Medium Personality

I have discovered that I am a something called an INTJ.

This is the name of my personality.

I haven’t exactly discovered it. I knew it ages ago, but had forgotten entirely until Oliver told me that he was an ENTJ. This means that he is exactly like me except that he likes talking to people and I don’t.

This sounds reasonable enough.

It is a way of working out what people are like, and Oliver did it in their leadership classes at school. If anybody else wants to know if they are an INTJ you can look online at something called Sixteen Personalities and do the test. It is called a Myers Briggs test. I have forgotten what an INTJ actually is, except that when I read the description it was uncomfortably like me.

Being an ENTJ makes Oliver the sort of person who ought to be in charge of things, apparently, so it is a good thing that school knows about it, it bodes well for him being a Colour Bearer or a Deputy Headmaster, or whatever it is that you have got to do to prove your responsible nature when you are in the Upper Sixth.

I should not be in charge of things. According to Mr. Myers and Mr. Briggs I should be left severely alone to get on with my own things without interruption. I am too rude to be considered for inclusion in a team.

Talking of rude, I waited on hold to the RSPCA for ages today, and eventually spoke to a person who sounded as though she was about fourteen years old. She asked me if I had any pictures of the dog’s abused state, which of course I hadn’t, imagine having a creature in pain and hanging about taking photographs of it instead of doing something useful. I felt like a guilty traitor telling tales, but I kept reminding myself what it feels like to have something stuck in your eye, and did it anyway. It is not all right to leave something in that state, even if it has bitten you.

It bit me and I only gave it a chocolate button.

I had another very happy walk today, almost as happy as yesterday, except the novelty had worn off a little bit so I was no longer strolling over the mountains whistling joyfully like Maria Von Trapp, more puffing up the steep bits bellowing at the dogs not to get too far ahead. Today it was not raining, which was a jolly good thing, and I stared out at the panoramic scenery and snow on the fells and thought smugly that I have got a perfect life.

Apart from this there wasn’t much more really. Oliver had four hours of driving lessons and I turned the compost heap to let some air in it and get it going again, because it has been a bit sluggish after months of freezing rain. We have had a Green Revolution and turned our taxi top signs sideways on  the roofs of the cars to see if they are more aerodynamic like that, which they are and it might save us a fortune, and has the added benefit of amusing all off the other drivers.

I put things in the camper van ready for departure on Monday, and washed Oliver’s sponge bag and stuck a name label on his shower gel. I swept the floors and sprayed the dogs with some Extra Security Flea Prevention Toxic Highly Inflammable Squirty Stuff, although Rosie fell in the tarn when we went up the fell, so hers might have washed off.

She fell in fairly thoroughly, and was very surprised and upset. The last time she jumped in the tarn it had completely frozen over and today’s unexpected dip startled her very much. She sneezed and snorted for a while and then was sick  afterwards.

I was not terribly sympathetic.

Apparently INTJs aren’t.