my retirement and so stashed it in an old folder that also contains random essays, the odd reference and my academic transcript where it gets rediscovered every four years or so and I laugh at it and return it to it's clearfile page for another four years.

No doubt this is going to come back and bite me one day when a non-existent child discovers it and I have to explain why Mummy has a photo of a naked stranger but for now we'll just wait and see if M ever has a penchant for entering politics!