A single egg illuminated from the light triggered by the door opening. A single egg nestled between the rungs of the shelf that should only contain bottles. A single egg that shouted someone had been here.
He knew, knew it was wrong. He kept his eggs in the bread bin as his favourite meal was an egg sandwich and to him it made sense to keep them together. The butter and mayonnaise could not be stored there as they would melt or go off so they had a special place in the door of the fridge. Everything in the right place, everything where it should be but now ....... this egg.
He closed the fridge door and reopened it just to check this wasn't some form of optical illusion or event caused by the drugs. The egg was still there. He shut the fridge and went to sit in his chair that faced the window placed so he could see the doors to numbers 19, 21 & 23 with an equal spacing between the edges of 19 & 23 and the window frame.
Someone had been in his flat. There was no other evidence any other interruptions to his order except for the single egg. Brown, and he liked white.
Sunday, 27 July 2014
Saturday, 26 July 2014
The Old Gull
Ivor was an old Gull. In his past he had travelled in wonder circumnavigating the globe on the air currents that embraced it. He had flown high and low, fast and slow, eaten some of the finest scraps the earth could offer. Now, aged, it was all he could do to hover over and around the landfill site.
At night he would sit and reminisce about his wondrous adventures describing the sights of the world he had seen to any that would listen. Sometimes he would be joined by migrating Swifts making their journey to and from Africa. Most of the Swifts took the old Gull's stories with a pinch of salt but one young bird was astonished by Ivor's tales.
'Tell me more please,' said the Swift, 'tell me more of the astonishing places you have seen.' So Ivor would start again. Being a simple bird without an understanding of perspective he talked of a land full of little people when the air currents had lifted him high above the earth's surface. He talked of a land of giants, when the foul winds had barely let him fly above the ground. He talked and he talked and the Swift began to worry he would never be able to remember it all.
So, when the Swifts had flown on to find their nesting ground the little Swift would use his time writing down the old Gull's stories.
One day, as the old Gull rested having wearied himself hunting the landfill for scraps, the Swifts returned. Soon he saw the little Swift he knew flying awkwardly towards him. It landed with a thump on a branch near him. The Gull could see a strange object trapped under its wing.
'Here,' said the little swift dropping the small object in front of the Gull. 'Here are all your adventures written down in a book, as best as I can remember, and so I will never forget.'
The Gull felt a tear trace his beady eye. 'I'm afraid I cannot read well as Gulls are not as clever as many birds, but this book has my adventures within its pages?' he asked.
'Yes,' said the Swift.
'I'm afraid we Gulls are rather rude as well,' said Ivor, 'and I have never troubled to ask your name.'
The Swift spoke his name and the Gull's eyes fell to the cover of the book as he tried to read the title. Finally he stumbled through the words so lovingly scribed.
'Gull Ivor's Travels by Jonathan Swift.'
At night he would sit and reminisce about his wondrous adventures describing the sights of the world he had seen to any that would listen. Sometimes he would be joined by migrating Swifts making their journey to and from Africa. Most of the Swifts took the old Gull's stories with a pinch of salt but one young bird was astonished by Ivor's tales.
'Tell me more please,' said the Swift, 'tell me more of the astonishing places you have seen.' So Ivor would start again. Being a simple bird without an understanding of perspective he talked of a land full of little people when the air currents had lifted him high above the earth's surface. He talked of a land of giants, when the foul winds had barely let him fly above the ground. He talked and he talked and the Swift began to worry he would never be able to remember it all.
So, when the Swifts had flown on to find their nesting ground the little Swift would use his time writing down the old Gull's stories.
One day, as the old Gull rested having wearied himself hunting the landfill for scraps, the Swifts returned. Soon he saw the little Swift he knew flying awkwardly towards him. It landed with a thump on a branch near him. The Gull could see a strange object trapped under its wing.
'Here,' said the little swift dropping the small object in front of the Gull. 'Here are all your adventures written down in a book, as best as I can remember, and so I will never forget.'
The Gull felt a tear trace his beady eye. 'I'm afraid I cannot read well as Gulls are not as clever as many birds, but this book has my adventures within its pages?' he asked.
'Yes,' said the Swift.
'I'm afraid we Gulls are rather rude as well,' said Ivor, 'and I have never troubled to ask your name.'
The Swift spoke his name and the Gull's eyes fell to the cover of the book as he tried to read the title. Finally he stumbled through the words so lovingly scribed.
'Gull Ivor's Travels by Jonathan Swift.'
Wednesday, 23 July 2014
The Beautiful Fox
Years ago, as the woods first began to grow tall, a
beautiful Fox walked through the trees. He knew he was beautiful because all
the other animals would tell him as he walked past. The sun shone down upon his
beautiful soft red fur, his big bushy red tail and his muzzle, which was as
smooth and white as milk with a nose at the end as shiny and black as coal.
“Good morning Fox,” the animals would say as he walked past,
“You do look magnificent today,” and he would smile and thank them for their
kindness.
As the days went by Fox got so used to hearing their
compliments that he began to forget to thank them for their kindness. In fact,
after a while, he just expected everyone to tell him how beautiful he was.
He had changed.
Soon he would walk with his smooth muzzle and jet-black nose
held high in the air just so he could look down on everyone else as they were
not as magnificent as he.
He began to think that some of them were quite ugly,
particularly the hedgehog with his ridiculous prickles all over him. Oh, and
those stupid grey squirrels with tails longer than their bodies,’ he said to
himself. ‘But worst of all was the deer with those two ugly short sticks
growing out of his head.’
Now I don’t know if this was what caused the change but it
was around this time that the weather in the wood began to get worse. The sun
did not shine as much and a cold wind began to blow through the trees.
Many of the animals began to shelter from the cold wind but
Fox would still go for a walk every day with his nose held high to show the
other animals how beautiful he was.
The wind got stronger and stronger and colder and colder but
Fox would still go on his walk but the animals no longer said how beautiful he
looked. The wind was so fierce that it blew his soft red hair all over his body
and his big bushy tail got tangled with leaves and twigs.
But worse still, the wind was so harsh that Fox’s nose began
to stream with cold. His cold got so bad that he couldn’t stop sneezing. He
really tried to stop because some of the animals were pointing and giggling at
him.
He held his breath as hard as he could so he wouldn’t sneeze
but a wind so cold and hard came through the woods and made him sneeze so
loudly that, that, that ……… his beautiful black nose fell off.
‘Oh doh,” he shouted, ”My dose has fallen off!’
The animals came nearer to see and sure enough Fox’s nose
lay frozen on the cold ground
‘My dose, my poor dose. How will I ever look beautiful again
widout my lubbly black dose,’ said Fox and he let out a scream that sounded
like a baby crying.
A young Deer walked forward. He knew what the Fox thought of
him because he had seen it in his eyes but he cared little for what others
thought and more about how one should behave.
He looked down at the little frozen black nose on the ground
and then called up out the two Squirrels sitting in the tree above. ‘Can you
come down and help,’ me he said, raising his voice above that of Fox who kept
repeating, ‘My dose, my poor dose.’
The two Squirrels scampered down the tree chatting to each
other as they leapt from branch to branch. When they came down to the ground
the Deer asked them very politely if they might pick up Fox’s nose and wrap
themselves around it.
The two Squirrels trusted the Deer and did as he said. The
warmth of their bodies soon thawed the frozen nose until it lovely shine soon
came back.
The Deer turned to the Hedgehog who standing nearby and
asked him nicely if he might be able to spare some of his prickles. The
Hedgehog trusted the Deer and did as he said. He shook his body so much that
over twenty prickles fell from his coat.
‘My dose, my poor dose,’ said Fox as he watched the animals
around him. The deer turned to the squirrels and said, ‘Now you two, take Fox’s
nose and climb onto my head to the top of the two small twigs on my head.
Hedgehog, if you could pick up the prickles you dropped and climb up and sit on
the top of my head we can help Fox.’
So the animals did as Deer had asked and when they were in
position he asked Fox to put his smooth muzzle between his antlers. As soon as
his head was in position Deer asked the squirrels to hold his nose onto the tip
of his muzzle.
Then he asked Hedgehog to use his prickles to pin the nose
back on Fox. So Hedgehog pushed twenty prickles, ten each side through Fox’s
muzzle and his shiny black nose was safely pinned back in place.
Fox looked at his nose, it was so strange to see it through
the prickles and his muzzle was no longer smooth and white as milk as it was
stained with mud and blood. He let his head droop to the ground, he could no
longer look down on these other animals.
The deer thanked the Hedgehog and the two squirrels, who
were so embarrassed to be thanked that they went from grey to red and stayed
that colour. And the Deer found that his two short twigs grew into the most
magnificent and beautiful antlers.
Fox had changed, he walked with his head hanging down and
really only came out at night when the animals couldn’t stare at him and the
whiskers on his face. Sometimes in the night, when he remembered how beautiful
he had been, he would let out a scream that sounded like a baby crying.
And something had changed for Hedgehog too, but that’s
another story.
Tuesday, 22 July 2014
First Draft Nursery Rhymes
Just wrote these every so often when I fancied it over a month
First Draft Nursery Rhymes as
Tweeted
Jack be nimble,
Jack be quick,
Jack jump over the ......
Jack, Jack, your arse is on fire
'Little Jack Horner,
Sat in the corner,
Eating his Christmas Pie.
He stuck in his thumb,
And spent the night in casualty'
'Georgie Porgie
Pudding and Pie,
Kissed the girls
And the subsequent court case ......'
'Dr Foster
Went to Gloucester
In a shower of rain
He stepped in a puddle
And said I'm never trusting the bbc weather again
'Hey diddle diddle,
The Cat and the fiddle,
The Cow jumped over the moon.
Wow, that was some strong sh*t
The dog said'
This piggy went to market,
This piggy stayed home,
This piggy had beef and started
bovine spongiform encephalopathy
Hot cross buns
Hot cross buns
One a penny
Two a penny
From Lidl
BOGOF
'Bobby Shafto's gone to sea
Silver buckles at his knee;
They’re going to be merciless,
I don’t fancy his chances
Goosey goosey gander
Where shall I wander
Upstairs and downstairs
in my lady's chamber.
Case for the defence your Honour
'Wee Willie Winkie
Runs through the town
Upstairs & downstairs
In his night gown.
Should be sectioned'
'I had a little nut tree,
Nothing would it bear
But a silver nutmeg
And a golden pear;
This Baby Bio's weird'
'It's raining it's pouring
The old man's snoring
Went to bed, bumped his head
And was found 6 weeks later by the Police'
'Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get the poor dog a bone
When she got there
The cupboard was bare
Foodbank again
'Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
These OK magazine diets
Are a fad and bad for you I say
'Two little dickie birds,
Sitting on a wall;
One named Peter,
One named Paul.
Peter never saw the cat
Paul did'
'London Bridge is falling down
Falling down, falling down
London Bridge is falling down
Make alternate travel arrangements'
'Baa baa black sheep
Have you any wool?
Chops? Shoulder?
Ribs? Cannon? Steak?'
'Three blind mice Three blind mice
See how they run See how they run
Badly, without direction
Toward the cat
No running now
Little Bo-Peep
Has lost her sheep
And doesn't know where to find them
Little Bo-Peep had one hell of a night
Tom, Tom, the piper's son
Stole a pig, and away did run
Sober the next morning
He regrets his actions
Ding, dong, bell,
Pussy’s in the well
Who put her in?
Little Johnny Flynn
Johnny's parents despair
'Where did we go
wrong'
Friday, 18 July 2014
Staring At The Sun
Staring At The Sun
‘My eyes, my eyes!’ I screamed
I had been told repeatedly not to do it, knew it was wrong,
could hear the warning voices in my head and yet, like touching the red hot
plate just after the waiter has warned you not to, my eyes were drawn to it.
And so, knowing it could only do damage and would leave a
lasting impression, I stared. And what damage it did.
It wasn’t just page 3 oh no. It was the xenophobic and
misogynistic slant in all the articles. It was the trivialising of important
news and the rubbishing of teachers, social workers and other professionals. It
was the promotion of the celebrity culture and then the false outrage when they
fell from ‘grace’.
It was the promotion of pride in Britain while undermining the
very things that would give real pride. Once seen my retinas bear the scars.
I should have known and I will forever try to advice people –
never stare at The Sun
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