There are many gaps in my knowledge. So very many.
Like the gap where geography should be. I blame my parents for this because they allowed me to study music and French during my final years at school instead of geography or economics which would have been far more useful.
Last year, when a friend told me she was going to Argentina, I was briefly perplexed when she mentioned the flight was about 12 hours. “Wait, how is that possible?” I asked. “Is there a faster way to get to Europe I don’t know about?”
Yes, I know NOW that Argentina isn’t in Europe but…
Look, I was possibly confusing it with Portugal which is in Europe. I think.
Then there’s the knowledge gap where wine should be. Make no mistake, there is wine in the gap. Just no knowledge about it. Alanis Morrissette would find this deeply ironic because I happen to be married to a man who worked in the wine industry for 20 years. But Alanis, it’s actually not ironic and it’s not even a co-incidence. I met my husband when I was about 23 and most 23-year-olds don’t know anything about wine beyond a preference for red or white. I was hardly the Lone Ranger there.
And then because he knew, like, everything about wine, my brain was all, “OK, excellent, we can use these brain cells over here that might otherwise have been deployed to learn and retain information about wine and redeploy them to remember the names and nationalities of Angelina Jolie’s future children. GO FORTH BRAIN CELLS AND LEARN THAT SHIT.”
This is how I came to be having a conversation with my husband where he was trying to teach me about a particular expensive wine and was pointing out the different notes or flavours or whatever they’re called. “Can you smell the apricot and there’s also like a Vegemite note in there.”