It Was Just A Moment

It was just a moment

It happens very slowly so that at the time you don’t really notice or understand the implications. In retrospect it’s easy to identify those moments or at least the moments that you can remember. Of course there will have been hundreds of other moments that you have forgotten but each of those had their affect.

Perhaps it all started when the teacher first said, “do you all understand that?”

Now it is clear that that was the time to raise your hand and say, “No not really, could you go through it again?”

But that frozen arm and silence started something. It began the journey to not being able to understand math, or French, or physics or whatever the subject was. It was then you decided it was better just to keep quiet. Pretend to be like the others and not to risk looking stupid. Better to fit in than attract attention. You can even justify it, “it will slow everyone down” or “I’ll catch up later.” But or course you never catch up and then somehow you can’t because that was the 'moment'.

Then later the questions from your parents. “Why are you dropping the subject. I thought you wanted to do it for a living?” Then you in a surly voice “I never said that, I hate it and I never wanted to do it for a job.”

But you did and you knew it.

So you are in the pub with your friends. Big David (no one ever calls him Dave) tells one of his jokes. It’s a bit sexist, sort of thing you thought no one really said anymore but everyone laughs and you laugh along. You’re not laughing because you thought it was funny because to you it wasn’t. You’re laughing because you don’t want them to look at you, to ask whether you 'got it' or worse still they think you’ve gone all ‘pc’.

But as you are laughing you look around to make sure no one at another table heard it and might think that you really did think it was funny. You don’t say anything of course. You don’t even make some excuse and leave early. No, you sit with your friends for the rest of night even though you can see they don’t really know the real you. Another little moment on the journey.

Staff Training days with the business are tough. All day locked in a room together trying to focus on the subject. The only relief is two coffee breaks and a lunch. In every break you don’t go to mix with the others from the company. Everyone just hangs around in the groups from your office. So much for bonding and networking.

Then it happens. A sly comment from Julie in accounts about how most of the new people are ‘from abroad’. It’s cleverly phrased. It skirts the borders of outright racism but the tone lets you and everyone else to know what she means. You want to say something. You can hear it in your head.

It’s another moment.

When you look back that’s what your life has been. Hundreds and hundreds of moments when you should have said something but you kept quiet. Too scared, too timid, too fragile.

Now the man who asked the question is staring at you. The rest of the Board are beginning to look slightly concerned. Slowly he asks it again.

“So tell us something about yourself.”

The Procession

It was the day he had waited for. He was finally old enough to be allowed to go and get the shopping.

He stood at the door with money in his pocket as he was handed the shopping bag and the all important list. Flour, bread (two loaves), bananas, one ripe plum for Nana,

As he set off from the house he could feel the worried eyes of all his family staring into his back. There was nothing to worry about. They had talked through the route he would take a hundred times just that morning. He knew all the dangerous places. This was finally the day. And what a lovely windy day it was.

As soon as he got to the end of the road he turned round. “Don’t you follow me,” he shouted, but there was no reply.

As he crossed over the track he had already decided that he would take the long way back after the shop so that he could enjoy being so responsible for a little bit longer. He would shop and then walk right up to the end of the high street before turning round and coming back.

As he walked towards the shop he saw people smiling at him. He smiled back, as a grown up would, and even said good morning to some.

“Good morning Mrs Cathcart.”

“Good morning Mr Kemp.”

“Good morning Barbara.”

This was the best as she was out with both her parents having to hold hands. She is so very young he thought.

As he entered the shop it was as if they were expecting him. Mr Daly took the list from his hand and spoke in his finest voice. “Now then young man, let’s see what we have here. Quite a list, quite a list indeed. Mrs Daly I might need some help with this.”

Mrs Daly came over and stared at the list, “This is quite a list Mr Daly,” she said. “Perhaps the boy might have some cherries while we get everything together.”

What a very sensible idea Mrs Daly,” said Mr Daly and he reached over and put a handful of cherries in a little paper bag.

Although he didn’t like being called ‘boy’ he did like cherries so he took the bag from Mr Daly and started to eat. He was not the best at eating cherries. Trying not to eat the stone was always difficult so he would nibble his way around holding the stalk. Unfortunately this did mean that a lot of the red from the cherries would stick to his lips and all around his mouth. Normally his mother would clean it off but unfortunately she was not in the shop with him.

“Right,” said Mr Daly. “Here we are. Now I am going to pack these in your bag carefully because we don’t want anything to spoil.” Mr Daly took the shopping bag

“Heaviest things at the bottom so that’s the flour, next the bananas, now the two loaves of bread and then the lovely ripe plum.”

With that he stared at his wife and said, “It looks as though only one loaf of bread will fit in the bag.”

“Perhaps we should give him another?” said Mrs Daly. But before Mr Daly could answer Paul stood up and said. “I will carry the other loaf of bread under my arm.”

“Are you sure?” said Mrs Daly, but Paul said he was quite sure and how much did he owe.

Luckily he seemed to have exactly the right amount in his pocket to pay for the shopping and so with the bag in one hand and the loaf of bread under his other arm he left the shop.

Now no one quite knows or understands how a large and angry Grizzly Bear appeared in the little village of Welmond on Mold. There was no zoo or circus nearby and the Police could never come up with a satisfactory answer but it is safe to say no one who lived there will ever forget that day and the carnage.

later 

Sitting on the sofa later that evening Paul looked at his parents and watched as his Nana gumlessly sucked on a plum. All their eyes stared at the flickering screen. It was so funny to see their village on TV.

“Isn’t it awful what happened to the Daly’s,” said his mother.

“Awful,” repeated his father reaching for another slice of fresh bread.

Don't go down the drain

Don’t go down the drain Daddy

Don’t go down the drain

I know I dropped your keys down there

But don’t go down the drain

Don’t go down the drain Daddy

Please don’t go down the drain

You don’t know what you’ll find down there

So don’t go down the drain

I know your money’s missing Daddy

I know it’s quite a pain

Your wallet seemed to fall down there

Please don’t go down the drain

I haven’t lost my socks Daddy

So don’t go down the drain

I know exactly where they are

Just don’t go down the drain

The cornflakes haven’t gone Daddy

Some may be down the drain

The box just seemed to fall down there

So don’t go down the drain

I know the cage is empty Daddy

But Hamsters like the rain

They love to run, they love to play

Please don’t go down the drain

I'll hold your coat and glasses then

I see it’s quite a strain

I know you’ve got your legs down there

But don’t go down the drain

He's been down for an hour Mum,

An hour down the drain.

I told him and I told him

The weather forecasts rain

How the Days fly by - catching up

Day 97.  Two days until I let my self have a chocolate flake. In preparation I covered myself with a raspberry sauce and sprinkled hundreds and thousands on my head. I didn’t really. I’m not going mad, just very, very lonely. I would talk to myself but we fell out quite badly last time and I said things I regret like “Jesper Blomqvist is a silly name.” I don’t know if I will ever forgive myself but the silence is deafening and I can’t look myself in the eyes. As if I would put hundreds and thousands on my head two days before Ninety Nine day, they would go stale. The sauce is proving to be quite sticky so I may have to wrap myself in cling film.

Day 98. Without anyone to garden nature has taken back the land and it is encroaching in many places. I have never been much of a gardener and indeed never had a neat lawn but today I put on some gloves and went out to trim bush. At first I tried to do the Privet with a water melon, then a Holly with an Airfix kit of the Cutty Sark. After little success it tried to cut back the Forsythia with a jar of pickled eggs. When I failed to make any mark on the Laural with a special edition of Whitaker's Almanack I sat down in despair. Then it struck me like a blinding light. No wonder I was getting nowhere. I wasn’t using secateurs, I was using non sequiturs.

Day 99. I have not felt right all day. I was going to celebrate but just didn’t feel up to it. Instead I have sat in doors playing games in the hope of feeling better. I started with simple ones from my childhood like snakes and ladders and solitaire. As the day wore on and I began to feel a little stronger I graduated to monopoly and totopoly. Finally, thinking I had recovered, I started playing scrabble. It wasn’t long before I looked down and realised as was still not well at all and had spoiled the board. There was ‘beeecos’, ‘alaarm’ and ‘liiiid’. Oh god I hate having loose vowels. Hope I’m better for tomorrow

Day 100. So I have been here one hundred days. It seems both an age but also as though it was only yesterday I swept up here. I think I have learned a lot about myself in that time. I have certainly had time to explore my weaknesses and frailties but also to time wonder if my life would have been different in different circumstances. I believe it was these thoughts that created the strangest dream. I dreampt of people skiing down a hill with blocks of ice on their feet, of giant guinea pigs, of bread balls being hit into a river and throughout of a 'half child half goat' who seemed to make everyone smile. I know it’s not real, I haven’t lost it completely, but it did make me wonder if living with a smile on you face could make the world a better place. Day 101 tomorrow and, in the words of Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind – “You go pack my things like Mother said.”

Day 101. I am going to invent things to help the human race. Ants can carry up to 100 times their body weight so….. how many ants would it take to carry a human and could I make ant powered shoes? Quite simple the souls would be made from enough ants to carry your body weight plus ten percent. You would have a piece of sugar on a stick to direct the ants but they could carry you everywhere. I have done a sketch and tried a pilot experiment by putting jam on the souls of my shoes. It attracted a large number of ants but clearly not enough. It was messy. But the theory is still sound as with celery gutters for small houses.

Day 102. I can’t believe how ignorant I have been. I picked up a leaflet on the evolution of our names for the digits of our hand. Originally they were all called ‘thums’ but with the dexterous opposable one spelt with a ‘b’ at the end to identify it. Subsequently the others were renamed ‘four fingers’ as the pronunciation of the letter ‘b’ was often misheard leading to confusion. Further refinement meant the that the second finger became known as the primary ‘Forefinger’. As a result further definitions were added bringing ‘middle finger’, ‘little finger’ and of course ‘mincy mincy feneckety useless digit’. I still don't know where I stand on crepe paper

Day 103. Everyone so often you think of a saying or expression and wonder how it originated. Often the answer is as perplexing as the saying but every so often one smiles and nods at the explanation. Just such a case is ‘having a square meal’ which comes from the days of Nelson’s navy when sailors were fed using square slate plates. Today I found another that suddenly defogged the mist. I was reading an old Will at the library which showed a family clearly torn apart by strife. The bequests to the four children were painful to read. Three received sizeable properties and endowments but to the last all it said was, ‘To Helen, a handcart.’

Day 104. In the night I heard the tigers calling to each other. It reminded me how fragile my life is here. Although it is better than where I first was I have to shake off this torpor and plan an escape but first I must make sure I am safe. I know that tigers leave a strong scent to claim their areas. I took a variety of products from the supermarkets and mixed them to produce a most ghastly aroma which I have spread around the edges of the area I occupy. Unfortunately the pungent smell does not just drift outwards but in as well. Then I had a brilliant idea – I have built a wall out of all the Odor Eaters in the shops. Suddenly a realisation - ‘hen’ with a ‘t’ at the front becomes ‘then’. Today is going to fly by.