Ivan's Terrible Memory

I would like to tell you a story that was told to me a few weeks ago by a friend of mine as we chatted over a coffee. The story was actually quite mediocre so as I retell the story to you I promise to add some kind of excitement, bearing in mind that I don't want to jeopardise the story's authenticity.

In a quiet London suburb, a close to retired school teacher lived alone. Actually not quite alone, he kept a cat. It was an ugly old fat ginger tom called Mr Grumbles. The school teacher's name was Ivan, Ivan Stanislavski; he is the hero of this story. Ivan taught English to a rowdy bunch of nine year olds at a local public school. It was Ivan's life's ambition to write a novel. He loved to read, as it was his escape from the insolent attitudes the school children had to his lessons. One problem stood in the way of Ivan's dream to write a novel, he had a terrible memory. His memory was so terrible that on one occasion while teaching his class he had forgot that the children had already had their lunch break. Not one hour after lunch he told the class that they were dismissed. The children ran out into the playground in glee and played for another hour doing whatever it is that young children do. It goes without saying that Ivan received a stern ticking off from the head teacher, and to make matters worse, every day one of the children will naughtily say, "Sir, we haven't had out lunch yet" even when they had. Poor old Mr Stanislavski was never quite sure if this was true or not.

Reader, I owe you my sincere apologies. I was digressing from the main story. Without further ado I will get on with it.

Where was I? Ah yes, Ivan's only problem with writing a novel was his bad memory. This did not stop him from writing. Ivan, an English teacher may I remind you, had read countless books. He had piles and piles of books stacked across his tiny house. As a tool to get himself in the creative spirit, Ivan would type excerpts from his favourite novels until he could find his own words. Once he had found his creativity Ivan would type pages and pages of his novel. Cleverly, Ivan put everything he wrote on a separate pile on his desk knowing that he would forget what he wrote and which pages were his when he woke up the next morning. Ivan worked on his novel for months without end. Eventually, he finished.

At this point in the story, it is time to introduce the villain, Patrick Greenhouse. It is customary that with the introduction of a new character, the author should offer some kind of description. I will not argue with custom but as time is of the essence, I will make the description brief.

Patrick Greenhouse was a budding writer himself. He was a retired school teacher and former colleague of Ivan, our hero. Patrick was not a great writer and had always envied Ivan's writing ability. He had written several novels, all of which were declined by publishers. As Patrick grew older, he became bitter. He was close to the age of his passing and since immortality of the flesh is not granted to humans, immortality of his legacy was Patrick's quest.

Early one Sunday spring morning, Ivan received a visit from an old friend. He hadn't seen Patrick for years. Together they ate breakfast and talked about times past. Eventually Ivan could not contain his excitement and broke the news to Patrick that he had finished writing his novel. Patrick's blood curdled at the news and within an instant evil took hold of Patrick. A plot was hatched inside the mind of the retired teacher.

"Can I possibly have a read of your writing Ivan, my old friend," asked Patrick, trying his best to control the tone of his voice to avoid suspicion.
"Of course, I would love to hear your opinion," replied an unsuspecting Ivan.

Ivan approached his work table where the pile of pages that was his novel laid. To Ivan's horror there were five different piles of papers stacked on his desk. With all the excitement of entertaining his guest and the finishing of his novel, he couldn't for the life of him remember which heap his novel was. To avoid embarrassment Ivan grabbed the nearest bunch of papers and handed them to Patrick. Ivan prayed that he had picked the correct papers as Patrick quickly flicked through them.

"I can't possibly read all this now", said Patrick "May I, if you don't mind, take this home with me. I'll give it a thorough read?"

Ivan was obliged to say yes. After a cup of tea, the two "friends" parted company.

Readers, you can probably guess the outcome of this story. Patrick swiftly, without reading it first, presented Ivan's novel to a publisher in the pretence that it was his own. Patrick was in rage when the publisher told Patrick that he had lost his sanity by trying to pass off "The Man in the Iron Mask" as his own. As for our dear Ivan, he eventually remembered which stack of papers was his novel. He could not bring himself to find Patrick and tell him that he had mistakenly given him the wrong papers, and that his terrible memory was to blame. After careful reading and rereading Ivan eventually presented his work to a publisher. By the time Ivan had retired from teaching, the novel was published.