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.

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-

Sarah: BRILLIANT!

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..

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.

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.

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?