Tributes to a Great Man.

Recently my Father passed away after a brief, but intense, battle with cancer. I am going to post the tributes we (His wife, children & grandchild) wrote for him. I say ‘Tributes’, and not ‘Eulogy’ as Tributes seems more fitting a word than Eulogy.

I am not going to say who wrote what, purely because I don’t think any of us, myself included, should get any credit. These words are here so that the tributes we made for him will last, and his memories will live on within the internet.

(1) When you’re a child, your parents are your entire world. And then you grow up, slowly losing sight of that fact. It’s not anybody’s fault that you do that – life gets in the way, and you lose sight of that childlike belief. I was the same. When I was a child, my dad was this amazing man who sang me to sleep with ‘Little White Bull’ and ‘High Hopes’, who beat me at arm wrestling, and let me and my brother beat him at wrestling. He was either ‘Big Daddy’ or ‘Dr Doom’ (Or ‘Dr Death’ I forget which) depending on if he was playing the good guy or bad guy. He was the guy who could make me laugh with ease, and was the pre-internet version of Google. When I was in trouble, I knew he could save me from it – unless I was in trouble with him, and then only my mum could save me!

He was the guy who sang in a deep baritone, who was the musical counterpoint to my mother, and who between them, instilled in me a love for great music. He was not only the person who showed me what it takes to be a great man, just by living his life – a warts n’ all life – triumphs and tragedies, Faults and Strengths. He also showed me that someone who doesn’t make mistakes doesn’t achieve anything. He was a man who would go out of his way to help you, and nothing was too much trouble.

He still is my hero, and he was our Dad.

(2) Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my own familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

(3) From the second I was born, my “Grandpa”, Peter, without a moment of hesitation or thought, stepped into the role of being my Dad. Willingly he took on that role and brought me up as his own.
Since that moment he became my rock, one of my closest friends and my worst critic.
When I was a child he attended every single one of my school shows, grinned and bared my singing and my first attempts on an instrument and my “rare” bile spewing moments about my Law tutor when I took Law!
Yes, he may not be here with me, us or anyone anymore, but I know he’ll keep his promises to all of us. He made several to me as I grew up; but these are 4 he told me…Such as being at my University Matriculation, My first Job, My Wedding (I Joke!), and some day my first child; He’ll always be with me every step of the way; telling me what to do or how to do something better, i.e. – His Way!
*Tad, noson dda. Hyd nes y byddwn yn cyfarod eto.
(Father, Good Night. Until We Meet Again.)

(4) What can be said about Pete that hasn’t already been said?? I met Pete, or at least started writing to him when I was 15, and he was 20…he was in Germany in the Army,….we had been writing on a regular basis for about a year when I finally met him…..He was nothing like I had imagined …he was tall….6 foot 3 I was short…4 foot 10 …he spoke with one’s plum in ones mouth…far too posh for Bewsey… that in itself caused panic…I was nothing like that…I remember running in to my mum asking her to get rid of him..…Mum and Dad’s reply was….. ”Give him the week-end you just might learn something”…..Learn something??,… I learned something in that week-end that lasted more than 46 years.. That he was fabulous company, he was funny, could be serious too when the need arose, he was intelligent, gifted with a dry sense of humour…saw the funny side to life…He was a protector…He later became an amazing dad to our kids, he couldn’t sing, couldn’t hold a note in a bucket, but that didn’t stop him from singing to his kids when they went to bed…he was an amazing husband… the things I “got away” with, he would just raise one eyebrow when he knew that I had overspent or did / said something wrong … he was an encourager…an amazing cook.. an organiser, ..I also learned much later that where DIY was concerned he wasn’t gifted…he took on several jobs…and didn’t finish one of them, hence his nick name of half-a-job-harry
He could be an old-fashioned strict disciplinarian with the kids, but each one respected him and accepted that what he said was law…if he was right, he stuck to his guns, if he was wrong he would… sort of…admit it with, “OK…we can’t all be right can we?”
He was gifted with the ability to put on accents, especially when reading a story to our 4 kids, he brought the story alive to them, he did the same with Ceinwen, then Esther, Alexis and in school with the children…he became all characters when he read and loved nothing more than passing on his passion of reading.
He could be a clown, a joker, a politician, a teacher, a preacher, a barrack room lawyer at times, a counsellor; each day with Peter was different…each day could be funnier than the previous one…I remember one night one of the kids had lost one of their toys that they took to bed….Peter searched for ages and wouldn’t give up until it was found…he then saw his chance and seized it with both hands…..when we went to bed, he sat up and wailed… “I want my Wabbit, I want my wabbit”…and carried on until all the kids were running around looking for a stuffed rabbit for him to go to sleep with!!…..Such was Peter, loved having fun with his kids, no matter what time it was…the apples of his eye…….good job it was school holidays… Years later, when Peter and I were ordained in London in 1991, as we knelt down to be prayed over; in such a solemn moment…Peter whispered “Did you bring my wabbit?” I did my best not to laugh but, couldn’t hold back my smile, even the minister when praying over us asked that we “keep the joy of the Lord” …. if only he knew…..
Peter was also a member of girl guiding…..he helped me, or did I help him? to run a Rainbow unit in Westbrook. He was supposed to help just for one night, but the girls wouldn’t let him stop, and he didn’t want to…that one night ended up him helping for over 10 years. It was “his” Rainbow unit and he thought the world of His little Rainbows.
Pete was a Chef in the Army and he was head cook and bottle washer at home….I loved nothing more than sitting down to one of his food concoctions…his lemon and lime chicken was one of my favourites… but the amount of time he took in the kitchen on Christmas Eve with the Turkey and pork and any other meat he cared to prepare, drove me mad…..but I never once complained when I was sat down to this gorgeous, out of this world, tasting meal on Christmas Day…food fit for a king….and that was Pete, unassuming, fun loving, family adoring, protective…He wouldn’t thank us if we said he was ”King” of the family,… but that is exactly what he was…Pete was king in his castle and our hearts and there he will remain…

(5) What can be said about my dad that the others haven’t already said? My dad was a strict man, but along with that he was also a very funny person….not sure he realised just how much he made people laugh. Please feel free to laugh, smile or even chortle at the following dad’isms’ because believe me dad will be laughing in heaven
Once while preaching he told the whole congregation that …….put him on his ass…pronounced arse!!!……he was a southerner so this was another name for a donkey to him, he couldn’t understand the shocked expressions as he looked up from his notes until mum explained it!!!
It was a quiet time in church when we suddenly heard a mooing sound…… it was dad starting one of his favourite choruses Majesty…..but it came out Moojesty!!!
If you came to the family home during certain times you had to be quiet!!…A very close family friend found this out when he arrived at Countdown time…. Dad ‘grunted’ his hello and Phil was told to be quiet until the programme had finished…. 30 mins of my dad calling the contestants wallys, idiots and several other names passed and Phil was then properly greeted by dad!!!!! This was also the case if you came when wrestling was on (he was a massive big daddy fan!!) or when NCIS was on…..and heaven help you if u dared to phone!!!
Dad said I was responsible for many boy bands breaking up…..Bay City Rollers, Bros, New Kids on The Block even Take That…..the reason I was responsible…because I liked them!!!!
And finally, dads final words to me (other than GO!!! Which he told me several times on the Wednesday & the Thursday he passed away) was ….YOU’RE GROUNDED, yep 41yrs old and grounded by my dad (for saying a bad word!!!) but I am happy to announce he grounded DARREN as well… result!!… Darren’s 1^st time of ever being grounded and he’s 44!!!!
Bye dad we will all miss you loads & please God don’t make him head of DIY or Gardening as it will never get done and heaven would end up with lots of bits of wood that “could come in handy later”!!!

(6) It’s an old well worn saying that rings true when I say that Dad was my hero & Icon,other kids have footballers or singers that they look up to as they grow up,but I idolised my dad.
My dad was everything to me all the way thru my life, he was not only my dad, but my best friend, my confidante and my counsellor, he always there giving me advice (whether i wanted it or not!!) slowly nudging me along onto the right path.
He never judged me on the things I got up to, I remember when I started playing rugby, my dad came to my first match and beamed with pride when I scored in the corner, on the way home, my dads typical response was to say with a smile “but you could have scored two if you hadn’t been showing off!”
I remember when I had to finish my rugby career due to injury,my dads words of wisdom when he came to the hospital “go out on a high,leave them wanting more, never look back” – – Well Dad, you have certainly done that with us.
Dad was a fun man to be around, my brother and I constantly had wrestling matches with him, I remember i used to spend most saturdays with dad watching wrestling on the tv, this carried through even to my early twenties, mine and my Dad’s favourite wrestlers were “the undertaker” & “The Rock” Dad always used to tell me that the rock stole his raised eyebrow look, now I’m inclined to believe you Dad!
It was because of Dad that I got a love for all music but especially the Rolling Stones,it still makes me laugh to think of his infamous Mick Jagger impression, I will never forget the way that dad used to strike the pose, he would curl his lips, stick his bum out and strut around just like Jagger! I now know where I get it from!!
Dad was so proud when I told him that my wife was pregnant with our now 2 year old son, I often turned to him for advice, he was always there, lending an ear when I doubted myself.
Dad, I miss you so much it hurts, thank you for everything. There is a hole in all of our lives now that will never be filled, Thank you for showing me how to be a man & a good father like you were to us.

The Graveyard Waltz.

It’s funny the things that you think about when you think you’re going to die.

Take, for example, myself. One minute, there I was in the shower without a care in the world (well, bills notwithstanding, naturally) when I discovered a lump. At the time I didn’t think much of it, until a week later when I checked and it was larger. Ok, now I was getting a little unsettled, and so a few days later I found myself sitting in my doctors, hoping to be told that I was being a drama queen, and to get on with it.

No such luck – he didn’t like it either, found another and sent me for tests. It was at this point that I got worried…and my thoughts turned to my own mortality.

I’ve read story after story in magazines where the writer has been in the same (or worse) situation as me, and expresses a feeling of either numbness, or anger toward a God that they hadn’t given a second thought to moments earlier.
I think it was Voltaire who said that “Everyone believes in God in their darkest hour.” and I’d agree with that statement – to a person, they each seem to get angry or blame the very God that they had denied existed or ignored moments earlier. However, I mercifully didn’t fall into that trap. I just thought about Zorbing.

I’d seen it in a TV programme, and the concept of being strapped into a giant bubble and flung down a hill really appealled to me, and was suddenly high on my bucket list, along with running in a (more than slightly dangerous)  race I’d read about, which involved running headlong down a very steep hill, and inevitably involved a lot of the contestants having their limbs broken and injured in new and interesting ways.
Now, before you think I’m a totally self-absorbed selfish git (which I am, but let’s not let that fact get in the way..) I also got to thinking about how my heart has pretty much become a graveyard for the women I’ve loved.

Ever since Miss A, I’ve tended toward self-preservation. They get too close, or I get too close, and I begin to shut down and throw up as many walls as I possibly can. There have even been women who have realized what I’m doing, and why, and tried to reach out to me, and end this self-destructive cycle. All have failed….or at least most have.

There is one who I got to thinking about while wandering around both the metaphorical graveyard of my heart, and an abandoned graveyard near where I live (Say what you like about graveyards, they’re a great place to think..) and I came to realise that as much as I’ve thrown walls and barriers up against her, and as much as I’ve hurt her terribly, she’s always understood why, and where I’m coming from. She’s also one of the very, very few people to get through all the masks and see the real me, and see me for the screwed up little bunny that I really am – and still want to be around me regardless.

At the moment, we’re dancing a waltz, with me as the reluctant dance-partner. I know full well that I should just surrender, but can’t allow myself to. After all, I reason to myself, there have been women who have done everything they could to help me, but couldn’t – and I’ve even been with a few who have got past all the masks, defences and walls…I’ve trusted…and was either betrayed, or just simply lost. So what’s the point? Why should this one time be so different?

Because I’ve faced my own mortality?

Not good enough.

I’ve lost count of the times when I’ve walked away from a situation that should have killed me, or come round from ones that did. So why should this one give me such a crisis of conscience?

I really don’t know. And in return, what have I learned from this experience – other than the fact that I have an overpowering desire to be strapped into a bubble, tossed down a hill, and dance another Tango with the lovely Thanatos?

I’m really not sure…but it’ll be interesting to find out.

Mystery: Final Update (or: It’s funny what you find out when you’re not looking)

It’s a funny thing, life.

Just when you think that you have a pretty good idea of what to expect, something happens that should turn your life upside down, and make you question your entire belief in who you are and the people you know…but for whatever reason, doesn’t.

Instead, life continues on as though the potentially life-changing decision never happened, and you remain totally unaffected.

Take, for example, the woman that the past two blogs named ‘Mystery’ were about. I loved her, she ditched me in the most hurtful way possible, we met again, I realized that I’d never stopped loving her, she seemed to be even more messed up than she was when I knew her originally, she died, I spent almost a year grieving, I moved on, case closed.

Right?

Nope.

The problem lies with the whole ‘She Died’ part….you see, it seems that if she did die, she suddenly got better.
Or, for whatever bizarre reasoning she’d held in her head, she lied and made me believe that she was dead…and let me grieve the death of a living person.

Either way, I should be utterly furious. But I’m not. To be honest, I feel kind of sorry for her.

But first, I know you’re probably wondering how I know that her ‘death’ was a huge lie, and what happened to let me find out, so I’ll tell you.

About 2 months ago I got an email off a site that I’m a member of, telling me that people that I know on that site have updated their profiles, so I wandered over to the site – and let’s face it, It was a dull Sunday afternoon and I was stuck for something to do. It was there that I saw that ‘Miss A’ had recently updated her profile.
Now, I’m a big believer in the afterlife, but I’m pretty certain that it does not have internet access.

I agonised over contacting her via the site, but finally decided against it, purely because – and as a friend said – it could be her grief-stricken ex, keeping her profile going as some kind of odd tribute to her….so I chose not to contact…also because (if I’m honest) I didn’t want to find out that she was disturbed enough to have lied about her own death to someone that she knew loved her.

End of story, right?

Well….not quite. It seems that some things want to be discovered, no matter how much you don’t want to discover them.

Moving forward six or so months after finding out about her online profile being updated, I’m wandering around a local supermarket, when I turn an aisle and see a ghost.

The ghost looks up, sees me staring open mouthed at her, and freezes. I then do something very uncharacteristic of me.

– I ran away.

It was only when I was heading toward the exit that the thought occurred to me that I’m not the one who had clearly faked my death, and so I’m not the one who should be running, and so I stopped dead and turned back, vaguely wondering why I’d ran away in the first place. The rest of my shopping trip was pretty uneventful, and despite a growing feeling that I was being watched, nothing more happened. So much so in fact that by the time I reached the queues at the checkout, I was wondering if I’d been mistaken, and I hadn’t seen her at all.

Then I looked around and saw her again.

She was doing that whole “I’m-looking-but-I’m-trying-to-look-like-I’m-not-looking” thing, and to be honest I was considering doing the same…but decided to go for the full-on “Shouldn’t-you-be-pushing-up-the-daisies?” glances. I eventually paid for my goods, and with satisfaction saw that she was doing the same. I was vaguely wondering wether it would be worth starting a conversation with her, but decided that other than heavy sarcasm, I had nothing to say to her, and so was about to leave when I was nearly knocked over by the ghost literally running with her goods to the exit.

Like I said, it’s a funny thing, life.
When I found out her profile was being regularly updated, I felt betrayed and felt that I needed to speak to her in order to find out why she lied about her death, and why she did that to a person that she knew loved her.

Now, I realize that it doesn’t matter why she did it. – I’m sure she had her reasons, and I’m sure that they may have made sense to her at the time.

As for now? Who can tell – But it looks like Miss A’s story isn’t as over as I once thought it was. And I am actually happy that things didn’t end for her in the way I thought they had.

The Date…Part One. (A not so short story)

(*Note: This story is one of a series of 5, the first being ‘Epitaph’ all based around one night in a Nightclub…)
The alarm blared into life shortly after six in the morning. An arm emerged from beneath the untidy pile of blankets on the nearby bed and punched the alarm clock into a sullen silence. A few silent moments passed before a low groan was heard and the pile of blankets began to convulse as a mop of dishevelled brown hair made an unwilling appearance from between them.  The arm reached out as the hand attempted to find the crumpled packet of cigarettes lying next to the bed. After several attempts, and many muffled swear-words  the hand finally located and grasped the cigarettes. Pulling one from the pack, and picking up a lighter emblazoned with the words “Too dumb to care”, the arm retreated back beneath the blankets.
Another long moment passed before the arm decided to make its way toward the still (pretty much) blanket shrouded head. Another arm appeared as the blankets were slowly pulled away from the head, revealing a male face of indeterminate age framed by a shock of brown hair, which was currently pointing in all directions of the compass. The cigarette finally made it into the mouth, and was lit. The silence of the room was immediately shattered as the figure in the bed had a coughing fit. There followed another stream of curses, and the figure gingerly sat upright. Extricating himself from the blankets and standing up, the naked figure looked blearily into a nearby mirror and groaned.
Muttering something about ‘looking forward to retirement’; he rummaged through a pile of crumpled clothing, found the items he was looking for, and stumbled into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later he emerged, washed, dressed, and fairly clean shaven.
The cluttered kitchen was his next stop, where he made himself a strong cup of coffee while he sorted through the morning’s mail. There were ten letters, eight of which looked official and were thrown into the overflowing bin without ever being opened. The other two letters were opened, glanced at, and put down in a coffee spill on the work surface as he wandered out of the kitchen. With a world – weary sigh he struggled into his coat, checked for his keys, and left the house for work.
The closer he got to work, the lower his spirits sank. After saying “Good morning” in a ‘What’s so good about it?’ tone of voice to the ever attentive security guard when he reached his place of work, he made his unwilling way to his office where he sat down and turned on his computer. When lunch time finally arrived, and after checking his watch for the Nth time since he first sat down, he directed one more choice phrase that would’ve made a rugby player blush at his computer, before logging out and going for lunch.
“I’m completely pissed off.”
He confided to his friend as he sat opposite her in the half – empty staff canteen ten minutes later. His friend, although not exactly drop – dead gorgeous, but not far off the mark, smiled back at him.
“Danny, you say that to me nearly every day.”
Her smile started to nullify the dark cloud that had been hanging over him all day (As it always did.)
“That’s because I’m pissed off nearly every day.”
His friend laughed and shook her head.
“What am I going to do with you?”
A list of things that he wanted her to do with him instantly sprang into his mind, closely followed by a list of similar things that he wanted to do with her, and after a gargantuan effort he managed not to dwell on any of them.
“I could tell you, but you’d probably give me such a slap!”
He said with a laugh. She ran her fingers through her jet black waist length hair, and batted her ice blue eyes at him coquettishly.
“I might slap you anyway for being such a grumpy sod this morning.”
“Is that a promise, Miss Richards?”
He asked with a Please-God-let-it-be grin on his face. She gave him a light slap across the back of his hand as she shook her head.
“You’re incorrigible!”
“C’mon Kelly, you know me – I’m a lot of things that end in ibble”
“F’r instance?”
“Well, there’s incredible, for starters.”
Kelly rolled her eyes in mock disgust.
“Not to mention irresistible.” she added with a half-smile.
Danny smiled in return, hoping that Kelly couldn’t hear his heart pounding.
“Kelly, I’ve been wondering….”
Danny paused, and took a sip of water, inwardly cursing the sudden dryness in his throat, and the butterflies in his stomach.  Kelly leaned forward on the table,  cupping her chin in the palm of her hand, as her half-smile threatened to become a beaming grin.
“Yes, Danny?” She asked, mentally willing him on to ask the question which had been hovering in the air between them for the past six months.
“I’ve been wondering whether you’d like to go out for a drink with me.” The words came out in a rush, almost jumbling together in Danny’s haste to say them before he lost the nerve to ask.
Kelly’s smile became a grin.
“I thought you were never going to ask” She replied.
“Is that a yes, then?” He asked, instantly feeling stupid for asking such an inane question.
“Of course it’s a yes!” She laughed, shaking her head, “The only question is when?”
Danny pretended to examine his fingernails as he fought to get his overjoyed brain working again.
“How about tonight? – I mean, are you doing anything tonight?”
Kelly smiled and nodded slowly “I am now!”
The rest of the meals in front of them were generally forgotten as they organized the details of the coming evening.  For both Danny and Kelly, the remainder of their working day seemed to pass fairly quickly as they looked forward to getting home and getting ready.  As soon as his work day finished, Danny went home to prepare.  After an hour spent trying to decide which clothes to wear, and a further half an hour meticulously cleaning every square inch of his body, Danny swore never to participate in jokes about women being vain for as long as he lived.  Following a quick glance at his watch, and a much longer and more critical stare at his reflection in his full length mirror, he finally considered himself presentable.
It was almost eight o’ clock by the time Danny arrived at their agreed meeting place, a small pub called ‘The Royal Flush’.  Finding a seat was easy, due to the fact that the pub was nearly deserted, with only a few locals stood around the bar, talking about football. Danny ordered a pint of Lager, and sat down as near to the door as he could.
Ten minutes later the door opened as Kelly breezed in. Dressed in a lightweight cream dress (low-cut and short enough to be considered ‘daring’, but not enough to be considered ‘tarty’,) and a light grey summer jacket, she looked beautiful enough to knock Danny out of step. Her hair, usually held up in a loose pony tail, had been intricately sculpted into a cascade of ebony ringlets that spilled in a clearly orchestrated chaos of curls across her shoulders. Danny had to almost physically restrain his jaw from hitting the ground in awe. Smiling at Danny, she started to make her way to the bar until Danny recovered himself, and deftly intercepted her.
“I believe that I’m supposed to buy the first drink, and any thereafter.” He smiled, gently guiding her to a seat on his table.
“Why Daniel Williams, You never told me that you were a gentleman!” She responded as she sat down.
“That’s because you never asked, Miss Richards. Now, what would you like to drink?”
“I’ll have a white wine and soda, if it’s all the same to you”
Danny bowed in what he hoped was a reasonable impression of a waiter, and went to the bar for the drinks. He brought the drinks back and presented Kelly with hers with a flourish.
“Your drink, milady”
Laughing, Kelly took the offered drink from him “My thanks, migentleman!” she responded.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, a comfortable silence at first, but eventually the comfort began to wear off as each fought to think of something to say. Kelly was the first to break the silence.
“So what shall we talk about now?” She asked with a smile.
Danny shrugged gently. “What about the weather?” He asked with a wry grin.
“Oh, piss off!” Kelly laughed “What weather? Do you mean the rain, or the rain?”
Danny chuckled. “Yeah, we do seem to be in the middle of England’s monsoon season, don’t we?”
“Monsoon season? I’m thinking about building an ark, and raiding the local zoo!”
The evening began to pass quickly as they began to warm to each other’s company, until by the time the bell was rung for last orders at the bar, they were sat hand in hand.
“Do you fancy going to a club?” Kelly suddenly asked.
Danny nodded eagerly. “Yes, which one – what about ‘Hatters’?”
Kelly paused, then shook her head. “No, I was thinking more along the lines of going to ‘The Blue World’.”
Danny smiled at her, pulling what he hoped was a reasonable facsimile of an impressed expression. “That’s a bit up – market isn’t it?”
“Not for the likes of us it isn’t.” She replied with a wry smile.
The rain had stopped by the time they left the pub, and a chill wind cut easily through the thin jacket Kelly was wearing. Trying to stifle the odd involuntary shiver, she slipped her arm around Danny’s waist. Danny smiled at her.
“Would you like to wear my jacket?” He asked, feeling her shiver against him.
“You’ll freeze to death.” She replied.
“Don’t worry about that.” Danny responded, as he took his leather jacket off and held it open for her. She put it on, turning around to face him as Danny buttoned it up for her. As he straightened the collar, Kelly slipped her arms around his waist, pulling him to her. Their lips met, gently at first, and then with increasing passion as each responded to the others kisses. Danny breathed in her perfume, felt the softness of her skin as she pressed herself against him. His hands slid down the jacket to rest on her hips, and he felt the heat of her body under the thin fabric of her dress, as it moved against the bare skin beneath. He then felt his own body start to respond in kind.
“Now isn’t this a pretty picture?”
The voice seemed to come from nowhere, and they broke off the kiss as they looked around, trying to see its owner. A figure stepped out of the shadows of a nearby alleyway and nodded at Kelly, as he glared at Danny.
“Evening, Kell.”
Kelly sighed, a sound of almost pure anger. “Matthew, I told you a long time ago to leave me alone, Don’t make me tell you again.”
Danny looked from one to the other in astonishment, hoping that his erection wasn’t visible to either of them, and promising himself that he was never going to wear boxer shorts again.

“You two know each other?” he asked, glad that it was relatively dark
“Knew each other is the correct phrase.” corrected Kelly “But he’s too thick to know when to give up.”
“Do you want me to remind him how to give up?” Danny asked,
“No, he’s not worth it. “ Kelly replied “C’mon let’s go dancing.”
The next few minutes were a few minutes in Danny’s life that he would never forget, as time seemed to slow down for him. He heard ‘Matthew’ shout something from behind them, and heard him start running toward them. Almost in slow motion, Danny turned to try to protect Kelly from whatever it was ‘Matthew’ had in mind, only to watch Kelly give ‘Matthew’ the most perfect roundhouse kick he had ever seen outside of a Van Damme movie. ‘Matthew’ was lifted off his feet and sent flying backwards with blood streaming from his mouth and nose. Time then returned to normal as ‘Matthew’ hit the ground with a bone jarring thud, and lay still. Danny stared at Kelly in awe.
“I think you’ve broken his jaw!” he exclaimed “Where ?  How? …I mean, I didn’t know you could do Kung Fu!” Danny stammered, looking from the clearly unconscious Matthew to Kelly, and back again.
Kelly shrugged. “I can’t do Kung Fu – But Kickboxing….Now that, I can do, and have been for the past eight years. Don’t worry about him,” She said, nodding down at the slowly stirring figure on the ground, “He’ll be all right, I didn’t kick him hard enough to break anything except his nose and maybe a few teeth, maybe now he’ll leave me alone in future. – Now are we going to go dancing, or what?” She asked, slipping her arm around Danny’s waist. Danny smiled at her ruefully as they walked away together.
“Like I’m going to argue with you, after seeing that?” He asked as he put his arm around her “Just one thing I ask of you..”
Kelly raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s that?”
They stopped by a waiting taxi. “Be gentle with me.” He grinned at her .
Kelly burst out laughing.
“We’ll see.” She replied, giving him a gentle squeeze as they climbed in.
Mercifully the queues leading into the club were relatively short, and entering the club was easy, it being Danny’s experience of entering ‘The Blue World’ of waiting for hours in the freezing cold before having the indignity of being frisked by the over suspicious doormen. This time neither was the case, and Danny suppressed a sigh of relief, not relishing the idea of being manhandled by another man twice his width in front of Kelly.
Inside the club was a garish nightmare of multicoloured neon, laser lightshows, pulsing lights and pounding bass heavy dance music. Heavily oiled and scantily clad podium dancers twisted their bodies through a multitude of gravity defying contortions in time to the music, whilst the night club clientele either queued at all  of the five bars, or gawked in barely hidden lust at the gyrating dancers. Danny  squinted in the clouds of dry ice that seemed to shroud the inside of the club.
“Music loud enough for you?” Danny had to almost shout to be heard over  the near – deafening  noise of the dance music. Kelly smiled back at him,  and winked.
“Too quiet, really – I think that they should turn it up a little bit, don’t you?”
“Yeah – I almost heard myself think then.”
“That’ll never do, will it?”
“Well, you know what they say – Thinking leads to intelligence,  intelligence leads to dissatisfaction with the status quo, and dissatisfaction leads to revolution – and we don’t want that do we?”
Kelly looked impressed. “Did you just come up with that?”
“With what?” Danny had to almost put his mouth over her ear to be heard, and caught a brief dizzying hint of her perfume as she moved slightly in time to the music.
“ With all that about intelligence and revolution.”
Danny was tempted to say that he’d made it up, but knew that Kelly would eventually find out the truth. He decided that the best course of action would be to appear blasé.
“Must’ve read it somewhere.” He concluded after appearing in thought for a moment.
Kelly nodded then took his arm, half-dragging him toward the dance floor. “C’mon, I thought that we came here to dance the night away, So lets get some dancing done – it’s ten past twelve already.”
Danny smiled in reply, and glanced at his watch, noticing with mild surprise that the time was just gone ten past midnight.
“Before we trip the light fantastic I think that I’ve got to visit the little boy’s room” Danny said apologetically to her, turning toward the brightly lit door which stated ‘Guys’ in electric blue neon. Kelly pulled him back, a mischievous smile on her face.
“You mean that you’re not sure whether you need to go or not?”
Danny looked at her, pretending to be nonplused. “I’m not sure? What do you mean?” he asked innocently.
Kelly rolled her eyes “Nothing. Never mind, I was being facetious” Danny smiled and winked.
“So was I.” Laughing, he turned and walked through the doorway that led into the toilets, leaving Kelly smiling at him, not really knowing what he meant as he left.

While Danny was busy in the men’s room, Kelly made her way to the crowded bar to order Danny and herself a drink, then turned to soak up the atmosphere of the club. Nodding and smiling vaguely at passers-by, she waited until the drinks had been served by the slightly harassed bar staff, before positioning herself within easy sight of the men’s toilets. Danny returned to her side a few moments later with a perplexed expression on his face.
“What’s the matter?” asked Kelly, suddenly feeling a vague sense of foreboding.
“It’s probably nothing,” Danny started, feeling slightly ridiculous “But I think I just heard some guy in there say that he had a gun.”
Kelly’s eyes widened slightly and her gaze automatically flicked across to the imposing figures of the doormen, who were currently locked in conversation with two giggling women. “Do you think that you’d better tell a bouncer?” she asked.
Danny shrugged “I don’t know, what if I’ve got it wrong, and the guy’s drunk and talking about his dick?”
Kelly nodded grudgingly. “Yeah. Then they’d probably throw you out for wasting their time”
“Or beat the crap out of me, then throw me out.” Danny added.
“Still….” Kelly took Danny’s hand “No point tempting fate, is there?”
Danny saw what she had in mind, and allowed himself to be led further away from the toilet door. They took up a position near the dance floor, but  within easy sight of the male toilet doors. Within five minutes of them moving, and no movement from the toilet doors, other than the usual traffic of people wandering in and out , Danny was beginning to wonder whether he had imagined the voice in the cubicle.
Kelly noticed his look of doubt and interpreted his thoughts correctly “Glad you didn’t tell a boun..”
Danny frowned, wondering why Kelly had stopped mid-sentence, her eyes locked on something over his shoulder. Turning slowly, with a feeling like a ball of ice had suddenly grown inside his stomach, Danny noticed that the toilet doors had burst open, and there was a slim, unkempt man standing (Guns?) outside the men’s toilet doors shouting something (Christ, is he waving guns around?) and waving, Danny realized with a sick feeling, two very large guns at the crowd of clubbers staring at him.
Two things happened at once for Danny at that moment; time slowed down on him for the second time that night, and he came face to face with his own mortality.

In a moment of curious detachment, Danny noticed that the music was still playing, but nobody was dancing to it, save for one person on the top dance floor, who was obviously in a world of their own where guns didn’t kill people. Danny suddenly found himself wishing that he were in the same world as that person. The DJ obviously noticed that he was no longer the centre of attention any more and shut off the music. (The person on the top dance floor continued to dance, regardless, Danny noticed)
For a moment, absolute silence reigned, as the gunman looked at the clubbers, and vice versa. Danny stole a glance at Kelly, preparing himself to push her out of harms way when the time came, but saw that there was nowhere to push her to, the crowd hemming them in on all sides. Then the gunman screamed something that sounded like ‘Miss his Range’, one of the heavily oiled dancers (Male, Danny noted to himself) screamed something else, and Hell was let loose in ‘The Blue World’
There was a deafening roar as the gunman’s guns went off together ‘Was one aimed in my direction? I heard the shot, so I’m not dead  – missed me, dickhead’  thought Danny as he turned to push Kelly behind him and out of harm’s way. In-between him starting to turn, the guns going off, and him continuing to turn, somebody gave his jacket a sharp tug, his wallet seeming to shudder in his inside pocket and Danny’s first thought was of amazement that somebody should be trying to pick pockets during a situation like this, inwardly cringing and thinking of Armageddon when the thunderclap of the guns going off sounded.
(All this happened within a split second, Danny realized later, when all had calmed down and he had discovered who or what had tried to ‘lift’ his wallet.)
As he turned toward Kelly, Danny saw that she was holding her stomach, a look of faint surprise etched across her face, casting a wary glance over his shoulder toward the gunman – who seemed to have troubles of his own, his face screwed up in agony, his gun hands flopping uselessly at the end of broken wrists, a thin reedy scream issuing from his mouth – then looking back at Kelly who was starting to frown.
“You okay, Kelly?” Danny asked, feeling stupid for asking, but not knowing what else to say.
Kelly held her hand out toward him “Danny, I think..” (Danny now noticed with growing horror the crimson flower slowly spreading across the front of Kelly’s cream dress, and the red petals of blood dripping off Kelly’s outstretched fingers) “I think I’ve been sh…..” she continued as her eyes rolled up into her head and she pitched forward in a dead faint, being saved from further damage by a stunned Danny who caught her and eased her gently to the floor.
Vaguely, Danny heard someone howling at the top of their voice, it was a howl of outraged horror, a sound of an anger and impotent fury too much for one man to bear. It was a sound which drove a cold chill up Danny’s back, a chill that grew even more wintry when he realized that it was he who was making the noise.
Danny realized that it wasn’t only him giving voice to his pain, as he saw the gunman still trying to use his broken wrists……

(to be continued)

Epitaph…a short story.

I’ve been planning this for weeks.

Horrible weeks that seemed to stretch out forever, as the hateful doubts filled my head again and again and again. But this time I’m not going to listen to them, No sir, not me, I’m gonna do it.
And when I do it, all those perfect little people with their perfect little lives and their perfect little jobs and their perfect little partners and their perfect little clothes are gonna form their perfect little mouths into shocked little circles, and die. Then I’m gonna laugh long and loud.
It was a real bitch trying to figure out a way to get my guns into here without those monkey-suited doormen stopping me, but I did it.

Ha.

I was really clever, much more intelligent than those steroid soaked muscle bags, I figured it out and then did it. I posed as a cleaner, easy really, with the size of this place, even got a job as a cleaner here so that I could do it, but I was never a real cleaner, really, even though I was getting paid to be one, I was pretending all the time. Yes sir, they all thought that I was a cleaner, even the company I was working for, ‘Interclean’ thought I was, gave me an identity card and everything, but I was never a real cleaner.
Hmm. Thinking about it, maybe I am a cleaner tonight, I’m gonna clean this place clear of maggots, so maybe I am. Don’t give a shit either way, I’ve been planning this for weeks and I’m gonna do it tonight, Then I’m going to laugh. I’m going to laugh like they laughed at me that night when that bitch beat me up on the dance floor.
Fuck. I said she beat me up. Damn. I feel like a wimp now, But I’m not, I swear it and they’re all going to find out that I’m not a wimp tonight. Oh, Yes indeedy. She didn’t beat me up, no, I just won’t hit a woman and she was so very pretty and then I spoke to her and she spoke to me and I asked her a question and she answered it and I told her my funniest number one joke and she didn’t laugh and I said that she was crazy not to laugh ‘cos. it was the funniest joke in the world and she said that it was the sickest joke in the world and I knew straightaway that she was thinking those thoughts about me and so I told her that she was the sickest ugliest bitch in the world and she hit me and hit me and hit me and hit me and I won’t hit a woman ‘cos I’m a gentleman, that’s me, and I heard them all laughing at me and I knew that my nanna was right and that people are bad so I have to make them see that I am not a wimp, that I’m a big tough man like in all the films and so I’m going to kill all of them.

Just a few more minutes.

I can hear the music boom chakka booming away through the toilet doors. It’s funny how all the music sounds the same from in here but I don’t know why. I’m laughing to myself because I’m so very clever. I knew that the teachers at school were wrong when they said that I was slow and that I had learning difficulties because I hadn’t read much. I did read, but not the books that they’d given to me, I read my comics and I knew that I was going to be like Wyatt Earp and Superman and clean up a town and tonight I’m going to do it. I’ve taken all my guns from their hiding places in this toilet cubicle, fifth one from the left, and loaded them, and got a hard-on when they ‘ka-chicked’ when I put the bullets in them –

Oh.

That was smutty talk. I’m sorry Nanna, I didn’t mean it, but it’s true. No, I’m not really turned on by this gun, I was thinking of that girl I slept with once. She was so very pretty too, but she laughed at me too, when I didn’t get hard straight away.

Bitch.

She deserved what she got, it’s just a shame that it wasn’t me that did it. She married that Big Man, and he used to beat her, and then he killed her, and he said that it was an accident, but I know better, I know that she probably laughed at him too, and he obviously got very angry with her, and so he…….

Somebody’s just walked in, but they can’t see me because I’ve got the cubicle door shut and locked and the music is still boom chakka booming away outside, and now my hands are sweating. (I wonder if the song outside has changed? It doesn’t sound like it, but it’s so hard to tell from in here.)
Oh, God. What if this guy knows about me and my plan? He can’t know, he just can’t. I’ve kept it a real good secret, told nobody, not even Mrs. Grange who lives next door to me. She’s an old lady and she’s a nice old lady, not like those other old ladies who look at you funny like scared mice, like they’re worried that you’re going to steal their pension off them, or beat them up, or kill them, or something but I wouldn’t do something like that because I’m a gentleman, Yes sir, that’s me, a gentleman and Mrs. Grange invites me into her house and gives me cups of tea in china cups and little cakes that taste like shit, But I don’t tell her that they taste like shit, Because she’s a nice old lady and I’m a gentleman.
She tells me that I remind her of her son Bobby who got killed in a motorbike accident, ten years ago and she gets sad when she thinks of him, and I tell her that if she likes, I’ll be her pretend son and make her proud and she smiles and says that she’d like that very much and that I’m sweet and a nice young man and I smile because I like her, and I’m smiling now because I’m going to make her proud of me tonight.
Whoever it was has gone out now, and he didn’t even wash his hands, filthy dirty maggot. I wish I’d seen who he was so that I could shoot him first. BANG! And it wouldn’t matter that he hadn’t washed his hands after using the toilet.

Two more minutes.

I’m getting nervous now, but in two more minutes it will be half past midnight, and this club will be almost full up to the dance floor, it always is at half twelve on a Saturday night, and it’s nearly one minute and thirty seconds to that now. My watch is so very pretty, Mrs Grange gave it to me for Christmas. She said that it was her late husband Charlie’s (God rest his soul, amen.) and he’d have liked me to have had it, even though I’ve never met him. I went to his grave with Mrs. Grange once, and she put flowers on his grave and she cried a little and said look at me, senile emotional old woman that I am, and I said You’re not a senile emotional old woman, you just still love Charlie (God rest his soul, amen.) even though he’s not here anymore, and I think that he’s waiting for you to join him in Heaven someday, and so is Bobby. And Mrs. Grange laughed and cried at the same time and kissed me on the cheek and said that I was a very nice young man, and that Charlie (God rest his soul, amen.) would think so too, and then at that Christmas she gave me his watch, and I’ve taken very good care of it, and I only ever wear it on special occasions.

Like tonight.

It’s Time.

I’m going to unlock the door and get my guns ready to be fired while I check that the coast is clear, because you never know. All clear. I have a lot of guns, three in all, and they’re very heavy but I don’t mind, and the extra bullets I’ve brought are heavy too, but I don’t mind that either because the weight will make me muscular in time until I look like Superman, or Arnold Schwarznegger, and then every man will respect me, and all the women will want to sleep with me, because any intelligent man knows that that’s what women want in a male – the two ‘M’s – Money and Muscles, that’s all they’re interested in, Oh, yes indeedy. It doesn’t matter if you’re a gentleman like me, or would love them forever and ever and a day and never hurt them, they don’t care and laugh in your face. But get some muscles and a lot of money and every woman will be trying to get you into bed with them, everyone knows that. I think if I carry these guns around for long enough I’ll get lots of muscles and all the girls will want me, there’s no mistaking that.

Half past twelve exactly.

I’m feeling the butterflies in my stomach starting to wake up as I approach the door that leads out into the night-club, but they will go away after I’ve killed the first few maggots, I expect.
Here I go. My Nanna and Mrs. Grange are both going to be so very proud of me after I finish my work here tonight.

Oh, Yes They Will.

Mystery (Update)

It looks like the woman I wrote about in my blog ‘Mystery’ did die after all.

I guess that the only reason I was holding out hope & refusing to accept her death was because I didn’t want to let her go.

I got another text this afternoon claiming to be from her ex-boyfriend letting me know that Miss A had left me her Everything But The Girl collection and all of her photographs of us together in her will.
EBTG was our band. whenever I heard anything by them, I thought of Miss A, and she said even during the 10 years we split up, she always thought of me whenever she put her EBTG albums on…which for her was practically every day. We were going to marry to the track ‘the only living boy in New York’, a long time ago…but what happened, happened, and we never made it.

I’ll always miss Miss A, and there will always be a Miss A shaped hole in my life. She was difficult, demanding and was the only woman who ever broke my heart. But God, I loved her.

They say that you never ‘fall out of Love’ either you’re still in Love, or you never were. If that’s the case then so be it. My life may now be a little quieter, but that’s not a good thing.
My last memory is of walking away from her after we’d just had a meal together. I remember turning around to look at her and seeing her stood there looking at me with a little frown on her face, and looking a little sad. I stopped, wanting to go back to her, wrap her in my arms and tell her that it was going to be okay, I loved her and I’d always look after her, and always, always be her friend.
But I didn’t. I just smiled and waved and carried on walking. How I wish I’dve known that that was going to be the last time that I’d ever see her alive.

At least I have the small consolation that the last time we ever spoke to each other, on the night she died, she told me that she still loved me and I told her the same.

I’ll miss her terribly.

Miss A 1965-2005. Requiescat In Pace, Amicus mea in aeternam.

Mystery

12 Years ago I fell in Love.

Not the dippy ‘I heart U’ skipping through daffodils type stuff, I’d done that earlier, and one rainy (typical) night somewhere outside of Penketh, it ended. Very unpleasantly. It took me just under 10 years to get over that one, & I’d vowed never to get in that state again.
Yet nearly 10 years later I found myself staring across a table at someone I thought was perfect for me, and could heal the wounds I’d kept open for so long.

It had all began with a blind date – I’d absolutely refused at first, but the woman who’s friend it was was particulaly insistant, determined to ‘break down all the walls I’d spent so long building’ (it’s what happens when you work with an ex-psychiactric nurse.)
So I found myself in a series of uncomfortable situations, usually involving me smiling awkwardly at the woman in question, while our mutual friend enthused at how perfect we were for each other. Personally, I couldn’t (or didn’t want to) see why we were so well matched – She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever clapped eyes on, and I’d long since stopped giving a crap about how I looked.
Yet ten or so of these ‘dates’ later I was sat in a restaurant looking across the table at someone, and having to admit I was in love again.

Skip to the inevitable end now, some 18 (or so) months later. It’s Valentines day & I’ve not heard off this woman all weekend – not hugely unusual in itself, but still – we’d been planning to spend the weekend together and having a nice romantic time of it. (Bear in mind that this was before mobile phones or text messaging existed, and you’ll not only get a picture of what an old git I am, but how limited communication was back then) No response to phone calls, so eventually I decided to go to her house on the way back from work. If I could re-do something I’ve done, this would be pretty high on the list.
I arrived at her house, see her car’s in the drive alongside a car I didn’t recognize (the alarm bells should have rang then, but didn’t) bunch of flowers and chocolates in hand and knock on her door. A male face appears at her bedroom window, and ducks out of sight. she appears shortly after in her bathrobe, crying. I finally put 1+1 together, drop the flowers & chocolates on her drive, and walk away.

Skip forward a little under 9 years. I’d gone off the rails a little since that episode & I guess it’s fair to say I went through a long stage where I despised women & anyone who mentioned Love to me was sure of carrying thier teeth home in a bag. I finally had a moment of epiphany in some hell-hole of a bar in some forgotten town and changed my ways.
I was still unpleasant, but at least I was trying to do the right thing now. My best friend Sam, who’d never given up on me, after everyone else had, was finally starting to get through to me.

Nearly 1 1/2 years later and I’m sat in hospital, nursing a broken arm, waiting for the x-ray department to hurry up & tell me what I already knew – that my arm shouldn’t be able to twist in the way it has, and that it’s broken, when I notice that someone has passed me at least twice more that they normally ought to. I look up, and I swear that my heart did a back-flip in my rib-cage. She’s stood there. Smiling at me.
I give back what I hoped was my most nonchalant smile and we eventually exchange details.

Skip forward about a year now, and we’ve slowly picked up contact again – as ‘friends’ (as if that would ever work) She has told me n amount of times how she wishes we’d originally met under different circumstances, how she wishes what happened between us hadn’t happened, and then throws into the conversation how she’s being pestered by this ex-boyfriend who won’t take no for an answer. I half-heartedly offer to help, but am relieved when she declines – I wouldn’t have known whether to break his arm, or shake his hand! Eventually we form this kind of weird strained friendship that I guess forms when each side has seen the other side naked & can’t decide whether to do it again.
Then old habits return. She decides to get back with the old boyfriend now that she got him suficciently jealous with me and drops contact with me. It stung, but It’s not like I’ve not been here before so I go back to doing whatever it was I was doing before she interrupted me.
Then late one night I get a text off her – it barely makes sense, but what I do eventually glean from the jumble of random consonants is that: Her boyfriend walked out, She’s alone, She’s sorry she hurt me again, and she’s going to kill herself.
I set a new landspeed record getting from my house to hers, and arrive to see through her window that she’s slumped on the sofa, bottle in one hand and empty pill bottle lying next to her. My mind goes into over-drive – should I kick down the door? Should I call the cops? or should I simply walk away & let fate take it’s course?
Eventually I succumb to common sense & a shred of decency & call the police, who arrive, kick in the door & inform me that she has passed out from alcoholic over-indulgence. I feel a bit idiotic about having called them, but they’re nice about it & I return home.
We carry on, pretty much in that vein, for almost another year as she picks up and puts down her ex-boyfriend, picking up and dropping contact with me in equal amounts until one day she tells me that she’s pregnant. “Not mine – I have an alibi” I quip, only to be suprised when she tells me not to be too sure. I gently remind her that it’s been about 14 years since we last had sex, and she drops contact again.
Then the baby is born and I’m contacted again by her or so I thought. After a frankly bizarre text conversation where ‘She’ tells me how much she loves me, it turns out to be the ex-boyfriend, pretending to be her, trying to find out how I feel about her. I drop contact this time.

Then I get a text off her telling me she was in hospital with a clot on her lung. I ring her and we talk for about an hour. I tell her to be careful, despite our differences I still don’t want her to be hurt. We tell each other we really care deeply about the other and hang up.

Two hours later, and she’s dead.

Maybe.

Why ‘Maybe’?
1: I recieved the sad news as a text, timed an hour after her death. Who texts people to tell them thier friend has died? A Nurse wouldn’t – they’d be fired instantly, & relatives would be greiving too much to contemplate sending some random bloke a text pretty much as soon as thier daughter had died. Her ex(ish) boyfriend wouldn’t’ve known himself yet. So who sent it? Her? possibly.
2: I called both hospitals in my area to silence the doubts I had, and both said she hadn’t ever been in either hospital. So where was she when we spoke?
3: It really wouldn’t suprise me if this was some weird attention seeking stunt from her – after all, it wouldn’t be the first time she’s done something crazy like this.

So now what? To be honest, I’m lost. Half of me wants it to be a ‘look at me’ stunt, and she’s ok. The other half doesn’t. At least then I could close that door and move on.
So here I am, stuck in limbo again, seeking direction, or maybe solace. Why the hell  does/did this woman get to me like she does/did? How is it she manages to get past every defense I’ve got? What makes/made her so special? Why should I care? Was it because she was like no woman I’ve ever met before, and maybe, just maybe she was just as screwed up as I suspect I am?

Who Knows?

First Love, The beginning of the end.

This tale* does not have a happy ending (as the title suggests) and I guess it also won’t leave the reader with very many happy thoughts by the end of it. It is, however true. It’s also depressing. Turn away now.
*(Certain names have been changed, as I can no longer contact the people, and have no way of gaining thier permission to use them)

About 22 years ago I fell truly and madly in Love. I was in my last year at senior school, about to move up into the sixth form and I got a work experience placement in a local travel agents. I didn’t really know why I’d been sent there, I had no intention of ever becoming a travel agent, my best subjects were predominantly English Lang, Lit, Science and History. So I was a little flummoxed when I was sent to do what was essentially Shop/office work. My Dad was pleased, he was a shop manager & was clearly hoping that his eldest would follow in his footsteps, but I had no intention of doing that. Anyway, long story short one monday in – I think it was September, I only actually remember that it was raining – I found myself being ushered in to meet the manager. Awkward meetings over, I was guided into the ‘back office’ (clearly not sure where else to put me) where I sat down, waiting to be told what to do.
Then she walked in.

I’m not sure that a heart can do a backflip, but I’m pretty sure mine did – especially when she looked at me and smiled. Andy the office manager led her to where I was sitting and introduced us. “This is Karen & she’ll take care of you today, is that alright?” Was that alright?!? I couldn’t say yes fast enough, my 16 year old hormones were going into overdrive, I had the most beautiful woman in the world – Universe, even – ‘Taking care’ of me, and she was smiling at me! At Me!!!!! The following day was a blur, and just about all of it centred around one blonde haired goddess. We spent the following Two weeks chatting as she worked and I sat in awe at how easy it was to talk to her.

At school I was utterly hopeless, couldn’t catch a girl with a net, let alone get a girlfriend. I wasn’t cool enough, didn’t have the latest records/clothes/hairstyle/games/whatever the hell else it was that it took to be popular. I wasn’t a ‘nerd’ or a ‘mosher’ or a ‘goth’ or a ‘punk’ or a ‘B-Boy’ or a ‘sporty kid’, I didn’t actually fit in anywhere, I was an invisible. But that was ok. The bullies left me alone, and most people talked to me. But I really, desperately wanted a girlfriend….and was totally unsuccessful. I was a ‘good friend’, and I had that ‘you’re just like a brother to me’ speech given to me almost daily, until I felt nearly physically sick everytime I heard it…..you get the picture. By the female population of the school I went to, I was the guy you turned to when stuck with homework, or needed a shoulder to cry on, or someone to keep you company, but not a boyfriend. In that area I was back to being an invisible.

But Karen didn’t seem to see me like that. During the two weeks I was there, we chatted about everything; my hopes, dreams, desires (Never mentioning the overpowering desire I had to kiss her, that is!) and she actually listened. She didn’t half-listen, waiting for me to pause to breathe before changing the subject to herself & who she fancied – She listened, leaning over the desk, chin in hand and seemed to honest-to-god be interested in what I had to say! I in turn listened intently when she talked to me about her life: she had just turned twenty, Passed her driving test (First time!), she liked roughly the same music as me, her boyfriend had just dumped her for her best friend – but she was glad to be rid of him. I was pleased that she was single, but I was utterly amazed that any man could be so stupid as to lose her……it was with cold horror I realised that I had just said that out loud to her! Crimson, I waited for her to start laughing at me, or make some kind of scene. She did neither. Instead she did something that I thought odd. She stroked my face, looked deep into my eyes, and smiled.
Going home that evening with my dad I was on cloud 9. The following day was Karen’s day off, and I spent it as usual running errands for everyone else in the office, Andy making his by-now usual digs at me about my ‘girlfriend having a day off & not to pine away in her absence’. As usual I took it in good humour, and laughed dutifully every time he said it (which was practically every time he saw me) but God, how I wished it was true.

The following day the only things I remember about it was seeing Karen doodling a row of love hearts across her doodle-pad as she spoke to clients/whoever on the phone – this was unusual as she was strictly a ‘line’ person, a neat row of straight lines, eventually forming a box which was shaded in and then moved onto another one…by the end of the day her doodle-pad would resemble a chess-board.
The other thing was Karen giving me a lift home.
“Your old feller coming for you tonight gabe?” I looked up to see Karen’s blue eyes gazing at me
“Umm…yes”
she handed me the phone – “Call him and cancel, I’ll give you a lift, it’s on my way – that’s if you don’t mind?”
I have never dialled a number so fast in my life. The trip home took a detour to a local pub where we had a drink (a new experience for me, I’d never been in a pub before, much less with a beautiful woman) and we sat chatting for what seemed to be an instant, but was actually about two hours, after which Karen dropped me off at home. As we pulled up outside, I fumbled with the door handle, not realising it was locked and Karen leaned across me to unlock it. Her scent was enthralling. Sometimes I can still smell it, even 22 years on – and I’m transported back to that moment. Like now, as I type this. *Sigh*.
Back to my tale. I remember I closed my eyes, breathing in her scent deeply, oblivious to the fact that the world was carrying on its business around me, when I suddenly realised that something very important was happening. I felt a pair of soft lips pressing gently to mine and then releasing, just as my eyes opened to see Karen’s face withdrawing, a soft smile on her lips.I was thunderstruck. The most beautiful woman in the world – Universe even, – had just kissed me. And I’d had my eyes closed and almost missed it. By daydreaming about what it would be like to kiss her, I’d nearly missed the real thing. Damnit! However, that didn’t stop the cheshire cat grin from splitting my face as I looked back at her and wondered if I should move in for a replay. But Karen smiled back at me, sat back in her seat and said she’d see me tomorrow. Sensing a moment lost, I got out of the car and walked into my house. My parents looked at me, the clock, then at the blissful smile on my face, then at each other, and smiled knowingly.

The relationship between Karen and I developed over the remainder of the week I had left at the travel agents, as usual we sat together, ate lunch together, but now we left together too, and always stopped off at the pub after work for a chat. By the time my ‘Work experience’ was up, I can honestly say that I didn’t learn a damn thing during my stay at that travel agents, but I did fall in love.

Two days after I’d left the travel agents I was upstairs at home, moping about never seeing Karen again, or having the chance to kiss her again, when I was called for a phone call – It was Karen. I don’t actually remember the trip from the bed to the phone, I only remember that one moment I was lay on my bed in my room, the next instant I was downstairs on the phone, and not out of breath in the least. She wanted to see me. We arranged to meet that evening, and true to her word, thirty minutes (long minutes) later she arrived, I climbed into her car, and we went to a movie. That night she kissed me but this time I kissed back.
Things carried on pretty much in this vein for the next 6 weeks – night outs moving to dates, then nights in (when hers or my parents were out…) Kisses moving from pecks, to full on-kisses, to passionate embraces (as they’re called in polite society) until one evening we were sat with some friends, and Karen told me that she thought that she was falling for me. I hope I looked as cool and suave as movie actors tend to in these situations….but I seriously doubt it. I’m pretty sure I did everything but cart-wheel around the room with joy. I know my reaction was a hoped-for one, as her reaction was to give me one of her heart-melting smiles, her eyes filled with tears and she hugged me. Tighter than she ever had before.

8 happy months pass. Okay her folks weren’t keen on me because I was ‘some kid Karen had took pity on’, but I could honestly care less. I loved the most beautiful woman in the world – Universe, even – and amazingly she loved me. Life was A-OK, and nothing could go wrong.

Wrong.

I have forgotten a lot over the past 38 years; Peoples names, places I’ve been, holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, etc. But one thing I will never forget, as much as I want to, is the night everything changed for me. I can’t. At least once a year, every year, I’m transported back to that night in my sleep, to relive it all again. So tonight I’m going to bring it early for me this year, and you’re all coming with me. (I did warn you to turn away, after all. Here’s your last chance.)

We had been to a party – the usual thing, music too loud, food too cold, drink too warm, and a room full of people you don’t know. It was okay though, and Karen and I made our excuses to leave earlyish (just before midnight) as her folks were away, and we had a better party planned. Nevertheless, I was tired, as I’d had a full day and the motion of the car on the road was making me drowsy.

That’s how I didn’t see the lorry until too late. I remember looking at Karen as she glanced at me and thinking that she was glowing like an angel, then realising that she was looking away at something and shouting.
– No –
Screaming. The lorry hit us.
Hard.

They say that in moments like this time seems to slow down and you notice certain things – the colour of hair, texture of a jacket, the way you were feeling.
I only noticed Karen screaming.
Then I felt an almighty tug to my left side (still to this day don’t know what it was that tugged me) and I was falling away from the car. I remember thinking for one moment that I was my soul leaving my body, and in turn the car, to go to whatever reward it was that I deserved. Only souls shouldn’t hurt like I was, surely? Or go sliding across the road to hit the grass verge? Eventually I sat up, dizzy and disorientated and trying to work out what just happened.

I remembered.
Oh, God.
I remembered.

I saw two things. the crazily angled and deformed lorry, with something hanging out of the shattered window (Later to be identified as the driver, dead from heart attack, and probably dead before he hit us) dangling above the flames that were engulfing the crumpled thing that once was a car. I stood up and fell down immediately, there was something badly wrong with my leg, and the pain was incredible. But the woman I was planning on asking to marry me one day (it was early days yet, but I had hopes) was in danger.
I was wrong.
She was dead, but I wasn’t to know that yet.
Again I stood up and fell down again, only this time the pain advised me to try crawling. So I half crawled, half-dragged myself to where I could see that the passenger side door was missing (never recovered.) and that the truck had completely crushed the driver’s side.

Worst of all, I could see Karen. Or what remained of her.

I won’t carry on with a description, as this is the point I usually wake up drenched in sweat and with a scream trapped behind my teeth, and have done so for the past 22 years – even when I eventually became the ‘Big Bad Wolf’. Somethings need never be re-described. This is one.

Needless to say, when a passing motorist arrived I was still screaming, and eventually silently so when the emergency crews arrived, as my voice had given out. It took a week for my voice to return properly, (and even today it’s a lot quieter than it was when I was early to late teens) but by then I had lost the will to talk about anything. Never really regained it.

So there you have it. The first domino to fall in my downward spiral into the BBW…and part of the reason I came back from there. Eventually I’ll cover the second and third…or not – I may just skip to the birth of the BBW, hinted at in another blog here. I don’t know, Haven’t decided yet.

But it’s 3.01am, I’m tired, a little depressed, and Jim Morrison is singing about ‘Cars hissing by his window’ on my headphones. A fitting place to leave it, I think.