Category Archives: creative writing

Welcome to my world…

Dashing down the stairs at Paddington underground station to see a train waiting at the platform with doors invitingly open, she dithered for a second trying to see some sign that it was the one she needed before jumping through the doors into a surprisingly sparsely populated carriage. Suddenly assailed by doubt over the possible direction of travel she turned and exited only to hear the words “…to Kings Cross..” from the tannoy.

Gracefully for once, she continued the turn and re-entering the carriage placed her bags down with a sheepish grin directed at the guy who had crossed glances with her just before the doors closed. Normally she wouldn’t notice people on the tube beyond a dismissive ‘cute’ or ‘nice hair’ or ‘I wonder where she got those earrings’, but this guy had definitely caught her eye, not just in the ‘eyes met across a room’ sense but in the ‘WOW he’s NIIII-IIII-IIIICE’ sense, so much so that she made a conscious effort to look in every direction but his; berating herself for smiling at him.

“Don’t talk to people on the tube” a lecture she’d heard many times from the father of her child. He disapproved of the ease with which she would initiate conversation with total strangers not seeming to realise that connecting with people was as natural as breathing – it was sustaining that contact over time that was difficult.

Despite knowing which direction this train was now headed she made a detailed study of the already familiar route the circle line would take, practically sounding out the remaining stops before Kings Cross in order to avoid the natural inclination her head seemed to have acquired in wanting to turn right. The target of this distraction continued to lounge across the seat and it seemed to her overly sensitive imagination that he was trying to reconnect that first glance by sheer force of will or personality but she held firm and continued to look elsewhere and put that imagination to better use, mentally scolding herself for such misplaced vanity.

Bracing against the swaying of the carriage she straightened up and pictured herself the captain of some marvellous ship – a space ship of course, it could be nothing else surrounded by metal and clanking and fluorescent lighting as she was. She imagined the current surroundings peeling away to reveal a scene of wonder and excitement before curiosity over what other passengers may imagine during their journey home brought her back to her real surroundings just as the door slid open onto Edgware road allowing other passengers to board.

From the corner of her eye she could see the guy looking in her direction but he could have been studying her or the reflection in the window behind her, without turning to see she couldn’t know for sure which it was. She pictured his face again as it had appeared when she entered the train, the look of almost shocked recognition and something else. As she struggled to categorise the emotion she wondered why it was so hard to decipher “hmm… Maybe he’d just been holding in a fart” she mentally chuckled to herself, whatever it was it was a little unnerving and poking fun was the easiest way to deal with the strange sensation that look had brought.

When the train started slowing down for the Kings Cross station the object of her thoughts suddenly got up and in a swift movement stood directly behind her, the swaying of the carriage for a single instant pressing him against her back. She wondered at his closeness as the carriage, despite the time of day, was not the usual rush hour sardine tin she had been expecting …and was it her imagination or did he seem to be sniffing her? Uncomfortably aware of her fragrant state due to the rushed journey from Bristol, she picked up her oversize shoulder bag and prepared her rolling overnight case for a swift exit and turned decisively to face him in order to forestall any pickpocketing attempt, he recoiled slightly backwards and seems to lose his balance and then she realised that his eyes which at first glance had seemed a startling blue were in fact red rimmed and the hair she had initially pegged as a dirty blonde was in fact a very white feathery mass of tufted curls, the shadows cast by the tube causing her earlier mistake as to the colour. “Ah…” She thought “…maybe he’s ill, or drunk” as he staggered a little to retain his balance in the swaying compartment. Almost as though he’d read her thought he shrugged backwards to stand as close to the doors as was physically possible allowing her some more space then, as they opened, he hesitated for a second before stepping out.

She had been scanning the walls as the train pulled in for signs to show the direction she needed to walk and striding confidently past him headed straight for the railway station, slightly relieved when he seemed to swing in the opposite direction before being lost in the crowds behind her.

That would probably have been the last he crossed her mind if she then didn’t suddenly glimpse him again from the corner of her eye, this time he was slightly ahead of her, how he had managed that without actually walking past her in the narrow tunnel seemed strange but dodging through the crowd, her small compact form aiding in speeding through the foot traffic she soon left him behind again.

Walking into Kings cross rail station she found the sardine tin effect previously expected yet not encountered on the tube, the crowd gathered before the departure board was swelling by the second as each train showed the dreaded delayed or cancelled notice. “Typical” She thought, glancing around for a coffee shop or somewhere to sit, as the voice over the tannoy announced there had been damaged overhead power lines and a blocked track along a main route ending any chance of a train for the foreseeable.

Her eye was caught by a shock of white blonde hair to her right and she glanced up to find yet another man meeting her gaze, very similar in both dress and looks to the guy from the carriage, her initial thought was “there he is again” until she realised this one was a little younger, his features not quite as chiselled; though seeing the same coat, bag, hair style and expression she forgave herself instantly for the mistake. Then he glanced away and the moment was gone but she couldn’t help feeling that once again there had been an instance of sniffing despite the distance separating them. Feeling distinctly put out with her overactive imagination she rang home to explain the travel situation before walking over to information in order to enquire about changing her ticket.

Relieved to find that she would not have to wait for hours or travel too far along the tube she instead made her way across to St Pancras in order to catch a train to St Albans where her lift would be waiting. While standing at the end of platform B she saw in disbelief another white blond head coming towards her through the crowd, her mental comparison of similar coat and bag suddenly had her heart pounding in an irrational wave of emotion – excitement or fear she really couldn’t tell but an impression of being prey washed over her as she raised her eyes back to his face only to receive a shock as what had initially appeared to be white blonde hair became a dull brown. “I need my mind AND my eyes checked” she thought as he walked past her without a glance. “Of course I’d see people in the concourse who got off the tube at the station and c’mon, fashionable coats all look alike and everyone has those messenger style bags now” the pep talk helped a little and she ignored the niggly little voice in the back of her head whispering that yes, many coats and bags looked alike but that guy had definitely been blonde when he walked towards you.

Keeping an eye on the scheduled time and angling towards the most likely spot on the platform she continued her mental pep talk “Because, yeah, shape shifters and illusionists and all those things in those books you like to read are really real and suddenly YOU have caught the attention of the beautiful creatures and the world of darkness will be yours. Yeah, right…” Mentally continuing in this vein as the train pulled in and she and her fellow passengers boarded, she sighed wistfully at the reflection of herself displayed by the window “Oh yeah, almost 40, mumsy traveller with the oversize shapeless jacket and the functional glasses, of COURSE you’d be the one to call ‘em out of the woodwork.”

Deciding that her moment of vain fancy had passed she allowed herself to indulge in a ‘what if’ daydream; how would she feel if she was suddenly yanked into an existence where she would never be able to see her daughter again, where she couldn’t explain to the father of her child why she’d vanished and left them alone. Shuddering at the thought she mentally bathed herself in the love and contentment she had waiting for her at home and pictured again little moments from her memory archive of her daughters first “mumma” and the joy they together as a couple shared in watching her grow into the forceful little wench she was becoming. For a few seconds this beat away the fanciful moments of her London journey but then she started to feel dissatisfaction creep in, “what if I had the power to learn in a night what takes me years to do now? These memories would still make me feel the same way if I left now” Picking the ‘best’ fictional entries from her books she concocted a view of a world in which she sacrificed the life she knew in order to gain all the knowledge she had ever dreamed of, where she could walk the night without fear, where she had no more pain or weakness to contend with. A world where she was strong and in control but loved passionately by an equally strong man (a ridiculously beautiful strong man of course – though one who didn’t glitter in the sunlight) who would listen and appreciate and act upon her opinions or advice.

She could use her newfound knowledge to create things to help ease the world’s ills, to stop the pollution, the water shortage, the violence “Hang on” She thought, “If I were a creature of the night, suddenly able to do anything I wanted, why would I care about mankind’s problems?”

The slowing of the train jolted her from her reverie and once again confronted by her less than stunning appearance sighed wistfully. “forget your looks and age and all that crap, where was I?“ she mentally catalogued different ideas picked from authors such as Laurell K Hamilton, Lynsay Sands and Charlaine Harris and even Stephanie Meyer and said to herself “You know what, if emotions and feelings are enhanced with this change then I’d care even more about things, I LIKE helping people now so I’d probably like it even more then” Then as the train pulled into St Albans and she prepared to depart another thought struck her

“Hang on, what if it was my daughter they could smell and they’re following me to get to her because she’s some kind of ‘chosen one’ who is destined to do miraculous things” a wave of fierce protectiveness rose up in her and subsided just as quickly. “Actually, if they could help her to meet her potential then so long as I get to be involved would it really matter if it’s for the good of the world?” she mused to herself, turning the idea around. Punching the call button for the lift she finally shook her shoulders and as the doors closed behind her she consigned such thoughts to the ether and returned to the world in which the car containing the family she loved would soon be arriving to transport her home.


In remembrance

Am I crying because its expected?
or do I really feel this grief?
How can they think they know how im feeling?
when they dont know whats underneath.

Its strange the way you think you know someone –
but then you barely know them at all,
We shared so much we knew each other well
…but that was all so long ago.

we grew up and then we grew apart
I should’ve kept much more in touch!
There’s surely something more I could’ve done
I guess I didnt care enough…

I didnt know you were in hospital –
I havent seen you now for years.
I dont want to see you like this now,
a wooden cask obscured by tears.

Tamsin Luke was my best friend in school; juniors and seniors – she liked to spell her name Tamsyn even though that isn’t how it went on her birth certificate; kids are funny like that.

I ran away from home when I was about 9 or so, I had just had a fight with my brother (another one) and mum had sent us both to bed; grounded.

I was indignant because HE started it, and it meant I couldn’t watch the film we’d been promised that was on TV… some science fiction thing (even then I liked that kind of stuff)
After sulking in my room and feeling much abused and hard done by I decided I’d had enough – a neighbour, Dianne, had come round to visit mum and I could hear them talking and laughing.

I put my trainers on (the pink ones with the velcro fastening) and stood on my bed looking out of my bedroom window, Ricky McCormick who was my age and lived dead opposite had told me about his cousins jumping out of their window when they’d been grounded, I decided I could do it too. I managed to lower myself onto the porch.. The whole time I was glancing around nervously expecting to be seen and grassed on, but for once the road was clear – it was an incredibly sunny day – the kind you hear about now but think of as a figment of your imagination (in manchester anyhow) and suddenly the drop looked too far, I tried to climb back up into my room but couldn’t.

I was stuck.

All I could think of was the trouble I’d be in if I was found like this, so steeling myself, I jumped, trying to aim for the grass and hoping the curtains were still closed in the front room to shield the TV from the sun, my luck on that front held, was not so good on the other though – I landed awkwardly and cried out in pain then curled in a ball hoping no-one had seen or heard me..

I then limped across the main road (forbidden territory) to my best friends house.

After lying convincingly to Maureen (Tamsyns mum) that my mum had walked me just up to the bollards separating her estate from the main road (you could just see their drive from there) Tamsyn and I went into the den to watch the film my brother had stopped me from seeing (at least that’s how my mind saw it) afterwards we went out to our secret hidey and I told Tam everything and said I was never going back – we made a plan, I was going to stay for tea then when everyone had gone to bed, I’d be let into the house by Tam and she’d sneak me into their loft – it was a converted one that we had spent many an afternoon playing games and talking about nothing in – as well as reading the books we sneaked from her older brothers room (my older cousin, Lorraine, was in the same year as him and when she babysat for us we’d tease her unmercifully claiming she fancied him…)

About 2 hours later I was starting to feel guilty and decided I wanted to go home and try to sneak back into the house before mum noticed I’d gone.

We crossed the road again – I was still limping and in great pain when I saw Edna and Dianne (our next door neighbours) walking towards us, we hid behind a car and snuck around the back so they wouldn’t see us, sadly Edna caught sight of me and shouted, Tamsyn hid and Edna grabbed me and shook me all the while shouting that my “poor mother was worried sick and what did I think I’d been doing” etc. etc. etc.

By this point the whole neighbourhood knew I’d been found (it turned out mum had decided that we could watch the film after all, she’d gone to tell Richard who’d cried himself to sleep then when she came to get me, found my room empty and the window wide open, the entire neighbourhood had turned out to comb the area for me – no one thought I’d be brave enough to cross the busy main road) I remember being dragged up to my room being soundly beaten and put to bed.
I shouted through the door that she’d always hated me and buried my head under my pillows and then cried myself to sleep. I was taken to the Doctors the next day because my foot had swollen to about 3 times its natural size, I had a hairline fracture right the way across. It still bothers me now in cold weather.

For weeks after that I avoided Tamsyn – I still don’t know why, shame possibly – she finally cornered me and asked if I was upset with her for being caught, we made friends and did everything together again for a while.

Sadly we lost touch when we were at college – unforgivably through a boy.

She’d always fancied my first boyfriend and never tried to hide this from me – I always felt she liked him more than I did but it hurt that he used to call her a slag and all sorts – I have this habit of worshipping my closest friends and it was hard being in the middle..

Anyway – long story short, he and I split up, he asked her out. my mum took great offense to this and basically made it so uncomfortable for Tamsyn that she stopped coming round and I stopped going round to hers.

She went off the rails and left Daventry when they split up, a few years later I moved to Manchester.

I was living with my dad and attending college (performing arts) Mum called me up when I got home from a rehearsal… Dad had already warned me she’d rang 3 times previously so I was prepared to deal with her, (at the time I had many ‘issues’) what I wasn’t prepared for was the blunt “Vicky – Tamsyns dead” I got when I answered the phone. apparently all the blood drained from my face and I dropped the receiver as I sank to the floor, praying I hadn’t heard her correctly…

I managed to get myself together enough to pick the phone up again – Eileen (my step-mum) had jumped up to try and catch me as I fell and she was making all kinds of sympathetic noises while my mum explained that Tamsyn had come home after the new years eve drinking session and had felt ill so had taken paracetamol, she took some more when she got up because she hadn’t felt any better – then got rushed to hospital when she collapsed. apparently it was liver failure.

I went back to Daventry for the funeral – I think dad paid the fare for me, and I was just disgusted that my mum planned to accompany me there – In my irrational state of mind, I felt that Tamsyn and I had lost touch in the first place because of the way ‘mommy dearest’ had treated her.

Anyway, we get there – I’m wracked with grief just like everyone else, We stayed a bit back from the family and watched the coffin buried… as Maureen walked past she saw me and stopped to give me a big hug, we both started crying and she begged me to go back to the house for a private family wake. I said goodbye to my friends and joined everyone at the Luke house, only to discover I was literally the only non family member there.

Maureen took me upstairs to show me Tams room, on the wall by the bed, just underneath the hundred or so photographs she had pinned to the wall was a scrap of paper I’d completely forgotten about – in my handwriting was the date, the place, and the words
“this should be worth a fortune when I’m famous… for my bestest friend Tamsyn Luke”
and I’d even signed it… she wanted me to know that Tam did still think of me as a friend despite the whole Steve fiasco.

We had a cry and a laugh, reminisced about all kinds of things – the abortive running away from home for one… then we went back downstairs, where I was treated by everyone as though I were a member of the family and it dawned on me just how much of my childhood had been spent with them, I’d even gone on visits to the branch in Cannock – they all remembered me and we spent time reminding each other of various exploits… I didn’t want to go home.

In true Luke family tradition the wake became a party – much drunken singing – many tears but almost equal amounts of laughter… everything seemed changed when I got back to Manchester.

I hadn’t seen Tamsyn for the best part of 2 years, but I missed her – so badly, I still do now sometimes… it sounds stupid but I sometimes write her letters and I talk to her, like we used to – I especially missed her when I split up with Ian; he was a little like Steve; only in looks but that was enough to remind me of her and the things we missed out on sharing.

This is a kind of re-post as I’ve preciously mentioned Tamsyn and shared that poem but this is the full story as I remember it; warts and all.

Still miss you Tam.

Oh what a beautiful morning!

It is absolutely gorgeous out there today. Bit cold still, but the front room seems so warm and inviting when the sun streams through like this – and to think I used to avoid the sun where possible (well, ok so I’m not planning on going outside in it for long, but i’m not hissing behind closed curtains either)

We need bread and stuff so I’m going to walk up to aldi later and i’m actually going to hang some washing outside for the first time this year, that will probably wipe me out but i’m in such a good mood I hope it doesn’t – I may ring Kay and see if she fancies karaoke tonight – it’s been soooooooooo long!

Right, the tunes are pumping (quietly) I’m on the Joss Stone, Maroon 5, Amy winehoouse, Garbage, Nickleback, Frou Frou and Damien Rice playlist today, it’s quite fitting for the weather I feel.

Just thought I’d share this dream I had with you the other night, it’s been a while since I did that *grin*

Basically I was a scriptwriter and this is the sketch I was working on for some comedy/drama thing:

Greg – oily smarmy character with a hint of boyishness about him (think guy secretan from green wing)

Olivia – Fairly uptight and insecure, streak of ruthlessness and the ability to melt at the slightest compliment which then completely transforms her actions towards that person.

Sarah – Basically a female guy, feminine lager drinking football supporting.. Jodi Kidd type

The back story is that Greg and Sarah get it on, he shows his true colours she vows to get even. Knowing he loves his car more than life itself she arranges for it to be crushed on reality tv show ‘revenge’.
Unfortunately Greg is not around to see this happen because he is at a conference with Olivia (whom he hates) However, the show is aired live on tv and Greg see’s it in his hotel room, first outrage then grief as he collapses and changes the channel because he cannot bear to see his pride and joy being mangled. This is when Olivia walks in to see whats wrong (she knew about the revenge thing because Sarah asked her to let her know his reaction) Amazed that he isn’t watching the revenge show despite constant priming throughout the day she asks whats up.

Unable to speak, Greg merely gestures at the tv which is now showing a program on the plight of abused children in thailand, tears are streaming down his face and Olivia backs out of the room quickly.

She calls Sarah who is also sobbing wildly. (cut to split screen to see both sides of the conversation)
Olivia: whats wrong – didn’t the car get mashed?

Sarah: Of course it did! it’s not that. I’ve just seen something really crappy on tv is all – its just total shit that this kind of thing still goes on *sniff*
Olivia: um..its not that Thailand documentary on channel 4 is it?

Sarah: Yes actually – now cheer me up, what did Greg say about the car?

Olivia: ah.. well..

Sarah: *giggles* he’s livid isn’t he?

Olivia: No actually he’s in tears in there, completely unable to speak – I think-


Olivia: no, let me finish – he never actually saw it happen, I don’t think he knows yet..

Sarah: what do you mean ‘he doesn’t know yet’?

Olivia – well he was just watching the same documentary as you and I’ve never seen a grown man so affected, he’s sobbing like a baby in there, curled up around the remote as if he’s lost his best friend.. Listen (holds phone up and the sound of sobbing from the next room is clearly audible)
Sarah: SHIT!

Olivia: yep – if he’s that bad over some kids he doesn’t know – you may just send him over the edge with this little stunt.. best find him a new car quick if I were you.

Sarah: I didn’t know he was so sensitive, c’mon – did you?! He must be so insecure to hide himself behind that crappy persona of his.. oh my god! what am I going to do? I can’t be responsible for him cracking up – not now.. I mean.. shit!

Olivia: Uh huh, I told you it was a bad idea..

(cut to next scene where Sarah is frantically trying to find someone who stocks Gregs car – a futile task because it’s a classic)

There was a hell of a lot more, in my dream i had practically the whole series down – but this is the scene that had me in stitches – just the look of shocked horror on her face when sarah realises what she may have done.. Priceless *grin* Stef wasn’t half as tickled by this as I was but I guess you have to have ‘seen’ it in it’s entirety – it’s like green wing (which is where I assume I got my muse) you need to have come to like and know the characters to really ‘get’ it.

Right, I’d best get on with my day methinks – the shower won’t start itself..

t’internet is home

There comes a point where everyone has had enough, they just feel they can’t handle anything else. Then after that, there comes another and another – each time you think
“why me? I’m a nice person, everyone says so – what have I done to deserve all this shit?!”
Sadly it’s not that simple, people are cruel.
The most hurt always comes from the place you would least expect it – even when all the signs were there beforehand. You know the signs were there because you spend every minute of every hour for the next few days, weeks and months (ok, years) going over and over in your mind every little thing, every nuance of every conversation till you can see the things that led you into this hell – but you never understand. The signs are there, but no hint of the cause.

Hopeless and dying
heart heavy and sore
everything hurts
just cant take anymore

with my head in the sand
let the world pass me by
surrounded by many
Alone I still cry

Yes D, I do know how you feel.
It passes. Eventually.

You know why? Because people are also fantastic. When I was at my lowest point, I discovered the internet, in doing so I discovered that the kindness of strangers is limitless. Yes I had friends who cared, but they were too far away to really help (which is why I started using the net in the first place, it was an easy way to stay in contact and a damn sight cheaper than a 3hr phone call every day)
I honestly believe it was the people I met online who kept me sane and away from doing anything really stupid. They gave me hope. I know a lot of people find that hard to understand – they say that someone you’ve never met cannot be a true friend, I say a true friend is someone who is there for you, in whatever capacity they can, when you need it most – regardless of the situation.
Yes, I have sadly lost contact with many of those people, The portugal crowd, the hellifiknow quizzers and the abuse regulars in the msn chatrroms. Others (like Chris, Matt, Donn and Rosie) I have the odd moment of reflection where I am TRULY truly grateful that you still put up with me. Intermittant though that contact is.

These days I’m like a cork, I may get broken, battered – splinter into a million pieces, but whatever trouble comes my way, I know I’ll still be floating on top when it’s over.

first effort

Ok, I’ve finally started my ‘novel’ and the impetus, the germ of an idea – came from the most recent post by fateyefortheskinnyguy
I daresay this will change, be transformed into something totally unrelated to that post – but it sparked something so… Many thanks to the self proclaimed fat dude!

It’s the only part I’m going to post on here now until it’s done (assuming of course I finish it… Me and my projects lol) but – I’ll keep you informed as to my progress.

She sits on the bottom stair, clutching the note in her hand – eyes unseeing through the tears suspended on their surface.


The single word falls harshly into the silence.
Finally the tears fall, fast and hard as the sobs wrack her slim body with their force. Alone she tries to come to terms with the meaningless waste of it all; what did she miss? What didn’t she do?
The questions that will never be answered, never go away – and the wounds that will never heal under the burden of time.

It was a glorious day outside, The sun was shining for the first time in over two weeks. The air was crisp and clear, people were smiling and the sounds of children shrieking in joy could be heard faintly through the door.
It just seemed so wrong. In so many ways.

The sobs were calmer now, she slowly pulls herself together and tries to fix a semblance of normalcy around her, knowing full well that nothing would ever seem normal again. It takes several more minutes, though it seems more like hours, before she can stand and move to the telephone.
The number is one she has never used – though she could dial in her sleep. The ringing seems to last forever as the thoughts tumble disjointedly through her mind, Splintered images of a time that can never return.

“Hallloooo… Speak – or forever hold your peace”

Muffled laughter at the other end shows that this call is not going to be easy. As though this call could ever be easy.

“Hello..?” The sound of breathing followed by “It must be a random, someone forgotten to stick the keylock on again – hang on” “HELLO?!?!”

She mentally shakes herself and answers


But she falters before she can say anything else, forlorn and bereft the sobs start again, beyond her control to hold them back.

“Jesus… Cassie? Is that you – what’s wrong? Please? Where are you? What’s happened?”

She can picture his face, growing taut with concern, shaking off whichever bimbo he’s currently playing with, It gives her the strength to push back the grief for a brief moment – just long enough to ask him to come and get her. No questions asked he agrees to be there in ten minutes. Just as she knew he would.

When bad things happen It’s often surprising the people we turn to – strangers, or people that ordinarily we would avoid. She muses on this as she tries to distance herself from her grief, calmer now that she knows she is not alone.
She focuses instead on a hurt years old. He left, but came back – changed. Now she is calling in that debt, he couldn’t erase the former, but this, this he can help with. He will understand.

Inspired by Bob.

I feel a whimsy, maybe I should just write – its been a while since I did a random stream of consciousness thingamabob…
yeeeeessssssss… blame twin peaks, i do.

It all started with Bob you see, that wild eyed, sweaty toothed madman. Focussed evil apparant in every sinuous move – danger leaking from every pore – chaos in its greatest form; Man.
He poured across the room, each obstacle surrendered to his liquid touch, stained and corrupted by his passing yet not a mark left to explain the sensation of crawling flesh imprinted in his wake.
She screamed, terror evident in every breath. He smiled, a smile made all the more chilling by the crazed delight in his eyes.
Then in a second he was gone. A dream – a fancy. Nothing but the stench of fear to show for his presence, a pungent lingering smell that slides down the back of your throat like tar.
But we know.
We saw.
She lies helpless before him, as she did then, as she will again. It is foretold in the actions of the past and the dreams of the future – if anything is certain it is the fear.

Death itself is never certain, it hovers on the horizen and then, even when there is plentiful warning, it strikes unexpectedly. Whether the news brings relief, sorrow or joy – it is always a shock.
Fear though… now there is a different story. Fear is present every day, every minute, every second.
Underneath all of our thoughts and our actions lies fear.
In the main it is easy to put it down to 2 things; a fear of failure or a fear of the unknown. There is a dark place within us all though that harbours a deeper fear, a fear of someone or something indescribable yet easily recognisable… just like Bob.
Ask any child what they fear at bed time, they may say “the dark” but that’s too simplistic a reply, what they fear, what they sense, is the presence under the bed, waiting in the shadows – looking for the unwary foot or arm to pass within reach so that it can drag you screaming down, down, down to the depths of your fear.
I bet you can remember a time, not too long ago, when you would LEAP onto your bed to avoid that grasping presence under the bed. Logic may now make you calmly walk over. But ask yourself. Why is the lamp next to the bed not turned off until you are safely tucked under the covers?

Hair and Job update

Ahhhhhh… i love my hair *grin*
washed it, brushed it – 30 minutes later.. its dry. Everyone who’s whinged at me for giving it the chop can grow their own to waist length then after they’ve put up with the hassle of looking after it, i’ll accept complaints – until that point… take my word for it – INFINITELY better.

ive REALLY caught the wing chun bug… i even sit in work doing the wrist rotations… the rest of the people in my training group are so used to it now they’ve stopped taking the mickey. It sucked big time on friday though – R got sent home, despite being REALLY good on the phones and having completed 2 weeks of the training, apparantly one of her references came back as unsatisfactory for them – i sent her a txt to see if she was ok, suggested she trys the union to see if they can fight this and sent her the no. i hope they can help cos that sucks.
They do this whole competancy based interview thing – leave it a month before you can even start the job, wait til AFTER they’ve paid you for the month then drop you because of ONE ref. i mean – c’mon… they’re checking refs from EVERY job ive ever had – they’ve even contacted the uni for THREE different ones according to my boss there. Im just waiting for my turn to get asked for a ‘quick word’ NO way will i take THAT lying down!

This is for Claire: first part of story as promised…
The sound of the horn faded over the hills just as the first ray of light hit the meadows down in shadow valley. From his lofty perch atop the tallest pine at the highest point of Drangle pass, Forlon surveyed the peaceful terrain with satisfaction.
It had been 7 long years since he had led the tribe over the treacherous slopes of Mant’aou, fleeing the devastation wrought over his homeland by the Loki’I. He had sworn then that his children would at last know the peace denied to the generations before them during their years of hated servitude.
Movement where none should have been captured his attention. Leaning at a precarious angle afforded a clearer view of the 5 youths skirting the perimeter of the slowly growing village, the unusual golden hair of the lead male identifying him as Taric, forlons eldest nephew.
“What are they up to now?” Forlon muttered exasperatedly to himself.
Swiftly he descended from his perch, and taking note of the direction the young people were heading, started on an intercept course through the trees…

“Taric!” Hissed Sverres “where are we going?”
Taric glanced back over his shoulder at the wiry youth glaring at him and chuckled
“Peace Sverres, I told you before – just trust me, the destination is worth the journey”
“You neglected to tell us that the journey would take all morning though!” interjected Elena sharply, swift in the defence of her beloved Sverres.
*sigh* ok ok i know… at some point i shall do more but… my part of the pact is fulfilled at least. one start to a fantasy story, here for all to see.
now i guess i should get my harris in gear and get ready for work, again…
at least i have a day off tomorrow, Phill’s taking me to Conwy falls WOOHOO! i get to see pretty waterfalls again. i LOVE that place. (shame its an MR2 and not a bike but… Conwy falls *grin* gonna do the picnic thing i think.)


isnt it funny how the stupidest things have the most affect upon us?
sex. its a killer… everytime. You can have a perfectly good friendship with someone then that word ‘attraction’ rears its ugly little head… suddenly its all about ‘physical’ closeness. which is when the whole thing goes to pot.
and people wonder why i’d rather spend my time online…

I have a wee rhyme for ye, explains my take on relationships quite clearly (yes im a bitter twisted ol’ hag, i may as well admit it out loud to the world… quite frankly, they scare the hell out of me these days, yet… even i still have moments of hope. Daft huh!?)

Love Cynic

For every woman
There’s only one man
He’ll give your life meaning
Like nothing else can
For every guy
There is only one girl
And for him she’ll become
The true heart of his world

This I was taught
And this I believed
Wasted years of my life
Trying to make it real
I’ve met so many guys
Whom I thought were ‘the one’
I’ve tried so many times
My belief has now gone

For every season
The pattern must change
An ongoing cycle
Of sunshine and rain
For every liaison,
The timing is wrong
The start is too sudden
Suddenly it’s all gone.

I like an uncomplicated life me… which is why its so amusing to my friends when i seem to constantly go out of my way to complicate it, C loves my phonecalls… she can have me laughing within 5 seconds if i start telling her my latest tale of woe… yet she is ALWAYS my rock when i need one. Perhaps i should start a blog purely for her… plenty of song material for her in that.